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Today when air travel has replaced the comfortable, leisurely
and romantic sea voyages of bygone days, I am reminded of one
such voyage, in December 1952.
The "Dunnottar Castle" provided a comfortable four-berth cabin
for the eighteen-day voyage to Mombasa. We sailed down the
Thames Estuary, passed close to the popular Kent seaside resorts
of Margate and Ramsgate and the White Cliffs of Dover before
heading through the English Channel for the Atlantic Ocean and
the dreaded Bay of Biscay en route to Gibraltar, the first port
of call.
Initially the attitude of some of the passengers was that they
were demeaned at being in tourist-class. However, soon after
every person had received a copy of the passenger list and it
was observed that not all the tourist passengers were from the
lower rungs of the Civil Service and commercial houses, small
groups began to form and meet for pre-lunch and pre-dinner
drinks. The Chief Steward was approached to alter the prearranged
seating at meals. An atmosphere of bon camaraderie
soon developed.
Browsing through the passenger list, I recognised names of
people I had met in Mombasa and when I played in the East v
West cricket match at Dar-es-Salaam. A closer look at the list
revealed that there were sixteen clergymen aboard. We felt
assured that the voyage would be relatively free of any major
disaster. Even the Bay of Biscay failed to live up to its foul
reputation and we sailed comfortably through calm waters to
anchor off Gibraltar.
Gibraltar, a British colony, situated at the western entrance to
the Mediterranean Sea, is connected to Spain by a long sandy
isthmus. Over many decades Spain has relentlessly laid claim to
the Rock. There is a legend that if ever the apes which inhabit
the Rock leave, then British sovereignty would end and control
of this important and strategic port and naval base would be
lost. Fortunately, the apes are still resident and are well fed
by tourists. During a visit to the Rock, HRH the Duke of
Edinburgh was handed a bag of peanuts to cast to the apes;
instead of feeding the apes, HRH turned and offered them to the
pressmen covering his tour. This gesture drew adverse coverage
from irate pressmen, but made more people aware of the apes and
the legend.
A young, fresh-faced, good-looking man set himself up as an
unofficial Master of Ceremonies. He was talented, witty, an
accomplished pianist, with organising ability and discreetly flirtatious. He introduced himself as Charles. Without knowing
his surname we were unable to identify him on the passenger
list. Speculation was rife as to who he might be. It appeared
certain that he couldn't be one of the sixteen clergymen. They
were easily distinguishable by either a "dog collar", the cross,
or crucifix. He remained incognito.
Passenger ships, other than the one-class, have notice boards
displayed at all entrances to the first-class section prohibiting entrance to the sacrosanct area. There is no official
instruction in reverse. It soon became evident that the social
activities and the happy-go-lucky atmosphere "downstairs" were
attracting fun-seeking passengers from "upstairs". No objection
was raised to this influx, which increased each night. Because
of this trend the first-class, perhaps unkindly, was referred
to as the "geriatric class".
Passengers were not permitted ashore at Gibraltar but had a full
day at Marseilles. We went on an enjoyable conducted
sight-seeing tour of the city, which had a population of almost
one million. We still have the souvenirs bought at the
cathedral , and in some of the attractive arcades. After lunch we
returned to the ship late in the afternoon in good time to watch
all the preparations for the short voyage to Genoa.
My sons, Brian and Michael, now older and more confident, used
initiative to obtain more spending money than the amount we
allowed them for the voyage. They jointly approached the
steward in charge of the lounge, the swimming pool and the
promenade deck and offered their group's services to help in
arranging chairs for functions, re-arranging them on the
completion of social activities, cleaning ashtrays, dusting
furniture, sweeping the floor and any odd job that required
doing. Their offer to work was accepted, but their negotiations
for cash payment failed. Instead, they were rewarded with free
drinks, packets of chips and nuts and occasionally, entrance to
a cinema show out-of-bounds for children. The work by the gang
usually commenced when the adults were at meals. The results of
their efforts were soon obvious and it was not uncommon for some
benevolent passengers to show their appreciation by presenting
members of the "volunteer work force" with a shilling or two.
We docked at Genoa, Italy's largest and busiest sea-port, at
about 5 o'clock on a cold and blustery evening. No organised
tours were arranged, as we were scheduled to sail at 10 o'clock
that night. However, passengers were informed that they could
go ashore provided they returned by 9 o'clock. We went ashore
all rugged-up and walked along the streets nearest the docks and
spent most of the time window-shopping. Babs bought a mohair
coat at a very reasonable price. It lasted for over twenty
years. What we do remember vividly was paying the equivalent of three pounds sterling for two cups of tea and two squashes in an
Italian cafe. At that time of the evening we should have
ordered a carafe of wine, which would have been one-fifth the
price. Nine years later when we were on the "Oriana" and called
at Naples, we did the right thing.
