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'.
