Chapter 22 A Cache of Contraband

Chapter 22

A Cache of Contraband

The day before we were to dock in New Zealand, we were told that Bill and I had to change cabins, because our berth had been booked by passengers joining the ship in Auckland the next day. I suggested to Jack, our cabin steward, that the new passengers be allowed to have the cabin we were being moved to, and we could stay in our own cabin. Both the cabins looked identical; it didn’t make sense to move at all. But he had his orders, and the officers did it by the numbers. We moved that afternoon when Jack was off duty.

Bill started getting things out of drawers until I stopped him. “Darling, you are going about this the hard way. Remember how I practiced ‘time and motion’ at the factory in Iowa? Well, watch this. In the cabin we are moving to, the drawers are identical in size, so we can transfer the whole drawer instead of unpacking and then refilling.”

“Do you know what?” Bill replied. “You’ve got brains I haven’t even used yet!”

We were having fun kidding around like a couple of kids. I’ve always maintained that if you can have fun while you are doing a chore that you would rather not be doing, you lighten your burden and the job’s done before you know it.

When we got to the bottom drawer and slid it out, we discovered the space beneath was filled with contraband. There were watches, jewelry, pornographic books and postcards. In the cabin we moved to, there was more contraband under the bottom drawer. Bill and I moved our possessions as fast as possible, before Jack returned and caught us.

On the way to the upper deck to meet the Bolton’s and Harris’s, Bill and I discussed whether to report him, but Bill said to leave it alone. He thought Jack would suspect us right away, since we were the only ones changing cabins in that section of the ship. Bill now believed that I had accurately pegged Jack as an undesirable character when we first arrived on board. We told our friends what we had uncovered, and they joked about what they might discover in their quarters, pretending to be anxious to get back to their cabins. I asked for their opinions - whether or not we should report him right away.

Grover came up with the best solution: “If he’s the sleazy character you say he is, I don’t think it would be wise to report him now. Wait till you are about to leave the ship in Melbourne. He could make the last part of this voyage very unpleasant for you. And another thing, Ruth and Bill, don’t make it obvious that you are avoiding him. Be friendly towards him.”

That was good advice coming from our new friend, Grover, who had recently turned 72 years of age. There is wisdom gained in knowing older folk.

After our farewells to the Bolton family, with promises to keep in touch, we walked into the city of Auckland to look around. We walked miles, but couldn’t find a shop open anywhere to buy a milkshake. We didn’t realize the shops are not opened on a Sunday, also during Christmas holidays. Later, during dinner we all enjoyed a milkshake ordered especially for us by our favourite waiter, Karl.

Crossing the Tasman Sea, Janis was forever looking for land. She was not so much anxious to get off the ship as amazed that day after day, there was never anything but water. “Sweetheart, you saw land in Hawaii and in Suva, and we passed some islands. Didn’t we just leave New Zealand and had a long walk in Auckland?” I asked.

“Yes, I know about that land, but how long before we see Australian land?”

“Just two more sleeps and you’ll wake up as we’re coming into Sydney. If you look at the calendar hanging in your cabin you will see what day we arrive. You go look it up and mark it off, and tell me the date when we are having dinner. Don’t tell anyone one else till I ask you at the table, OK? We will surprise everyone.”

“Is that another secret I can have?” She was thrilled at the prospect.

As we entered the heads of Sydney Harbour, we were greeted by large and small craft of every description on either side of the ship. They were blasting on their horns and whistles, and making such a racket that the children wanted to know what was going on.

“Oh, haven’t you heard,” I kidded our children and several others within earshot, “this is all for us? When they knew that the Frosts were migrating to Australia, the word went out all over Sydney and they have come to welcome us. Isn’t that wonderful? Take a look at those boats, and all the people on them waving and cheering because we are finally here.” Janis and Billy, standing by the rail with their mouths wide open, looked at the unbelievable sight in the harbour, while Jerilyn and Diane eyed me suspiciously. They were not too sure whether they should believe me or not. It was a great welcome and everyone delighted in all the fuss.

Up ahead was the new P&O Liner, The Oriana, on her maiden voyage from England. It was our luck to come in on the coattails of that luxury liner and get to enjoy such a fabulous welcome. Not only that - it was also New Year’s Eve.

We were going to disembark in Melbourne, so we had five days in Sydney before we sailed again.

As soon as the phone line was hooked up on the ship, I called Joan Fontaine’s mother. Joan had asked me to call and tell her mother how sorry she was that she couldn't make the trip. Joan’s brother, John, was visiting his mother when I called, and I invited all the family to join us on board for dinner.

I suggested they come early, so they could see over the ship before celebrating the New Year. During lunch I had made arrangements with Karl for the dinner guests. While we were seated at the table during lunch Bill received a message, delivered by a member of the crew. Bill was asked to call at the Purser’s office during the afternoon.

The Purser wished to know if we would prefer to go on to Melbourne on the night train from Sydney, rather than stay on board in port for five nights. He assured us that they would pay all expenses, and suggested we return to his office in an hour and let him know our decision. We didn’t need to think about it - we preferred to stay on the ship. Besides, we would have to let my relatives know the change in plans, and they were not very adaptable people.

John Harrison and his wife, Lynette, arrived at 4.00pm and had a tour of the ship and cocktails in the main bar before we sat down to a very special dinner. There were only four tables occupied in the dining room and we were all celebrating, so it got a little raucous at times. Our waiter, Karl, was going off duty after dinner and intended going ashore to a party. After we were through eating we helped Karl clear the tables so he could get away in a hurry. For the first time ever, our children didn’t object to clearing the dishes, just as long as they didn’t have to wash them. They hadn’t done that chore in a long time.

John and Lynette took us on a tour of King’s Cross. It was probably the worst night to go sightseeing, with eight of us sandwiched into the car. The traffic was very congested, and John took a left turn going up a one-way street the wrong way. Horns were blasting and people yelling: “You’re going the wrong way!” John found another left turn and got us back to the ship without any further incidents.

It was a night to remember.

The children wanted to stay up to see the New Year in. The upper deck proved ideal to watch the fireworks and the action on the water, with boats passing by loaded with happy people celebrating. Janis fell asleep at 11.30pm. As soon as we wished each other a ‘Happy New Year’ it seemed that all the air went out of the balloon. We were exhausted and ready for sleep.

We rode trams, window-shopped, and showed the family where I used to work when I lived in Sydney. One would think the children had had enough of the water, but they still wanted to ride the ferry to Manly.