Looking out of the port hole as I rose out of my bunk, I could see the iron grey clouds scudding across my limited vista. Pressing my face closer to the glass I could see that the harbour was covered in white caps, and every now and then a southerly wind gust would whip spray off the surface and into the air like a dust devil in the desert.
It was going to be long day.
Cook Strait Roll on, Roll off Ferry Aranui
I had been rostered to the Aranui now for a few months and was getting used to the ways of this 4,160 gross ton roll on roll off ferry. Jumping into the shower I tried to substitute hot water for sleep, a commodity all too scarce aboard ship with a schedule including two return trips a day between the North and South Islands of New Zealand. It would be busy today, as it was yesterday. In spite of the atrocious looking weather beyond the port hole, this was the height of the summer holidays and holiday makers kept a steady stream between the islands.
Dressing in my merchant naval officers’ uniform, and quickly making my way to the officers’ saloon for breakfast. I mentally noted the day of the week and was pleased that minute steaks would be on the menu. Entering the saloon, Jack the head steward was fussing over one of my colleagues at the Pursers table. Jack was truly of the old school, perfectly starched white jacket, black trousers and napkin over his arm as he poured tea out of the silver pot. He felt it was his duty to educate us young Pursers in the ways befitting officers in his domain.
“Morning, Jack, Rob”, I said greeting my colleague who was already seated as well as nodding to Jack when he offered the coffee pot.
“Yeah, g’day”, came back Rob rather less than enthusiastically.
“Bad night?” I asked.
“That bloody second steward is a stich-up artist” said Rob taking a bite of toast.
“Oh, don’t tell me, you didn’t go join the card game, did you?”
Rob looked up sheepishly. “Yeah, and he was pouring the bourbon too. Only got to bed at oh five hundred”.
“Well I guess you’re going to enjoy today then, looks like a lovely day out there. Think of wall to wall puking punters on every trip. Lovely jubbly”, I said cheerily.
“Yeah thanks for that” Rob groaned, “well I better get up to the Bureau and open up before the chief turns to”.
“See you there”, I said as Jack placed my minute steak before me. I ate it with gusto as it may be the only meal I would actually eat in the saloon today, as all other meals would be served while we were in open water which would be very uncomfortable. The saloon was located in the forward part of the superstructure, so when heading into a large sea it would be akin to sitting on the end of a bouncing diving board trying to eat a meal.
Feeling suitably satiated I made my way to the Pursers Bureau ready for another day on duty. Rob was already ensconced at the desk within the bureau. The Pursers Bureau was located in the main vestibule area which ran the width of the ship. Where the door went to the outside deck on each side it was directly opposite where the gangway was connected from the wharf, so passengers when they boarded either turned immediately left of right to remain on the narrow outside deck or straight ahead to enter the vestibule area. The entrance from our cabin area into the vestibule area was from the forward part of the ship. The Bureau and the refreshment shop were next to each other in the rear wall of the vestibule and therefore facing forward. The pursers bureau had a grille across the counter, for as well as being an information point for passengers, the Pursers tasks also involved paying the crew. In the mid 70’s, to a man they all got paid in cash in little brown envelopes all prepared in this bureau, so a little security was necessary.
The way the bureau was lit up compared to the soft light in the rest of the vestibule made it look from the outside a little like a mini stage, highlighted a bit by the light shining off the white shirts worn by those inside.
I could see that Rob was at the rear desk preparing some paperwork, while John the Chief Purser was sitting on the stool at the front counter giving Rob a hard time about his less than successful night with the cards. I entered the door between the bureau grille and the shop front which took me into a small dark alcove with a door leading to the shop and opposite that one to the Pursers bureau. The shop door was open, and Big Julie as he liked to call himself was busy stacking shelves. He looked up and with a mischievous grin and lisped, “oh come into my parlour you delectable morsel”.
I smiled back and said, “nice offer Jules, but you know how it is, got to get to work”.
I tried the bureau door and it was locked. Rob must be counting out money.
I went back out the way I came and showed myself at the grille, and went back in as John opened the door for me.
“So what time is this to be turning to?, John drawled.
“I was on the late drive”, I came back. “We got in late too, docked at 02:45″.
I knew he knew this but it was all part of the repartee that had to be gone through.
“I suppose you guys are aware of the weather forecast for today”, said John holding a printout. ”We’ve got Southerly Gales in the strait which are supposed to hang around for the next two days. We also have full loads for every sailing, as expected in the school holidays”. John looked up to see if we were still listening. I was actually pretending to mess up Robs tidy little piles of money he was preparing the crews pay. We were all of an age, in our early 20′s, so there was plenty of monkeying around, but we also knew when to be serious.
John slapped the printout on the counter, and in mock indignation cried, “Now listen to me, I’m the chief!”.
Rob and I laughed at this. ”Ok chief, we’re all ears”.
“That’s more like it”, said John picking the weather sheet back up. ”Now, as you know in the holidays the captain will sometimes elect to leave two of the four rakes of rail behind to try and get extra cars on the rail deck. Today that won’t happen, because he wants every bit of ballast he can lay his hands on to keep the ship heavy in the water. This means less cars will get on, but we can let more foot passengers on as a result. We have to be very vigilant with the numbers we let on board, remember the maximum allowed, not one more than that.”
“Right chief, who is doing cars?” I asked.
“The Bean is down there now”, said John. Some of us had earned nick names either derived from our own names, or as a memory of something infamous we had done at some point. The Bean was one of the former.
“After you go and get the updated weather from the bridge, go down and see if he needs a hand. I’ll need you back on the gang way to help Rob at 09:30. I’ll be having a coffee with the Tracker in his cabin.” He looked at us over his glasses, “that’s “Chief Steward” to you two mugs, now lets see some action”.
” I grabbed some papers I needed to take to the bridge and let myself out of the bureau. Big wink from Big Jules and I was out the second door. Exiting the vestibule by the starboard door I was out on the narrow deck. Some seamen were securing the gangways which would soon be allowing hundreds of passengers to board the ship. I walked forward along the wooden deck which was covered by the deck above, open to the weather above the railing, but solid metal below the railing. Walking forward I passed the passenger cafeteria where food smells were wafting through the open door, entered a pair of double doors with a high water resisting sill, and I was in the forward passenger lounge. This large area taking up the forward part of the superstructure of the ship had large windows on three sides, facing forward, port and starboard. An ominous sign of conditions ahead was brought home by the sight of seamen affixing large heavy metal plates to the outside covering each of the forward facing windows. Even though we were high above the water on this deck whilst floating serenely in the harbour, it brought home the fact that it would be a different story out in the open water.
