Code Alpha on the High Seas

   What we expected to hear was music--Irish music--night and day.  And that was pretty much the case on board the cruise ship sailing the eastern Caribbean while host to Irish performers, instrumental and vocal and both.  After the major musicians completed evening performances, most passengers retired to their staterooms.  But every night there was a seisiun, from midnight to 4 am.  The traditional gathering is informal, with little planned other than spontaneous music making, and the stage is usually open to whoever wants to share their talent.

   We were not among the die hard fans up late on the penultimate night of the cruise when the ship was slipping silently through the Gulf waters to Miami.  At 4:30 am a loud voice on the ship's speaker system sounded in our cabin.  "Code Alpha, code alpha . . ." followed by a jumble of numbers and letters.   I was annoyed by the unrequested wake up call, especially because other announcements during the day were not conveyed directly into cabins but only to areas outside passenger rooms.  Anita got up looked out the balcony window.  I rolled over and went back to sleep.

   The jarring and unintelligible message was sent ship wide by mistake.  It was intended only for the crew.  The captain apologized the next morning but he did not explain what the content of the message referred to.  Well, there was a reason for that reticence, as we soon discovered.

   The news at first was sketchy.  A passenger had died on board in the early morning hours.  A large older man.  Apparently a massive heart attack.  His name was Tom Pigott, a tour promoter, a businessman and a singer.  He was not on the main stage because he was not a professional performer.  But he was at the seisuns in the wee hours and he made his presence felt.  He received high praise from Paddy Reilly, a great ballad singer who, retired now, was on the cruise enjoying his musical friends.  He told Tom, "By God, man,  you're a real chanter, . . .  a blooming bard you are!"  Piggot's eyes brimmed, and he later said he had so much fun singing on the ship, he could die happy.  It seems he did. 

   In retrospect, there was a premonition--albeit amusing at the time--that preceded this event.  When we embarked from the port of Miami, a few minutes into sail, the captain announced that a passenger wasn't feeling well and there would be a brief delay as the ship allowed him to be conveyed in a tender back to dockside.  There really was no inconvenience, but one old cantankerous, bearded Celt (not yours truly) grumbled to a group in the elevator: "It's a wonder more of us aren't feeling well.  When you get in open ocean, there's hardly any way to get off this fool thing.  You could die here!"  He then fumbled with the buttons as the door opened.  "Is this ten? the old guy asked.  A young bloke (also direct from Ireland) replied with a smile, "I think so.  Take the risk."  I stifled a chuckle.  His remark was clearly an ironic riposte to his doomsayer countryman.  When the young fellow stepped off the lift, he said, "Now, to find my gang in this crowd . . . "  I said, "Take the risk."  He beamed, happy that someone had acknowledged his sly wit.

   I did not know Tom Pigott.  I've learned about him since his passing.  (There's some video of him singing on YouTube.)  There was sadness throughout the Irish group on board after all learned of his death.  The night before we slid back into the Port of Miami, a scheduled Mass on board included many mentions of Tom and the paying of respects to his traveling partner.   A collection was taken up to help her help Tom's family in Ireland with the repatriation of his remains.  His relatives and close friends were the primary audience for the reading from Job which contained this passage:
            

If in bed I say, "When shall I arise?"

then the night drags on;

I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.  My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle;

 they come to an end without hope.

 Remember that my life is like the wind;

 I shall not see happiness again.

   So, as the famous passage from 1Thessalonians 5:2 affirms, "for you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night."  Or, as some would prefer, these lyrics from the group singing of "Go, Lassie, Go" on the last night of the cruise.

Oh the summertime is coming

And the trees are sweetly blooming

And the wild mountain thyme
 

Grows around the blooming heather

 

Will ye go, Lassie go?

 

Chorus

 

And we'll all go together

To pluck wild mountain thyme 

All around the blooming heather

 Will ye go, Lassie go?

   May we all rest in peace.