Seaman was the sole of discretion

MY LATE husband Ronald would often talk about his life in the Merchant Navy and the wonderful places he would not otherwise have seen as a workingclass teenager. There were no container ships in those days, so when they reached a port they were often there for a long time, adding to the enjoyment. His career started in 1948 when he went to the Merchant Navy school in Devon. He passed his exams and signed on with the Blue Star Line, going to Argentina and beyond, working in the chief steward and purser’s office. He shared a cabin with another cadet, Harry. When they sailed into the tropics, they had to change into their immaculate whites. In those days, the only way anyone could communicate with the ship was by Morse code and the ship’s ‘sparks’ passed messages on to the purser. One day, as instructed, Ronald had a message to deliver and so he went round the decks shouting: ‘Paging Miss Thorne.’ He arrived at her door and knocked, but there was no answer, so, using the pass key, he entered — and found Miss Thorne asleep on her bed completely naked. He quickly left the telegram on a table, retreated . . . and panicked. When she woke up, she would know someone had been inside. So, he returned, tiptoed in and retrieved the telegram. Once outside, he banged loudly on the door and the beautiful Miss Thorne, in a dressing gown, opened it and murmured: ‘Thanks.’ When Ronald got back to his cabin, he noticed Harry had been cleaning his white shoes and, to make them dry more quickly, had hung them out of the porthole on a long stick. For a joke, Ron took one off the stick and hid it. What a story he had to tell about the first time he had seen a naked woman, but he didn’t get a chance because when Harry came in he noticed one shoe was missing. ‘Oh well, one shoe isn’t any good on its own,’ he said, and threw the other into the sea.

Olive Day, Rochester, Kent.