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ACT ONE
One
May 1st 2022. The port of Felixstowe. The cargo ship MSC Keto in dock. A huge hulking frame, four decks high. Giant container boxes in different bright colours are stacked in rows on top of each other.
The bridge – a horseshoe shaped bank of navigation control equipment in front of a wall of curved panelled windows facing out to sea.
Two black leather chairs sit in front of the navigation station, the helm separating them.
CORRINA stands in front of the CAPTAIN.
CAPTAIN. Let me give you a situation. True story. (Beat.) About fifteen years ago I was working on an emergency response vessel. Some of the crew were complaining because their cabins were right above the anchor locker and it banged. All night long. Couldn’t get any sleep. Chinese bloody torture… Can you still say that? Anyway. The next morning they decide to fix it themselves. Only a small thing… the anchor’s loose, needs securing. Simple. Two of them, Victor and Markus, go down to the locker. Victor can’t fit inside because he’s wearing his protective clothing so he takes it off and climbs in but it’s dark… they can’t see what they’re doing. Markus goes off to get torches. By the time he gets back Victor is dead. Chamber rusted; all the oxygen sucked from the air. Last thing he said was heard over the radio ‘I’m going to need to put a clip on the anchor’ then… Gone. Suffocated in the time it took to say those few words.
Silence.
Third mate equals safety officer. Big responsibility.
Competent mariners make safer ships. Can’t afford to make mistakes.
CORRINA. No, Sir.
CAPTAIN. Excellent references from Warsash.
CORRINA. Thank you, Sir.
Silence.
CAPTAIN. What are you doing here?
CORRINA. …
CAPTAIN. What excites you about being at sea?
CORRINA. I suppose /
CAPTAIN. ‘I love to sail forbidden seas and land on barbarous coasts.’ (Beat.) Moby Dick. That’s why I’m here… Can you beat that?
CORRINA. My dad was at sea.
CAPTAIN. It’s in the blood then. Following in his footsteps.
CORRINA. I suppose so, Sir.
CAPTAIN. Top of your year. Impressive results. (Beat.) You were part of an IMO scheme to get more women to sea?
CORRINA. Yes, Sir.
CAPTAIN. Positive discrimination. I’m all in favour. More females on ships. Can only be a good thing. (Beat.) Course, you know what they say?
CORRINA. …
CAPTAIN. Bad luck to have a woman on board!
CORRINA. I’ve heard that one.
CAPTAIN. Bloody nonsense (Beat.) See. I might look like a dinosaur but inside I’m a… progressive. I like progress. (Beat.) Things change. They move on and you have to move on too. Some work the crew too hard, it might be a tight ship but it’s not a happy ship.
Silence.
CAPTAIN. What’s the plan then? (Beat.) After my job?
Beat.
CORRINA. I think I might be, Sir.
CAPTAIN. You think you might?
CORRINA. Yeah. Yes I want to be Captain, Captain. (Beat.) One day.
The CAPTAIN nods.
CAPTAIN. Glad to hear it.
CORRINA. Thank you, Sir.
CAPTAIN. Good luck. Any questions… any problems. My door is always open.
CORRINA. Thank you, Sir.
Beat. CORRINA turns to leave.
CAPTAIN. Compass deviation.
CORRINA stops and turns back.
How do we apply variation and deviation and in what order?
CORRINA. True course in degrees. Apply variation to give us magnetic course. Apply deviation to give us a compass course.
CAPTAIN. TVMDC. (Beat.) What’s the mnemonic?
CORRINA. True Virgins Make Dull Company.
Beat.
CAPTAIN. True. Virgins. Make. Dull. Company. (Beat.) Exactly.
Two
Upper deck. CORRINA dressed in boiler suit with a clipboard. Some FILIPINO CREW MEMBERS are working.
CORRINA gestures, a small wave.
CORRINA. Hi.
A couple awkwardly raise a hand to greet her.
CORRINA. Y’alright?
Silence.
CORRINA. Yeah, I’m a woman. (Beat.) Let that sink in for a bit first shall I?
Silence. One of the crew, ANGELO, pulls an earphone from his ear.
ANGELO. Their English is not so good. They won’t understand.
RAFAEL (to ANGELO). Fuck you. My English is perfect.
ANGELO. Last time I sailed with a woman was three… maybe four years ago. She was the cook. Two options for dinner, burnt or cremation. You’re in luck this time, Christian is like your guy Gordon Ramsay.
ANGELO kisses his fingers.
RAFAEL. You can tell you haven’t eaten in a real restaurant for years.
ANGELO gestures to RAFAEL and RIZAL.
ANGELO. Rafael. And this is Rizal.
They both a mutter reluctant hello to CORRINA.
ANGELO holds his hand out.
I’m Angelo. What’s your name?
CORRINA. Corrina.
ANGELO. Corrina. Like Bob Dylan?
CORRINA. Like Ray Peterson.
ANGELO. Ray Peterson?
CORRINA. American. Nineteen-fifties, you probably won’t /
ANGELO claps his hands together, epiphany.
ANGELO (enthusiastically sings the chorus of Ray Peterson’s ‘Tell Laura I Love Her’) …then the guy crashes his car and dies. Man it’s sad!
CORRINA. Same singer, different song.
ANGELO. No sure, sure. Not that song. That’s about Laura. You’re Corrina. Hey Corrina! He sings about you too, no?
CORRINA. Not me personally.
ANGELO. Your mother loved this guy, no? Ray Peterson.
CORRINA. My father loved him.
ANGELO. Tell him he’s got good taste.
CORRINA. He’s dead.
ANGELO. Oh man. I’m sorry.
CORRINA. No need to apologise. Unless you killed him?
ANGELO. Ah come on. You can’t make jokes about your dead father.
CORRINA. I can make jokes about whatever I fuckin’ well like, Angelo. S’called freedom of speech.
RIZAL. Alway...
