Page 164 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

that ‘Empire’ was plainly an inappropriate Belgian concept; they were known
only as ‘the colonies’. (Some riverine/riparian states become known as “The…”
(such as Gambia and Congo) because their riverine existence, which was more of
a raison d’etre than any ‘name’; this structure somehow found a more appropriate
role in the English language. Time affected this nomenclature, ‘Congo’ being vast
and ungovernable, the country soon became divided; to what end, and with what
names, is even now difficult to say). But when the divestiture of empires became
de rigueur for the colonial powers, Belgium rapidly became the pariah of such
overlords, the personal reign of Leopold II having been so brutish and rapacious
(black labourers who disobeyed their Belgian supervisors could simply have
a hand or foot cut off by a machete in retribution) that there was no amicable
hand-over; the Belgians had to leave their possessions in a hurry. Consequently,
three ships, Jadotville, Badouinville and Thysville came onto the passenger/cargo
ships’ market. P&O had the three old clunkers (Carthage, Canton and Canton) to
replace, and the Jadotville and Badouinville (respectively renamed Chitral (13,821
gross tons) and Cathay (13,808 gross tons)) did so (Comorin was the third such
replacement, but that was a vessel of an entirely different order).

When joining, national maritime preferences were immediately apparent.
The electrical system differed from British ships (different voltage, wattage and
plugs, thereby necessitating a quick trip to the Chief Electrician to ensure that
important things – like my tape recorder – were usable) the lifeboat gear was
strange, and many signs were still in Flemish. But on the whole, this was a very
neat and comfortable little ship (not that it was ‘little’ in any real sense, but it was
designed for only 300 passengers, and P&O had elected to make accommodation
somewhere between first- and tourist-class). It was also Chinese-crewed, with
which crewing I had had only good experience. Just as importantly, I occupied a
nicely located cabin on the starboard side beneath the bridge; I did not feel that
I was disadvantaged in any way by being required to occupy this role rather than
become a smaller cog in the larger machine that was Oronsay.

Upon joining I introduced myself to the 2nd mate, David Miller. He seemed
a reasonable fellow, although he immediately loaded upon me the fire-watch job,
wherein I was obliged to go around the ship on a timed route and turn a key in
a hand-held clock at all the designated stations. In this way, the whole ship was
regularly checked for fire and other observable problems. A tedious job, and one
which I thought the helmsmen should have done (in dock, they had nothing else
to do!). But I learned the ship’s layout. I need hardly add that this fortunate turn
of events seemed a message from on High that Louise and I were fated to meet
up again. So it proved. I was not on a regular watch, so I could plan my time off
by cultivating our relationship, and Chitral was a far better ship upon which to
eat and canoodle than Baradine. I also met the horse … and her boy-friend. As
one might expect, the latter was quite a surprise, but he was a nice enough fellow,
and, I think, was introduced to me to keep me on my toes (a bit of a loose-minded

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