Out to the sea. Hard rust flakes had replaced the hulls black paint in places. Sharp edged barnacles stuck fast to the shipside.

word count:849

OUT TO SEA

We stood in the small bobbing boat, hanging on to the rail for dear life, and looked up at the ship’s towering hull with trepidation. How were we ever going to climb that rope ladder hanging down the shipside? How foolish we had been to join our Dad’s ship instead of enjoying a comfortable vacation at home!

Hard rust flakes had replaced the hull’s black paint in places. Sharp edged barnacles stuck fast to the shipside. A strong wind drove up spray every few minutes, which cut into our faces like a whip. The salt water dried partially on our clothes and felt sticky. The smell of the sea was everywhere: part fishy and part watery. The boat rolled mildly most of the time, but occasionally a big roll took our breath away, making us feel like spilling our guts out. I couldn’t let those hardened sea dogs see me vomit. I stole a glance at my brother. Ashen faced, he was thinking the same thing.

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An anchored ship makes not a sound. The swell threw the boat about roughly, squeezing the rubber fenders against the shipside, causing a wailing sound. It stood out against a vast empty quietness, like a baby crying, sad and forlorn. There are other sounds too, if you care to listen. Some waves go off in wrong directions, hit against others and make low lapping sounds. Flags make fluttering sounds. Occasionally, the boatman starts up his engines with a growl that drowns out everything else. Then we heard the low hum of the gangway, which is a staircase, lowered by steel cables, and knew we wouldn’t have to climb the rope ladder. What a relief it was to reach the top! A leathery-faced Filipino seaman took us up to my Dad who was Captain, and we began our summer adventure on this old tanker ferrying gasoline and Jet-fuel from Curacao refinery to South American ports.

Everywhere on deck there was activity. From barges, cranes lifted provisions like meat, fish, flour sacks, fruit and vegetable crates, and bottles of butter, sauces, beer, whisky and wine in nets made of rope, without anything falling off or breaking. These were transported into huge refrigerated chambers, which preserve food for months. Sailors of the past suffered from Scurvy because fruits could not be preserved. Columbus named this island Curacao, which means “the place of cures”, because his scurvy-ridden sailors were cured by eating the island’s sweet limes.

Lubricating oil drums, Acetylene cylinders, steel plates, large pipes, and engine spare parts were also being lifted. Other barges supplied fuel oil and drinking water.

After the barges had cast off, it seemed deathly quiet. The setting sun lit up the western sky with a red glow, which the sailors called a sign of good weather. (Red sky at night is a sailor's delight). For a short while we could see the planet Venus, brighter than all stars, in the darkening sky. It always sets soon after the sun. The windlass heaved up the anchor, and in the gathering darkness, we set sail, watching the island of Curacao recede as we moved away.

When night comes at sea, a deathly silence can be felt. If the moon does not care to show herself, complete darkness adds to this silence. The low hum of the ship’s engines is comforting, but when they fail at night, we are left alone with the few sounds the sea makes in fair weather- the lapping of waves, and the occasional screeching of big sea gulls, which inhabit the mast-top.

We spent days on deck, drawing out and greasing steel cables from winches and cranes. We moved equipment, cleaned tanks, and painted the steelwork to keep the ever-advancing rust from taking over the whole ship. When our arms ached, we stood by the rail and watched dolphins overtake the ship.

The winding muddy river leading to Georgetown is infested with pirates at night, but beautiful by day. Bright red and blue birds stood on one leg in the mud along with the usual white ones. We moored the ship with steel cables, and went ashore. The marketplace did not seem to have changed much in a hundred years. Carts of fruits and vegetables lined the road. I think of Harry Bellefonte singing “Jamaican farewell”, and images of the rice, the fish on ice, and the rum pass through my mind. Guyana is famous for its rum since the days of the buccaneers. We passed tavern after tavern filled with men sampling this famous rum and listening to music, which sounded very exciting.

After a month, we settled down and could have made good seamen. We learned to operate cranes and steer lifeboats. But all good things must come to an end. Nowadays, back in Mumbai, I sing that old Roy Orbison number- “I’m goin’ back some day… to blue bayou.” The muddy Guyana river is not a bay and it’s more brown than blue, but it beckons me like no other. That’s probably till something more exciting comes along. That’s what my Dad says.

Peer Reviews

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sydneyhopcroft

4th of Mar 2012

Quality of writing

The Quality of Written Communication however, is brilliant. Though the candidate does very little (or has little opportunity to) venture very far into the realm of trickier punctuation (colons/semi-colons/parentheses), there is an accurate, if not entirely effective, use of grammar and their spelling is also very good. In order to improve, this candidate should aim to appreciate what effect they are trying to create in the reader. Suspense? Elation? Fear? Misery? And with this, they must shape their writing and adhere to that emotion whenever they want their audience to feel it, e.g. - short, staccato sentences to build tension.

Level of analysis

The Level of Description is poor, but only because for the most part, this candidate is merely describing what he finds on a ship. There is a hint at some form of narrative early on in the answer, and we're introduced to a new character but that whole narrative drifts away half-way through with being fully established and calls to question whether it was intentional or not that the candidate did it. Everything candidates write about must have a clear intention and purpose, just like authors of novels. This is because without such, candidates' answers become tedious to write and even worse to read - there needs to be direction here - where is this description going?

Response to question

This is a Writing to Describe tasks whereby the candidate appears to be describing an experience at sea. Although the amount of description appears to be abundant, there is a question thrown over just how much narrative there is to describe. There appears to be very little happening other than someone explaining what they're seeing around them in a very literal form. This is fine if candidates expect a middle C grade but to achieve a higher grade candidate would have to use a variety of linguistic devices and techniques to make something so uneventful into something very interesting. Using metaphors, personification, similes and emotive language could easily do this, but this answer has quite a substantial lack of such devices.

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