Conversations on a Portuguese warship   Saturday, 09/08/2025

This is a very long piece, because it concerns many different things and summarises the intense experiences of my more than 12 hours on board. 

NRP Sines is a class of warship called an OMV, an offshore surveillance vessel. The Sines was built in 2017 but formally entered service in July 2018. As far as warships go, it is relatively small, being only 87 metres (290 feet) in length. Its standard crew is a contingent of 36, but at present this is up at 54. The reason for having more crew is the nature of its current mission, which is an unusually long one at 4.5 months. From Lisbon it has travelled through the Portuguese world, stopping at Cabo Verde, Guinea Bissau and Sao Tome & Principe, on down the African coast, stopping at Luanda and Lobito in Angola. From there it’s voyage became more international, stopping for a few days in Walvis Bay in Namibia, followed by Cape Town, and then a brief stop in Durban. And then on to its last stop, Maputo, the capital of Mozambique.

At this point, the voyage is almost at an end. For the past week it has been conducting a joint exercise with the Cabo Verde maritime and defence forces. It was just north of Cabo Verde when it got the emergency call concerning me on Tuesday. It then sailed north to meet the cargo ship which had picked me up. So a more than 24 hour diversion, but I got the very strong impression that this was not unwelcome, because one element of the exercise was search and rescue (in fact I think that they were sorry not to have been closer and able to perform the primary rescue). 

Because of its current mission, the additional crew comprise specialists who are not necessary on normal operations. A doctor and nurse, an international relations specialist, a few technical people etc. The Cabo Verdeans currently on board include maritime police and marines. They clearly did not want to discuss it, but one very obvious function of this Cabo Verdean mini-mission is the fight against narcotics smuggling. I suggested this to the head of operations in the officers’ mess, and both he and the captain burst out laughing. All he said was: You understand! 

From coming on board at about 06:30, I was constantly shadowed by a sailor, who smiled and declared himself to be my “bodyguard” while I was on the ship. The English term “minder” would clearly be more appropriate. I was not permitted to move anywhere on the boat unescorted. Fair enough I thought; after all, it is a naval vessel. 

Interestingly, that changed. I was escorted upstairs to the officers’ mess at about 11:45 and then had a lengthy conversation with the Executive Officer. The captain was present, on his laptop but clearly following the conversation. I was asked about all the places I’d been, and in several cases what my opinion of certain things regarding them was. I was then asked for my opinion on the current situation in Europe. Hmmm, a complicated matter – I just observed that Europe was dominated by the French and Germans, and that their interests were not necessarily the same as those of Scandinavians, East Europeans, or indeed those of the two countries in the Iberian peninsular. They were clearly amused at my answer. I then observed that Portugal was Britain’s oldest European ally.

And, mysteriously, from that moment on my minder disappeared. He had clearly been given an order to stand down. Whatever the test was, I’d passed! And I could now wander around freely – something which I tried to make the most of. 

In my short stay on board I spoke with a wide range of personnel. My special status meant that these people largely approached me. Indeed, I was surprised at the good quality of English spoken by many, and not just the officers – the lower ranks too. 

My status made it rather interesting. When I was taken aboard early on Wednesday morning I was handed over immediately to the doctor and nurse, who performed an examination of me. I think that they were a bit disappointed that I was so well, after a night with 1.5 hours sleep, followed by an extraordinary 22 hour day and 6 hours sleep. I told them that I was very definitely running on adrenaline and was afraid that at some point I would crash (it hasn’t happened yet!).

I was introduced to the head of logistics, a young woman, the head of international relations, another young woman, with whom (quite appropriately, given that I was an “international incident”) I had a lengthy conversation. There was a lunch sitting at 12:00 but the Executive Director suggested I join the smaller 13:00 sitting with the captain. 

Which I did, and had a lengthy “debrief” with the captain. He was particularly interested in what was going through my mind as events unfolded, and how that determined my behaviour. The Norwegians amongst you will enjoy this: he said “You do not panic. Instead you become extremely calm when under severe pressure. You are a Norwegian – the Scandinavians are excellent under pressure, they are naturally very calm – perhaps too calm!” An obviously intelligent man, and fairly young – I’d put him at about 38. He really determined the course of the conversation, quite appropriately, given that this was the captain’s table, but there were observations from a couple of others. I told them about hearing voices when alone for more than a week and there was great interest in this – what it tells us about the basic human need for company. The captain concluded by saying: “You are crazy. But that is very useful and very important. I could not sail alone like you. We all have a lot to learn from you.” That was a very kind observation. 

Now I will relate three conversations out of the several I had, each very different, but in their own ways interesting I think. 

After lunch I wandered out onto the very large, and mainly covered, rear deck, which allows you to get fresh, non-air conditioned air, and of course doubles as a smoking area. There I was approached by a plainclothes Cabo Verdean man who, he informed me, is a detective in the Cabo Verdean marine police. He clearly could not speak about local operations, but I said to him that I knew that a lot of the narcotics trade went through South Africa. For my South African friends, what he had to say is, I think, already known. He said that the biggest problem in South Africa is corruption within the South African police: active involvement by senior police in the trade. He then said, Cape Town is not good, but Durban is the very worst. In his view, Durban is completely dominated by criminal elements, police and civilian, and that makes it a very dangerous place. 

