HIGH PRESSURE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 307, 28 December 1934, Page 2

HIGH PRESSURE.

BUSY COMMODORE. PERSONAL EFFICIENCY. SIDELIGHTS ON A I/INER. Night, a troubled sky and a strong nor'-east wind that whipped the harbour into short white-crested waves. . . The 20,000-ton liner lay quietly beside the Fringe's wharf festooned with lights from stem to stern, her towering bulk dwarfing the wharf sheds. At ii.3o the commodore came aboard, a trim, ehcery figure in a grey suit. He walked briskly to the elevator, acknowledging a salute from a steward on the way. On the top deck a group of people were waiting for him in the lounge. There was brisk conversation, and a little banter. Then the man in grey excused himself and went for'ard to his own stateroom under t.he bridge. It w r as a few minutes' peace that the commodore sought, but being a man of long and wide experience he smiled benignly when lie discovered that there were' two pressmen waiting for him. "I'm afraid that 1 am awfully busy," he said. He was importuned to answer a few questions. "What can I tell you? he said as he searched the table- lor a favourite pipe. "Something °f eventful life," it. was suggested. _ Well, anvthing you like," he eaid resignedly. "You don't mind if I go on dressing'.' He tugged at two reluctant boot«>. "Mr. Smith presents his compliments, said the commodore's steward. "I will sec him at dinner," said the commodore. Verbally and by telephone came further inquiries for the commodoie. Some the steward answered, some he passed on. Swift and weic the commodore's decisions, questions were answered and appointments were made. "I'm kept pretty busy," said the commodore. He spoke of a monsoon in the Indian Ocean ten years ago, and a second later he was again a second officer, peering into the murk from the bridge wing at night when a storm was sweeping the Australian Bight. The steward began to look worried. "Dinner in ten minutes, sir," ho murmured. "Plenty of time," said the commodore oenially. He shaved with a dexterity and sure-liandedness that left a landsman with long experience of a recalcitrant blade razor wondering. He donned a dress shirt with the same dexterity, while the imperturbable steward moved into position to fix the backstop of a cummerbund. "Have another one?" said the commodore when asked his opinion on tourist cruising. He began deftly to lix a black bow tie. "One minute to go, sir," said the steward. "Yes," said the commodore. "I like Auckland very much, but the winners at the trots are too hard for a mariner to pick. Ellerslie is wonderful—it is a botanical garden. And your Auckland gardens. What wonderful flowers!" "Right 011 time, sir," said the steward deferentially. And to the minute the commodore stepped unhurriedly from his stateroom with the poise that befits the commodore of a 20,000-ton liner. A smiling child was patted 011 the head, and a woman's comment that it had been a wonderful day and that Auckland was a lovely place was reciprocated. For just a second the commodore paused to glance' with a professional look at an overcast sky.. The liner was due to sail at midnight.