We were on the trip of alifetime. It
was not every young couple who could board a luxury cruise ship in 1970. Every cent had been carefully saved and the
moment had finally arrived. We were off
to the UK for a year.
Our cabin was tiny with just two bunk beds, a miniscule bathroom
and a chest of drawers that opened and closed at the ocean’s whim. The joy of being together on such a huge
adventure was wonderful. We hadn’t a
care in the world. We were young, with
our whole lives ahead of us. The world was our oyster.
The first boat drill came and passed with much laughter and “as
if it would happen” stuff. The Greek officers were
serious but had little control over those who giggled and fumbled with life
jackets not caring if they were fastened correctly or not. What a scream. As if the ship would sink!
A few nights later I awoke to Eric’s alarmed voice stating that
the ship’s engines had stopped. Silence
hovered heavily as we wondered and waited. A loud bang on the door from one of
the crew sent us into a panic. The ship was on fire! We hastily pulled on some clothes but my major concern was to get
my contact lenses in. If we were
jumping overboard then I wanted to see where I was going. The water in the sink was boiling as I tried
rinsing them and with great difficulty I peered into the steam covered mirror
to insert them. Eric in the background was yelling, “For God’s sake Pat. The ship’s on fire and you’re putting your
make up on!” We frantically grabbed our
life jackets and fled. It was 4:00am!
The fire doors were closed; escape was paramount but where did
we go? What were they babbling on about
when we had that fire drill? We held
hands tightly and eventually ended up on a small emergency station for the crew. No English was spoken but scornful looks
were thrown my way as I battled with my life jacket. Where did all the strings go?
Which way did I tie it? We
waited in fear and trepidation for our next order. Why was everyone so silent?
As the fire alarms proclaimed the ship’s worst nightmare we
joined a steady stream of people and headed to the top deck. There were over
two thousand passengers crammed together in gloomy darkness. Most were still in night attire looking
startled and frightened. Sleeping
babies lay in carry baskets, small children with terrified eyes clung to
parents while doom and uncertainty filled the air. I stood next to an elderly Dutch gentleman smartly resplendent in
a suit, perfectly knotted tie and gleaming black shoes. He proudly patted his breast pocket to show
me that he had his wallet and passport. I looked in horror at what I had
brought with me; my prize possession was a hair brush! Eric had nothing!
Angry flames, victorious in their height, leapt between the funnels
of the ship. People stared, mesmerised
in horror while a huge glow filled the sky. There was no panic; in fact people
were remarkably quiet, trying hard to accept the fact that this was actually happening
to them.
Life boats were ceremoniously lowered into the black, fathomless
water and it was painfully clear to even my untrained nautical mind, that there
weren’t enough for two thousand people, not to mention the five hundred crew. People muttered about the stupid Greeks and
their inefficiency while others quietly whimpered about sharks in tropical
waters. I waited for the cry, “Women
and children first.” That’s what they
say in the movies! My voice was
mutinous as I said to Eric, “I won’t be going without you so we’ll jump
together – later.” His answer was a
squeeze of the hand so we were united in this drama.
The sun rose above the horizon sending golden hues across the
ocean but the splendour went unnoticed as the new problem emerged – sunburn. We were somewhere in the Pacific Ocean between
New Zealand and Fiji with no protection at all. The tropical sun was relentless and we had no escape.
In a miraculous moment we found our newly acquired friends
Margaret and Werner who were struggling with two year old Chrissie and five
month old Martin. Werner was dressed but Margaret was in a
skimpy nightdress with a thick yellow dressing gown thrown on top causing great
discomfort in the increasing heat. Chrissie was whimpering and clinging to
Werner while Martin slept peacefully in his tiny basket lined with apricot and
white checked gingham.
We were aware of cold, smoky water around our feet and as we
looked up the flames diminished. Thick
smoke poured from the gaping hole as crew members fought bravely from below. The captain’s announcement stated that there
was a fire in the main galley but everything was under control. A few sniggered but most people sighed with
relief as they settled down to wait out the day.
