The Ship of Fools

The Ship of Fools

The Ship of Fools

Chronicle of Everyday Madness

January 6, 2008

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I would really like to have good news to announce.

Suddenly, I think of a line from a poem by Jacques Prévert:

- Those who manufacture pens in basements with which others will write that everything is fine

My readers constantly send me internet addresses of videos. I have a hard time choosing which horrors to mention. I want to say, "Where should we start? With a report on the dangers of the tazer? With the confessions made by Russo six months before his death? I want to run away from this blank page, this empty screen that I will fill. I would like to be carefree. I manage to be, rest assured. I found the cane I needed, on which I can lean. A dear friend even insisted on giving it to me. One gets used to it. But I dream of flying again, of running on the grass and feeling my feet leave the ground, and directing my flight by copying that of the falcons.

My friend Daniel is recovering from the incredible story he experienced a few months ago, when gangsters forced him to take off, heading for a prison yard, for an escape. It sounds like a joke.

*- We're going to take off. You'll take us, me and my friend, to the prison. We'll show you the way and go get our friend.

• You're crazy! It's a two-seater....
• What? The manual said: 700 kilograms...
• 700 kilograms total weight, not carrying capacity. *

The two masked men were confused. When you retrieve a manual for a flying machine, you have to read it all! Finally, the escape attempt did happen. Daniel made the trip with a masked man who had a Kalashnikov pressed against his temple. Since the onboard lighting was being changed, it wasn't working. He had to fly with a flashlight between his teeth. But when it was time to take off, two prisoners wanted to play Belmondo and grabbed the left skid. The machine, skimming the ground, immediately flipped over. One of the gangsters had his leg amputated. Daniel went through the rotor. He was lucky not to be hit by the blades and fell unconscious. One of the prisoners managed to escape by taking guards hostage. The man is dangerous, already sentenced to life. If the police find him, there will be no warnings. Anyway, he has already seriously injured one of them.

Daniel's shoulder was completely damaged, and he remained lying in the prison yard. He was only taken to a hospital after three hours, and it was the prisoners who brought him coffee. At the hospital, the Belgian on-duty doctors saw nothing on the X-rays.

*- Well, everything will get better with some rehabilitation. *

Error, he had two tendons cut and a bone avulsion. He went to have surgery in Paris, at Val de Grâce, with a doctor who is used to treating trauma from car racing. When he recovers, maybe we will fly again. In the meantime, I have started a new comic strip, about navigation in antiquity.

I came across a book on sale. It's called Liners, published by Köneman. I found lots of photos of the Mauretania, on which I had crossed the Atlantic, going. Let's have some fun before getting into the troubles of the world.

The Mauretania

In these transatlantic cruises, which lasted a little less than a week, there was not much to do except try to get a skirt. I remember that among the French passengers there was a guy who looked like François Périer. I asked him why he was going to the States:

*- You saw my face. In France, with the girls, I don't even touch my bill. But in the USA, if a woman learns that you're French, she falls into your arms immediately, just thinking about Louis Jourdan. *

During this trip, there weren't many skirts to attract. The ship, leaving from Le Havre, was to make a stop in Cork, Ireland. At that time, these large liners could take on an additional group of passengers without stopping in a port. The photo above shows a shuttle ship approaching the Mauretania, which immediately allows one to realize its size. It was one of the largest ships of its time.

A shuttle ship, leaving an English port, approaching the Mauretania

We were supposed to board two hundred additional passengers. All the young rascals on board were looking at the approaching ship. On its deck, we only saw a big black spot. In fact, it was a group of priests and nuns going to New York for a conference.

The Mauretania, at its launching:

The Mauretania at its launching

It is clearly visible that at the moment of launching, the ship slides on a flat support. In fact, very large ships have a form stability. They float flat on the sea like shoe boxes. You can clearly see this completely flat bottom at the time of construction:

Thus, these ships are not ballasted, or only slightly, by the engines, the fuel. The consequence is that if they heel more than 45°, they capsize. I made the return trip on a ship from the French Line, of the same size, which was its last voyage.

A ghost of the French Line

This 300-meter-long unit was to be sold to the Japanese to be transformed into a hotel. It was its last voyage and it almost became mine as well. It was October 1961. It was the storm season in the Atlantic. And there we had a real one, with waves thirty meters high. There were 500 passengers, which meant the ship was half empty. The first class was deserted. The wealthy preferred to travel by plane, on the quad-motored "Constellation". Most of the people were sick. At meal times, there were not more than twenty people sitting in the dining room. The waiters were swaying. Many people were swaying. I remember a violinist who swayed alternately to the right and to the left. The "tourist class" lounge was at the front, which meant that with every wave, the bow went up and down thirty meters. On the ascent, the acceleration prevented drinkers from bringing their glass to their lips. But on the descent, someone who wasn't careful got drenched on the top of his head.

I found the spectacle of this storm fascinating. The sea was completely white with foam. One night I wanted to see the raging sea up close. In the photo above, you can clearly see that at the back there are a series of decks. The one closest to the water is the deckhouse, with winches taller than a man. I took the stairs. When I arrived at the door leading to this deckhouse, I saw an inscription "Passengers not allowed". Well, I was 22, I went through anyway. The spectacle was fascinating. I saw real mountains of black water galloping. Suddenly I realized one of them was going to flood the deck I was on. By luck, I reacted immediately, rushing towards the riveted metal door, closing it behind me. I heard the impact of the wave. If I had stayed on the other side, the water would have gently lifted me off and a few seconds later I would have seen the liner moving away. I must have a real guardian angel, hired full-time with someone like me.

But it wasn't going to be the craziest episode of this...