Taking the stairway at the rear of the lounge I climbed up, emerging at the rear of the bridge where I had a panoramic view of the harbour in front of us. It was still getting whipped up by the gale force winds which also drove squalls of rain across the water. It was all quiet on the bridge and other than rain beating against the armour plate windows there was just the hum of instruments. Wanting to linger and take in the view, I tore myself away and went to the rear where the entrance to the radio shack was.
“Hi Sparkie”, I said cheerfully, got some stuff to send out for you.
“Hi Clerky”, he came back. That’s right Roger didn’t like to be called Sparkie, oh well, will remember next time.
“Ok point taken, anything for us?, I said sheepishly.
“Just another weather update, and it isn’t getting any prettier”
I scanned the page and had to agree. ”It’s going to be a long day, ok better get on with it. Have a good one”, I said as I headed back out the door and back to the bureau.
Having donned my anorak and my uniform cap I made my way down the stairway to the rail deck. As I emerged from the door into this cavernous area which was essentially the cargo area, I checked for cars or trains coming past in the confined space. There were two railway lines on each side stretching right from the stern to the bow, and trains were loaded over a draw bridge called a link span which was inlayed with railway tracks. Each rake of rail as it was called was then shunted across the link span and down one of the four tracks within the ship. As rakes of rail were loaded and unloaded the ship would noticeably list one way or the other as the shift in weight occurred. As soon as the rake of rail was in place on the ship there was a hive of activity as seamen quickly secured the train to eyes in the deck with bottle screws which had been placed at the ready.
I dodged my way round some seamen as they were about this task, and more again who were directing passenger cars into small gaps left over after the rail was in place. Onto the link span and I zipped up my anorak and pushed my cap more firmly onto my head, a wave to the second mate who was directing the loading of the ship.
I found the Bean trying to calm some car drivers down. As I came in ear shot it was obvious he had just informed them that they would not be going on this sailing due to the captains decision to load heavy rail in favour of lighter cars. Taking tickets he had already collected, I was glad to get away from that sticky situation and go into the passenger terminal. As I walked through the terminal to the office, I could feel eyes on me as nervous travellers were trying to discern any nervousness I might be showing about sailing in todays’ conditions. Wearing a big hat makes you stand out a bit, so I kept a smile on my face as I entered the office. A bit of friendly banter with the staff in the office and I reminded them that we would be able to take a few more foot passengers due to the reduction of private cars being carried.
Slapping on my my cap again, I let myself through the locked doors that lead to the covered ramp to the gangways back onto the ship. Two covered gangways joined the ship to the top of the ramp area and as I crossed one of them I had to hold my hat against the wind as I emerged back onto the deck. I took the car tickets I had to the bureau, where Rob commenced adding them to the cargo manifest.
“Lovely weather I see”, Rob remarked as he tried to separate the wet ticket coupons from each other.
“Yup”, I said. “Ships cat”
“Eh?” Rob said looking up.
“Wet and windy”, I said with a wink.
I looked at the clock. ”Five minutes until we let the punters on, I ‘ll go and warn the chief”
Five minutes later having rung the terminal to release the hoards, I was out at the top of the ramp to take tickets off the foot passengers, or punters as we called them before they crossed the gangways onto the ship. Just as the first punters made the top of the ramp, Rob arrived to help me.
Mostly the punters were in good humour making nervous jokes about the weather to be expected in the strait, and within 30 minutes we were ready to lift the gangway and be on our way.
Rob took the tickets back to the bureau to be counted out and added to manifest which had to be on the bridge before we cleared the harbour. I stood on the deck near the gangway to ensure no one boarded at the last second.
Back in the bureau, the Bean was removing his wet anorak and adding to the pile of wet tickets that Rob was adding to manifest.
“I’ll take the top deck if you like”, I said to the Bean.
Now that the vessels gangways and link span had been lifted, we needed to double check the number of vehicles on board against the number of tickets we held to verify the manifest passed to the bridge was correct. A well as the cars packed around the rakes of rail on the rail deck, there was a car garage on the main deck as well which was loaded by a side car ramp on the dock. This garage generally held about 40 cars. As I went back out onto the side deck and headed aft I could see that we were starting to make headway. I remembered PD was the captain today, and leaned over the rail and looked forward to the port side bridge wing. Sure enough, there was the hand signal for a left turn as we cleared the long arm of the wharf. I chuckled to myself as I continued to walk aft toward the car garage. As I entered the garage the ship started a slight lean to starboard as it made the turn to port around the long arm. The cars in the garage were like jelly as they all moved as one on their suspension in response the shift in gravity. Once we were in the strait their movement would be a sight to behold as the ship pounded through the rough seas. Each car was secure by two lengths of rope to eyes in the deck to prevent movement, and the spaces in between some were barely enough to get your leg in between. I had to find a vantage point where I could simply count them off.
Back in the bureau I confirmed the number to Rob who signed off the manifest, grabbed his cap and headed for the bridge.
“Half past tenses anyone?” said the Bean.
“That would be most acceptable”, I said, “your place?”
“Yes see you down there after Rob gets back”, said the Bean heading out the bureau door.
Beyond the bureau grille, the vestibule was full of punters wandering around exploring the ship, or just trying to find an acceptable place to plonk themselves for the trip. As the weather was inclement, those who might have been out on deck watching the scenery go by were forced back inside to seek shelter. Many of the passenger areas started to take on the look of a refugee camp as people made themselves at home on the floor with their belongings around them.
The ship would be inside the shelter of Wellington harbour for around 40 minutes before the first effects of the rough open waters would be felt.
Aranui in Wellington Harbour
It was always amazing to me how travel can disorient some people so much. As the Pursers Bureau was also an information point for passengers, this is where they came with their inquiries. A large sign was fixed across the top of the grille back lit with the words, “Pursers Bureau.”
As I sat there chatting with the chief, a tall passenger leaned under the sign and asked, “could you please tell me where I can find the Pursers Bureau?”.
The chief and I exchanged mischievousness grins.
“I swung around to face the passenger and said, “Certainly sir, if you would just step through the door here on the left, and proceed forward along the deck. Once reaching the cafeteria, enter through that door and cross to the door to the deck on the opposite side. On that deck turn right and proceed aft until reaching the door to the vestibule and you will see the Bureau there.”
He departed on his mission while the chief and I tried to contain ourselves.
At this point Rob returned.
