My Meeting With Doug
After a wonderful 2 weeks leave at home with my family in the village where I was born and raised, I boarded the train to return to my ship. During wartime the trains were usually packed with service personnel. It was a corridor train so I walked along looking for an available seat. I could hear raucous laughter ahead. The compartment was packed including a couple from my ship. They made room and introduced me to Doug the reason for the hilarious atmosphere. It is difficult for me to describe what happened during the two hours plus journey to our destination. Just continuous jokes and laughter the whole time. By the time we arrived my ribs were aching.
Once on board I got to know Doug, and to my amazement whenever he went ashore at ports, he was always by himself. Yes, he was a loner like me. (read my story "a Loner"). He asked if on the odd occasion I would go out with him. I accepted because I knew there would be no drunken mischief involved.
I will describe this one incident which epitomizes my occasions ashore with Doug.
My ship was berthed at Bluff South Island New Zealand, stocking up for its journey back to England. Just a few minutes walk from the ship was the Bay View Inn. It was a warm sunny day and the door to the main bar was open. There were about three or four customers in at the time quietly drinking. Within minutes he had them all laughing, at one stage doing a tap dance on the bar. What would your friend like to drink "a Jamaican rum please" There was no charge. People walking by the front door hearing all the laughter walked in and much to the barman's delight soon a full room of customers.
Doug looked at his watch "We had better get going It's time for lunch Will" The barman quickly interjected for obvious reasons " You can have lunch here" So there you have it, free drinks and lunch.
I visited the Bayview quite a few times afterwards but without Doug. They always treated me well, and always asked "How is your friend Doug" hoping that he would appear again at the appropriate time.
Throughout my whole experience with Doug he was never crude, rude, obnoxious, or discourteous to others. Quite a unique individual.
We were soon to hear that our voyage home to England would be via the dreaded Cape Horn. Our first port of call Dakar West Africa which is documented in my story
"Cape Horn"
Approaching Dakar, amongst other things, warnings were posted not to drink the hooch that would be pedalled by boats coming alongside. The ship dropped anchor, a sufficient distance away from the port to be outside the flying range of malaria carrying mosquitos. As anticipated, the small boats came alongside selling all sorts of goods, including their home-made liquor.
We set sail after only a few hours, which was a relief for the crew, eager to be on the move now that they were getting closer to home. As Dakar faded away into the distance it was discovered that Doug, had not reported for duty. I ran to his cabin, only to find a small group had gathered outside the door, loudly knocking on it.
“We can’t find him on board. His door is locked ”
I pushed my way to the door and crouched down to look through the keyhole. The view was limited but I could see the side of Doug’s bunk and just protruding over it’s top, the shape of his nose and part of his face.
“He’s in there, but he’s not moving.”
The lower section of all cabin doors were constructed in such a way, that should an emergency occur and the door got jammed, it could be kicked out to provide a crawl through exit, so it was aptly called the “kick panel.”
“Kick the panel out!” someone shouted, and I crawled through unlocking the door from the inside to let the others inside. Doug’s face was as white as a sheet and he did not appear to be breathing. I could not detect any pulse.
“Get a shaving mirror quick,” someone suggested, and the cabin descended into silence as the mirror was held to his mouth. After what seemed an age, it showed faint signs of moisture.
“He’s breathing, get him out on deck in the fresh air,” a voice called out, “and get the steward!”
There was no doctor on board so any medical requirements were usually dispensed either by the captain, or other designated person, in this case the chief steward. The medical book carried by all ships, was the Bible, but if anything serious occurred, it was dealt with by contacting the nearest doctor ashore by radio, and getting instructions on what to do, or if luck would have it, a ship carrying a doctor, may be in the vicinity. In any case, if you fell seriously ill, you would be relying on good luck, rather that good judgment to survive.
It took some time but eventually, Doug scrambled his way back from the dead. The symptoms were obvious from the start. He had been drinking the home made liquor, obtained whilst in Dakar. His health gradually improved, but he was still a very sick man when the ship finally docked in England, where he was taken ashore and transferred by ambulance to hospital.
I never did see Doug again but my memory of him will be with me for ever.
Regarding the incident with Doug at the Bay View Inn, as mentioned I visited without him usually late afternoon after my 12 to 4pm watch, until after dark. I was addicted to the sweet Jamaica rum. In those days the pub closing hour in New Zealand was 6pm. There would be quite a few men still in the bar after 6pm. The barman would call out "quiet", and the place descended into silence, and everyone carried on drinking.
After a while there would be a knock on the door. It was the local policeman doing his rounds. The barman would slip him his favourite bottle of drink, and he would be on his way.
Later after more drinking I would stagger uncertainly back along the pier which was emblazoned with lights blurring my sight. There were no hand rails and an abrupt right turn to access the ships gangway. I never fell into the water.
Go figure.
This was the only period in my life that I was. intoxicated.
On the day of my marriage to my wife Dorothy, I promised to her that I would never drink or smoke, which I am proud to say I never did throughout our 70 years together.