Antonin, our Russian trumpet player, will be headed home on Sunday. He didn't work out for various reasons, but mostly because of his inability to communicate in English. It would be like me going to Russia and trying to get along in a theatre orchestra without the help of any English speakers.

He's been late for or missed three rehearsals so far. And that's three too many.

Eric tries very hard to communicate with Antonin. For example, when informing him of the next day's rehearsal and playing schedule Eric will use a combination of loudly spoken, very basic English, and hand gestures, including pointing to the face of his watch to indicate time.

“Antonin. To-morrow – we – will - re-hearse – at - three - o'clock - in - the after-noon,” he says loudly and slowly. But Antonin's blank look tells Eric that he needs to work a little harder.

“To-morrow - we - must - be - here,” he says, gesturing towards the bandstand with both hands, “to - re-hearse - the - show... at - three - o'clock.” He points to the three on his watch, and then mimes playing the trumpet. “Three - o'clock. Here. Bring- your- trumpet. To - rehearse. Do - you - understand - what - I - am - saying, Antonin?”

“Da.”

“Good. We'll see you here, then, at three o'clock. Tomorrow.”

“Da.”

The next day three o'clock rolls by, and we start the rehearsal without Antonin. But that was no surprise. Nobody expected him to show up.

In this case, though, it was a time change that threw Antonin off. Simon had reminded us all of the time change (1 hour ahead as we move east) and there were several announcements on the ship's PA, and it was also written down on our schedule. But of course, none of it registered on Antonin. He finally appeared at 4:00, about three-quarters of the way through the rehearsal.

This was the third rehearsal in a row he had failed to show up for on time. The first one he missed completely. Another he came late to by 35 minutes, having misunderstood 4:15 to be 4:50 (or so he said).

Simon had called Antonin's cabin to try to contact him when he failed to appear at the first rehearsal – the one he missed entirely. No answer. Later he asked Antonin where he had been when he wasn't at the rehearsal. I overheard the conversation.

“Antonin, you know you missed a rehearsal. We rehearsed, and you weren't there.”

“Da,” said Antonin, blankly.

“Where were you? Did you have training or something?”

“In room.”

“In your room? But I called your room and there was no answer.”

“I vass in room. Da!”

I noticed Eric's twitch was returning in a big way, and I began to worry about him again.

Now imagine a rehearsal with a visiting guest artist who's charts require substantial explanation and clarification (which is the case more often than not).

Many of the guest artists' charts are decades old, and marked up with pencil and/or coloured ink. Very confusing. Even if your English is good, and you have had experience, the directions might be tricky to follow.

You can imagine how much of a problem a lack of basic English is in terms of how well you can do your job. But deciphering 'chicken scratches' (the technical musical term for these markings) is part of the job of being a freelance musician.

(The term 'Chicken scratches' is not to be confused with 'chicken shit', another technical term, but which means lots and lots of notes to play. Sometimes a third term is used to describe either of the above - 'bullshit', as in, 'What's this bullshit?!').

Eric might have to give directions like:

“So this is how it goes. When you get to the first double bar, just go straight through, no matter what it says. Some of you may have a repeat pencilled in there. Just ignore it if you do. Then, when you get to letter 'C' vamp the first four bars until [visiting artist] cues us. He'll count 1-2-3-4, but watch it, he might not start on beat 1. Just be ready. Got that, Antonin?”

“Da.”

I know I talked about this before in a previous post, but it happens over and over again with foreign musicians assigned to the orchestra. The shoreside people who do the hiring don't seem to understand how important verbal communication is in the orchestra.

It's different for other musicians on the ship. If you're just playing dance music, or cocktail music, you don't have to understand English at all. There is an all-Polish quartet on the ship. No problem. They play for dancing, not for shows, and they communicate among themselves. There's a latin group, too. Again, it doesn't matter how good their English is. Same goes for the Caribbean band (who do in fact speak a version of English, I think).

I feel really bad for Antonin, though. He was pretty excited about getting this job. The money he would make on the ship is very good indeed by his standards. And he was getting a chance to play with “real American jazz musicians” (which some of us are, I suppose).

To be sent home after only a week must be demoralizing to say the least.

But Eric really has no choice if he is to do his job as musical director appropriately. A competency in English is a job requirement for all positions on the ship. It's the people shoreside who are to blame for not hiring people that meet this requirement.

As the Polish trombonist said after he learned he was to be sent home, “Life can be cruel”.