Trestle tables appeared laden with dry biscuits, cheese, tinned
beef, pineapple juice and tea which was all that could be found in the crew’s
galley. In a frenzy people raced for food, stuffing their mouths, piling their
paper plates to overflowing, filling their pockets with no thought for others. The scene was disgusting. Some people were little more than
animals. What they didn’t want they
just dropped on the deck. For a fleeting
moment I felt ashamed to be part of the human race.
All day we sat baking in the merciless tropical sun, making temporary
hats from handkerchiefs or second hand serviettes to protect our heads. There were three toilets for two thousand of
us – hopeless, futile and filthy.
Martin’s baby basket floated in the murky water and we watched as the
apricot and white check gradually turned to grey. He slept peacefully on,
totally unaware of the mayhem.
At 7 pm we were summoned to special indoor stations where we
waited for hours for cabin information.
Eric disappeared into the bowels of the ship to emerge triumphantly with
my face cream and his wallet. A man from Melbourne disappeared below to
return with a huge tin of orange juice.
Someone pierced the top with a pocket knife and we all managed to quench
our thirst using just one filthy cup we had found on the floor. We laughed and
cheered, ecstatic with our find.
An elderly English couple sat quietly in the corner clutching
each other’s hand. The lady’s beautiful
peaches and cream complexion had been ravaged by the harsh sun. I passed her my face cream and she wept
silent tears as her husband gently moisturised her cheeks. I just held her hand
in comradeship. I knew…….we all knew……. Life was tough.
We finally returned to our cabin but found it awash with filthy,
smoky water. Post traumatic tears of
self pity poured from my eyes as I discovered the cases under the bed full of
sodden clothes. I’d had enough! I was burnt to a cinder, hot and sweaty and
tired beyond words. There was no light,
no air conditioning and no tap water. What was happening to our dream
holiday? In silence we closed the door
and made our way back up to the top deck.
I was ashamed of my
outburst when I discovered that many cabins had been charred to a cinder and
several hundred people had lost everything.
Men stood with dazed looks while women and children were sobbing openly.
Clothes were hastily shared and
makeshift beds were made in any available space in the lounges and on the
deck. People were crammed together
crying, chatting, blaming, planning.
The night would be endless.
Through the sea of faces we suddenly spied Werner.With great concern he was searching the
crowd looking for us.He beamed as we waved
and the three of us spoke at once, trying to check on each other. Their cabin had been completely untouched so
we all bunked in together and slept the sleep of the dead.
The next morning brought chaos as dazed people wandered through
the badly maimed ship. Gossip informed
us of looters through the night who had stolen and trashed from behind unlocked
doors.One girl had been raped in the
darkness of her cabin.The scum of the
human race had been busy!
We were informed that the fire had been caused by a large
container of oil which had over heated and ignited in the main galley. The fire had travelled rapidly through the
air conditioning causing untold damage to the galley and gutting the cabins on
the decks directly above it.
Weary crew members and officers assessed the damage and worked
endlessly to pacify and help passengers.
Willing people gave clothes and toiletries as about seven hundred
passengers prepared to fly to their destinations from Suva. We spoke to one newly married man who was
travelling to England with his wife to meet his in-laws. He said he had no hope of impressing them if
he arrived in his pyjama pants! Eric
found a dry shirt in a drawer in our cabin, some one else gave him some jeans
and so it went on………….. Most people
wanted to help.
The Suva wharf was spectacularly alive with a brightly dressed
band playing cheerful music as the ship limped in at 5pm. We felt like heroes! Warm hands of friendship reached out as we
were welcomed by the Fijian people. Suva was there to help.
Hotel dining rooms
filled to capacity as the ship’s passengers were given meals for the next week.Those whose cabins were deemed uninhabitable
were given free accommodation. Eric
and I stayed on the outskirts of Suva in a motel called “The Outrigger” which
was a mini tropical paradise.We loved
it and had our own little special holiday in absolute luxury. Buses were hired
for sight seeing trips and wherever we went a warm welcome was extended.The island’s hospitality was overwhelming.
Experts were flown in from Greece to install a new galley in the
ship and within a week passengers were back on board. With the decline in numbers shipboard life
was wonderful and so it was with gay abandon that we succumbed to the
excitement of the high seas again with Acapulco being the next port of call. Sincere efforts from the officers & crewmen
made the remainder of the voyage an outstanding success. What absolute heroes they were…….. Not one life had been lost.
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