At dinner the night after our departure from Genoa the Captain
announced that at about 3 o'clock in the morning we would be
passing close to Stromboli, an island volcano off the south west
coast of Italy in the Tyrrhenian Sea. Stromboli, one of the
world's known active volcanoes, erupted fairly frequently and an Ingrid Bergman film about the island had been released just prior in 1950. The
Captain's announcement created interest and excitement and most
of the passengers wished to see molten lava hurled hundreds of
metres high and then watch flaming rivers flow down the mountain
sides into the sea. In the hope that the volcano would erupt at
the appropriate time, a suggestion was made that the sixteen
clergymen aboard be asked to offer a prayer for a minor miracle.
The next decision was whether to stay awake until 3 o'clock in
the morning or to go to bed early and set the alarm. A young
spinster had her own method and probably a motive when she gave
Charles, our unofficial Master of Ceremonies, her cabin number
and asked that he call her when the ship was nearing the
volcano. We decided to set our alarm for 2.30, as we wanted
Brian and Michael to see a volcano erupt. It could well be the
only time in our lives that we would see such a spectacle.
Whether it was communal prayer or sheer coincidence, the
passengers and crew of the "Dunnottar Castle" watched with
amazement, awe and delight the unforgettable sight of a volcanic
eruption. Stromboli continued to belch molten lava high into
the night sky for well over twenty minutes.
To ensure that every passenger would witness this rare
spectacle, the ship's siren sounded, announcements were made
over the public address system and the speed reduced to a mere
crawl. No television view of volcanic eruptions could ever
equal the sight we were fortunate to see just four kilometres
away from the deck of an ocean liner. The topic of the eruption
continued unabated until we reached Port Said.
Brian and Michael had had lectures on the dangers of the
indiscriminate lighting of matches and the improper use of the
telephone. Now I was obliged to explain the dangers of careless
talk and unfounded rumours. One evening when we were dressing
for dinner the boys ran into the cabin and told us that a light
aeroplane had crashed into the Mediterranean Sea and our ship
had turned back in an attempt to locate the wreckage and, if
possible, rescue the pilot. They were positive of this news, as
they had been assisting the crew to prepare and stock a
life-boat with medical supplies, food, blankets, hot-water
bottles and checking the life-jackets. I explained that it
could be just a routine training exercise and the crew, now their good friends, were pulling their legs. They were positive
of the authenticity of the unfortunate incident. I was proved
wrong. Later that night the Chief officer gave the identical
news. The search was unsuccessful, as neither the wreckage nor
the pilot was traced.
The ship tied up to a floating pontoon at Port Said, Egypt's
largest and most important refuelling port, situated at the
northern end of the Suez Canal. Ours was one of many passenger
and cargo ships and oil tankers anchored in the harbour. We
walked on a floating gangway to reach the shore and then, with
hundreds of passengers and crew, made a beeline to the famous
Simon Arts (Arzt) shopping complex. It was tantamount to sacrilege if
anyone passing through Port Said did not, at least once, shop at
Simon Arts. The three hundred metre walk along the waterfront
was as interesting as it was annoying. The annoying part was
that one was pestered, even gently mauled, by touts peddling
obscene books, pictures, post-cards and erotic carvings; money
changers offering ridiculous exchange rates for foreign
currency; and pimps willing to supply the best girls in town at
low rates. The amusing side was that the Egyptian waterside
trader, tout, money changer and pimp considered every tourist to
have Scottish ancestry. We were hailed as the McKenzies.
The Suez Canal, a man-made waterway 169 kilometres long, 150
metres wide and 13 metres deep, connects the Mediterranean and the Red Seas. The construction of the canal, which took over
eleven years, employed thousands of workmen and cost many
millions of pounds, was the result of an idea of Ferdinand de
Lesseps, a French diplomat, when he was serving in Egypt in the
1830s. The canal was opened to ocean-going vessels on the 17th
November 1869. Details regarding the formation of the Suez
Canal Company, the management and construction, the economic
effects and the political status, over the past one hundred and
eighteen years, are of immense interest, but space does not
permit inclusion here.
We commenced the fourteen-hour voyage in the early hours of the
morning. After a hurried breakfast, we moved alternatively from
the port to the starboard railings to ensure that we saw every
kilometre of this engineering wonder. The "Dunnottar Castle"
was in the middle of a convoy of fifteen ships, all sailing at
the statutory speed of seven knots an hour, strictly in single
file and a clear two hundred metres between bow and stern. Each
ship had an experienced pilot aboard. And to maintain maximum
safety for the many thousands of ships using the canal each
year, elaborate communication and control systems with
control-cum-check stations were installed at regular intervals
along the full length of the canal.
