I guess it would be hard for the modern
cruise passenger to fully understand or appreciate the role
that the old liners played. I don't just mean that they
were the lifeblood of 'people' movement, although before
the aeroplane they were invaluable in this role.
The early cruise ships (liners taking a
break) were that little oasis of western civilization to
be found in strange places - and they were a very welcome
sight for ex-pats and people on foreign service. Unlike
now, then, when a cruise ship hove into site near where
you were, you grabbed a 'sort of' clean shirt, combed hair,
and sat back with expectations of a few hours in modern,
clean surroundings and cold drinks. No boarding passes were
needed; the ships knew that the port's 'western element'
was going to invade.
I remember once, many, many years ago when
I still had black hair and a normal waistline. We were in
Lae (PNG) for a few days stopover for rest and repairs.
My ship was a tiny affair and we weren't carrying any cargo,
this trip we had other things to do that I won't go into
here. The temperature was around 97 and the humidity 100%
plus. The whole place was one gigantic steam bath
. Our voyage had taken us to Vila, Honiara,
Pt Moresby, Madang and Rabaul and we were all going a bit
troppo. Apart from a mixed native crew I had 3 European
Officers on board, old friends that had been me for years
and together we were in the last stages of trying to stay
sane.
It was early evening and the harbour master came on board
and told us we had to move off the wharf and anchor as a
passenger ship was arriving early the next morning. He was
of the old school and a nice guy so we didn't mind at all.
Once the worst of the heat of the day had vanished with
the sun, we moved off and anchored. Then we just collapsed
into hot bunks (no air-conditioning in those days, especially
for an old ship like the 'Cosi'). Actually you never really
'slept' in the true meaning of the word, you just lay naked
on the top of the bunk and sweated out about 2 litres of
fluid overnight, while dozing, tossing and turning. The
first duty of the cabin wallah the next morning was to take
everything up on deck (including mattress) to try and air
it in the sun; trouble is the humidity ensured that it never
really dried.
What a glorious sight the 'Andes' was,
she sat alongside like some grand dowager duchess stuck
in a working class area. Gleaming white and not a mark on
her paintwork, a tiny puff of exhaust trickling from the
stack. We watched until the passengers all seemed to be
ashore, they even had shore tours then but the pax sat in
the open backs of trucks or in buses with rust holes through
the floor. Anyway, once they were away, over we went.
White shirts and shorts (well close to it) and epaulettes
on shoulders so that we would be recognised as seamen. Plus
we always turned up bearing gifts for the wardroom, this
time it was a case of extremely good malt whisky that had
fallen off a wharf and retrieved by us (it's called midnight
requisitions).
There was only one bar open and that was
inside just fwd of the pool. Real cold beer, served in chilled,
clean, glasses - it may not seem much to you these days
but then that was luxury of the first order.
We didn't introduce ourselves to ship's officers, they knew
we were there and would join us if they wanted. This time
they were also in need of different conversation and we
soon had a few around us. Mainly these were Deck and Engine
Officers although Andes had a great Purser (when the
rank actually meant something) and he also joined the group.
We were invited to lunch in the fwd dining room - real food,
that didn't have a taste of fuel oil attached to it. Plus
the wine flowed; oh! you have no idea how great it was to
drink chilled white wine.
After lunch we got to use the showers in the officer's accommodation
- hot, hot water followed by cold. In our ship there was
no hot water but it wasn't cold either. Heated by the surrounds
it was a constant 'warm' so that's what you showered with
and drank. Then we returned for a few last drinks in the
wardroom. As a joke I said that they should come back to
our ship for a mess dress dinner (they were sailing at midnight)
and to my horror about 6 took up the offer.
As you can imagine, that sent us flying
back to our ship in a panic. They were arriving at 1800
for drinks and a 1900 dinner. Our cook was actually pleased
to be cooking for an event and said he would 'do good boss'
that was a worry. We cleaned up the dining area and found
an old folding card table to stretch the seating. Booze
wasn't a problem; we were awash with the stuff. I sent two
of the deckies into town to buy any ice they could find
and they returned with 10 fair sized bags from the hotel
(somehow I don't think the hotel, at the time, knew they
had donated it). Some we used to chill beer, some was set
aside for mixed drinks and some to the galley for water
jugs as we were having curry for dinner and I mean the real
thing (the cook was from India), every person had to have
a jug of iced water to drink whilst eating. Actually we
didn't have enough jugs so some of us drank out of saucepans.
For dessert we has two Christmas puddings (out of tins)
left over from last Christmas, or perhaps the one before
that and powdered custard made using powdered milk - not
exactly a feast fit for a king.
They turned up on time and indeed were
in mess dress uniform, at the time I just hoped they weren't
their best ones as the Cosi has a lot of oil and rust sticking
to things. There was a lot of laughter over drinks and then
we sat down to dinner. No sooner had we started than there
was a knock on the bulkhead, (we didn't have a door). Looking
up I saw an elderly gentlemen in civilian cloths - you guessed
it, it was the Captain. Naturally, to follow protocol I
had sent a message to his cabin inviting him but I didn't
think for one moment he would turn up.
Our little dining area was very hot and cramped and dress
uniforms slowly got discarded. As he was a guest, the captain
couldn't play captain (I won't give his name as he is still
alive and a friend, even if on the other side of the world)
with his officers. They survived the curry and the ancient
Christmas puddings and settled back to enjoy a few last
drinks.
At his request, I showed the captain over
the Cosi, she must have looked a bit grim to a man used
to driving something like the Andes. However as we sipped
a couple of last gins in the tiny wheelhouse he said how
much he envied me and how he would love to be driving the
old Cosi - naturally I thought he was being polite but then
something in his eye told me he was speaking the truth ...
after all, he had been a WW11 destroyer captain and those
men weren't faint hearted.
He and his officers were retrived by one of the Andes's
boats at 2300 and they returned to civilisation - lucky
devils.
We gave them a toot from our little horn as she left at
0002 and in return they nearly blasted us out of the water
with their No1 English Channel fog horn - I guess we were
all still in a playful mood. Not a big story, just one of
those days that you hope will stay in the memory.
So, next time you are in one of your big
modern cruise ships and think about complaining because
there is either too much or too little ice in your drink,
or something equally unimportant, just remember how bad
it could be.
By the way the full name of my
little ship was 'Cosi Fan Tuttie' which translates to 'All
women do'.
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