Atlantic Ocean Translator — January 1957

Since Tom knew both Hungarian and English, he helped the ship’s crew by accompanying the doctor on his rounds as well as translating the menus. 

On the last night of the journey, the staff of the Purser’s Office arranged a little, private party in recognition of my services. It was a good-natured event held in one of their rooms, and supplemented by cases of Canadian beer that were stocked under their beds.

The Assistant Purser proudly showed me the English-Hungarian dictionary he had produced from my translations of the menu. This meant that “roasted” had been translated into Hungarian as “inedible” and “eggplant” had become “cooked green sawdust.” I decided I should not be the source of embarrassment on future trips. I confessed to my prank and promised I would revise his work.

They asked if I had any special wish before we arrived in Halifax. I had always wanted to see the machine room with its monstrous engines.

“That place is off limits to passengers,” they said, “One can only go there in uniform.”

“So, which of you is going to lend me his uniform?” I asked.

“I will,” said Michael, “if you can find your room after drinking six bottles of beer.”

So, down went the six-pack. Then I led a procession of the six officers right to my room. They demanded I prove that it was really my room by showing them items of clothing they had seen me wear.

The next day, officer Michael sat on his bed in his underwear while I toured the engine room in his uniform, graciously accepting the salutations due to an officer of the ship.