"All crew, lay to the pier to greet arriving guests," squawked the captain's voice on the handheld radio. I finished tucking my white shirt into black dress pants, clipped the radio to my belt, and headed for the gangway connecting the Motor Yacht
Horizon
to the concrete pier.
The boat was moored stern to the dock in the middle of a row of similarly large yachts in a sun-drenched Greek harbor. I shuffled to my place in the receiving line next to the captain. As his first mate, I was his second-in-command and responsible for most of the daily running of the yacht. As was my job, I cast an eye over our team decked out in their white uniforms with gold-striped epaulets. I found nothing out of place.
I took stock of the guests as they came down the pier. The primary charter guest was a wealthy American business owner from California. He was a fit man in his sixties with short-cropped graying hair, reflective sunglasses, and an expensive-looking sport coat worn over slacks. The slightly younger and still beautiful woman at his side was his wife. Their son looked like he spent a lot of time in the gym and on the tanning bed. His teeth glowed an unnaturally bleached and perfect white. He was close to my age and dressed in a coat like his father.
Next came the two daughters, who were both stunning. The oldest wore too much makeup and hair product for my taste, but there was beauty to be sure. In my opinion, her younger sister was by far the more beautiful. Unlike the rest of the family, she affected a natural style, though she was fit. Her perfect body showed in her clingy sundress.
The guests made their way down the line of crew. We introduced ourselves and received fake smiles from our new charges. Only the youngest girl greeted us with genuine friendliness. She was the last down the line and took the longest. The rest of the family found themselves waiting awkwardly by the gangway for her to finish her small talk. I gathered from the way the mother and older daughter rolled their eyes at each other that this was a common occurrence.
After the pleasantries were wrapped up, the stewardesses took the guests on a tour of the boat and gave them a safety brief. I had a word with the bosun, and the deck team prepared to handle the yacht's lines and fenders. After that, I jumped up to the pilot house to assist the captain as we pulled out of the crowded harbor. As always, I marveled at the sparkling water, the white rocks, and the town's whitewashed houses under a clear blue sky. On the end of the stone jetty as we cleared the harbor into the open azure water of the Mediterranean, a blue and white Greek flag flapped crisply in the warm breeze.
Out of the restricted waters of the harbor, the captain left me to navigate the large vessel toward the next destination. By the afternoon, we would anchor off another stunning island so the guests could make use of the jet skis and other water toys we carried on board for their amusement.
After a few hours of watch, the captain came back up to the bridge and told me I could go below to get a break. Grateful for a rest from staring at the shimmering horizon, I went below.
On the way to my stateroom, I did a quick round of
Horizon
to make sure everything was in order. Passing through the main saloon, I saw the younger daughter of the guest family standing near the bar as if she was waiting for something. Seeing no one else around, I wondered if I could help. I took notice of the form-fitting athletic shorts and sports bra she was wearing now, as well as her skin glistening with sweat. Even in an industry where we frequently hosted the rich and attractive onboard, she stood out as a beauty. She turned as she noticed me coming over and lifted her hand in a friendly wave.
"Hi," she said with a winning smile, "do you think I could have a beer?"
"Of course," I said. Even though service wasn't my job, I wasn't about to leave a guest waiting around for a simple request. I walked behind the bar and found cold beer in the fridge. The girl received it gratefully. To my surprise, instead of walking back to rejoin the other guests with her drink, she sat down on one of the bar stools. She looked like she wanted to keep chatting. A little intrigued, I hesitated before leaving.
"How long have you been in yachting?" she asked before taking a causal swig of cold beer.
"Almost ten years, ma'am. Before that, I was in the Navy.
"Please, call me Claire. You're an American?"
"That's right. Doesn't the accent give me away?"
"Well, yes, but you never know. I've met continental Europeans who speak English exactly like a Brit or an American depending on where they learned it. "
"True," I agreed.
"Do you like it? I guess it's like serving drinks anywhere, except the bar floats around the world, right?"
For a moment I was confused, but then I realized her mistake. "Well actually, I am one of the navigation officers. I'm the first mate, second in charge next to the captain. Usually, one of the stewardesses-- the nice girls that showed you around before -- would take care of refreshments. Although there is a lot more that goes into their job as well."
"I'm so sorry," she said, mortified that she might have made a faux pas. "And here I am asking you to fetch drinks."
"Not at all," I quickly assured her. "It's my pleasure. It's the job of everyone in the crew to make sure you have anything at all that you need. You should have the time of your life while you are with us."
"You all wear the same uniforms, so I wasn't aware of who did what. I'm still learning everyone's name."
"It's okay. I'm Rob." I pointed to the striped epaulets on my shoulder. "If you want to know how to tell the crew apart, the captain wears four stripes with an anchor, I wear three stripes with an anchor. The deckhands and the bosun, who work outside on the deck, also wear anchors but with fewer stripes. The engineering staff wears little propellers on their epaulets. They work on the machinery. The stewardesses wear little moons and the chef wears a fork and knife."
"Oh, cool," she said, with interest. "It's always so interesting to learn the little details of a new world. Isn't stewardess an outdated term, though?"
I shook my head. "Not in this context. It's still the usual term in yachting."
"How did you get into this?"
"Well, in the Navy, I learned a little bit about ships, which I liked, but I didn't like the people in my unit. Maybe I would have stayed in if I had ended up working on a different ship, but I decided to get out. Looking around for my next opportunity, I discovered yachting as a way to keep sailing but with better pay and a more enjoyable backdrop. I started on deck, became a bosun, and then got hired onto
Horizon
as first mate."
"That's a really impressive story."
I shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "It's a story. We all come from somewhere."
"No, really. It seems like you made your own way to where you are."
