The Crate Escape, page 15
Circular Quay was part of Sydney harbour. Located near the harbour bridge, it was the place where all the large passenger ships arrived and departed to various international destinations including the UK. I was elated with Jack’s unusually generous offer and the thought of going home, but Bob didn’t seem quite so happy about it.
Jack left us to make his way home, leaving Bob and I to have a long chat. It was immediately obvious that Bob didn’t want to go along with the plan. He made up all sorts of excuses, with the most important being that he didn’t have a passport and even if it worked and we arrived in the UK, they wouldn’t let him stay. I countered that argument by reminding him that I didn’t have a passport either! He said that me not having one didn’t count as they couldn’t throw me out as I was British. If Bob went or not was up to him, but I wasn’t going to miss the chance of getting back home.
Finishing our conversation, we went back indoors where Mrs Jones had been waiting to poke her nose in and find out what Jack had wanted. I told her that he had an idea to borrow some money but knowing that he was going back to the UK, we had told him no. She seemed quite pleased with that answer and told us both that we had been incredibly wise.
The day of the ship’s sailing had arrived, and after I had packed my suitcase, Bob helped me smuggle it through the bedroom window and out of the house. I didn’t say anything to the Joneses as I knew that they wouldn’t agree and would try and prevent it from happening. As agreed, Bob would go with me to where the boat was docked and later, after I was safely stowed away, he would explain everything to the Joneses and then continue to carry on living there.
We arrived at Circular Quay and, sure enough, Jack was waiting for us as we had arranged. He took my suitcase from me and said that he would get it on board. I told him that Bob would not be coming with us, and so he would only have to put me up in his cabin. This didn’t seem to worry him, and it was arranged that after the ship had left port, I was to knock on his cabin door, and he would help get things organised for me.
Bob and I were both relieved that Jack had met us as planned. We had both felt sure that he wouldn’t keep his promise, but after the meeting that morning, we felt that he could be trusted and that we had been wrong to distrust him in the first place. I had mixed feelings at that time as I was sorry to leave Bob behind but extremely excited at the prospect of departing from Australia.
It was time for me to board the ship, and as Bob had declined to come on board the boat to say his goodbyes, we said farewell on the quayside. I told him that I was glad that we had met, and I would write to him after I got back home. He, in turn, told me that I was the best Pommie he had ever known, and he would miss me.
After shaking hands with him, I turned around and walked up the boarding ramp, offering my visitor’s pass to the crew member standing there. I was incredibly happy but somewhat scared to be invited aboard. Never having been on a ship before I was uncertain what to do, so I aimlessly wandered around for a while until the ship’s loudspeaker system started asking all visitors to please make their way ashore as the ship was about to sail. My stomach felt as if it was full of knots, and although I, in a way, felt very happy at simply being on board, the ship made me feel as though I had already left Australia, the other part of me was terrified as to what was going to happen next.
After two or three reminders to visitors to leave the ship they eventually made the final announcement and started playing the only decent song ever to come out of the British Commonwealth Country of Australia: Waltzing Matilda. With the strains of The jolly swagman, camping by a billabong and the boats horn making loud horn blowing noises the ship with the aid of tugboats, slowly started to move away from the quay. The land side of the deck was crowded with passengers, most of whom were leaning over the ship’s rail and waving goodbye to their loved ones. Rather than stand out like a sore thumb I joined them and waved goodbye to Australia but, search as I may, I couldn’t spot Bob who must have already left the docks.
Within an hour and under the ships own steam we were heading out of Sydney harbour and under the harbour bridge, another hour, and we would be in the open sea.
Most of the passengers had by now disappeared from the deck and, I suppose, returned to their cabins so, after taking a seat on deck I started to relax. I would wait a while before finding out where Jack’s cabin was located and giving him an afternoon knock.
It was quite a sunny day, but there must be a storm due as the ship seemed to be swaying from side to side a bit, and to be honest, my stomach didn’t feel too good. I had watched the pilot leave the ship in a little black and white boat and thought how brave he must be to tackle the waves in something so small. Watching the sea had made me giddy and feeling a little nauseous, so I sat down far enough from the side of the ship that I couldn’t see the water. Forty days of feeling like this didn’t sound too exciting a prospect to me, however the thought of arriving at Southampton or some other such port in the UK cheered me up no end.
I put up with the sickly feeling for about an hour before picking up enough courage to stand up and starting on a quick tour of the ship. I soon found the ship’s inquiry desk and asked them for the number of Jack’s cabin. They looked it up and told me, plus gave me directions as to how to find it. Half staggering, half walking, I made my way there and knocked on the door. It was opened by Jack himself who, putting his finger up to his lips, whispered that he would meet me on the deck. I nodded, told him where I would be and returned to my deck chair from where the sea was not visible.
Jack arrived about five minutes after I had sat down and after informing me that I didn’t look too good, he gave me the rest of the bad news. “You can’t stay in my cabin,” he said.