“Ok Rob, Stewards time sheets need to be completed on this trip, so we can prepare the pays on the way back. Oh and there will be a passenger coming to chat to you soon. See you in a while.” I said, as the chief and I beat a hasty retreat. Entering the companionway to go down to our cabins, I saw the passenger who I had kindly given directions to enter through the starboard door to the vestibule. I disappeared very quickly.
We arrived at the Beans’ cabin just in time to see the Stewardess leaving after dropping off our silver service morning tea tray.
“Morning Rosie, looking very lovely today”, said the chief.
“Thank you, yes I had this little number especially run up for you boys to enjoy”, she said doing a little spin, showing off her less than flattering stewardess uniform. Then she was gone.
“I’ll be mother”, said the chief as he poured out cups of tea for all.
“Well, I hope that doesn’t make me father”, said the Bean pouring out three glasses of whiskey.
“Ah, gotta love half past tenses, and not a moment too soon”, I said glancing at the clock.
“So Bean, I hear you took delivery of your new Corona last week”, the chief said after a satisfying sip.
“Yeah”, the Bean drawled in his West Coast accent. “I’m pretty happy with it so far, had to do a West Coast underseal job on it though”.
“Ok, and what is that exactly?” I asked.
“Well, to stop rust underneath, I hoisted it and then painted the whole underside with old sump oil, then took it for a drive up an old dirt road. It now has a whole protective skin underneath.” Bean explained proudly.
The chief and I looked at each other, as if to say what will they come with next down there.
After some friendly banter, the chief made to leave and turned to me and said, “when you go back to help Rob out can you remind him to put me on the shake at Dieffenbach”. This meant the chief was going to have a nap and wanted to be awoken as we passed the above land mark located about 30 minutes before reaching Picton.
“Ok, Chief”, I said taking a quick look out of the port hole to see that we were level now with Somes Island. Soon we would be turning toward the channel and Wellington harbour entrance. Even in the channel we would start to feel the swells under the keel as the southerly blew straight into the channel.
As I climbed up the stairs to the vestibule I felt the ship heal to port a little as it made the turn toward the heads. Crossing the vestibule I looked out the port side door to see Ward Island slip past. There was a group of young girls gathered around the pursers bureau counter listening intently to something Rob was saying. I went through the two doors and came up behind him.
“..so when the Aramoana rings us to say they have finished loading at Picton, the Aranui then starts engines and pushes out from the dock in Wellington. Now seeing as it is downhill from Wellington to Picton, gravity helps the Aranuis’ engines to pull the Aramoana on the 52 mile long cable, well 104 miles really. When the Aramoana reaches Wellington the roles will be reversed and Aramoana will pull Aranui back up”, explained Rob very seriously. I looked at his rapt audience, some of whom, to their credit, looked a little skeptical. Generally the group was swallowing it hook line and sinker. Weren’t we naughty boys, but a little fun was harmless.
At that moment the ship gave a lurch as the first roller passed under the keel. The bow rose to cross the top and immediately began a plunge down into the trough behind it. Some of the group of young ladies let out screams as they were caught unawares. Others in the vestibule staggered as they were caught off balance, and grabbed handrails around the walls. Passengers who were seated on the bench seat along the wall facing the pursers bureau who a moment ago had been happily chatting away now went a little quieter. Our bevy of young ladies suddenly decided some fresh air might be a nice idea and disappeared.
“Looks like we might get some uninterrupted time to get the seamens time-sheets done now it seems”, I said while I secured some office equipment before it flew off the desk. Again Aranui climbed a swell, then crashed down into the trough behind it. Finding a seat and staying there was the best move as even crossing the small bureau had to be timed right. Rob was now at the rear desk and was feeding some forms into the old typewriter. Through bitter experience we had found that the spring load in a normal carriage type writer was no match for the rolling of a ship. It would perform beautifully when the roll was in the direction of the carriages travel. However, on the opposite roll the carriage had no hope of making the uphill journey. To this end we had attached some heavy duty rubber bands to the carriage to aide it on its uphill path.
The pitching of the ship was now a constant regular motion as we passed from the harbour into Cook Strait proper. The sea outside the harbour entrance was very deep, and because it shelved very steeply, the seas from the south would suddenly rear up and cause steep swells.
A larger swell passed under us and the ship reared up to cross it, those sitting on the seat across from us in the vestibule seemed to be above us looking down. There was then a sickening lurch as if the carpet had been dragged from under us as we seemed to plummet into oblivion. Toward the end of the downward lurch the ship started to shake like a dog trying to dry itself. The propellers had actually been raised clear of the water and surged for a moment before the governors could take over. At that moment the ship gave a shudder as if it had hit a padded wall.
“Shipped a greenie”, I said to Rob.
“Yeah”, said Rod still trying to control the type writer.
“What does that mean?”, said a little voice from the grille. We both looked round to see one of the bevvy of young ladies had returned, looking a little on the green side.
I timed the pitch of the ship and made a leap to the counter and the stool.
“Well”, I said. ”The swells out there are very steep and close together due to the steep shelving of the sea bottom. Because they are so close together the ship often doesn’t have time to start climbing the next wave after it has dropped from the previous one. What happens then is the bow pushes into the wave instead of over it and there is a lot of green water that comes aboard, not just white spray. That’s why we call it shipping a greenie, and as it hits the front of the superstructure we get that shudder. Just as well for the metal plates over the windows, eh”.
“Glad I don’t do this too often”, she said. ”Can I send a telegram here?”
“Sure”, I said passing a pad and pencil.
“I’m off to the radio shack”, I called to Rob as I grabbed my hat off the peg.”
I had to time my exit through the doors, as one second they weighed many times their normal weight and the next they weighed nothing and propelled you forward. A wink from Big Julie as I passed between the doors. Strangely the general publics’ appetite for refreshments had dried up for now.
I made for the port side door and out onto the deck. The wind was whipping along and I had to grab my hat before it became attire for some penguin somewhere. A few punters were also out on deck, subscribing to the theory that fresh air and keeping an eye on the horizon would enable them to keep company with their breakfast. Here and there little piles of sawdust marked the spots where some had been unsuccessful. As I walked forward along the deck, the ships’ movement became more pronounced, as if I was walking to end of a diving board. As I entered the forward lounge with the metal covered windows, I found it was only half full as punters had obviously found the movement here uncomfortable.
