Page 198 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd
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About half way across the Southern Ocean, when Christey and I were
discussing some completely unimportant titbit, we became vaguely aware that
the ship had begun an unusual vibration. Normally this could be caused by
changing the engine revolutions or by the decrease in the depth of the ocean
beneath us, the latter of which was hardly likely in our location, where there was
at least 2,000 feet of watery nothingness. Looking forward, we saw a group of
passengers peering over the bow and gesticulating to us on the bridge. I was sent
forward to see what was happening, and upon looking over the railing saw that
a whale had become trapped over our bulbous bow. It was letting out copious
amounts of blood and was probably either a bowhead or right whale. After being
hit by 45,000 tons of steel travelling at twenty-six knots, it was plainly dead. I
remained on the bow, and Christey reduced speed, altered course a few times,
and eventually, after many manoeuvres, the poor cetacean rolled off to its grave.
Such excitement was rare. I continued with my pursuit of the glorious
Virginia, but as it became evident that she regarded me as some kind of dork
(and, indeed, as did I in such circumstances) I spent more time reading than
normal given the ‘possibilities’ on such a ship. (I always brought with me some
of my own books, as the ships’ ‘libraries’ with which I became acquainted were
obviously selected by the illiterate and ignorant.)
We duly arrived in Fremantle, where, having by then been at sea for quite a
few weeks, the only relief being the brief Cape Town stop, many went ashore to
stretch the legs. I was not entirely surprised to find that the port proved as dull
as expected. However, there was a surprise for me in the shape of a letter from
Sandra, from whom I had not heard for months, and to whom I had not given a
schedule of ports. I could only surmise that she had located me from the Sydney
office, the second biggest of P&O’s homes.
Three days later, we arrived in that city. I soon located Sandra, and our
stay being set for a few days, forthwith brought her aboard for some comfort.
Firstly, however, I bought a paper; there on the front page was a picture of
Virginia posing on Bondi Beach! I could plainly see what I had missed; I
needed some compensation.
I am pleased to be able to say that I received a lot more than my fair share
of compensation. We had a good dinner on board, and upon repairing to my
cabin found to my untrammelled delight that this was very much a changed girl.
She had, I suspect, been somewhat restrained by society’s values in Ceylon, but
the considerable freedom permitted, nay mandated, in Australia had changed
her to a very affectionate young lady. These were the months that followed the
scandalous trials in England of ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ and ‘Fanny Hill’, wherein
much more explicit depictions of love, sex and lust than hitherto permissible in
polite society were now commonplace, but as I could not express the experience
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