My detective was very outspoken on the importance of family, and setting a good example to one’s children. He said: Look, I don’t earn a lot of money, but it is sufficient for us to have a good life, and I’m very happy. He then went on to express his pride in Cabo Verde. He said that nothing is perfect and many things could be better, but he thinks that Cabo Verde made the transition to independence after the 1974 Portuguese revolution very well, and that it is steadily making progress. The future will be better than the past. (Isn’t that what everyone really wants, irrespective of the level of development of their country?). And interestingly, he said that their success as an independent country has not meant rejecting or demonising their Portuguese past. He said, Most people are like me, we have a mix of Portuguese and African blood. So Portugal is an inherent component of our identity, perhaps the most important, and therefore it should be cherished. All-in-all, this was an enlightening conversation with an impressively thoughtful man who spoke good English. 

The next conversation was with the most junior person on board, a 19 year old. He’d been pointed out to me earlier as the most junior, and had served us at lunch. He was on his break, smoking a cigarette outside. We had a quite extraordinary conversation. He told me that he had wanted to join the navy since his early teens, and did so a year ago, straight from school. He laughed and said that people like the captain would never understand someone like him, because they went to university first and therefore entered at a much higher level. He reached down to the deck and said: I’m at the very bottom. I told him that my father had started as a mess boy when he signed on aged 16 in late 1945, and had risen to captain. 

Maybe this helped, because our conversation took a very personal turn. I asked: Will you be  happy to get home after more than four months away? He immediately said: Yes, I cannot wait. I miss my mother so much! Now, that might sound immature, but it amounted to a lot more than that. He told me that his mother is 60 and has recently been in extremely poor health – she nearly died. He has an older brother, but this brother is 40 and more distant. Instead, he, at 19, is the great support of his mother. This expedition has been wonderful, because he has been able to send her €1,000 a month. He observed that the minimum wage in Portugal is €850 a month, so he feels that he’s doing well. I asked the obvious question: what happened to your father? And received a rather unusual response. He did not know that his father existed until he was 3. And his father didn’t know of his existence either. He was merely a man with whom his mother had had a brief relationship, following her marriage. His father denied paternity; a DNA test was done. He then did offer some small support, and had his son for one weekend out of two. But a close relationship never developed. Instead, it was his father’s then girlfriend who showed him kindness – so much so that although she is long separated from his father, he considers her a second mother. He said that when the ship arrives back there will be an arrival ceremony. He asked his father, who replied Sorry, no, because I will be on vacation. He asked this woman and she replied, I will be on vacation, but of course I’m coming! He said: that is the difference. He considers these two women, his mother and his second mother, as the most important people in his life – the ones who have always been actively interested in him. 

His ambition? He will spend 6 to 8 years in the navy, and is on the lookout for a “good woman” who is able to accept his regular absence on operations. Save money, and then perhaps move to the United States, where he has an aunt and cousins, and make an entirely new life. 

So this was very much a human story. But what a surprising perspective this young man gave me on a complicated, modern life. Expressed in sometimes halting, but surprisingly fluent, English. Always it is important to remember to talk to those at the bottom; not only do they have “their story”, but sometimes their story might be expressed with greater insight and greater fluency than those of their “superiors”. 

Another man I spoke with at length is a navigation officer. On arrival home in Lisbon, he is moving to the Azores, where he says he lived for a few years in his thirties, and loves. He will continue serving in the navy. He had spent 10 years at sea, then took an 18 year break as he had children, and then went back to sea. In his late fifties, he told me that he has 6 children and has been married three times. A lovely man, someone who exuded real human warmth – when it came to my departure from the Sines, he walked forward in front of everybody and hugged me, and told me that he hopes to see me in the Azores one day! We spoke at length about the ship’s current mission, and the various purposes it serves. From him, I got a very clear understanding of what they had been doing, and also how Cabo Verde fitted into it. He said: Look: the North Atlantic is huge. Responsibility for it is divided between Cabo Verde in the South, the US and Portugal. Portugal’s area is too large for us to handle. As for Cabo Verde, they have no resources at all. (I said: Not surprising: much poorer than Portugal, and only 700,000 people). So, he said, we try to help them, even though what we have is too much already. 

This man had a very clear perspective on things. Helped perhaps by the sort of pragmatism that a man must have to have three wives…

All-in-all, my 13.5 hours on the Sines were I think the most intensely interesting that I have spent in my life. As I reported to the British embassy in Lisbon, I was highly impressed by their professionalism, their commitment to their jobs, and their spirit of service. I remember reporting to you all in October/November 2023 about the evening I had spent with three young women from the US warship, the USS Pearl Harbor, and how impressed I was with them. In the same way, I was hugely impressed with the Portuguese. And of course I had the very unusual privilege of travelling on their ship – several of them noted how extremely unusual this was. 

And of course all of this completely took my mind off the loss of Manuka. I think that there are often compensations in life, but one has to actively seize them.