“Why the hell not, you said that you’d arrange it?” I said somewhat in disbelief.
He started blabbering on that there were eight people in the cabin and that when he had suggested it to me, he didn’t realise that there would be so many.
“Just go and tell them; tell them I only need a small space on the floor!” The idiot refused to do it and after a short shouting match, I asked what I was supposed to do now? He just said that he didn’t know but that there was nothing he could do about it and that I would have to find some way to help myself. I was right in the first place; he was an idiot!
Jack and I separated, and I remained seated on the deck with my mind split between two pressing subjects. The first was where I would be able to hide for the next forty days and the second thought danced around the idea of whether I could prevent myself from vomiting over the next forty minutes.
The rolling of the boat had to take priority as the giddiness and dry stomach heaving became worse. The problem at sea is that there is nowhere to hide with the whole boat moving; there was simply nowhere to go and it felt like being on a fast-moving merry-go-round, feeling sick, yet unable to step off!
I had been sitting there feeling as I was going to puke for only a short time but, which seemed to me to be an eternity or even a lifetime, when I first noticed the man dressed in a ship’s uniform standing next to me.
“You’re looking a bit pale,” he said smiling, “are you feeling okay?”
“I would be if the ship stopped moving,” I managed to reply before vomiting all over the place.
“Oh, dear”, he said before adding. “Let’s get you to the sickbay.”
He helped me to stand up and allowed me more time to vomit yet again. Then, with his assistance, I walked to get medical help. Once in the sickbay I vomited a few more times (this time down the toilet), splashed my face with cold water and then sat down still feeling giddy. For those readers who have never experienced the joy of seasickness—it is akin to that of drinking too much alcohol with the only difference being that whilst you are feeling as if you are dying, you can’t stop drinking and promise yourself that you will never do it again. Seasickness can be compared to feeling drunk and vomiting whilst continuing to drink!
As helpful as the doctor in the sickbay was, I couldn’t face the prospect of lying down or standing up and defiantly not of sitting down. In other words, I just felt in a complete mess with nowhere to go to stop the moving of the ship!
After a few more vomiting sessions, the doctor gave me some medicine in tablet form which seemed to stop my wanting to share my lunch with everyone else on board. A few more tablets and the giddiness stopped, or at least, stayed at a tolerable level. I seemed to be making a full recovery and I apologised to the man in the uniform and the doctor for causing so much trouble. “If only the sea wasn’t so rough.” I gasped.
“Rough? There’s not even a swell.” They both laughed. “It’s as flat as a millpond!” I judged from that comment that when I was younger, it was just as well that I never joined the merchant navy.
The doctor prescribed a few more of the tablets with the advice to take one in the morning and another at night for the next day or so before producing something resembling a logbook. “What’s your name and cabin number?” he asked.
“My name’s Brian; I forget the cabin number,” I lied.
“No problem, what’s your surname?”
“Robson,” I answered before it suddenly dawned on me that I should have given Jack’s details. Since I thought that I was dying, I hadn’t been thinking straight and dropped myself right in it. No sooner had my travels started than it was over, and the game was up.
The ship’s captain was a man of perhaps sixty years of age with a grey goatee beard and, looking just as much of a ship’s captain as you could possibly imagine. He was staring at me. With him was the man in the uniform who had taken me to the sickbay and other ship’s officers who were all carrying out various duties connected with their working on the bridge of the ship.
“Does anyone else know that you are aboard?” the captain growled.
I shook my head and lied. As I said no, I wondered why I was lying to save Jack’s skin after all he had done absolutely nothing for me. Making a huffing sound before speaking, the captain continued, “We should throw you overboard!” Believing what he said, I quickly decided that, as I couldn’t swim well, that the idea would not be in my best interest and so I started trying to enthral him with various ideas as to why I should get back to the UK. I ended with the suggestion that I could work my passage back and that I would be prepared to do any job he felt suitable for my immense talents. “Impossible,” he answered, “the same as stowing away, it’s against the law for us to offer you a job!” I tried a new tactic.
“How about I become a passenger and you give me time to pay the fare later?” That didn’t seem to be working either and it wasn’t long before I was completely out of any ideas.
Actually, a few years before, I had watched the film Mutiny on the Bounty, and as the thoughts of being flogged by a ‘cat-of-nine tails’ didn’t really appeal to me I deemed it better to keep my mouth shut.
The captain nodded his head at one of the men in a uniform who, after nodding back to him, took me from the bridge of the ship down to the boats lock up. It was a small empty room, containing nothing except a bed, and had a lockable steel door as the entrance. He opened the door and politely invited me to step inside. I followed his instructions, and the door banged shut.
Lying down on the bed with my arms folded behind my head, I pondered my options. It didn’t take me long to conclude that I didn’t have any, so I took the easy way out and as usual fell asleep.
