We have a cabin among the officers. I don't know how Major Western wangled that. The ship is stuffed with wounded soldiers. I miss Abdul. No one needs me to translate. Father has found a quiet place to pray in the corner of the writing room and I have found books. Lots of books, in a variety of languages. Such luxury! I don't have anything to do and no one has told me to stay in my cabin so I roam around the ship. I found the galley and said hello to the cooks in several languages. They brightened up immediately and replied. They are Greek. The head chef is Kyrie Nicolaides. He is Major Western's Arabic interpreter, now on his way to Australia as a reward. He saved the major when a shell burst overhead but it cost Kyrie Nic his leg. He gets around very well on a wooden pin. He wants to cook Greek food for the officers but they always want roasts and stews, which he thinks are very boring and lacking in flavour. He sneaks a little extra into the Western dishes. Just a pinch of ground oregano into the batter for frying fish, for instance. And they won't eat salads unless they are drenched in vinegar. Like most cooks his feelings are easily hurt. I soothed him by asking him to make vegetarian dishes for my father, who loves Greek food. Actually, Father does not notice anything he eats but he doesn't dislike Greek food so it's not a real fib. Kyrie Nic was delighted and made stuffed peppers with onions, pine nuts and tomatoes. They were excellent. Feeding Father will amuse the cook for the whole voyage. If only I can convince him that ham and bacon are not vegetarian foods. Or beef stock.
This is a nice ship. It was actually a luxury cruise liner before they filled it with soldiers. So the library is very good and the cabins have a hot seawater shower. Once a week we can get a freshwater shower to wash off the salt. I prefer to stay grimy until I can get fresh water. The salt scours my skin. I have the top bunk and Father has the bottom. It is very strange to lie there, as I did this afternoon, with nothing to do but read my John Buchan, no duties, no danger except from prowling submarines, about which I can do nothing, and dinner to look forward to. It is nice but I don't seem to be able to rest. I keep expecting something awful to happen. I am all wound up to confront danger and don't seem to be able to unwind. Finally I gave up and decided to find Bluey and Curly. I went down to the passenger decks and found many soldiers. Most of them are wounded. There are nurses with them, most of them ill and being sent home as well. I believe the ship has a doctor, too. I met many people but could not find my friends. I shall search again tomorrow.
I searched what seemed like miles of ship. Much of it is the same: gunmetal corridors, men lying about grousing or playing cards or sleeping, the smell of old socks and men and frying. There are numbers stencilled on the walls which should make it possible to find my way about, if I knew what they meant. I shall ask.
LATER Due to taking a wrong turn, I got to the engine room, where a lot of cheery oily people seemed pleased to see me. It was very smoky in that dark pit but they grinned and seemed comfortable. They explained how to find my way and offered me tea made with steam. It was very definite in flavour, tasting like new tin.
I used my new knowledge to find the right decks and there was Bluey and next to him Curly. Curly was spelling his way through a newspaper. He left school very early. I offered to read aloud. He grinned and handed it over and I started to read to Bluey. Soon I had an audience. I read an account of the Gallipoli landings. It said that they were heroes. It said that the Australians were the best troops in the world. It said they were gallant and unimaginably brave. It said they fought selflessly for honour and Empire. Then the whole deck fell silent. The maimed and the wounded looked at each other. There wasn't a noise except the sea outside and the ventilators humming. Every man in the ship was injured for honour and Empire. For some reason I held my breath. Then Bluey growled, âJeez, get on to the sports news, Evan, will ya?' and I got on with the sports news. They were really pleased about the Melbourne Cup. I read cricket results and the results of country football games. And the troops were cheered by the announcement that every Saturday night they would be awarded one bottle of beer at dinner. That meant there was beer on board. And that it could be stolen. I would not like to be guarding that beer.
We're heading for Cape Town, apparently. There we will refuel and take on more people. I can't imagine where they are going to be crammed in. But the first officerâa very lofty person dressed in white without a spot on it and a very impressive capâsays we will discharge all our horses there. I didn't know we had any horses. This ship is like a floating town. I soothed Kyrie Nic when he was smarting from being told that he mustn't put any foreign ingredients in his Irish stew, just mutton chops, onions and potatoes. I asked him to make me a beef
stifado
. He embraced me and said that I was the sole exception to a ship full of barbarians. The
stifado
was very good. I watched as he made it. I shall teach Aunt Euphie how to make it when I get home.
The sea is rough and most of the men are seasick. Father is, too. He spent the whole day in his bunk. I am not sick so went to the library. There I found two nurses. I sat down near them. They were talking idly. They had been in Alexandria and had tended a hospital ship which had been torpedoed. They said that the surviving nurses were being sent home because they had done enough. This is a new thought. Perhaps it is all right that Father and I are going home. Perhaps we have done enough too. They are New Zealanders. I can tell from the Scottish sort of accent. When we get to Melbourne they have still further to go. They started talking to me after a while. They are Sister Jones and Sister May. They had heard of Father. They asked me what happened to my other brother. I said he had stayed behind in Athens. I wonder where Abdul is, and how he is going? I miss him. The sisters say that if they had known what the glories of war were like they would never have left Christchurch. Kyrie Nic sent us tea and little cakes. Bluey did say that you always ought to get on well with the poisoner.
Still blowing, too rough to write.
Today I went up on deck. The sisters took me. They are allowed to walk on the foredeck, as long as there are two of them. They are not allowed to walk around the ship alone. I am sure that no soldier would offer them insult but the navy takes no chances. The sea is so big. It stretches all the way to the horizon. I never saw such a calm blue sea. It is starting to get warmer. In my goat's-hair coat I was almost hot. The sisters say that they will sunbathe when they can. Sister May has brought her swimsuit and Sister Jones says she will manage with underwear. I told them that there was still a shop on the boat and they might have a swimsuit left over from cruise-ship days. They were delighted. I said I would come along with them in case they have trouble with the QM, who can't be used to issuing swimsuits. They laughed and said they would manage, but invited me to come along anyway. There are no prisoners on this ship for me to talk to so I went. The QM scowled at the nurses but offered several swimsuits.
