FROM THE INDIAS TO THE ASAS

From the Straat Banka to the Straat Bali was a nice change for a new 3rd Officer, it offered a different atmosphere on board and longer times at sea to perform the jobs that come with the rank. With only two lifeboats to look after it was not difficult with so much time available. Apart from the Captain, all the Officers were bachelors and happy to be on this run from Japan via Hong Kong and Singapore to South Africa and eventually end up in South America.

After joining the ship in Singapore I was immediately bombarded with the stories of adventures in Japan and what was awaiting us on the southern hemisphere further to the West. I thought it best to wait and see if life surely could be much better than what I had experienced in Australia.

The start in Durban was worthwhile mentioning. Of memory, we arrived after dark and were directed to a stand by berth near the oil storage centre and not far from the whaling station, where the smell was very strong. With the instruction to be up early to “shift ship”, I went straight to bed after coming alongside and soon forgot all the teasing from the Chief Officer AZ about what was waiting for me in Durban. During the voyage I had been duly advised about Apartheid and the different attitudes between ship and shore people and a whole score of other situations I could become involved in.

That first night in Durban I woke up and turned over to discover the sweet smell of a stark naked woman with me under the sheets, who than snuggled up to me, purring like a cat.

The saying that “curiosity kills the cat” proved to be very true because when I turned on the bed lamp to see what angel had been send to welcome me to the Union, she screamed and jumped out of the bed and ran away into the dark night. It all happened very fast but the visit was noticed by others, who had not really believed that my predecessor was that much in love with the girl to write her about his transfer from the ship and they had anticipated her coming on board. My transfer to the Tjitjalengka prevented any follow up to complete the story.

Montevideo and Buenos Aires provided the usual entertainment for visiting white coloured junior seafaring Officers. The Mission to Seaman in Uruguay played a big role introducing us to the daughters of wealthy graziers in the quest of matchmaking. With that in mind we were treated on trips into the country to attend BBQ’s and the company of young women, all escorted by a multitude of mothers and brothers, looking ready to pounce if you came too close or tried to get some privacy for alternative reasons.

In Argentina the timing of our visits ashore were awkward for the 3rd Officer doing the 0600 to 1200 and 1800 to 2400 watches on deck, as during the afternoon shops would close for siesta’s and at night nothing would start before 2200 hours. It was really amazing that we had sufficient stamina to keep up with both, the work on board and the outings ashore.

Then the panic started when the end of the year bills of lading were to be honoured in Santos before the end of the year. The lovely easy Argentinean way of work changed rapidly when 250 workers came on board and broke all existing records by loading in excess of 2000 tons of general cargo in 24 hours. With the hatch beams in place and the derricks still in their loading positions we were dragged of the wharf and proceeded as fast as permitted out of the harbour, making the ship ready for sea as we went steaming down the River Plate. The arrival at 2030 in Santos on New Year’s Eve must have brought sighs of relief from the people responsible for putting their signatures on the paperwork. Although the actual loading would not commence until after the holiday, the old Tjitjalengka had done the RIL a favour.

We were also very glad to be there at the time when most ships had left the port before it virtually closed for the occasion and we had the advantage of less competition from their crews in the variety of bars on the waterfront. Only the persons rostered for duty remained on board, whilst the others went ashore as soon as the gangway was lowered. It did not take long for a number of our passengers to join us and our group attracted the attention of the local police, who thought it wise to keep an eye on us and eventually were our best allies in our negotiations with the bar proprietors to provide the chosen venue for going into year 1957.

At the stroke of twelve it was only quiet for a few seconds when the boys remembered their loved ones at home, but soon the party was in full swing again, welcoming the year 1957.

We went from Santos to Rio de Janeiro, followed by ten days at sea to recuperate from the festivities, which were a different experience to someone coming from the Australia service. The voyage to Capetown was by way of following the great circle, which brought us further south than the loxodromic route, but was slightly shorter and with the weather forecasts in our favour, would allow an opportunity to make up for lost time.

Capetown and Port Elisabeth went by with me taking the watches of the Officers with established girlfriends in these ports. The place reminded me of Australia, spoiled by the Apartheid Policies governing your movements in the cities, on public transport, in the parks and on the beaches I did not feel at home at all and rather than get into trouble for doing the unacceptable thing, I was happy to remain on board.

Sailing along the coast in heavy rain I had the fright of my life when I heard a ship’s siren at close quarters, near enough for me to race to the telegraph to request the engine room to stand by for further action. Before I reached the console the Captain was there to stop me with the reminder of “The ship of the week”, a radio program from Holland where the family of ships, sailing in the “never-never”, away from Holland, could listen to the voices of their relatives.

In Durban all work stopped every evening at 2100 and the others persuaded me to join them in finding the way to accept shore entertainment in the Union. Once again the body was pressed to perform long hours of work, combined with pleasure, but those five days gave me a good look at the life the ASAS had to offer; it was definitely a good selection of happenings. No wonder that they found the INDIAS was too dull and tame for their liking.

It was a relief to be at sea again on the way to Mauritius. We were only one day out when water was discovered in the bilges of hold number three, which was filled with bales of cotton bound for Japan, a highly combustible commodity when wet. Regular pumping kept the level in hand and no further action had to be s taken for the remainder of the voyage.

Mauritius was an eight hour visit for passenger’s purposes only; tours were booked in advance by telegrams, but never seemed to bring the correct number of seats, everytime it looked to be shambles to start with and all smiles at the end. I never envied the Purser.

Among the newly embarked passengers were a few wealthy Mauritian plantation owners and their families, all coloured from Indian descend, taking a prime position in the first class dining room and creating an instant stream of complaints from South Africans, queuing up in front of the Purser’s office. They were to be disappointed that no action was taken by the Purser as on a Dutch ship the Apartheid was not taken into consideration.

All that calmed down after the plantation owners showed to be good companions, whilst participating in the entertainment and sports and spending money on food and drinks. To top it off, the most beautiful daughters wandering around in bikini’s had all married men running to offer their services, thereby forgetting the Rules of the Union.

Hans van Weel

Safety Beach, VIC

1 November 2009.