Page 167 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

In Port Swettenham, I was interested to note, we embarked some passengers,
including a trio of young ladies, unrelated but all in the 16 to 20 range. This trip
therefore looked as though it might well improve, though the Captain’s cocktail
reception (which I missed, the 4th mate having to keep the 8 to 12) did not give
me the opportunity to practice the old charm. But two days later, with seven days
of crossing the Indian Ocean, there seemed to be plenty of chances. Of the three
of them, one was blonde, curly-haired and rather vacuous, the second seemed
highly nervous about life and was socially ill-at-ease, and the third a shy, dark-
haired young lady of rather profound good looks. Her name was Susan, with an
interesting tale to tell. By profound, I mean to imply that she had lovely eyes and
a charming smile, did not much take to talking, but possessed a quiet intelligence.
I learned that she and her parents were on their way to her father’s retirement
in England. He, a large and impressive man (he had an imperious but by no means
unpleasant manner; his persona was authoritarian and somewhat taciturn), had
just retired from a Malay rubber plantation that he had operated (though I do not
think that he owned it), evidently successfully. Susan’s mother was a nice lady, but
largely silent. I noted at once that this was a very reserved family, and it occurred
to me that while father would be able to master most social situations, his wife
and daughter had probably been ‘in the colonies’ largely by themselves, another
example of an ex-pat life-style that looked more enjoyable than it probably was. It
was noticeable, however, that Susan, though quite small, as was her mother, was
always beautifully, if conservatively, dressed, even to the extent of a one-piece
bathing suit. She was, however, very curvaceous; the overall impression was of a
reserved and shy English rose.

On a ship like Chitral, however, there was not going to be much close
socialising with Susan. For a start, there were few places to sit quietly and talk –
when Belgian, the ship’s voyages down to The Congo were not much longer than
we were experiencing in crossing the Indian Ocean, therefore few public amenities
were needed. But just as significantly, I felt that this family had something of the
Somerset Maugham sensibility – in plantation life, the managers kept to their
own families and friends, did not cavort with the natives, and Father ruled the
roost. The family contentedly existed as a small and concise unit, by circumstances
perhaps a bit introverted, but not the poorer for it.

That the vessel was built for a very specific route did have other consequences.
Firstly, it did not have great bunker capacity, and on the South-East Asia run, few
ports offered bunker fuel at reasonable prices. Secondly, there was no need for
substantial potable water storage; it was easily obtainable both in Antwerp and
Kinshasa. Finally, the ship was ill-designed for leisured passengers. The result
was that as we were approaching Aden, a significant stability problem arose,
partly because the swimming pool was high on the superstructure and almost
directly astern of the bridge. One could feel that the ship was becoming ‘tender’,

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