Evelyn Swift

An Excerpt

Post-World War II Years

Rose, 20, third generation and youngest member of the Johnson family, embarks on her journey to Australia and a new life.

Rose has just stepped on board the R.M.S. Orcades and stands on deck as a uniformed official is speaking through a megaphone. Around her stand groups of people, families with children, young girls about her age, a few young men, and a group of mature-looking individuals dressed alike in clerical gray. Each person is holding what looks like a bible — missionaries perhaps? Rose wonders who they are intending to save.

The man is still speaking, his voice booming over the deck, but Rose is barely listening, her thoughts elsewhere. Since she said goodbye, at home, to Dad and Mother this morning — the memory still tightens her throat — the day has been adventure. The train journey to London, transportation to Tilbury Docks, getting lost before finding the right wharf, and finally the sight of the ship looming so large, its funnel a mile high, dwarfing vehicles and stacks of crates on the quay. She’d watched, fascinated, the sight of huge cranes grappling with those crates, lifting them high over the ship, dipping down, disappearing into what much be spacious holds, then emerging, hooks swinging empty, to start all over again.

Setting foot on deck, the enormity of what she is doing overcomes her. There is no turning back now, the die is cast. She has a moment of sheer fright. Was it not too late to turn, hurry down the gangplank and find her way back to Barnston? To all that is familiar, all that she has left behind? What a fool she has been, thinking she could do this, what bravado! This is a moment of reckoning, and she’s terrified as a child. She looks around and sees three or four girls standing alone, and wonders what they are thinking. Perhaps she’s not the only one whose inside is in turmoil. The thought calms her somewhat.

At that moment Rose’s attention is captured by the man’s voice saying he will assign cabins, and they must listen carefully as he will do it only once. After listening for fifteen minutes, names, decks and cabin numbers repeated over and over again, Rose hears her name called. She’s assigned to cabin 23 on G deck, and follows a steward who’s escorting her group, bound for the same destination. It seems to her as they troop along one corridor after another, descend numerous flights of stairs, that they are headed for the bowels of the ship. How will she ever find her way among all these corridors and stairs? The girl behind her mutters, “Blimey, it’s a maze,” and Rose has to agree.

Cabin 23 is small, has double bunks on each side, the porthole is so high you can hardly see out of it, which is just as well because it seems to be just above the water line. Three girls follow her in, the cabin is gloomy and the steward switches on the light. “Bathroom is down the corridor to the left,” he informs them. “Come to the main lounge on C Deck at five o’clock for processing and information. Dinner will be at six thirty.” He retreats to the rest of his flock in the corridor and shuts the door.

The four of them look uncertainly at one another. Rose thinks she’d better make a start. “I’m Rose, Rose Johnson,” she says. “I’m from Barnston, near Nottingham.” The girl on her left, a round-faced, curly-haired girl says in a north country accent, “I’m Shirley, Shirley Phelps from Scarborough in Yorkshire.” “We’re sisters, Megan and Rhonda Williams from Llandrindod in Wales,” the other two volunteer, and Rose is struck by their different accents, north country, midland, which she has to admit has nothing of the charm of the sing-song cadence of the Welsh girl’s. “Goodness, I hope we can understand one another,” Rose remarks, and everybody laughs.

The sisters take the double bunk on one side, and Rose and Shirley look at each other. “Up or down?” Rose asks, and Shirley shrugs, so Rose offers to take the top, which means she has to climb a ladder to her bunk. She hopes the ship won’t pitch and toss too much; there’s little protection against falling out of the bunk, and it seems a long way down. And how good a sailor will she be?

At five o’clock they are all assembled in the main lounge, which has windows along one side, beyond which she can see a row of hanging lifeboats. It is only then she realizes they are moving, and another moment of panic sweeps over her. No going back now, her fate is sealed. For reassurance she glances at Shirley who’s sitting beside her, her face composed. Well, if she can be that calm, so can Rose. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to concentrate on the uniformed man who’s just entered the lounge. He looks most imposing in white trimmed with gold braid, as, papers in hand, he steps to the podium. The Captain, surely.

“Good afternoon. I am the personnel officer, and if you have any questions or need information during our voyage, my office is situated on D Deck, number 14 — First Officer Smythe.”

Rose’s thoughts drift for a moment, wondering how Mother and Dad are faring, this first evening, now she’s gone. She thinks of Neil, glad and yet sorry there was no goodbye. What if –

The man’s voice breaks through her musings. “. . . itinerary will be as follows: our first port of call will be Gibralter, and there you may leave letters for posting, as you will be able to in subsequent ports. Our next destination will be Naples, Italy, then Port Said, after which we sail through the Suez Canal and down the Red Sea to Aden.”

Rose can hardly believe her ears, the journey itself will be the thrill of a lifetime. “. . . across the Indian Ocean to Ceylon. Then comes the longest leg of our journey, during which we will cross the Equator.” Rose can hardly absorb all this. What letters she will write! First Officer Smythe seems unimpressed, almost bored, reading this itinerary. How many times has he done this trip Rose wonders. And he’s not yet finished. “. . . our first Australian landfall will be at Perth, then it’s on to Adelaide, Melbourne and finally Sydney. A hint of a smile crosses his face. “You should all have got your sea legs by then.”

Officer Smythe continues. “During the voyage there will be classes to attend, mostly to orient you to life in the antipodes.” He pauses and his gaze sweeps the audience. “Perhaps you have already realized everything will appear upside down to you. Australia is in the southern hemisphere, down-under — perhaps you’ve heard that phrase — so when we arrive in October it will be spring. December is our hottest month, and it may take some getting used to; celebrating Christmas in the heat of summer. June is the middle of winter. The northern part of Australia is the hottest region, south, the coldest.” There is a murmur among the audience, as though some are surprised, but Rose has already given this some thought, and is not surprised.

“Doesn’t it sound exciting?” Shirley says, as they return to the cabin before dinner. “All those places that sound so romantic; crossing the Equator. In my wildest dreams I never imagined anything like this. Did you, Rose?”

“Well, for ages now,” and it does seem a long time to her, “I’ve been wanting to get away, do something different, before I have to settle down.” She feels excitement herself. What horizons this is opening!

Rose looks around the cabin, she and Shirley are sitting on her lower bunk, and there’s not a lot of headroom. They certainly are squashed together in this tiny space. She thinks of her bedroom at home, so large compared to this. Well, the room’s empty now, and she’s not going to get nostalgic for it. She’s left Barnston behind, and she’s glad, she’s free. A twinge of sadness arises when she thinks of Mother and Dad; they are hurt, she knows — and Neil, she’s hurt him too. But Rose steels herself. She can’t live her life just to please others, she must follow her hopes and desires. And this is what she desires. Who wouldn’t grab an opportunity like this? Who was it who said opportunity has only one hair on her head, and you have to pluck it out, or else you’ve lost the chance forever. Well, she plucked it out, didn’t she? And now she’s got her chance.

They both start as a sudden voice over a tannoy announces dinner. “Have to get used to that,” Shirley says. “Hope they don’t announce reveille first thing in the morning. ‘Six o’clock girls, up and out!’ ” she mimics, and they both laugh. And as they walk along corridors and up flights of stairs, Rose is suddenly heartened. What a day this has been, like a dream. And she has made it. She is on her way!