Merry Christmas Gentlemen
We were nearly through with the Java coast, we just had a consignment of tobacco to load and then we were going back to Singapore.
The tobacco was packed in foil and then covered in straw matting which was sewn very tight with a kind of twine. The deck of the hold where it was stowed was covered in straw matting and when it was loaded the top of the cargo was also covered in this manner. It gave off a wonderfully aromatic scent. We also loaded copra in some of the holds, this carried with it hoards of copra bugs,a little like ladybirds ,but not so bright ,a kind of dull iridescent green. They got everywhere ,they were not harmful but it was'nt nice having them in your bedding and lockers. They completed the voyage home with us.
Our homeward cargo was made up of raw materials ,teak and mahogany logs, spices, palm oil ,tobacco ,copra ,rice ,latex and a myriad other products from the islands.
We topped up the hatches at Singapore ,where we had a whale of a time just walking on proper pavements and enjoying ourselves without the ever present danger of violence.
We picked up just one passenger for the homeward trip, a beautiful young Malayan woman who was going to study at the Malayan College in Kirkby.
It must have been a strange experience for her, being the only female amongst about 60 or so men, but she was always treated with the greatest of respect.
Our next destination was Colombo , in what was then Ceylon ,we had to load some tea ,and we would be able to buy some for our families as well.
I had heard a lot about Colombo, it was reputed to be the cleanest city in the East ,not counting Japan, and the Singhalese had a reputation for friendliness.
Britain still had vestiges of Empire and Colombo still had a British Naval base there ,some of the lads reckoned you could have a great time in the NAAFI bar.
So we headed for Colombo with the anticipation of a good time ahead.
Christmas Day came a day before we arrived in Ceylon and the catering staff laid on a great feast ,the mess room and the dining and recreation rooms were festooned with decorations ;Oxo made a special Christmas tree for his cabin, instead of baubles and tinsel ,he adorned it with old sausages and chops ,cooked of course!
After our Christmas dinner the captain invited the deck and catering crew for drinks in the dining room, and here I must tell you of how beautiful that was. The bulkheads (walls) were of silkwood and were inlaid with marquetry designs of a contemporary nature, there were mirrors which were engraved with nautical and mythical maritime scenes and in the centre of the deckhead was a wonderful crystal chandelier. It was a very gracious setting. The Master ,Captain Readshaw ,was very old school , he had to be in his late 60's ,or even 70's,hosted the Christmas drinks and let us sit where we liked; a novel experience for a JOS. Spirits flowed like water and when everyone was settled and warmed by Christmas spirit , Captain rose to make a little speech prior to giving the toast. He was standing in front of the sideboard at the head of the dining room and we sat facing him, that is all of us except Oxo, he quietly climbed aboard the sideboard and got himself behind Captain Readshaws head. When the Captain called upon us to raise our glasses to goodfellowship and kindness , Oxo dropped his pants and mooned ,the cheeks of his behind showing behind the captains head like a sacrilegious halo.
Old Readshaw was bemused by our laughter ,unsure as to whether we had found his little speech witty ,but nevertheless proud of his delivery. He never found out about the "spreader", even the young Malayan lady laughed!
Next morning ,Boxing Day ,we tied up in Colombo. Above the dock walls we could see that there was a covered market across the dock road ,this had a giant Father Christmas sat upon its roof ,it seemed bizarre, most of the Singhalese were in sarongs and saris and there above their heads was the spirit of winter.
We were only going to be there for the day ,we were sailing that night ,because it was a holiday the bosun let us go ashore .I was getting changed when one of the Tally men came knocking at my cabin door. He was after any foreign coins or notes we might have for his sons collection. I had a roll of Indonesian banknotes ,they were totally worthless now ,so I let him have them.
Freshly washed and dressed we three ,the JOSSES ,made our way to the British Naval base.. The streets were clean ,so different from anywhere we had been lately ,even cleaner than Singapore.
The NAAFI was closed though ;when we got to the base some of the bootnecks told us there was no bar until the next day but that there was a bar that they used just outside the base ,the White Horse bar .That was where they drank ,so off the three of us trooped .We were the only customers and the staff made us very welcome, it was Christmas and they filled us full of the Christmas spirit...........................for a price of course.
