The Harbour Pilot – Part 1: On the Bridge

"Port two degrees," said Agnieszka.

"Port two," echoed the helmsman.

The fog hung over the Baltic like wet wool, so thick that the bow of the container ship had vanished from the bridge window. Agnieszka stood at the radar, calm, one hand on the console. She was thirty-three, a harbour pilot with six years' experience and a grey scarf, and she had brought four hundred metres of steel through worse.

Behind her stood a man with a tablet and a folder.

"Tomasz Wiśniewski," he had introduced himself, an hour earlier. "The new harbour master. I'll be observing."

He was thirty-seven, tall and neat, in a navy uniform jacket, with sandy hair and a serious, careful face. He'd said "observing" the way another man might say "inspecting."

"Slow ahead," said Agnieszka.

"Slow ahead."

A tug emerged from the white, its lights blurry orange. Another bellowed on the starboard quarter. The ship crept forward into the channel, the breakwater a grey shadow, the water black and glassy.

"Your approach is unusual," said Tomasz, behind her.

"It's the correct one."

"The manual says wider."

"The manual wasn't written in fog."

A tense pause. She heard him typing a note. She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes on the radar. The ship swung a perfect arc around the buoy and slid into the berth with barely a whisper, kissing the fenders.

"Finished with engines," she said, with satisfaction.

Silence. Then, to her astonishment, she heard Tomasz laugh. "That was the finest docking I've ever seen."

She turned. "Sorry?"

"I'll amend the manual."

"Can I ask you something?" said Agnieszka, over coffee later.

"Yes."

"Do you always say 'observing'?"

"Only when I'm nervous."

"Green?" she said, a word from a sailor.

"Green," said Tomasz, smiling at last. "Very green."

Continue the story: Part 2 – Slack Water.