Page 176 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

I joined the vessel in South Shields, a drab location that had by then seen its
best days. The work was, however, minimal, the ship undergoing a major over-
haul, mainly in dry-dock. There was, of course, little enough to do ashore, so my
main entertainment was a Saturday afternoon spent in Sunderland watching a
Division 1 match between Everton and Sunderland. This I quite enjoyed, though
the result I do not remember; I was a not-too-ardent fan of the London teams of
West Ham, Arsenal (which team originally played just down the road from us in
Woolwich) and Spurs. But just getting around and seeing people was stimulation
enough for me, a ship in dry-dock being about as soul-less an environment as
one could imagine. Of course, I could familiarise myself with the ship, it actually
being a twelve-passenger freighter, as was Comorin.
The ship being thoroughly refurbished, we were soon back in the Royal
Docks. I was to be the 4th officer and a few days later the 3rd mate, Dick An-
drews, arrived, a personality with whom I was happy to sail. It transpired that he
was a knowledgeable jazz fan, and one evening he suggested that we should go up
to central London to hear the great Sonny Rollins. I, of course, knew nothing of
this great man and blithely went with him up to Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club, which,
again, meant nothing to me. Upon arrival, I was surprised to see how small a
venue this was, but we managed to get in, though without a table, simply by go-
ing through the door; I had expected there to be ‘a performance’ and to have to
pay admission, but this was much easier. I found a stool by the bar upon which
to perch, ordered a beer, and sat and watched the very young audience. Before
long Rollins came in to an enthusiastic reception, his tenor sax before him. Not a
man to waste any time, he forthwith began; I knew at once that I was well out of
my comfort zone. But I was not alone; the other members of the quartet ceased
accompaniment after twenty minutes. I ordered another beer, for I was begin-
ning to get saddle-sore. Undaunted, he went on for another hour … all the time
without the trio! When he finished – the place was as silent as the grave while he
was playing – I gingerly removed my sore rear end from the stool, barely able to
stand, the deadening effect of more beer notwithstanding. The barman, an obvi-
ous enthusiast, asked whether I would be back for Ornette Coleman; as gracefully
as I could I grunted negatively. Even an armchair would not have induced me to
return. Andrews and I returned, he very cheerful, to the ship.

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