Day 54: The Jam Maker
23.02.09: 5.30am. The phone rang. Groggily, I answered it. Hello? It was the captain. You have to get off this ship. Now. We will not take you and the ship leaves in ten minutes. Get off! In an obstinate attempt to force fate to ensure I got to stay on the Linge Trader, I hadn't packed my bags, and my crap was spread out all over the cabin. I hurriedly stuffed everything into my backpack, possibly breaking all my things in the process and trudged downstairs like a man condemned. Into the ship's office and there was Junior finishing up the ship's paperwork. What was I doing? I have to get off, the captain says... No, no, no - you can't get off here, they won't let you. What? Immigration say you cannot get off. I'll ring the captain. A fraught phone call ensued. The outcome…