Up the stairway to the bridge, and the vista was quite different from that of this morning. The movement up here was much wilder as it was that much higher and further forward than the bureau area. The sky was quite clear but the wind was howling around the windows which were almost opaque from salt spray. The captain was at a window in the centre, inset into which was a metal ring with a high speed spinning piece of glass which kept it free of moisture and salt. In the centre of the bridge deck was the ships wheel, behind which was a seaman with legs spread wide apart against the ships movement, concentrating on the compass in front of him. Every now and then the captain would call a course correction to negotiate the next swell, to which the seaman instantly complied.
I had to grab a rail as the ship started to plunge into the next trough, and was almost thrown off my feet as we shipped another greenie, making the ship shudder in response. Below us the foredeck was awash with water pouring out through the scuppers and under the railings. Like a wet spaniel, the ship shuddered and seemed to shake off the huge volumes of water that had come aboard as it once again started to climb the next wave. White sheets of spray were picked up and blown back over the ship by the strong wind, and the captains spinning window was working full time using centrifugal force to keep clear of salt and water.
Having remembered why I came here, I ducked into the radio shack and gave the operator the telegram to send. I waited patiently while he transmitted the message and took back the slip of paper with a SENT stamp on it.
“You might also want this update”, he said, handing me an updated weather situation print out.
“It’s not getting any better, anytime soon”, I remarked.
“You’re right about that”, said the radio operator. ”I’ve just been talking to Aramoana, and she is holding short inside Tory Channel heads. Apparently it is very ugly there. It must be if ‘Gale Force’ (another captains nick name) is thinking twice about it. PD asked me to check other shipping at the north end of Arapawa Island to see if I could get a report on conditions there. He must be thinking of taking the long way in case Tory Channel Entrance is too hairy.”
“It’s going to be long day”, I muttered, taking the paper work out the door with me.
Back on the bridge I noticed out of the starboard side that the land was a lot further away than usual. In these heavy seas it was customary to put more distance between us and leeward shore before making the right turn toward the South Island. It is one of those strange things that to travel from the North to the South Island one spent much of the journey travelling North West. To achieve this we had to turn from heading straight into the heavy seas to a point where the seas would be almost following us, coming in from our port quarter or slightly behind the left shoulder. The art of turning a ship in such a sea takes precise timing, and an implicit faith in your engines to not stop at the crucial moment, in which case all would be lost. Looking out the starboard side I could see we were now level with Sinclair Head, so the turn must come soon. Keeping my self out of the way, I thought I might as well stay for this one.
I could see PD was watching the waves very carefully. Without taking his eyes off the sea he called, “Boatswain, I will shortly call for 30 degrees right rudder”
“Yes sir”, came back the replay from the stony faced man on the helm.
The radio operator came out of the shack behind me, and quietly said, “he has to time this as the ship is in a trough, and the buoyancy forward and aft is the highest. That will help to push the bow around on the next rise, making the turn quicker but also compensating for the heeling over the ship does when turning. The most dangerous part is when we are broadside to the waves and we have to get past that point as quickly as possible.”
“Boatswain, 30 degrees left rudder, now!”, came the firm order.
The bow of the ship was just reaching the bottom of the trough, and slowly at first started it’s traverse to the right. This started to go more quickly as the bow started to rise the next wave front. The ship was trying to roll into the front of the wave as the heel caused by the turn pushed us over to the left. Out the port bridge window I could just see green water mottled with streaks of white spume. It seemed that the whole world had dissolved into water, and it was about to pour in the windows. We were turning fast now as the bow was pushed around by rudder and wave. Looking out the starboard window we looked like we were hanging onto a cliff, with just our toes. The trough was far below us now as it marched on inexorably to the far shore. We were now parallel to the rollers, the most dangerous point and the wave peak was almost upon us. The turn was still going strongly, and we put a few more points on the compass behind us as the peak passed under us.
“Boastwain, centre rudder!”, came the command.
The wheel was quickly spun back to it’s central position, however, the momentum of the turn kept going for a little longer. As the peak passed under us there was a sickening falling feeling and the ship continued to heel further to port. As a result of the heel caused by the turn, and now being on the back side of the wave there was nothing to stop the ship from rolling further to port. The heeling over continued further and further, and unseen objects could be heard shifting and ratting about below us somewhere. I’m sure we all hoped that the bottle screws holding down the trains were secure and doing their job. It seemed we just hung there for minutes, rather than seconds but as the trough passed under us the next wave front came to push us back to an even keel.
“Boatswain, 20 degrees right rudder!”
“Yes sir!”
We completed the turn on the front to of this wave, until the captain gave the centre rudder order again. We now had the waves on our port quarter and it made for a more comfortable ride. The waves were now further apart as we were going with them and actually surfed down the front of many of them.
Deciding the show was over, I made my way down to the bureau again, dodging a lot more deposits of saw dust on my way.
“Lunch is on if you want to go below Rob”, I announced as I was thrown in through the bureau door on the back of a roll to port.
He looked up at me from his paper work and said,”I might skip it, and get myself something after Tory Channel”.
“Yeah, it is probably a bit wild to try and eat in the saloon, I can grab us something and bring it back if you like, back in a few minutes. Oh and here is the latest weather and the telegram receipt. Sparkie told me the Aramo. is holding at Tory Channel”. I said trying to time my leap for the door.
“Isn’t that ‘Gale Force?”, said Rob in surprise.
“Yes”, I came back, “gives you an idea how bad it is out there. PD is considering the long route to Queen Charlotte Sound. See ya”
Arriving in the pantry I found it deserted, so I turned on the large toaster and flicked on the radio. Grabbing some bread and a large block of cheese I put the bread in the toaster and proceeded to slice up the cheese. The song on the radio caught my ear as the whole pantry seemed to heave all around me. It was haunting and seemed to be about this very situation.
Gordon Lightfoots’ “Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. You could hear the waves in the music…….
“Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?”
It felt quite surreal to be listening to that while I grilled the cheese on toast, and couldn’t get it out of my head after that.
“The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T’was the witch of November come stealin’.”
Back in the bureau while Rob and I attacked the plate of grilled cheese on toast, there was a knock on the door. Checking no money was out and the safe was locked, I unsnapped the lock and the second mate walked in.
“Mr Swatteracini”, I greeted him. Some of us were Italianising our names, which seemed to be the latest fad at the moment.
“Ah, a Pursers’ lunch, nice”, he said grabbing a piece of toast.
“So how is our trusty cargo”, I asked as I could see he had his flashlight and heavy leather gloves under his arm.