About thirty minutes later that I was woken up by a lot of shouting and banging from outside the door. I was considering making a complaint to room service when the door burst open and the same officer who took me down there told me to get out of the room. Thinking the ship was sinking, I didn’t need a second telling before I quickly nipped outside. A group of officers from the bridge were grappling with two men in civilian clothing who were fighting them back and who they were trying to throw into the now-empty room. After a minute or two, they succeeded in their task and quickly locked the door. An officer then informed me that today was my lucky day, I interrupted him with a cheeky grin and said, “You’re taking me to the UK?”
“Wishful thinking,” he laughed before adding, “but I am going to give you the complete run of the ship!”
He went on to tell me that they only had one holding cell and the two guys, who were also stowaways, were causing problems whereas I, being as pure as the driven slush, had been well behaved. The men would be locked up and I would have my freedom with only one condition being that I would have to agree to. When the ship entered the port of Wellington New Zealand, which was its first port of call, I would have to go and find the officer and then we would decide what to do next. I willingly agreed and was given a nice cabin, and as he promised, the complete run of the ship!
It took four days to get to Wellington, and although the main reason for the journey was to escape from Australia, I must admit to having a good time. I enjoyed it so much that I would recommend that anyone wishing to stow-away from Australia use the services of the ‘Southern Cross’. For those seriously contemplating it, don’t bother, as the ship was scrapped in 2002.
For those four days I could go anywhere I wanted on the ship and was able to mix with either the passengers or the crew whichever, at the time, I fancied doing. Most however was spent in the crew’s quarters and I found myself getting on well with them. They had meals that were the same as the passenger’s food and the buffet section of the canteen was very well supplied. The crew worked shifts that were four hours on and four hours off and during the day, I used to find where my new-found friends were working and join them for a while to have a cosy chat. Most evenings were spent in the crew lounge where they held regular parties and played a game known as ‘crown and anchor’. This was a game that involved throwing a dice which had both a crown and an anchor printed on it; the game was easy to play, and I joined in with them most of the time.
Whenever I got the chance, I tried to persuade the officers to talk to the captain, who they all called ‘the old man’, and to try and get me permission to work my way to the UK. They explained that it was not worth trying to persuade him and, in any case, it was virtually impossible; he would never agree, as it was completely against the company rules.
All good things come to an end and soon the four days were over, as in the early hours of the morning, we sailed into Wellington Harbour. Keeping my promise, I unwillingly found the officer with whom I had made the deal to surrender and told him that I was keeping my part of the deal. He seemed quite surprised that he didn’t have to come looking for me and we sat down over a cup of tea while he explained that after we docked, they would put me ashore and they wouldn’t make any criminal charges against me. I should not try and get back on board or they might look at the whole thing from a different light. He also said that he and other members of the crew were sorry that they couldn’t let me stay on board until we reached Southampton, but rules were rules, and it was impossible. I asked if I could go and say goodbye to the friends I had made whilst on board and he told me that it wouldn’t be a problem, just come and find him again, when I had finished chatting with them.
After leaving him I went straight to the passenger section and knocked on Jack’s cabin door. We both went up on deck, and in no uncertain terms, I told him that after we docked, I had to leave the ship. Sarcastically thanking him for breaking his promise I made sure that he understood that I wanted my suitcase back and that he had better get it off and return it to me or I might just tell the captain exactly how I managed to get on board in the first place. Unsure if I would or wouldn’t stick to my threat, he immediately agreed to meet me at midday at the entrance to the port.
Going back to the crew section of the ship I met up with three or four lads who I had got to know well and who seemed devastated that I was going to be dumped and not taken back to the UK. Telling me that the ship’s captain was himself going ashore for a few days, they invited me to join with them to wish him farewell. I was in no mood to wish him anything, but although I tried to make excuses, they insisted that I went with them.
The customs’ checkpoint at the port was located more or less on the same level as the deck of the ship that was used to embark and disembark, and the lads stopped just a few yards from that point and leant on the ship’s rail overlooking the customs area. You could quite clearly see and hear what the customs officers were doing or saying as the slightest sound would echo around the area. It wasn’t long before the ship’s captain with his overnight bag walked down the gangplank and stopped in front of a customs officer before offering his bag for inspection.
“How long are you going for?” the customs man asked in a friendly voice.
“Only two days,” jovially replied the Captain.
“Did you pack the bag yourself and is everything in it yours?”
The Captain nodded his head just as the customs guy unzipped the bag. Once again, the Captain nodded his head, and the customs officer withdrew his hand from the bag and held up two pairs of ladies’ knickers!
“Do you always wear these?” asked a smiling officer.
The Captain, looking extremely embarrassed, tried to explain that the knickers didn’t belong to him, but the customs man was having none of it.
“You just said that everything in the bag was yours,” he commented with a wink and a grin before zipping the bag back up and handing it back to the Captain who made a hasty departure from the area whilst looking even more embarrassed and not knowing quite where to look. Had he have glanced back at his ship he would have seen the four seamen and me still leaning on the rail with big smiles covering half our faces.
