At last, the final leg. We are on our way to Auckland in New Zealand’s North Island. This sprawling city, though not the country’s capital, boasts its largest population. Its growth is fed by the migration of young people from the country towns, seeking the excitement and opportunities lacking in their own small communities. It perches on the banks of the gorgeous Waitemata Harbour, the Maori name means sparkling water. Our journey from Sydney had taken us across the Tasman Sea and around New Zealand’s lonely, but spectacular, North Cape. Then into the mighty Pacific Ocean to steam down the east coast of the North Island to the Hauraki Gulf. This huge gulf dotted with small Islands is the marine gateway to the home waters of Auckland.
The first sight that greets you as you enter the Waitemata Harbour is an imposing, conical shaped, extinct Volcano. This is the legendary Rangitoto that is synonymous with Auckland. It stands like a sentinel watching over and welcoming New Zealand travellers returning by sea. It signals that you are home and safe as it stands in guard over Auckland’s harbour.
The amazing thing about Rangitoto is its perfectly symmetrical sides. These sculptured-looking slopes show Rangitoto to be the same impressive shape, regardless of the direction that you approach it from. It stands there, a commanding spectacle, presenting itself equally to all. Its message to the early settlers and all since, may well be, ‘all are welcome here, all are equal’ wherever in the world you come from. To me that spirit reflected all that was great and good in that contented society.
Entering the harbour you saw the lovely coloured wooden houses snuggling into the green hillsides. Coming from a lifetime of English plain and all the same, brick council houses, these wonderful sights from my previous trip to New Zealand on the MV Athenic, came flooding back. It was a sight that moved me then and has never failed to move me in the many times I have sailed into and around this magnificent harbour. At that time I had no knowledge of what awaited me, just a burning desire to be a part of this green and pleasant land. Entering the Waitemata Harbour for the second time reignited the warm feelings that had so intoxicated me. Every New Zealand port we sailed into had an abundance of the coloured houses set into the hills around the harbours. They seemed to sparkle and reflect an aura of happiness and contentment that was so new to me. It is a fact that colour enhances life and these wooden houses painted in different vibrant shades did exactly that. I notice now, with a degree of pleasure that fifty years on, this approach is spreading through the UK.
My previous trip to New Zealand on the Athenic had lasted about four months. On my return home a revealing incident had taken place, though I wasn’t aware of its significance at the time. This was not a temporary flirtation, not an impressive interlude. This was something in my soul, which I had carried home to England and I unwittingly communicated the depth of it to my mother. The morning I arrived home I was sitting having a cup of tea with her, everybody else being at work. I was regaling Mum with the events on the ship and where I had been and the things I had seen. I was telling her about how I had been so struck by the coloured houses on the hills. I must have spoken with a longing, or something similar in my eyes, as many years she later made the statement that she knew at that moment, that to use her words, “she had lost me”.
And now back to a fine September day in 1958. It was late afternoon and the day was still very sunny. Spring was just finishing and summer was about to say hello. What a great time to hit New Zealand. The order had been given and the deck crowd were on duty in our berthing stations. I was the EDH with two ordinary seamen, with the Fourth Mate in charge, tending the spring. The spring is a thick wire-mooring hawser. One is usually applied just forward of amidships, another just astern of amidships. The spring’s function is to secure the movement of the ship forward or astern whilst alongside the wharf. The tugs were manoeuvring us into our berth at the Princess Wharf, the main passenger terminal in the Port of Auckland. We nosed in closer and closer. I had the heaving line coiled and ready to throw on the Fourth Mate’s command.
“Wait for it,” he said.
The foredeck party, commanded by the second Mate and the Bosun, where Dinger was the EDH on the winch, got the first line ashore and secure. The Fourth Mate got the signal from the Chief Officer to feed out the spring.
“Okay, throw now, Russell.”
I threw the weighted heaving line. It snaked out to the wharf and was caught first time by one of the shore guys. Our end was tied off to the eye on the spring, which we then fed out through the fairlead, taking care not to let too much out, while the lads in the shore gang struggled and heaved it ashore and then secured it to the bollard on the wharf. Once they had completed that we turned our end round the ship’s double bollards in the traditional figure of eight holding method, which would enable us to adjust it quickly if required by the Bridge. The ship was still, the engines were quiet. The exhilaration of the crew was almost palpable. A new life seemed to invade the ship. This was the moment that all had waited for on that long sweep down here, particularly those who had been here before. The evening was upon us and it was Friday night in Auckland.