“All good, nothing has moved, but sure gave it a good try during some of those wilder rolls. All dry too which is good news. Do you know that we only need 1 inch of water on the rail deck to sink us. The first roll would cause the water to go to one side and roll us over.” he said opening the door to leave again. ”Thank you gentlemen, enjoy your lunch”, he was halfway through the door and stopped. Poking his head back in, he said, “I knew there was something other than the smell of grilled cheese that made me pop in. The Aramoana has turned back for Picton”.
“Wow, Gale Force turned back?” I exclaimed.
“Yes the seas at the entrance to Tory Channel are too high”, came back the second mate, sitting back on the stool, and helping himself to another piece of grilled cheese.
“It must be bad then”, I said. “So does that mean the long way round for us?”
“Well it seems P…, the Captain is confident that the change in tide by the time we get there will calm the conditions enough for us to enter the channel.” said the second mate around a mouthful of toast.
“So there will be lots of brassed off passengers in Picton when we get there”, I said. “Those from the Aramoana that had to go back, and then the bank up as the Aramoanas’ later sailing won’t happen. The weather report I got from Sparkie shows no improvement in the next 24 hours”
“Lets wait and see”, said Swateracini making his second attempt to leave.
I looked at the clock and calculated that Aramoana would still be in Tory Channel. Turning to Rob I said, “I’ll give the Hucko a call to see what their plan of attack is”.
As I reached for the phone it started to ring. I grabbed it and heard it was someone at head office. Knowing they were chasing some paperwork which was overdue it was a call I didn’t need right now. I signaled Rob and he knew the drill. He started making hissing and crackling noises near the mouth piece of the phone. The poor lady at head office decided our sea-phone connection was not very good in this weather and giving up, said, “I’ll call you in port”, and hung up.
“Whew!”, I said, looking at Rob, “how are those time sheets coming anyway?”
“Nearly done”, he came back.
“Ok, now Hucko.” I said dialing the Aramoanas’ sea phone. ”Hi Sparkie, can I have the pursers’ bureau please? Thank you. ……… Hi Hucko? No, oh sorry is that you Mr Crombie? is the Hucko around?………… Stacking Zeds in the bunk? … Does he even know you’re headed back to Picton?……….. Ha ha, oh you are a stitch up artist. Putting him on the shake at Deifenbach, nice touch. …… So what is the plan at Picton, will you off load your passengers and freight?….. Yes, ok, so everyone and everything off loaded and then a complete reboard when sailings commence. Ok, how is the weather in there? …….. Really? Flat calm? No way! …….. Ok, well we will catch up with you in port if you are still there. I believe PD is making the run for Tory Channel at this stage, something about the tide being different by the time we get there. Cheers for now”, and I hung up.
“Well you heard that”, as I turned to Rob.
“Yeah”, said Rob. ”I looked at the booking figures, and as we already knew, every sailing is booked solid. We are talking around 800 passengers per sailing arriving into Picton expecting to get on ships that so far have been reduced now. Aramoana was a false start for this sailing and of course will not be coming back to do a second sailing at 22:40 tonight. We have carried one load across but if we get holed up in Picton when we arrive that is 1,600 passengers that should have left Picton by 14:00 this afternoon, that won’t. Where will they go?”
“You’re right”, I said, as I tossed the weather map across the desk, “and this is just getting uglier”.
” ello ello ello” I heard behind me in a very cockney policemans’ voice.
Rob and I swung around to face the grille.
“Ah senior Tennepoldi” (it was Italian week, remember), I said.
The moon faced second steward seemed to be bursting at the seams. “I got one for ya, I got one for ya. Ok, there this bloke at the bottom of the Norf Island like, and ‘ees walking along the beach like, and ‘ee spots this bloke on the beach on the Souf Island. ’ee says oi, ‘ow I do get get across to the other side like? The other bloke…. now get this…. the other bloke ‘ee says, you bloody plonker mate you are on the other side. ” very pleased with himself Tennepoldi dissolves into raptures of laughter.
Rob and I looked at each other and said together, “every one a gem”
Sobering up a bit from the raptures the second steward departed our view.
“Right” I said, “I’m calling Picton terminal to see what the situation is”.
“Hi, Purser Aranui here…… yes we’re fine thanks…….. yes pretty rough alright, a few interesting moments. How is the situation in Picton Terminal now? …………. Yes Aramoana is headed back to you. ………… You didn’t know that? …………….. Yes I just spoke to the Purser of Aramoana and they did not exit Tory Channel……….. Ok, so you are about to receive all your 800 passengers back on top of what you already have. ……………. yes I know you have three hotels and a camp ground. We will keep you posted. Cheers”
I looked at Rob and shook my head. “This is going to be a long day. Did I say that already?”
The motion of he ship had become much more comfortable with the following sea and as a result more passengers were milling around and feeling they were now seasoned sailors. Rob was fielding a steady barrage of questions as people started to take more of an interest again in the world around them.
Time passed quite quickly it seemed, and perhaps with a following sea we had actually made up some time that we lost battling our way out of Wellington Harbour. I went out on the deck to check our progress and could see the coast of the South Island not far ahead. It was shrouded in mist as the rollers we were riding went on to smash themselves against the jagged rocky cliffs. For all intents and purposes it looked like we were running straight for an uninterrupted rocky shore.
Entering Tory Channel on a calmer day.
I assumed we must be coming in on an incoming tide which had just turned. The tiny gap we were to go through had a tidal run that could reach 3.6 metres per second. Gale Force must have met an out going tide. The affect of wind over tide can create very rough and choppy conditions, but now that the wind and the tide were going in the same direction, the water surface was much tamer. Very soon we passed between the heads like an orange pip being squeezed between finger and thumb tip. We immediately had to execute a hard left turn into Tory Channel itself, and behold we had entered a different world. Tory Channel was one of the many water ways that make up the Marlborough Sounds, an ancient sunken mountain range. This area was inundated around 10,000 years ago as sea levels rose after the last ice age. Now we are left with a net work of water ways, once valleys, with mountainous ranges coming straight out of the water on both sides.
After our rough crossing, it was quite surreal to be suddenly travelling on calm serene water. The weather that lashed at us a minute earlier was now being pushed up and over the top of us leaving a haven of peace for us to travel through. Punters were emerging onto the decks now to get some fresh air and take in the scenery. Our journey through the Sounds would take about an hour before we reached our terminus at Picton, with plenty of beautiful scenery to take in.
Having seen it all many times, I went back in to help Rob with the paperwork.
