We left Trinidad heading south-east along the northern coast of the South American continent past Venezuela, Guyana, Suriname, and the Coast line of Brazil. We were at sea for about five days Sailing 2,839 nautical miles to the port of Salvador Brazil. The voyage was somewhat uneventful though the air and sea became warmer and warmer as we headed south into equatorial waters.
A word about crossing the equator. There is a very old seafaring tradition. A rite of passage for sailors. Celebrated since ships began sailing the seas. It is taken seriously by entire US Navy.
As the ship passes the equator everything aboard ship pauses and a ceremony takes place. The sole purpose of this ceremony is to initiate the,"Pollywogs," (neophytes who had not crossed the equator) into the order of Shellbacks. An exclusive order lorded over by none other than King Neptune, God of the sea himself.
By ancient naval tradition a Shellback sailor is authorized to wear a single earring in his left ear. Of course the modern Navy requires a sailor to put in a request chit to the ships Captain for permission to do this. I have never heard of a command who granted such a request. Sad, as that would be so cool.
The ceremony itself is nothing but institutionally authorized hazing. I'm sure on different ships the hazing is done differently but it is hazing none the less.
The fantail (the main deck in the stern of the ship) of the USS Norfolk was washed clean and water hoses poured water constantly on the steel deck making it very slippery. A gauntlet of sailors (all Shellbacks) snaked around the deck terminating at a canvas tunnel about ten foot long. The cooks (myself included) had been stashing galley garbage in large garbage cans for about a week. The tunnel was filled with the putrid mix of god knows what. It smelled very bad.
The Pollywogs were stripped down to their, "skivvies" (undershorts and teeshirts) put down on all fours and made to crawl into the gauntlet of Shellbacks who had paddles to wack your butt and others with buckets filled with garbage to dump over you. If you tried to go fast they would hold up the line and thunder more abuse upon you. At the end of the gauntlet was the canvas tunnel. The tunnel was filled with all the rest of the galley garbage. One can imagine the amount of nasty garbage the galley can produce. This after feeding three meals a day to five hundred snd thirty men for about a week.
The pollywogs were forced to crawl through the tunnel of garbage. As you emerged from that stinking ordeal a Shellback holding a fire hose blasted the slime off of you. The water pressure was very strong.
The piece de resistance was King Neptune himself sitting on his throne with a crown, and a trident staff. Actually it was shirtless Chuck Munson, a cook. And the fattest man on the ship. Chuck had a huge hairy belly upon which he had smeared ketchup, mustard, horse radish, pickle relish, Worcester sauce and god knows what else. Remember, we were in the tropics and Munson had a tendency to sweat profusely in the tropical heat. He had two grinning Shellbacks on either side of his throne (an office chair decorated with palm fronds and leaves smuggled aboard from Trinidad, no doubt) with mops as royal staffs. When a pollywog crawled up to this pathetic visage the Shellbacks would say, in unison, "Offer your self and service to king Neptune, God of the sea!" At which time Munson would grab your head and mash your face into his big, hairy, sweaty, belly. Then roll it around and moan, "You are now a Shellback!" Then the Shellbacks would stand you up and the guy with the hose would spray you down thoroughly for the last time. And the Executive Officer (second in command of the ship) handed you a Shellback certificate with your name on it. Totally disgusting, but all in good fun. After the ceremonies the ship got back to it's normal routine.
A few days later we sailed into the port of Salvador Brazil. Salvador is located in the Brazilian State of Bahia and it is beautiful. This town has a rich history as a slave port and, in the 1930s and 1940s as a destination for the very rich and movie stars. The town has always referred to itself as simply, "Bahia" There was even an American song written named, "Have you been to Bahia?" Sort of a jet set destination before they had jets.
Bahia is a deep water port so we could tie up to a pier. Fortunately, as a cook, I wasn't subject to the normal rules governing liberty (shore Leave) if I wasn't working, I could disembark anytime I wished. We tied up and I went ashore. I walked down the pier to find a beach area with a main drag cut by an intersection. in the center of the intersection was a raised concrete island standing on the island was a traffic cop, directing the chaotic Brazilian traffic. Slung over his right shoulder was a submachine gun. I thought, "Note to self.. DO NOT mess with the cops here, they mean business."
It wasn't unlike My home town, Santa Monica, had a beach area and palisade bluffs nearby upon which the rest of the town sat. But here there was this very old glass cylinder shaped elevator at the foot of the bluff lifting folks up to the town. As a firm believer in, "When in Rome..." I climbed aboard. Well this elevator had obviously been there a long time. I was with about five nice friendly people when the elevator let out a huge groan as we started up. I know the look on my face made everyone laugh. But, what the hell on one else was scared, After all I was 19 now and immortal.
The door opened and I was in a town with narrow cobble stone streets filled with smiling, friendly people. It was warm and tropical very nice. Music seemed to float on the air from the tropical open air shops. The music was Samba. Seriously when you hear the Samba your body just has to move This is a place I would revisit in a heart beat.
The people, ah the people! Here is where I first encountered some of the most beautiful people I had ever seen. Both men and women were stunning. I, of course, was used to black people, after all, my paper route was in the black/latino section of town and there were lots of black kids in school. But these folks were different I had never seen anyone so black. Some were so black their skin just shined and reflected light. Some were that black and had blue eyes. I was smitten!. Walking down the street for a few blocks I fell in love at least ten times. The women were stunning.
This of course presented a problem. I have no qualms talking to strangers, especially women strangers, in fact I enjoy that. One of the few valuable lessons my dad taught me was, "Always walk into a place as if you belonged there and NEVER meet a stranger."
So my high school and Southern California/Mexican Spanish was not fluent but passible. But my Portuguese was non existent. And in Brazil they speak Portuguese. It is a beautiful language, pleasing to the ear and I found it quite lyrical. Which was all well and good but none the less a dilemma.
This situation became much more evident at our next port of call Rio de Janeiro.
So stay tuned