Escape to Africa. Henri Diamant
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itinerary for the ocean trip to the Congo called for several ports-of-call. The first one was Lobito in the Portuguese colony of Angola, and then followed by the ports of Banana, Boma and Matadi in the Belgian Congo. Lobito was the jumping-off point for passengers going to Eastern Congo, while Matadi was used for the Western Congo. The trip from Antwerp to Lobito took two weeks. More about this flight later on.
The SS Leopoldville, weighing 11,172 gross ton and stretching 501 feet in length, was all decked-out in multicolored pennants when I first caught a glimpse of her towering mass. She was moored at the traditional berth for the Congo Boats, along the side of one of the Scheldt River quays, in Antwerp’s busy harbor. It was the largest “boat” that I had ever seen (I guess I expected something about the size of the boats plying the rivers and canals of Czechoslovakia). But, as I found later on, this was not merely a big and handsome vessel, it was a valiant one as well. It fought fearlessly throughout the war, up to its ultimate end, when it was sunk in proximity of the French port of Cherbourg. That happened during its 25th crossing of the English Channel, on Christmas Eve 1944, when a German torpedo hit it broadside. Some 700 men, out of the 2000 American troops on board, were lost in this tragic attack.
The embarkation process was lengthy and tiresome. Officials and porters were busy all over the quay, and passengers spent their last moments on land, to huddle together with family and friends that had come to see them off. There was a lot of excitement and exhilaration all over the place, but also sadness and even dread.
I could not help wondering how such mixed feelings could affect almost everyone on the quay. Obviously youth shields from reality.
When the ship’s horn emitted a warning blast, all the stragglers rushed up the gangplank and stepped on board. But none went below decks. We all lined the handrails as the ship moved gently away from the dock, turned into Scheldt’s main shipping channel and started its run toward the ocean.
The River Scheldt (the Escaut in French), which connects Antwerp to the North Sea, some 50 miles downstream, is extremely wide and carries a large volume of maritime traffic. This is the river that made Antwerp the second largest harbor in Europe, and one of the finest ports in the world.
As usual, the channel was very busy and vessels of all types and sizes were on the go all around us. We remained topside for the longest time, and went to our cabin only after we were no longer able to stand on our feet.
Our second-class cabin was of medium size, with two double beds, each with a privacy curtain (in case strangers shared the cabin). The steel ceiling held a fan and the bulkhead had a porthole that let us see the ocean. There were two washbasins, one on each side of the cabin, but shower and toilet facilities were located outside, at the end of the passageway.
The “Salle de Gymnastique” was rather compact, but it did have a couple of stationary bicycles, a rowing machine, weight lifting equipment and a punching ball.
The “Fumoir” (Smoking Lounge) was attractively appointed with lovely stained-glass panels on the walls and ceiling. A portion of the ceiling was built on hinges so it could be cranked open to clear the smoke and allow fresh air into the lounge. It was ingenious and quite effective.The furniture was very comfortable and I watched many exciting card games that went on at all hours of the day and night.
The “Pouponniere” (Nursery-Playroom) had little chairs and tables grouped around a hopscotch game that was painted right on the steel floor. The room contained two large bins full of toys for small kids.
The decks were lined with comfortable folding chairs and some of the areas were set aside for various activities. There was the sports deck, the promenade deck, etc.
Life on board had a good beginning. First and foremost, it meant that I was finally on an ocean liner that was sailing toward that distant and mysterious Africa, the Africa of my dreams. Then, there was that marvelous experience with our first trip to the dining room. The meal consisted of the most tempting and succulent dishes (I have never seen such variety of pastry and ice cream in my whole life), and it became immediately obvious that fine dining was going to be the major activity of our trip. We really enjoyed those first hours on board.
But our feelings of contentment and wellbeing did not last long, and our comfort level started to deteriorate quickly once we reached the huge Western Scheldt Estuary and moved into the rough North Sea. The ship begun to pitch in an imperceptible way at first, but as we sailed on, this became more noticeable and our discomfort became more intrusive. And it did not take long before I started to feel woozy. Unfortunately, things got worst before they got better. As luck would have it, we sailed right into a tenacious storm that dogged us for three full days. The high seas tossed us about like a cork, and made the ship roll from side to side with tiresome monotony. We promptly succumbed to seasickness, the worst misery known to man as far as I am concerned. I almost wished to die right then and there, to get rid of that terrible agony. Fortunately (as if anything could be fortunate under these foul circumstances), the constant roll of the ship kept us in a state of absolute exhaustion, an exhaustion that helped us doze through some of the worst stages of the storm.
Once the storm abated and the seas calmed down, most of us quickly regained our sea legs, and once again started to enjoy life onboard. I said “most of us” because father was unfortunately unable to shake off the lingering effects of his seasickness, and remained uncomfortable all the way to Lobito.
As far as Harry and I were concerned, the on-board activities were ready made for the two of us. We played shuffle board, table tennis, cards and all kinds of board games. Personally, I also liked to lie on a deck chair and peek through the handrail at the rushing ocean. What amazed me was that the “footprint” of the ship’s wake remained in the water long after we moved on. How could an imprint last on such a fluid surface?
Two interesting events altered the daily routine of our trip. The first one was the Abandon Ship drill that was held early on, and the other was the Rite of Passage Through the Equator, which was celebrated half way through our journey. The Rite of Passage is an ancient naval custom, one that is observed, to this day, by most sailors.
The Abandon Ship drill was thorough and well planned. Each passenger was assigned to a particular lifeboat and trained on the proper use of a lifejacket. We were told firmly that, once the alarm was heard over the public address system, we were to drop whatever we were doing and assemble promptly at our specific lifeboat location.
The second interesting event, the right of passage, was one that added real excitement to our routine.
As we progressed in our voyage, the days became longer and the temperature started to rise noticeably. We were nearing the equator which divides the earth in two equal parts, between the North and the South Poles, i.e. the Northern and Southern Hemispheres. And when we were about to cross that imaginary line, the ship’s company became busy planning for the ceremony honoring King Neptune, and for the compulsory initiation rites that were to be administered to those crossing the equator for the very first time (they were known as “Polliwogs”). Once a sailor goes through the required ritual, he becomes a “Shellback”.
Mythology makes us believe that King Neptune, the Roman god of the ocean (Greeks called him Poseidon), rules over all the waters of the earth. Sailors crossing the equator for the first time must appear before him, and show why they should become future subjects of the ocean. Once initiated, they emerge as the adopted sons of King Neptune, and receive full authority to haze all Polliwogs on future crossings of the equator.
King Neptune is usually dressed in flowing garments, with a crown on his head and a long beard across his face. He carries a three-pronged spear called the “trident”, and holds court with his son Triton by his side. The King’s retinue stands respectfully around the throne, and helps the King hand out the various trials and punishments that a Polliwog must go through in order to become a Shellback.
There are two levels of hazing, one for the ship’s company and one for the passengers. The passengers are subjected to an easygoing type of hazing that promotes good humor, and consists of harmless ordeals that, at worst, are only moderately embarrassing and only slightly physical in nature. For instance, there are absurd characters to impersonate, funny tunes to vocalize,