Soon we were out of funds but just getting a taste for the local brew, we were just about to leave when the Tally man I had given some money to walked into the bar, he waved to us as he was sinking his beer; I called to him and asked if he could buy us a Christmas drink. No problem he said ,finishing his beer ,he told the barman to give us what we wanted ,throwing a roll of notes on our table ,he waved us goodbye and wished us a Merry Christmas. Anther round of drinks was brought to the table and we gave the barman most of the roll of money. He went off to the bar and gave it to the boss who roared with anger, It was the Indonesian money !
Shaking with rage ,he came to our table carrying a scimitar ,he whacked it down sending the glasses smashing to the floor. "Christian *******s!!" he shrieked " I vant my monies Thwack went the scimitar again. My bowels were on the point of opening when a little Babu entered the bar ,he was wearing a dhoti and an English blazer with a shirt and tie.. He was carrying a rolled umbrella and had a pair of black oxfords on his feet ,every inch the caricature of the Indian Lawyer. Seeing the disturbance ,he told the manager to calm down ,this was the English festival of Christmas ,it should be peace on earth and goodwill to all men. The manager turned the full force of his ferocity on the little Babu and we three exited stage left at a great rate of knots. We were greyhounds then and just managed to keep ahead of the barman, a little Morris Oxford taxi stood on the corner and we dived in and gave the driver orders for the docks.
There was a rosary hanging from his rear view mirror and a sacred heart of Jesus on the dashboard. "Merry Christmas Gentlemen" he greeted us ,"I am Roman Catholic" This very happy Time. You are enjoying this holy time?"
We had been, and he was'nt going to like what happened next.
Arriving at the Dock gates amidst a stream of felicitations to us and our crew, I handed him the rest of the notes and raced through the gates with a torrent of imprecations hurled at the back of my retreating head. Of course I felt bad about it but there was little else I could do then.
And so we left Colombo ,with some Singhalese left with an image of the English that was not very good.
div>
The weeks went by very quickly after that ,New Year was spent in the Arabian Sea and I stayed up for the of the New Year ,the 50's were ending and a new decade was about to commence.
The sea was as black as ink and the heavens above were exploding with light from the stars ,the warm night was cooled by a gentle breeze and only the steady beat of the engine pierced the silence. The poignant sound of the bell tolling out the decade broke the stillness ,sixteen times it rang ,eight for the ending of the old and eight for the new.
Up through the Red Sea and then on through the Suez Canal ,places that were now becoming familiar and places that heralded the passage home. I was getting excited now, I would have a good pay off this time, I wanted a new wardrobe and would spend my spare time planning the things I would do and dream of the girls that I might meet, and best of all I had a new niece to meet, Jeanette was her name and she was a little blonde bombshell , or so the letters from home told me.
As you near the British coast a frisson of excitement enlivens the crew , no one is immune from it ,it's called the channels ,and the nearer you get to your home port the greater the feeling becomes. We'd be docking in the Gladstone on the Sunday but would'nt be paying off until the Monday. This was awkward for Joe and Fred because they could'nt go home until after payoff and that was in Birkenhead come midday Monday. I invited them to stop the night at our flat, it would be a shakedown on the settee but it was better than nothing.
We got a taxi home and as were neared the tenements Joe said “You don' really live here d'you Andy?" Fred was goggle eyed as we entered the square " Erm, it looks a bit rough mate" he said. And for the first time since we had lived there I saw that they were right , my once demi paradise was now a slum. The walls were full of graffiti and the pavements were full of litter. I felt so sad ,it took the edge off my homecoming . But not for long ,soon we were in our little abode where Mum had a homecoming tea ready and my sisters were busy unpacking my cases.
After dinner Dad took the three of us to Walton to meet some of his brothers, we went to Tims in Westminster Road ,a quiet little place that had a good pint and a human juke box.
There was a little old man ,wearing a shabby mac ,battered brown trilby and a nicotine stained walrus moustache. Dad bought him a gill of mild and this inanimate little man sprang to life and sang "I know a Millionaire" when he finished the song ,he lapsed into silence and supped his drink,Joe bought him a gill and he gave forth with "Swanee"and then silence,we got about four songs out of him and moved on.
This was'nt how we really envisaged our first night home, but we had'nt paid off yet!
We crawled home just after closing time, ready for bed and eager for tomorrow. I would'nt be going back on the Machaon,I could'nt stand the thought of Bob's gallows humour and chapel ways. I was still a kid and wanted laughter and enjoyment, so it was goodbye Machaon!
.
Bookmarks