Free Cruiser by Mike Carlton

shooting pistols at bottles and boxes thrown over the stern. By night, there would be a much-awaited beer issue and perhaps a sing-song or a movie. 4
    And then the Indian Ocean turned nasty. The roaring forties, the southern latitudes infamous to sailors the world over for their sudden and treacherous spells of bad weather, flung four days of rain and storm directly into the ship’s path. The Autolycus laboured heavily as huge green seas broke over her straining bow, forcing Captain Hetherington to slow her to little more than a walking pace of seven knots. The temporary accommodation built on deck took a hammering. Packed like sardines in the hold at night, many of the men came down with heavy colds – Elmo Gee remembered it as pneumonia – and Surgeon Commander Charlie Downward’s temporary Sick Bay was full to overflowing. Three weeks after leaving Melbourne, it was a mightily relieved ship’s company lining the rails as the Autolycus came alongside in Durban to refuel and take on more stores, food and water. Elmo recorded his impressions of the town:
    The blacks looked utterly miserable and seemed to be living on scraps of food which they fought for. In South Africa I was also appalled to see black prisoners being taken out to work on the wharves and other places with chains around their waists, ankles and arms. I was shocked at the way the whites treated the black people with no respect whatsoever and thought nothing of giving them a good kick to make them move along. 5
    After three days, they set off again, the decks laden with extra coal for the run to England. In fine and sunny weather, they made a further westing to round the Cape of Good Hope, and Ray Parkin got out his small tin palette of watercolours topaint an albatross wheeling and swooping in the ship’s wake as they entered the Atlantic. On 14 June, now heading north, they crossed the Tropic of Capricorn. A canvas swimming pool was rigged up on the foredeck and filled with seawater to provide some relief from the heat, but, measuring only about three metres by ten metres, it was hardly enough for 500 men to splash around in, and some of them came down with throat and eye infections. Then something went wrong with the ship’s water supply, which turned salty and discoloured and meant stopping the showers for several days until it could be fixed.
    Crossing the equator brightened the men’s spirits again. Few of them had ever done it, and they threw themselves into the traditional ceremonies of King Neptune’s Court with a will. Rowley Roberts made a careful note for his diary:
    As the ship’s bell struck eight bells the stillness of the tropic night was shattered by a fanfare of trumpets. Silence reigned supreme for a few moments; then a stentorian voice broke through the night – ‘Ship Ahoy! What ship is this? Where are you bound and where are you from?’
    The bridge officer answered at once, ‘Alfred Holt’s steamship Autolycus bound from Australia for Portsmouth, and who are you?’
    Once again the deep voice boomed forth into the night: ‘I am Neptune, Lord of the Seas and King of all the Oceans, and I claim the right to come on board.’
    To this demand the officer of the watch replied: ‘Come on board. I will send down and receive you,’ at the same time sounding three short blasts on the whistle and giving the necessary orders to stop the ship.
    The ship’s company, eager to know what was happening, were scrambling up through hatches to the upper deck to get a glimpse of this mysterious spectacle which had so suddenly draped itself on the fo’c’sle head. With lights glaring on them, Neptune and his court presented an awe-inspiring sight, whilst the sickly odour of the deep penetrated the night air. 6
    The shellbacks – the sailors who had already done an equatorial crossing – had gone to remarkable trouble to put on a show for the pollywogs, the rookies.