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Thanks Neville. More here:

CANBERRA PART FOUR


I usually ate in my own cabin when I had patients. We were able to use the First Class menu. At other times I went down to the Leading Hands Mess next to the Crew Mess. We had the Tourist Class menu, but other crew had their own menu and not far away was the Goanese Mess. In crew quarters we had the Crew Bar, known as the Pig, and the Leading Hands Bar. Officers had the Wardroom. We had films shows in the Pig, Leading Hands Bar and Goanese Mess. These were the same films that passengers saw. If it was a good film, we would watch it in all three places. As a Leading Hand, I could go into all bars, but others could not come into ours. We could all use the Goanese Mess, which was used for Crew Shows.

There was a much smaller entertainment department aboard passenger liners, but much of the daytime activity was exactly the same as it is today aboard cruise ships especially P&O Oriana and Aurora in particular being very typical P&O of the ‘line voyage’ era with bingo, quizzes, whist drive, deck games and competitions such as quoits, deck tennis and so on. There were not the lavish shows seen today or 24 hour dining, but still plenty to do, fully stocked library. I reckon we had as many if not more public rooms than cruise ships twice or three times our size. In Tourist was the Peacock Room, Cricketers Tavern, Pop Inn with a lounge next door, the William Fawcett, a huge room, Island room, Tourist Class Playground with open decks above, and a large Cinema. In first class was the Meirdian Room, Bonito, Stadium, stadium Well, Crows Nest, Dance Floor and many other smaller rooms, shops first and tourist Steiner hairdressing, the Bureau and much more. Public rooms had stages rather than a dedicated Theatre for acts that were on board who also did crew shows.

Our medical department was the same as a doctors surgery or hospital A&E. We had fully operational theatre, x-ray machines, did specimen tests, minor surgery, or even major at a push. After all, on this voyage, we were crossing the Indian Ocean, would not see land again for seven days. Couldn’t dial 999 for an ambulance. It tested the skills of us all. Our small team consisting of two doctors, three nursing sisters, myself and the Dispenser had to cope with it all 24 hours a day seven days a well including mass inoculation. Remember, we had over 900 members of crew in those days and around 2,000 passengers. Unlike cruise ships today who land passengers at the drop of a hat if ill, we treated them unless of course we had no option but land them, which was not often. I also had to learn Psychiatry double quick many members of crew feeling depressed being away from home, often leaving after a row, being worked hard on board day in day out, awkward passengers, but always having to smile even though deep down you want to thump them, not getting on with other crew, all sorts of below deck trauma that people shore side never get to hear about, and indeed some crew never got to know about because some only confided in us. Sometimes, medical professionals have a heavy burden because confidentiality forbid us from telling others, often to this very day as far as names are concerned. Suffice to say that I sometimes spent hours trying to persuade crew not to jump overboard. As my diary states, we were not even a month out of Southampton, but some crew were depressed and overworked, and we still had three months to go. I had never been so motivated despite run off my feet.

After crossing the Indian Ocean, not too busy in my hospital, but busy in the passenger hospital plus crew drills and inspection days to keep us on our toes, we reached Fremantle on Tuesday 14th September 1971. My second time there, but this time much busier my diary reminding me that we did passenger exemptions, and I took a passenger to a bus, busy in general, sailing the same day.

The next day, two South African children were admitted to my isolation section with Measles, and a member of crew, came in with Tonsilitis. As well as daily passenger surgery morning and evening, there was also crew surgery taken by the Assistant Surgeon or Baby Doc.

Both surgeries were for the normal ailments people go to their doctor at home for, and sometimes passenger and crew were admitted to hospital. In the case of some passengers, it was a case of overdoing it. This is why as the voyage progressed, so did the amount of patients in the passenger hospital often being full. And some crew were simply worn out. In those days cabin stewards made early morning tea or coffee for all their cabins. Each deck had several pantries.

The early cup of tea reminds me of one of several funny stories I will tell in these articles. After taking the tea or coffee to cabins, the steward returned later to pick up the empties. One passenger decided to keep one of the cups one morning to keep for soaking his false teeth overnight. When he came to put them in, the cup had gone, along with his teeth. The steward had mistakenly taken the cup with his teeth in as well. So this poor man had to rush to the pantry searching through hundreds of cups left by his and other stewards before being flushed down the sluice or something. Luckily he found them, and was able to smile again! This is one of several funny false teeth and other stories.

A remarkable thing happened as we were passing the port of Albany on the southern tip of Western Australia, Albany being the oldest town in Western Australia. It was dark as we were passing. I was walking along the port side of the Promenade Deck in full uniform on my way to crew quarters forward. Still in the tourist section, I stopped to speak to a male passenger. He was one of some 2,000 on board. He told me that the lights we could see were that of Albany his hometown. He had embarked in Fremantle heading for Sydney. I told him that a friend of father had migrated to Albany from the Isle of Wight, so this man asked me what his name was. When I told him, this man said: “Streuth, he is my next door neighbour”. I asked this passenger if he would mind taking a letter to him when he returned home which he duly did. Later on a lovely letter caught up with me amazed at the quirk of fate. He would have been an elderly man then. I lost contact a few years later sadly. The chances of me meeting this passenger must have been millions to one, more chance of winning the lottery, but of course fate had already played a part in my life travelling 12,000 miles to do a job I would have never dreamed of if I had stayed home that became my passport into the merchant navy.