The Main Mast by Suffian Abdul
Rahman
 Amidst moments of doubt, a
sudden feeling of euphoria had swept over me. Almost
there! It had seemed like an eternity, and now there I
was, perched over the top of the main mast. I looked
down at the brass plaque in an oddly detached way, as if
it hadn't mattered at all whether or not it was there.
But after reading the words, it all made sense, and a
smile quickly spread across my face. I had done it; I
had reached the top of the 33 metre main mast of the STS
Leeuwin II.
Suddenly, a stiff breeze rudely awakened me to
the reality that I was clinging onto the mast in a
ridiculously unstable position. Time to get down!
Syukrina had climbed up from the other side, and had
made it back down again in half the time that I had
taken. Now, I happened to have a great deal of respect
for the ship. My plan had been to get to the top, look
at the plaque and get the heck down again as quickly as
possible. And that was exactly what I was going to do.
I cannot recall how I did it, but before you
could shout "Ho, Ho, Ho and a barrel of rum," I had
somehow disengaged myself from that position. I
hurriedly unclipped myself from the 'butterfly', a handy
sort of knot, and back to the safety line. I was now
back on the solid, yet flimsy ladder-like shroud. Of
course, it must have taken much longer than that, but
everything seemed like a blurry dream, like it does
whenever you panic too much.
 I stayed there for ages,
my arms wrapped around the black shrouds, heaving sigh
after sigh of relief. I suddenly tore my eyes away from
the mast and looked around me. It was a clear day, the
scorching sun was well hidden by the clouds. A sense of
peace overwhelmed me. Straight-ahead was the harbour,
and beyond that was the town of Fremantle. Over to the
starboard side were some little sailing boats. But the
STS Leeuwin was by far the largest ship there. How
quaint and regal she must have looked, with her sails
furled and her colours aloft in the wind.
I peered down from my position and looked at the
people on deck. Clad in bright red wet-weather gear,
they looked like little elves scurrying across here and
there. It was fabulous to see everyone working together,
literally hand in glove, and having such a good time. I
chuckled silently to myself as I heard Maurice barking
out orders in his tough Aussie drawl, saw groups of
people milling about on the starboard side and noticed
someone high up on the foremast, furling a sail or
tightening some gaskets all by himself.
My thoughts wandered, and I replayed in my mind
my little fiasco during the squall the day
before…
"I need two men in the chain-locker, right now!"
yelled Maurice, our tough-as-nails bosun.
"I don't mind going down there!" I yelled back
at him, trying to sound as nice as possible.
Being up on deck during a squall, I figured that
one of those safest, warmest places you could be was the
chain-locker in the fore deck. Boy, was I
wrong!
I was plunged into the most foul-smelling and
inhospitable recess on the ship. The place reeked of oil
or rust or whatever, and there was barely enough space
to move around. There were two compartments; one was
already piled up with the chains of the port side
anchor, the other compartment was going to be home for
the next twenty minutes or so.
In jumped Brad, the engineer, followed by
Andrew, who sort of stumbled his way down the ladder. We
rushed over to the empty compartment, and Brad
immediately told us what we had to do. Andrew and I
nodded daftly and pretended to ask intelligent questions
whilst we both wondered why in heavens we were here in
the first place.
"Now remember, use only the palms of your hands.
If your fingers get caught in the chains, they'll get
cut to pieces and you might even get stuck in the chains
and buried alive. Thanks for volunteering, guys," said
Brad, once more inspiring confidence into us.
We concluded that we had to pile the chains up
as neatly as possible. In theory, it sounded pretty
good. But when the chains began to reel in, we found
that no amount of swiftness could compensate for a
complete lack of skill. We laid the chains one way, then
another in an overlapping fashion. I flashed a wry smile
at Andrew, and he replied with an equally impish grin.
We burst into a chorus of laughter as we kept on feeding
the chains, and the pile grew higher and more ungainly,
until at last, a mechanical groan and a curse from above
told us that the ordeal was over. We patiently waited
until Maurice said that it was okay to come up (everyone
was scared of Maurice) and got out completely drenched
in rusty water.
Our clothes were soiled and our arms ached, but
at least we still had all of our fingers…
Jacqui, my watch-leader, interrupted my day
dreaming. Her cries of support from below quickly
reminded me of the fact that someone else was waiting to
get to the top. The route upwards was designed so that
only one person was allowed to ascend from either side
of the ship. I had to get down again. Fast.
As if to cheer me on in her own way, the ship
began to rock rather violently from side to side. "Give
me solid rock any day!" I remember mouthing to the
heavens. Used to indoor rock walls and the muddy sides
of mountains, I felt no comfort in the thin ropes as I
slid down towards the halfway platform.
It was there that Duncan and John awaited me.
Looking very eager to get up there himself, John helped
to transfer my clips to another line whilst I made my
way to the outside of the platform. Straight over the
side! I hung by the weight of my arms, my feet dangling
for a moment as I tried to get a foothold. There! From
now on, it was down all the way, no more obstacles.
I clambered down, impatient to get back on deck
and rejoin the rest of the crew.
Once on deck, buzzing with a sense of
accomplishment, I sauntered over to starboard side,
where everyone had congregated. We were ready to dock.
The ship was to be motored into harbour. In respect with
the tradition, all hands would climb up onto the rigging
and out on the yard arms as a sign of peace. >
Someone came up to me and asked about what it
said on the brass plaque. I frowned and replied "Go and
see for yourself. You'll love it up there."
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