Going over the top on shore leave . . .

The mid-Sixties saw me serving as assistant purser on the SS Uganda. One night, along with the second officer, third officer, third engineer and junior radio officer, I had an evening ashore at a beachside watering hole 15 miles up the Kenyan coast from Mombasa — a regular port of call. Well after midnight, having wined and dined to excess, we piled into our taxi, whose driver had patiently waited for us for six hours, for the drive back to our ship. About ten minutes into the journey, Arthur, the second officer, declared an urgent need and, leaving the car, disappeared into the darkness of the bush. When he failed to reappear after what seemed to us to be an age, we got fed up waiting and instructed the driver to return us to the ship. The following morning, I was shaken awake by my agitated cabin steward and told to report to the captain immediately. Badly hungover, I quickly dressed and made my way to the bridge, where I found my companions from the evening before already in attendance. The captain appeared, glared at us and asked if we knew the whereabouts of the second officer — before informing us that Arthur was in hospital with a broken leg, other injuries and suffering from concussion, having been found unconscious at the bottom of a 25 ft cliff. To say we were consumed by guilt is an understatement. After a blistering dressingdown, our shore leave was stopped for the rest of the voyage, though we were permitted to visit Arthur, who unsurprisingly failed to see the funny side of the incident.

Robert Readman, Bournemouth, Dorset.