Page 78 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

It now being confirmed that we were to load at Abadan, we were then advised
that our destinations were to be Cochin, Madras (as it then was) and Calcutta (as
it then was). While those ports were perhaps interesting in themselves, I was not
particularly enthused at the news, but at least the oil terminals were unlikely to be
remote from the cities. But even that plan was not to be, for shortly after leaving
the Gulf, we were diverted to Karachi, though the diversion was not much off
our original route. We were required to unload only 2,000 tons of product, which
task should have occupied about three hours. However, it actually took nearly
two days to do so, a typical time that presaged my subsequent visit to this chaotic
city. I did not go and see the sights; we were at all times ‘just about finished’
discharging. But I did not see any lost opportunity for sight-seeing; I rarely saw
so uninviting a port.

The trip down the west coast of India was a pleasant interlude, though it
became the opportunity for work on taking sights, which is the job of finding out
where the vessel was, or where it should be. By now I was supposed to be quite
good at this task, but actually found that taking sights day after day was not easy
in terms of consistency of results. But on March 4th, routine was again disturbed
when we were advised that our destination had changed, this time from Cochin
to Colombo. More importantly, at least in my view, London had decided that
two of us had had enough tanker-training time and that we would be transferred
to another P&O vessel wherever it was convenient to do so. We also discovered
that Colombo was expecting Salmara, a cargo ship on its way to the Far East on
a route similar to that which Khyber should have enjoyed. My enthusiasm was
limited, as I would rather have been transferred to another homeward-bound
vessel. Fortunately, this was not to be. On March 7th, a berth appeared in the

harbour and we came alongside an oil terminal (this was one of the few ports
where the terminal was right in the main harbour, an arrangement not altogether
safe; shortly after arriving a port official walked aboard with a lighted cigarette
in hand – we nearly threw him overboard!). Salmara appeared, but no orders
to transfer came to us, although Chitral also arrived. This, a handsome small
passenger ship (its capacity approximated 250 passengers), I thought that would
have suited me very well. But neither was that to be, and we were then outward
bound for Madras, a destination not greeted with joy, but at which Cannanore,
another black-funnelled cargo ship, was due simultaneously with Mantua; this,
again, I had no particular wish to join (a non-air-conditioned cargo ship in the
Bay of Bengal was not on my wish-list).

Two days later we were in Madras, a stifling sort of place that, to me, had no
redeeming features. Cannanore arrived, but again there were no instructions to
transfer, and then we were off to Calcutta, the past capital of British India.

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