The Weight of Smoke

Studying the colour of smoke from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel has an interesting marine parallel. For a very different reason, marine engineers too are keen observers of the colour of smoke from the funnel of their ship. It is their chimney; the engine room, their chapel.

The engine room is a complex, compact space packed to the brim with a vast array of machinery systems. A ship is a floating hotel — but with exceptions: no access to shore-based services.

Giant propulsion engines as tall as double-storied buildings; power plants and boilers sufficient to meet the needs of a small township; air-conditioning systems; sewage treatment units; and desalination plants — the ship has got it all.

The marine engineer is the jack and master of all machinery. They need an intimate understanding not only of the functioning of equipment, but also the thermodynamics of the processes within, the hydraulic flows, and the mechanical stresses involved. They must know, like the back of their hands, the labyrinthine pipework and electrical circuits that service the equipment.

Being a marine engineer is no easy task. A single mistake can lead to multiple — and often catastrophic — failures.

The last thing a marine engineer wants is a breakdown of critical machinery in the middle of the ocean, thousands of miles from help. I was once a serving marine engineer on large merchant ships. As chief engineer, one begins to lose the gut instinct developed by spending most of the working day in proximity to machinery. The chief is usually buried in paperwork.

This is why they watch smoke — which has an uncanny knack of revealing the health of the engines and boilers.

Every evening after dinner, I walked the length of the main deck, frequently looking up at the funnel to study the colour of smoke.

Black means poor combustion, indicating engine problems; white, water ingress into the combustion space; and blue implies excessive consumption of lubricating oil.

Sparks from the funnel? Time to don the boiler suit.

Near-colourless smoke was the holy grail — rarely seen, but always aspired to.

On one occasion, I observed thick black smoke and hoped we could deal with the problem in port. Sadly, it culminated in the immobilisation of our ship for nearly 24 hours, while we replaced a piston weighing over a tonne — in the middle of a raging Atlantic storm. Our fully loaded 50,000-tonne vessel was flung about like a piece of flotsam. We could barely stand without holding on to something. I’ll never forget how helpless we felt that night.

And so, just as the colour of smoke is interpreted by the faithful gathered in St Peter’s Square as a sign to humanity, the colour of smoke at the funnel is also a portent of what lies ahead for the marine engineer.

Whether generated from the holy precincts of the Sistine Chapel, or from the internal combustion engines of a ship, the smoke is not just exhaust — but something weighed in hope, peace of mind, and certitude.