It seemed that paperwork was far from Robs mind as I saw his bevy of admirers had re-emerged. Listening to the some of the small talk and grinning to myself, I settled down to complete some of the paperwork and left them to it.
“I’m just going to put the Chief on the shake.” I said, looking at the clock and noting that we had 30 minutes to run which meant we must be abreast Diefenbach Point.
Knocking on the cabin door, I called out, “Diefenbach!”
“Come in,” was the muffled reply.
“Did you manage a kip?”, I asked.
“Not unless you call having to holding on for dear life restful, I actually gave it away and spent some time with the Tracker”, said the chief splashing his face in the hand basin. ”I’ve heard about the Aramo turning back, and from what I hear of the conditions it’s likely we will not do the scheduled 14:20 sailing. That leaves the Tracker with a big problem, as he has a crew change which is scheduled to take place on our arrival back in Wellington at 17:40.”
“Yes of course”, I responded. ”I had assumed we would be going back again, but if we don’t, that changes everything.”
Through a towel, the chief said, “better get Rob to stop the time sheets as I would say there will be all sorts of overtime to factor in by the time this is all finished. Anyway, see you in the bureau.”
I quickly looked out the port hole and noticed Mabel Island. That was our signal for making the announcement for passengers to make their way to their cars ready for disembarkation. I quickly started for the bureau in case Rob had not noted our position, but as soon as I left the Chiefs cabin Robs voice came over the tannoy system.
“Would those passengers with motor vehicles aboard the vessel please make your way…………”.
In the bureau Rob was still on the microphone and the Bean was getting the ships bag together with mail and other documents for Picton terminal.
“Chief’s on his way”, I said grabbing my hat. ”I’m on the spring”.
“Ok,” said the Bean. ”Oh, PD called down, he advised that the 14:20 sailing will be delayed and may even be cancelled. The weather is still very bad and no sign of abating at the moment. Picton have been advised, but maybe just reinforce that passengers should be told that the 14:20 departure is marginal”.
“For sure”, I said, taking the bag of documents. ”You might see me back up here in a little while then”.
I threaded my way through the crowd of punters in the vestibule who were queuing up already to leave the ship. Exiting onto the deck I headed aft and marveled at the calm pleasant day. How different to only an hour ago, and so hard to imagine the gale was still raging in Cook Strait. Coming to the end of the deck, I opened a safety gate to hold punters back and went down the stairs to the mooring deck. My task was to make sure no punters came down onto this deck while the docking procedure was underway.
At this moment the deck began to vibrate wildly as the propellers below us were thrown into reverse thrust. This served to slow the ship down before executing a one hundred and eighty degree turn so we were stern first to the dock. The propellers continued their reverse thrust until we were motionless in the water. Slowly we started to move astern and toward the dock. I could see Aramoana was in the number one dock and there seemed to be very little activity around her.
Aranui on the turn at Picton.
The second mate on his radio called out, “abreast the long arm”, so that the bridge would know that the stern of the ship was now level with longer of the two wharf arms.
Engines were in idle now as the ship was allowed to coast toward the link span. One of the seamen stood at the rail with a leader rope which had a knotted ball at the end. He swung this like a lasso and let it fly out over the wharf. On the wharf two wharfies were there ready to receive it and once they had hold started to haul hard on the rope. This was attached to a metal cable which was fed through a hawser and as the leader rope was pulled down the metal cable called the spring fed out. When the wharfies had hold of the spring they quickly man handled it over a bollard on the wharf. On a signal from the second mate who had been watching, a seaman then wound the spring in figures of eight around twin bollards on the deck. Now by pulling on the loose end and letting it feed through his hands with varying amounts of pressure he was able to use the spring as a brake. The wound figures of eight over the twin bollards acted as a clutch and multiplied the seamans’ pulling ability many times over. As well as the reverse thrust from the propellers, the spring was there to stop us careering into the wharf at the end. Not enough pressure on the spring and it would offer little resistance and be of little use. Too much pressure and the cable would snap and likely make mince meat of anyone standing on the mooring deck.
He was applying pressure now and smoke could be seen coming off the cable as it passed over the twin bollards.
“Abreast the short arm”, the second mate called into his radio.
The propellers started to beat again and white water filled the small space left between us and the wooden piles at the end of the wharf. They stopped again and the man on the spring applied pressure to maintain the braking of the ship as it came closer to the end piles. The second mate was now on the stern calling off the distance to go in feet over his radio. One last burst on the engines and there was a squealing as the wooden piles came into contact with the wooden buffers that surrounded the sides and stern of the ship.
We had arrived. More ropes were cast onto the wharf which were secured by the wharfies in order to hold the ship in place.
On a signal from the second mate the shore operator of the link span started to lower it toward the rail deck. I could hear the stern door on the ship opening at the same time. No time was lost in the loading and unloading as we normally only had one hour to clear everything and everyone as well as reloading for the return voyage.
As soon as all was secure I went below and out the stern door. In the terminal it was pandemonium, people everywhere. Quickly ducking into the office, I could see the local staff had their hands full dealing with angry passengers who had been told that the sailing could be delayed if not outright cancelled.
I saw the Hucko was also there and went over.
“So party time in Picton I see”, I said as I shook his hand.
“Yeah”, he said, “and cars are just as bad. They have closed off the marshaling yards to stop any more cars coming in until we know what is happening. Gale Force is looking to review the situation in an hour as far as the weather bureau report is concerned but we have no way of knowing what is happening at the entrance to Tory Channel. It looks like you guys would be first out anyway if there is any hope of getting out in the next hour or so so that the ships end up on the right side of the strait tonight. From what I hear it doesn’t look likely either of us will depart this afternoon.
“Party time in Picton as I said then”, I said as I handed the document bag to a passing staff member.
“Yes well,” said Hucko, “there are about three hundred people an hour pouring into Picton which is already bursting at the seams. Once we know for sure that there will be no sailings for this afternoon they are going to ask the radio stations to encourage people to stay in Blenheim at least. With a couple of pubs and a camp ground which is already full, there is nowhere to go.”
“Ok, well I guess we’ll having to await a decision. Guess we might be seeing you for a wee bevy later. cheers”, I said taking the replacement document bag and running the gauntlet of punters back to the ship.
I relayed the news to the others when I got back to the bureau.
Aranui in Picton.
“Who’s on the late drive tonight assuming there is one?”, asked the Chief.
“I am”, said Rob.
“Ok, then you might as well go put your head down for a few hours”, said the Chief.
As there was nothing much to do but wait, we got as much of the paperwork up to date as we could.