Secured alongside Princess Wharf, we young seamen felt we were in Paradise. Our money seemed to go a long way here and we were often asked to help the ‘wharfies’ in loading and unloading the ship in our time off and we were very well paid for it. Consequently we had a lot of disposable income and we knew just where and how to spend it, something those lovely Kiwi girls also seemed to know. Our first night out was to an amazing club called The Polynesian. Well known to those of us who had been here on previous trips. It featured a really good band and illegally sold us watered down drinks. No matter that, as we always smuggled in our own. Everybody knew, but a blind eye was turned. There were huge bouncers on the doors, but they weren’t needed, we just wanted a good time. As there were more than enough girls to go round, the main source of potential trouble was negated. Dinger and I were pretty successful and pulled two lovely looking girls. One of them, who was with me that night, will play a large part in this story, some thirty five years later. She was an extraordinarily beautiful half-caste Maori girl, who at the time called herself Billy. The other was a Pacific Island girl, equally pretty, who called herself Dianne. They were two lovely fun loving girls. Dinger and I thought we had died and gone to Heaven. These weren’t professional working girls, of the type that often hung around for seaman. They, like us, just wanted to live a little.
That first night was fantastic and so were many that followed it. Dinger and I fancied ourselves as good jivers and we probably were, which made us even more popular with the two girls. We jived the night away; the music was great. It was a Polynesian band playing pop and rock songs of the time. Their very good version of the Bill Hayley and the Comets classic, ‘Rock Around the Clock,’ brought the house down. They also played some romantic Platters numbers. They were very good. The Polynesians are very gifted musically. Anyway the Platters numbers set the mood for romance. Dinger and I turned on the charm and won the hearts of those two ladies. We were ecstatic. We left the club with them and they took us to a coffee bar/club not far away called the Bar X in Pitt St. In conversation with them, we found we had struck gold. The girls were live-in housemaids in an upmarket private Hotel called The Gables. It was in the suburb of Parnell, quite near the docks we were told, but more importantly where they each had their own private room. Well, nothing like that had happened in good old Mill End. Girl friends were available, but definitely not with their own rooms. Any courting that took place was in much more spartan surroundings. But that was 1958; how things have changed.
As luck would have it, the girls were pretty impressed. Dinger and I had to sneak out of the hotel early in the morning before the management were around. We found our way back to the docks and our ship, smiling and feeling very pleased with ourselves. We strolled along, through tree-lined, wide streets. This was Parnell, a very upmarket residential area. It was a lovely morning and we could see the Waitemata Harbour sparkling in the distance. On the other side of the harbour, we could see the Royal New Zealand Navy dockyards and the old fashioned suburb that I came to know so well in the years ahead. It was Devonport and in those days before the harbour bridge was built it was only accessed by a ferry service. Back then it was a middle-of-the-road sleepy hollow. Today it is a trendy, restaurant-driven tourist attraction; highly prized as a residential address.
The vista laid before our eyes as we strolled along on that fine morning, from our slightly elevated position, was a magnificent sight to see. To compliment it, the sun was just above the horizon to the east and was sending down that special, gentle, early morning, caressing warmth. It was almost intoxicating, I felt very lucky and happy to be just where I was. I was excited and felt absolutely confident in the future and sure that my decision to return had been the right one. Any niggling doubts were dispelled. I had reached a place in my mind that could only allow me to go forward. I was really up for the challenges that lay ahead. In our lives we all have special moments that stay with us and this simple one is one of mine.
I looked over at Dinger as we enjoyed that stroll back to the ship. We were both thinking that this life was a long, long way from what we knew. So different from the lifestyle of where we were from. Not just in distance, but also in concept. Dinger and I had often discussed the consequences of jumping ship and where it could lead us. Dinger was as keen as I was on the plan. He too had an adventurous spirit, but I think he was supporting me as well. In truth I had to jump, he didn’t. Dinger wasn’t just following me though; he was definitely his own man. I always thought his long-term destiny was in another direction from mine. He was level headed, less headstrong than me. He had enjoyed a good education. Though he missed out on the eleven-plus, he had won a place at a leading technical school and had acquitted himself well. In the long term he put it to good use and enjoyed a successful army career. In good times and in times of trouble, he was a true Mill End boy; a good man to have by your side.
Dinger and I enjoyed a wonderful two weeks or so with the girls. We told them of our plans to return. It all must have sounded very romantic, but I was pretty sure that they didn’t expect us to carry them out. They had probably heard it all before, so they just went along with us. We all made the usual promises of youth, caught up in this passionate, exciting time in our lives. I think we all played out that time like it was a scene in a play. The girls promised that they would be waiting for us and said they would let us stay with them on our return. To their eternal credit they did; let us stay with them that is; I would not want to bet on the waiting for us though! When the DM left Auckland we called in to Wellington for a few days, then on to Port Lyttleton, which was a courtesy visit, as part of a celebration. We completely flagged the ship to play our part in the festivities and then on the Sunday had an open day for the local population to come aboard, which they did in great numbers. The visit was a huge success. I think our stay there was for about three days. Our departure was quite touching as the local citizens crowded the wharf and gave us a great send off. There were streamers, a band and a choir. The gathering on the wharf all sang Now is the Hour. The haunting melody and the lyrics always found a soft spot in me and caused me to take stock of things, but there again, it is fair to say I am a sentimental sort of bloke. The first port of call on our homeward voyage was Sydney and Dinger and I, although a bit nervous, were ready to execute our plan and jump ship.