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girl who very much kept to herself (Barbara was her name, but that was about all
that I knew of her) and then there was Judith (remember, I had not actually seen
her other than as a shadowy figure in the starlight) beside her. I immediately knew
that here was something special. Built like a Rolex watch, she was curvaceous in
all the right places, and, I thought, would not have appeared on the foredeck at
such a time without knowing exactly what she was about (it was the first time that
I saw any passenger ever going on the foredeck at all beneath the bridge, certainly
one that I had ever looked at!). Clowes looked at me. “You want to marry that
girl, don’t you,” he said. I did not know what to say. The watch over, I retreated to
my cabin and enjoyed a necessary pre-prandial scotch. There was soon to be the
Captain’s Cocktail Party for the new passengers, and I made sure that I got there
as soon as the door opened (I believe, there being so few new passengers, that it
was held in the captain’s cabin). The two girls entered after a fashionably suitable
interval, and immediately made their impression, Judith in a long pink/fuchsia-
flowered cotton dress, Susan in a very similar blue dress. Only then did I realise
that they were pretty tall girls, and I noted that Judith had a point to make with
the mate (I suspect about some dirt or oil on the foredeck) and, seeking him out,
cornered him against a bulkhead and forcefully told him that ‘something had to
be done about it’. The poor man (remember, he was quite small and unassuming)
quickly acquiesced; he was plainly out-gunned and out-maneuvered. I was
probably introduced to Mr and Mrs Shepherd by one of their daughters but do
not recall it; the scotch was having more than the usual effect. We then repaired
to the dining saloon and the needed bottle of wine (we even agreed on the best
wine, a white Barsac, as cold as possible; actually, it was nauseatingly sweet, but
from that time on my alcohol allowance became well exercised. Today I doubt
that Barsac is even crafted). Cathay had a small but pleasant dance floor in the
forward lounge and a group that we called ‘The Prickly Heat Trio’. As always, I
searched assiduously for glamorous partners and actually found that Judith was
willing to have a try-out; knowing my limitations (waltz and quick-step, though
at school we had been taught even the rumba and tango – both well beyond me),
I stuck to those boring themes that I could just about manage. As expected, she
was an excellent dancer (inasmuch as she easily avoided my heavy-footedness),
and we actually enjoyed a pleasing hour or so; at least, I did.

But there was one big problem: Stevie.

Not what you would call an impressive figure of a man, and certainly not,
to me, handsome, he made up for these lacks with great personal charm and an
acute sense of humour; some even seemed to think him ‘cute’, whatever that word
meant. His great disadvantages were that the 3rd mate kept the evening watch
and thus missed the prime social (dancing!) hours, that he did not have his own
table, a tactical advantage that I employed as much as I could when I knew that
he and I had the same objective, and that he knew nothing of the ports to be
visited, sometimes a significant advantage but that on occasion (like my Athens

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