3. Leaving England, April 1957

Sailing date was 14th April, 1957. Amidst the noise of the ship’s horns, of the people, both on board and on the quayside, cheering loudly, waving goodbye, throwing streamers, the ship slowly left the dock. We were on our way!

The trip was great fun for John and me, because there were so many activities on board. Here, we were left to wander more or less at will, as my mother tended to our younger brother Peter, and to Jane, as well. John and I were in our element. We learned how to play chess, and to throw deck quoits. We made new friends, I with a girl called Gail, just a few months younger than me, who had an identical blue bubbly bathing suit to mine. Little did we know then, that her family would become long-lasting friends of ours, throughout the next many decades, despite endless moves, sometimes to different countries.

Not everything was plain sailing on board, though, both literally and figuratively speaking. We were all very sea sick, crossing the Bay of Biscay, for instance. Lying prone on our bunks didn’t help, either. The sickness ended soon enough, and it wasn’t long before the boat stopped at Las Palmas, in the Canary Islands. I remember going to the markets with my mother, John and Peter, where my mother bought me a beautiful Spanish doll and a seed necklace.

Soon we were on board again, heading to the equator, and looking forward to the slapstick ceremony of Crossing the Line for adult passengers, who were doing so for the first time. King Neptune, sporting a golden crown, a white beard, and his finest, long robes, held court, with his acolytes, just in front of the swimming pool. Almost everyone on board turned out to watch, as passengers were tried for various ridiculous “crimes”, for which they were always found guilty, and thus, doused in shaving cream, were tossed unceremoniously into the swimming pool. It was a highlight of the trip.

What wasn’t a highlight, was the evening when Aunt Jane, having gone to dinner with my mother, suddenly collapsed over the dinner table, and died instantly. We children had eaten at an earlier sitting, so we weren’t present. However, Aunt Jane didn’t appear again in my cabin, and it gradually sunk in as to what had happened, although our mother, distraught from such a loss, must have told us, too. Such a huge shock! Making it worse was the fact that Jane’s body could not be kept on board, because there weren’t enough refrigerators, so she had to be buried immediately, at sea. I remember clearly attending the ceremony, when the body was sent into the ocean below. So quiet, so final, hardly a splash.

The attempts of the ship’s captain and his officers to contact Aunt Jane’s daughter proved fruitless, too, since, as it turned out, Iona and David’s car had broken down en route, forcing them to abandon their car, and to take the train to Cape Town, instead. As a result, none of the police messages broadcasted on local radio, had reached them. Iona and David arrived in Cape Town to meet the boat, as planned, only to discover that Iona’s mother had died of a heart attack. It must have been such a huge shock, though I can’t remember this meeting at all.