Page 228 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

bar (rum and coke, I suspect). My pleasure was assisted, however, by some perfect
weather as we proceeded to Durban, which we thoroughly enjoyed every evening
before Stevie was obliged to go down for dinner, and we encouraged the cadets to
likewise enjoy themselves with us, in part because we could then invite another
passenger, a singularly beautiful young girl returning from Malaysia with her
parents. We thought her a teenager, and very quiet and unassuming; I personally
thought that the rigours of English school or university would be quite hard for
her (she reeked vulnerability) but it was not within our power to do much other
than perhaps boost her self-confidence.

Four days later we berthed in Durban, few on board other than me having
ever seen the place before (it was relevant to say that that city was quite anglicised
though with many Zulu inhabitants; Port Elizabeth seemed to me a dull, religious
sort of place, and Cape Town a city where, if entering a store, one felt the need
to use Afrikaans before trying English). The two girls went on a tour to a nearby
Zulu village – where Judith insisted in standing on an ostrich egg to prove its
soundness. This young lady, I found, had all the moral courage and sheer chutzpah
that I would rather have liked to possess myself (I should have been aware of
that characteristic on that first evening months three months before when she
cornered the mate and got her way only by way of sheer force of character …
though she was also the taller of the two!).
Just as importantly, Stevie brought aboard the young lady whom he thought
might like to go skiing with us, she at that time living in Transvaal, and soon to
leave for England. I was not surprised to find Susan (let us call her Susan L.) to
be as she was; very well put-together, quite refined in a North-London way, and
very passably attractive. I thought it an excellent idea for her to go away with us
reprobates for a week or two.

Arrival in Cape Town was perfect. The late morning was hot, cloudless and
bright. I took a walk ashore down Adderley Street for a bit of civilisation and decent
coffee, did my watch-keeping, and then assembled our group for the evening.
For this, we sought out an Italian restaurant (with Chinese cooks and waiters we
had much the same old English menus as all P&O ships enjoyed, and which was
pleasantly leavened by frequent Chinese specialties; but no Italian). Good eating,
but then the highlight of the evening was ascending Table Mountain by cable car.
By this time a northerly wind had created a most glorious ‘cloth’ hanging over the
mountain edge and, looking South, one could easily imagine, and perhaps believe
that one could see, that the next land of any sort was the Antarctic ice-sheet, some
7,000 kilometres away. We were, I think it no exaggeration to say, over-awed; it
was, in a word, magical and never to be forgotten.

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