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All Hands 2020-1 (UK Spring) P a g e 30

Although many of these routes lasted another 20 years, particularly the longer ones associated with Australasia,
South Africa, India and the Far East, it was only a matter of time before they too succumbed to the powerful jumbo
jet. Just one large plane could transport as many passengers as a typical medium-sized liner in just a fraction of
the time. Many boats were subsequently taken out of service and scrapped, but others were converted for cruising
and still ply the oceans in a different guise.
The jet engine caused the effective demise of several great British passenger lines such as British India, Orient,
Union Castle, Canadian Pacific, Royal Mail, Shaw Savill and a host of smaller companies, although Cunard and
P&O still survive in the cruise market. Another relevant factor that dramatically affected the shipping lanes was
the post-war contraction of the British Empire. It caused a huge reduction in the number of British personnel
overseas. Consular officials, Civil Service diplomats, businessmen, ex-patriates and Armed Service folk, together
with their family dependants, all gradually faded from the scene. The world shrank almost overnight and large
fleets of ocean liners shrank with it.
Cast your mind back in time and imagine embarking on a line voyage between 1920 and 1970. If you were
travelling from Southampton (Britain’s premier port after Cunard switched most of its traffic from Liverpool), it
was likely that you would first make your way to Waterloo Station in London before catching the appropriate boat
train. Resplendent in Southern Railway green livery or Pullman brown and cream, the carriages would sport
individual wooden name boards, while the steam locomotive often carried a specially constructed headboard on
its smoke box, proudly proclaiming “The Cunarder” or similar train title. With polite and helpful carriage staff,
the train would then run non-stop before depositing you and your bulky luggage directly on to the Hampshire
quayside. Some wealthy clients would be accompanied by several trunk-loads of new clothes with the obligatory
tipping of the army of porters on hand to assist.
When it was time to set sail, the Captain would give the order to “cast off fore and aft”. At least two busy tugs
would then purposefully nose the liner into midstream before gently pointing the towering giant towards the
Solent. Here, the harbour pilot would take over before eventually handing back to the Captain and being whisked
away in a small cutter as the ship rounded the Isle of Wight. If the tide was “in” then the route would be to the
west around the Needles, but if not then all big ships were compelled eastwards, passing the island port of Ryde
on their starboard bow. Then it was out into the swell of either the North Atlantic or the Bay of Biscay.
As you moved slowly away from the quayside there would be plenty of action ashore with a brass band to serenade
you, accompanied by a host of family and well-wishers waving good-bye. On board ship you would vigorously
wave back and join in throwing coloured paper streamers over the side. The ship’s loudspeakers would sometimes
add to the hubbub by attempting to drown out the onshore competition with appropriate nautical music such as
“Anchors Aweigh” or “A Life on the Ocean Wave”. It was always a noisy departure and the ship’s whistle (never
referred to as a siren or horn), would loudly boom its farewell across the ever-widening watery gap.
Depending on what class you could afford, your cabin would be spartan, adequate, or downright sumptuous. The
really rich booked a whole suite, normally located near the ship’s bridge and were often awarded the ultimate
accolade of being invited to dine at the Captain’s table. One rich but ignorant American citizen allegedly declined
such an offer with the incredible riposte, “I pay all this money for a First Class ticket and you expect me to dine
with the crew!”
Meals were a long drawn out affair, more akin to a banquet even in Cabin Class, with ladies expected to wear a
different dress each evening. Service was excellent and there were almost as many crew as passengers, often more
in First Class. If you were sailing to Australia or the Far East then the voyage might take as long as six weeks.
The routine was similar and yet, paradoxically, each day was different. There were uniformed staff to take care of
all your needs and whilst you quietly reclined in a deckchair, enjoying a drink brought by a bar steward, your
children would be enthusiastically taking part in games organized elsewhere by the Purser’s staff. If you were
energetic then you might take a dip in the swimming pool (some larger ships had more than one), or enjoy a game
of deck hockey, quoits or shuffleboard. Other regular organized adult activities included keep-fit classes, bridge
contests, quizzes, ten-pin bowling, clay pigeon shooting, mechanical frog, pig or horse racing and many more.
There was always the chance of winning a prize if you guessed correctly how far the ship would steam in the next
24 hours, news of which would be conveyed over the ship’s Tannoy at midday and repeated in the daily broadsheet
that was delivered to your cabin each morning. Warmer climes would be signalled by the ship’s officers changing
into their tropical white uniforms. Daytimes could then be spent acquiring a tan on the uppermost sundeck while
evenings could be whiled away enjoying the cabaret. The carousal was different every night with the more
gregarious taking part in the fancy dress contest. Others would sometimes borrow the microphone from the ship’s
entertainments officer and regale their fellow passengers with a song or comic routine.