“Good afternoon gentlemen”
“Good afternoon Mr Swatteracini, you look to be at a loose end this afternoon”, came back the Chief.
“Yes, the captain has gone across to Aramoana to have a conflab with Gale Force. Together they will reach a decision no doubt” said the second mate.
“What do YOU think”, asked the chief.
“Well, in spite of his reputation, I believe Gale Force is erring on the side of caution. you remember that last big gale he was in on the Aramoana?” said the second mate.
“Last August?”, asked the Chief.
“Yes, that’s it. Aramoana came out of Tory Channel and the seas were so big that at first they made no forward headway. Just pounded into the waves for hours, could neither turn left nor right as they would have rolled over. Having to continue straight ahead they battled on and ended up off Cape Campbell, miles out of their way. Eventually they were able to safely turn and make a run for Wellington Harbour.”
“Yes, I remember that”, I said.
“What you probably don’t know”, said the second mate, scratching his beard, “is that later when they surveyed the ship, it was found that the superstructure had been pushed back one inch due to the pounding of the heavy seas.”
“Wow,” I said, “any wonder Gale Force is being cautious now.”
“Better go see what the situation is now”, said the second mate collecting his heavy gloves and torch off the counter. ”As soon as I get news I’ll let you know” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out onto the deck.
“Ok, I’m going across to see the Hucko”, said the Chief.
The afternoon passed quietly. The the frantic activity of cleaning the ship after the last crossing had been completed and the stewards had long since retired to their quarters. With the radio going quietly in the back ground I battled through the paperwork in what felt like a ghost ship.
A little after 16:00 the bureau phone went, it was the bridge. ”Mr Swatteracini, what news have you got?”
“Well, currently they are hoping to get the Aramoana away for the 18:40 sailing and hold us here for our 22:40 sailing so we are back in sequence with schedules. Gale force is going to do a final review at 17:00,” said the second mate.
“Ok, that gives us quite a few more hours in port then,” I said. ” I suppose there is still no question of leaving two rakes of rail behind to add more vehicles to the load?”.
“You’re not wrong there”, he said, “no chance. Personally I don’t think any one is going anywhere tonight. The cement ship John Wilson was to go to Tarakohe this afternoon and the conditions at Wellington heads led them to cancel the sailing. There is no sign of improvement.”
Visualising all the punters arriving Picton every hour, I asked, “so when will PD make a decision for us?”
“Not until 21:00, obviously there is great pressure to sail, but safety is safety. If we don’t sail, we are floating the idea of letting punters on board overnight to try and ease congestion in Picton. We’ll talk about that plan closer to the time.”
“Ok”, I said, “one step at a time I guess. Looks like we may have a bevy ashore tonight, the place will be jumping”.
“I think we’ll have deserved it”, laughed the second mate, and hung up.
Just then Rob let himself back in the bureau. I filled him in on the events so far.
At 17:00 Gale Force announced the decision not to sail. This meant the Aramoana was now tied up for the night and she would recommence her scheduled services with the 10:00 tomorrow.
Soon after the Chief arrived back on board.
“Well,” he said, “looks like the Aramo boys have got the night off. They are allowing six hundred passengers on board so they will at least have some shelter for the night. It means some stewards will have to remain on duty just to keep an eye on them. Not happy campers I can tell you.”
“What about Hucko and the guys?”, asked Rob.
“The good news for them is they have the night off and are already heading up to the pub as we speak”, said the chief.
“Gees”, said Rob, “that should be us”
“Well, in a few hours maybe it will be”, I offered.
The Chief looked at the clock, “PD said he would be making a decision within the hour, so a little sooner than we thought. The tide at Tory Channel heads will be at it’s worst as we are expected to exit, so no improvement in the weather in then next hour means a no go. Mind you by the time we catch up with others I’m sure they’ll be Brahms anyway.”
Rob looked at me blankly.
“Brahms, you know, Brahms and Liszt……….. p.ssed. Oh never mind”, I said with mock exsaperation.
An hour later the decision was made not to sail. Good news for some, and bad news for most. Under the watchful eyes of Rob and myself we allowed six hundred passengers to board the vessel and find little places to try and bed down for the night. Once all was secure we dashed to our cabins and changed into our shore going clothes. The Chief and the Bean had already closed up shop and started up to the town.
It was just getting on dusk as we left the ship for the walk through the foreshore park. Picton is a sleepy little town of around 5,000 population, but in the summer months it swells to several times that number as it is the gateway to the water playgounds of the Marlborough Sounds. Now with ferry travellers arriving into town and not being able to depart, the place was literally bursting at the seams. Walking through the park we were constantly stepping around people who had laid claim to this or that piece of ground and had unrolled sleeping bags to make it official.
“Where do you reckon?”, ask Rob.
“Reckon the Federal is as good a place to start as any”, I said trying to navigate a path through the throng.
We did catch up with our gang at the Federal, and found a corner that wasn’t too crushed. In spite of the circumstances there was very festive feeling in the air and everyone was relaxing down to enjoy the moment. The three hotels or pubs in Picton were very much the old style, with a public bar and a lounge bar. Upstairs they probably had half a dozen hotel rooms. They weren’t built to cater for the thousands of people milling around looking for a drink and a good time, so people were spilling out the doors into the streets around. In those days New Zealand had a very strict 10:00 closing law for pubs. The only exception being that guests staying in the hotel rooms were allowed to drink after hours in the house bar. At around 21:45 I said to the Bean, “do you think we should grab a bottle of James to take back to the ship when they kick us out.”
“He leaned in and said, “I think they have got it covered, the cops don’t want any trouble”, he said giving a subtle nod toward the other side of the room.
I looked over and there was the local constable talking to the publican who was showing him a page from the guest register.
“No way!”, I said turning back to the Bean.
“Yeah, way” he said. ”On my last round I had to write our name in the register, so you my friend are staying with I don’t know how many others in room 3.”
“You’ve got to love small towns”, I said, looking around. On far side of the room a band had set up and the young Maori guy who was singing was very good indeed.
After a few more drinks at this and the other pubs, and grabbing a carafe of Corbans, Veluto Roso, we headed back to the ship.
Some people were doing their best to get some sleep where ever they could find a space, whilst many others were sitting around talking. There was generally a festive mood aboard as people made the best out of bad situation. Going below we found there were parties going on in many cabins, members of the public as well as ships personnel. I joined one in the second stewards cabin where we were all squeezed in, and cracked the carafe of Veluto Roso. Laughter and wine flowed, until out of the blue the second steward said,
“Oh my, it’s three oclock, and look at the time”.