As ships could pass each other at certain points only, the
north-bound and south-bound convoys were in constant touch with the control stations. We were in the south-bound convoy and it
was not until we reached Al Ballah, fifty kilometres from Port
Said, that a loop or by-pass in the construction of the canal
permitted the north-bound convey to proceed to Port Said.
A further twenty kilometres south we sailed past Ismailia, a
city resembling a seaside resort in the south of France. There
was, of course, a dominant French influence in Egypt due to the
presence of Napoleon Bonaparte and his army in the late 1790s.
In the late afternoon we reached the Great and Little Bitter
Lakes. They are fairly large expanses of water. The two
convoys usually regroup here with the faster passenger ships
given preference in the line-up over cargo vessels and oil
tankers, for a quick getaway at the end of the canal. Just
after dusk we passed the port of Suez and Port Taufiq, at the
southern end of the canal and then entered the Gulf of Suez and
the Red Sea. It was a most enlightening, interesting and
enjoyable experience.
The night before we were due to dock at Port Sudan, we were
advised to close the porthole and lock the cabin door when we
left, as the "Fuzzy Wuzzys", the colloquial name given to the local tribe,
were notorious thieves, and many of them worked as dock
labourers.
It was a hot and sticky morning when the ship tied up at* the
quay. After obeying the instructions, we went ashore. The main
tourist attraction, in fact the only attraction, was a cruise in
a glass-bottomed boat to view myriads of varieties of tropical
fish.
The weather was now warm enough for the swimming pool to be
opened for use by the passengers. But with no definite hours
set for swimming and with no restrictions on its use by
children, the pool and poolside were invariably overcrowded and
dangerous and bedlam reigned throughout the day and for half the
night. This unsatisfactory state of affairs led to complaints
to the Purser by some adults. An order was soon passed
prohibiting children under the age of fourteen from using the
pool between two and four in the afternoon and after six in the
evening, even if accompanied by parents. Soon after the order
was published and strictly enforced, we saw about twenty
children, led by Brian, heading towards the Purser's office. We
were told that the children under fourteen years of age were
staging a protest march against the Purser's unfair order. The
protest had no effect and the ban remained in force. As a
reprisal the "volunteer work force" withdrew its services. I am
certain that it was Brian's one and only "union" action. Years
later he described it as a "minors'" strike, with the pun
intended.
The official itinerary showed Aden as the next port of call and,
according to the passenger list, six passengers were to
disembark there. It was a surprise when the ship anchored in
the outer harbour and the passengers and their baggage were
ferried ashore in the shipping company's motor launch. Many of
the passengers and crew were disappointed at being deprived of
the opportunity of going ashore at one of Britain's interesting
colonies and forfeiting a shopping spree. The reason given for
not entering Aden harbour was that there were sufficient
quantities of food, fuel and water aboard to last until the ship
reached Mombasa. By not entering the inner harbour the company
would saved hundreds of pounds in port dues.
While we were watching the Aden-bound passengers transfer to the
launch, a fellow passenger who had lived in Aden for a few
years, gave us some interesting information on the colony and
some idea of life there. With the end of the voyage just three
sailing-days away, the carefree holiday mood began to wane. Our
thoughts turned to a fresh life in yet another country, the
fourth; the possibilities of Babs getting a teaching job; the
prospects of a suitable school for Brian and Michael; my concern
at the inevitable frustrations and the challenge of opening a
new Customs House, the first in an inland town in Uganda.
The Gala Ball was held on the night before we were due to dock
at Mombasa. Charles, unchallenged, unrivalled and still
incognito, organised and entertained in his usual efficient and
nonchalant manner.
It was a warm, sunny morning when the "Dunnottar Castle" entered
Mombasa Harbour. The last hour on board was one of farewells
and goodbyes. Many of the tourist-class passengers searched
frantically to find their popular, charming and likeable Master
of Ceremonies. They wished to show their appreciation for all
that he did to make the voyage enjoyable; the men to shake his
hand and the ladies to hug and kiss him.
Charles very cleverly concealed and disguised his true identity
until the very last half hour before disembarkation. It was a
shock to a few, a great surprise to many and a big
disappointment to the adoring females - married, single, young
and old, my wife Babs included - when he was spotted among the
other clergy, immaculate in his ecclesiastical robes. To this
day, much to our amusement, Babs refers to him as "That Brute".
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