Page 33 - D:\AA Warsash Association\Journals\2020\AH2020-1\DEK\

All Hands 2020-1 (UK Spring) P a g e 31

If you were of a more subdued disposition then you would enjoy a book from the well-stocked library before
strolling quietly on the open deck and listening to the deafening nocturnal silence, broken only by the gentle
throbbing of the ship’s engines. Occasionally you could pick out the glinting lights of another ship on the horizon,
but usually all was still. You might also join in the late-night ballroom dancing or simply listen to the
accompanying ensemble. Some of the biggest liners employed household names for their music, Joe Loss being
the last of the big bands to survive on the North Atlantic route. Although it was now the small hours, the fresh air
might have renewed your appetite, in which case sandwiches would be specially prepared by a steward before you
retired to your cabin to await the next sunrise.
Clean clothes were never a problem because each ship had a laundry that obliged with an overnight service. Dirty
shoes could also be left outside the cabin last thing before being silently whisked away under cover of darkness,
mysteriously reappearing before daybreak, neatly polished and shining like a new pin. A cheerful steward or
stewardess, complete with a small tray on which was balanced a pot of tea and a packet of biscuits, would
eventually awake you. A full English breakfast would follow before returning to the daily routine, regular as
clockwork but somehow never boring.
Any ship that traversed the Equator held a traditional “Crossing the Line” ceremony. This was always an
entertaining event and if it was your first time, then you were invited to pay homage to a member of the crew
dressed as King Neptune, consisting of an elaborate watery ducking wearing a fancy costume. Another popular
event was the greasy pole secured firmly across the swimming pool, with two competitors sitting astride,
attempting to hit each other with a cushion or pillow. In theory, the winner stayed upright and the loser fell into
the water, but in reality both protagonists usually ended up with a soaking.
Sometimes you could go for days without seeing another ship but at other times, especially when entering a large
Asian port, it was like the nautical equivalent of Piccadilly Circus. Nevertheless, wherever you were, there was
always the reassuring ritual midday sound of the Greenwich “pips” followed firstly by the colourful signature
tune, Lillibulero and then the immortal words, “This is the BBC World Service. Here is the News”. When you
were at sea, however, especially when all alone in mid-ocean, the troubles of the rest of the world somehow
seemed a million miles away.
It was in the early days of slow travel to the Far East, especially with P&O (Peninsula and Oriental Steam
Navigation Company), that the term “Posh” first came into use. It was an acronym standing for “Port Outward,
Starboard Home” and was aimed specifically at the wealthier classes who always booked a cabin facing the land
to keep cooler in tropical sun. In time they became known as the “Posh”. Ironically though, as every regular
maritime traveller knows, land was rarely visible on a line voyage. If you were lucky enough to stop off en route,
then the interior delights of Asia and Africa often beckoned. At Colombo (the capital of Ceylon as it was then),
small boys would dive for pennies that passengers threw into the water, while a lengthy journey through the Suez
Canal sometimes afforded an overland passenger detour via Cairo and the Pyramids. All ports, however, attracted
the itinerant trader who would erratically winch items up the side of the ship for your inspection. If they did not
first fall into the water then you were invited to barter for the local merchandise until a suitable price was
eventually agreed. It was fun although genuine bargains were hard to find.
All too soon most of the famous liners went to the breaker’s yard. A few were rebuilt as cruise ships while others,
including Queen Mary, United States and Oriana survived in their original form as expensive curiosities. Many
others were lost at sea during service as lightly armed wartime merchantmen, but others perished through mishap.
For the biggest liner of them all, Queen Elizabeth, the end was extremely undignified, burning fiercely and
capsizing in Hong Kong harbour in 1972 before being unceremoniously cut up for scrap where she lay.
Bigger vessels now ply the seas but are either purpose-built one-class cruise ships following identical but
monotonous short excursions around the Caribbean, or huge but uninspiring bulk carriers and oil tankers. Liners
were much more versatile and interesting in character. They had a charm and character all their own and although
boasting fewer conveniences than their modern counterparts, somehow their appeal was more personal. Each had
its own regular clientele, many of whom refused to travel on any other ship, and in some cases always requested
the same cabin and steward.
Like so many other modes of travel, the traditional British line voyage has now passed into the mists of time and
the boats and shipping companies that made them possible have all but disappeared. No longer can we read in the
Sunday newspapers which big ships are arriving or departing from London’s Royal Docks, Tilbury, Liverpool or
Southampton. Nevertheless, the romance of the great liners lives on with many people dreaming of the many
happy relaxing weeks which they spent at sea.