âNurses, swimsuits, blue, one,' he said, slinging it along the counter.
They laughed. After a minute he laughed, too. We are sailing away from war. For some reason I am sleepy.
Today is Sunday and we went to a church service with a nervous clergyman who stuttered. Father wanted to preach but settled for reading the lesson: âHow beautiful are the feet of them that bringeth good tidings.' I froze. That is the chapter he was shouting when we climbed that hill to the Turkish lines. But he read it clearly. Then he sat down. Father is better.
I felt very shaky. I had to go and lie down.
Definitely getting warmer. I washed my shirt in salt water and hung it to dry in our bathroom. I really need another shirt. I shall brave the QM for shirts, boys, white, one. And, if he has any, trousers, civilian, boys, one.
The QM is all right really. He says he gets no visitors except a lot of lousy thieving coots who waste their soap and lose their gear. I'm not one of them so he quite likes me. He asked me to tell the nurses he has found some of the pre-war stuff which the cruise ship used to sell and maybe they would like to come and see it. I said I would tell them. I got my new clothes, too.
When I told the nurses they were delighted and said they would bring their friends. That ought to make the QM's day.
The officers are trying to find amusements for the men. They are quiet enough while they are still very sick but as they are getting better they are causing trouble. They get into fights. One lot has broken the electric lights on their deck just for fun and then tried to start a fireâon a wooden deck. There isn't a lot their officers can do to them. They know their army days are ended as soon as they get home, and that's a month away. So there are parties taken up on deck to exercise, there are guessing games and sports and so on. Bluey and Curly's deck has started a poker tournament. Some of them are very good. The others are betting on the results. They are all looking forward to their bottle of beer on Saturday night. So far they haven't managed to get into the spirit store, which holds the officers' wine and brandy. It is guarded all the time by two armed sailors. The first officer was very snooty about having a ship full of soldiers. He said they are badly disciplined and noisy and difficult. Father said dreamily that heroes are always difficult. Then the first officer went on to talk about the wines of Bordeaux instead. He knows a lot about them. Kyrie Nic made Father a lentil stew which smelt brilliant. The Kyrie says it is his mother's recipe.
I hope they let the men off the ship at Cape Town. They need to stretch their legs and work off some of this energy. The officers are undecided. They don't want to let these men loose in a friendly port in case Cape Town can't cope. Cape Town is an old sea port. I expect it's seen soldiers before. If they don't let them off there might be a riot. They are very anxious to get ashore.
A bit bumpy today. Started a new book. The nurses went to see the QM and he had a lot of civilian clothes and French cosmetics, powder and so on. The nurses were very pleased and started trying on dresses. The shipwrecked ones from the torpedoed ship have no extra clothes or things like hairpins or cold cream or hairbrushes. The QM smiled and said they could have all of the stuff as far as he was concerned. Everyone was really pleased. They looked very pretty in their silk dresses, too.
Christmas Eve. We had an extra-special dinner. So did the troops. We gave little gifts. Father had forgotten to buy me anything. He usually does. But the nurses gave me chocolates.
Christmas. More bumpy weather. I sat near the captain today at dinner. He is worried about the weather and is piling on speed to get to Cape Town before the storm breaks, so the motion of the ship is uncomfortable. I asked him about the men going ashore. He said they were brave fellows and would return if given leave as long as they were on their honour. The Australian officers seemed not to agree with him but one does not argue with a captain at his own table so they went on to talk about languages to forestall more discussion of the wines of Bordeaux. I could actually say something about this. The same word does not carry the same meaning in various languages.
Heim
is not the same as home. It means roughly the same thing but a German saying
heim
means something different from an Australian saying home. They were interested and made me talk more. Then they offered me a glass of wine and told me that I was a true son of the Tower of Babel. They were nice, but Father disapproved of the biblical reference. I went to church. The men got beer. I went down to see Bluey and Curly and the steward gave me a bottle too so I gave it to Curly. He said, âHappy days!'
The fights have died down now that real boxing matches are being arranged on deck in fine weather. Also, from the deck the men can see the nurses sunbathing. They are going ashore if they can. Just to feel solid ground underfoot again. The men are getting army rations. Bully beef and tinned meat and veg. No wonder they are fighting. I'd fight too if I had to eat that stuff again.
I decided to investigate the comforts fund. There must be some. You don't send a whole shipload of men who are not being paid out on a long voyage without any comforts. I asked the QM and he went vague. There might be such things or there might not. I said that there definitely were and why hadn't he distributed some? Eventually he stopped yelling at me because it wasn't doing any good and said that he was saving them for Christmas. And none of the buggers had any money, anyway, so it wasn't worth his while to open the store to anyone except officers. And they were a bad bargain costing the army money to send them home when they were past use and ought to go to the knackers like old horses. He is a bad angry man. I've still got some money. I shall ask an officer about allowing parties of men to visit the store at my expense for things like soap and lollies.
LATER I spoke to Sister May. She was shocked. She said she would speak to the doctor. She said I didn't need to pay for comforts because they had been donated by good people in Australia. She told me I was a good boy. The QM would not agree with her.
The Australian officers are sweet on the nurses. And some of the nurses are sweet on them. This makes dinner boring. I have to talk to the first officer about wine. The nurses think that the men should be allowed ashore at Cape Town. To please them, the officers agree. Good. Kyrie Nic says he will take in fruits and veg in Cape Town. He is hoping for mangoes and bananas.