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Chessville
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I learned to play chess in the Navy when I was 17. I loved the game and soon became the ship's champion. Although it appeared that I had a talent for chess, it was too bad that I never got any training, and so I became a wood-pusher who sometimes showed moments of brilliance. I did become a tournament player later in my life and I won the chess problem solving competition, featured in the newspaper “The South China Morning Post” in 1988. (And funnily enough, there has never been another competition since! So that makes me still the reigning champion of Hong Kong.) I even have a silver plate to prove it! I am retired now but I still assist young players! One of the most exciting games I ever played in my life was against the champion of another ship, the “British Adventure”, while I was on her sister ship, the “British Talent”, both 28,000 ton supertankers of the 1950s. And he was determined to beat me! Our ships met up in Mena al Amadhi in the Persian Gulf and very quickly I received a signal from the “Adventure” requesting a challenge match from the senior apprentice Charles McLeod of Glasgow. I accepted and replied in the affirmative. A neutral venue was chosen, and it was decided that we play our match aboard an old disused tug-boat alongside the wharf in the port of Mena al Amadhi in Kuwait. At 10 o’clock in the morning on a hot day in June, McLeod and I faced each other across the board. The first time we had ever met! I could tell immediately that he despised me, because I had intimidated him by offering a benevolent and sympathetic smile, whilst in return, he glared at me with uncertainty. My black curly hair and kindly blue eyes contrasted with his unkempt red hair and uncountable freckles, and where I had the manners and grace of a gentleman, he looked like he had just come in from a game of kick-the-can in the street. My pleasant spoken Aberdeen English with a hint of the Doric, clearly irritated him, and his Glaswegian you could cut with a knife. Accordingly the colours were chosen then battle commenced! My heart was pounding in my chest as we made our opening moves and I knew that my opponent was also enduring the same stressful agony, it was not just Crockett vs McLeod, but the “British Adventure” against the “British Talent.” I tried to complicate the game by refusing to exchange pieces but his caution was testing my judgment and I feared that he had some secret weapon that would pierce my defence. We exchanged two pawns and knights, took a breath, then revalued our strategies. After a while playing there was a commotion on deck and everybody left the dining saloon while we both carried on with the game. We were now in the middle game, when suddenly the shout went around the tug-boat, “The ship is sinking!...The ship is sinking!” Several times we heard the call but we didn’t show any emotion and continued to play. What was happening was that the tug-boat which was tied up to the wharf had sprung a leak and was just slowly sinking to the bottom! We were both too deeply engrossed in the game to allow any distraction and we played on. When there was about a foot of water in the dining saloon where we were playing, there suddenly appeared at the door a Kuwaiti sailor, we both gave him a brief glance and our visitor seemed to be searching for words! He obviously appraised the situation. Here were two young 18-year-old apprentice officers dressed in “tropical white uniform”, engaged in a game of chess! The sailor could not give us an order, so he stated as calmly as possible, “Gentlemen the ship is sinking!” and vanished into thin air! When the water was waist high we both stood up silently, still studying the pieces on the board. We continued with the game, then the water reached the table edge. All the fans had stopped since the power had failed, so we were sweltering in the heat of the small space and we were sweating profusely. Like we were both hypnotized, we stared at the game as the water trickled onto the table and gently flowed onto the board. The pieces appeared to come to life and began to move by themselves as they became buoyant and started to float away. It was like our game was dissolving right before our eyes! Outside someone banged on a pipe, the sea level rose sharply and we looked at each other now already neck-high in water. I indicated the door and said politely, “After you!” but he had the impertinence to reply, “No dear chap, your first!” Suddenly we were both swimming out the door and when we broke surface we received a great cheer from the crowd on the wharf. The tired old ship had just given up and descended to the bottom of the harbour, while we adversaries were both happily enjoying an unscheduled swim and a pause in the conflict. But our day was not quite over! We were both treading water about a few feet from the wharf, when, to our utter shock, the sea around us started to boil and splash wildly, and I could feel myself being thumped and battered about under water. Suddenly I realized that we had been caught in what is known as a barracuda feeding frenzy. We were surrounded by metre-long barracudas devouring a shoal of silver-fish and threshing about us wildly! Staring, fear-filled eyes looked down upon us from the wharf as the spectacle unfolded in the frothing bubbling water below. “Send us a heaving line!” I roared and they got into action immediately and we both grabbed a line and wrapped it around our wrists and we were yanked out of the maelstrom in quick-time! Standing on wharf, the crowd had stepped back open-mouthed and speechless and gaped at the pair of us. I looked to my opponent, Charles, and I asked, “Well, what do you say?” He turned slowly and stared out over the sea, taking his time, and then said: “I don’t want a draw!” “Neither do I,” I replied firmly. We faced each
other and shook hands. “We’ll just call it an unfinished game then!”
We both agreed! This story first appeared on
toowrite.com, and is reprinted with the permission of the author.
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