We of course in our various states dissolved into laughter. The room started to empty as we went off to our various bunks to try and take advantage of what was left of the night.
The following day brought little relief. The weather in Picton remained calm and pleasant, while out in Cook Strait the storm still raged. Passengers were allowed to remain on board throughout the day to try and alleviate the congestion in Picton.
At 16:00 Gale Force announced that the Aramoana would be taking up the 18:40 sailing as conditions had improved enough. We on the Aranui would therefore take up our normal 22:40 sailing which would put the ships back in the correct positions for tomorrow.
At around 21:00 we ensured all the passengers who had been allowed to stay on board had left the ship and loading commenced at 21:40. An on time departure at 22:40 and we were cruising once again sedately through the Marlborough Sounds. I was scheduled to do the late drive, as we called the last sailing of the day. By 23:00 the others had all disappeared to their cabins to catch up on some much needed sleep. Big Julie next door was pulling down the shutter on the refreshment shop after getting rid of the last punters getting supplies for their late night sailing. The number of people milling around in the vestibule became less as they found places to settle down for the next few hours.
I brought my paperwork up onto the main counter so I could see out, rather than have my back to the grille and have to get up if someone made an inquiry.
Around 23:10 I felt the ship lean to port as we made the turn toward Tory Channel, followed a few minutes later by a lean to starboard as we rounded Diefenbach Point and into Tory Channel proper. A group of people were sitting on the bench seat on the opposite wall to the bureau happily talking among themselves.
Having completed the manifest work I locked the bureau and quickly took the documentation up to the bridge. Out on deck all was serine as we glided through the still inland waters. The mountains rose out of the water and seemed like ghosts in the dark looming over the ship. There were a few stars but obviously there was still cloud about, and what there was seemed to be moving quite smartly across the sky. It would be another long trip.
Back in the bureau I settled in, put some nice music on my cassette player and got down to my paper work. The group on the seat opposite me were still chatting away happily. One of the young ladies was quite attractive I noted idly to myself.
Back to work.
Looking at the clock I noted it was 23:40, so any minute now we would turn through the channel.
Sure enough within a few minutes I felt the ship lean to port making its right hand turn out through the narrow channel to the open sea. It was interesting to watch the expressions on the group of people on the seat opposite. Most were oblivious to our location and continued to chat away. A few of the more seasoned travellers who realised we were leaving sheltered waters looked more wary. The attractive one was obviously one of the seasoned ones and while not looking worried, she did seem to be waiting to see how bad it was going to be. She caught me looking and gave me a smile, probably showing a brave face I thought to myself.
At first all seemed calm as we completed the turn. The group became a little more animated again as they decided that maybe they had got away with not having to endure a rough crossing.
All of a sudden it was as if the front of the ship had fallen off the edge of a cliff. We seemed to be careering down a roller coaster rail, propellers racing as they came out of the water, only to be slapped by the next wave as it came over the bow and pounded into the superstructure. Rising quickly now to cross over the peak of that wave before repeating the whole process over and over again. The group opposite had mostly gone completely quiet now as they fought their own internal battles with fear and/or this evenings’ dinner.
I persevered with the paperwork for a while but with the wild movement of the ship it was hard to keep items that started to take on lifelike tendencies, in one place. Looking up I saw that the attractive lady was watching my efforts with some amusement. I smiled back at her as I decided to give up, and stow everything away. Securing all the drawers with their lock tabs so nothing would fly open, I grabbed this evenings newspaper and headed back to sit at the counter. The attractive lady was standing at the counter holding onto the grille so as not to be thrown across the vestibule with every new dip and dive of the ship. It seemed her companions had lost their conversational skills as they dealt with the conditions. Something that bothered this young lady not at all it seemed.
She was much more interesting than my newspaper so that stayed neglected as we chatted our way across the strait. Noticing a change in the motion I assumed us to be off Sinclair Head. The clock showed we were some twenty minutes behind schedule due to us battling against the weather. As we turned into the heads of Wellington Harbour the motion changed yet again as the rollers were now coming from behind us, and we were literally surfing. As the rollers passed under the ship from behind there were still times when the propellers surged as they came clear of the water. This also meant the rudders were not as deep as they should be to have enough purchase to keep the ship in line.
All of a sudden as another large wave rose up under the stern the propellers raced again and the ship started to turn to port with a resultant lean to starboard. The turn became very violent as the bow dug into the sea and the raised stern with little rudder effect was pushed to starboard. The ship continued to roll to starboard, as she was forced broadside to the wave. It seemed like the roll would never end as it started to go way past any normal limits. People screamed and many were thrown off the seat opposite the bureau. Through my mind flashed thoughts of the Inter-island ferry Wahine which was lost in Arpil 1967 on the reef that must surely be dead ahead of us now. My new friend was hanging onto the grille for dear life and I grabbed her hands to hold them on the bars. In the dark is it impossible to say how far we healed over, but it felt like we must have been nearly over on our side, which I’m sure is very far from the truth. As the wave passed under us, it actually served to support the starboard side and started to roll us back to an even keel. Immediately the ship started to turn back to starboard. We must have been very close to reef now as the harbour entrance is quite narrow.
The next wave caught us back in our correct heading and we commenced the surfing motion again. It slowly diminished as we got deeper into the harbour and very soon we were once again in smooth water. I excused myself from my chat buddy and started to complete pre-arrival paperwork. She rejoined her friends who were now coming back to the land of the living.
I grabbed the bag of paperwork for the terminal, locked the bureau, smiled at the people on the seat opposite and headed back to the mooring deck. It was still a bit chilly outside for summer but better than when we left almost two days ago.
At 03:00 I finally crawled into my bunk to grab a few hours before we started again. That was an interesting weekend to say the least.
Knock knock knock, “Shake time!”, called Rob through the door of the cabin.
I’m sure I had just closed my eyes. ”Ok, ok I’m awake I called”
“Got something for ya”, he called back.
“Ok, come in already”, I said irritably, not feeling in the least bit like playing games.
The door opened and Rob came in brandishing a bit of paper, a grin on his face.
“Thanks”, I said, and ushered him back out the door as I prepared to jump in the shower.
I looked at the paper and picked it up. It was a telegram form of which we send and receive many on behalf of passengers. It was received at around 07:00 this moring while I was still asleep.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMPANY ON THE TRIP CALL ME 894-546 – J
I smiled. Today was going to be a good day.
