TWENTY HOURS’ RUN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16846, 23 September 1922, Page 4

TWENTY HOURS’ RUN.

WELLINGTON TO LYTTELTON. A PASSENGER’S TRIALS. (By "‘TITTLE MARY.”) for the •> Star.’*) “Comm on, pack your hag I Set’s get home ; nothing doing here “ Not to-night, Sunny Jim. Work to do here to-morroe\” Thus apake my friend in Wellington ? n •**» y evening last: thus answered 1 „ SnUanfc self-sacrifice, preening \. on , a conscientious devotion to duty, reso ved that work waiting to be W -n e d ° n ° 011 the Saturday, and the southern trip made that evening. « conscious pride the work was ' 35 , Boning approached, thoughts turned southward. But n hew! dust! wind! Down Thorndon swept a gust of southerly that gathered unto itself multitudes of fine partwles from Wellington’s gritty streets, and deposited them in the etes. ears and noses of plodding pedes, tnans. calling forth picturesquely descriptive language as the said pedes.t.,.lan.s - staggered and spluttered and coughed in futile efforts to disgorge , unassimilative chunks of roadway, homo strawberry-boxes wanted tonight on the boat.” said a cheerful person endowed with all the Hohcacv » of the gintlemin who used to pav the rmt ” in the Ireland of other days. Moodily I scanned the expa: ■ i of " ellington Harbour where the wind struck viciously at the water, and the latter rose in its wrath like herds of : J nld things snarling, roaring, rushing team-flocked God knows whither. “ Goin’ to be a rough night,” sai l some dismal Jimmie, to anybody or nobody a s he stamped the deck of the Alararoa. •I have a premonition that some, thing’s going to happen,” said a shive"nJs bundle of furs, as the vessel shuddered off from the wharf. Womanlike, she found a scapegoat, and to the masculine, counterpart at her side said ' Didn’t I tell you that I didn’t wan' to go down to-night!” The scapegoat’s reply was lost in the distance. , Soon the decks were cleared of all but the hardiest or most vainglorious fimong the passengers. Long before Wellington Heads were cleared, the .n- Mararoa was behaving like an eccentric jazzer. now lurching, now pitching, now steadying up preparatory to another wild dive downwards. A man rose from his seat on the deck, and v with assumed nonchalance essayed to * f?o forward to hig cabin. His nonchalance soon became a thing to laugh at. It is impossible for a man to retain his dignity in the process of spasmodic rushes from the rail to the deck seats with wild clutching at anything clutch able. While momentarily anchored by one of the seats, an elderly lady who, with courage in excess of had remained on deck, rose also to seek her cabin. Violent collision with the exnonchalant one followed. Courteously he offered his arm and the two some- * or other reached the stairway and disappeared. Out in the Straits the fury of wind , and water in conflict reached its climax. The timbers of the gallant old sea craft creaked and groaned, as 1 roadsiders of water broke against them. Hut the Mararoa was on her own ground; it was a familiar tight, and she triumphed as she has done a thouand times before. But her unfortunate passengers were not so experienced, and below docks the inharmony of clattering pots and pans was added to by a reiteration of such blood-curdling sounds as only humans in. the throes of violent seasickness can induce. From cavernous depths to stuffy cabin air the chorus could be followed by those still possessing some vestige of interest, however weeny, in the happenings of the external world. Through the dreary night it continued. Times there wore ' when the roaring would cease its roaring; when the old ship seemed isolated from all mundane things, and floated in soundless space like a disembodied spirit. Then down it would drop again into the inferno, while sick passengers once more proclaimed their sickness in a way mo6t convincing, the male voices hurling anathemas at the heaving, rolling element that had gone mad. Then old Sol beamed upon the v aters, and his kiss soothed the furies somewhat. The aching, sorely-rocked little Marys” had hopes that the hours of torture had passed. How are w'e doing, steward ?” I 1 asked, as that worthy made his appearance with a morning cup of tea. “ Oh, we should be in by nine o clock to-night,” said the undisturbed official. Only utter prostration prevented the three miserable occupants of the cabin from murdering him on the spot-. But. calm in his security he added. “Breakfast will be on in the dining Saloon at a quarter to eight.” So the breakfast gong clanged its ironic message to a world of sick souls, and five masculines, equipped with iron Juiing in their internal spaces, assembled at the otherwise deserted table. «■ dreary day followed a. dreary night and the comparative calm of the late afternoon saw one greenv-faced passenger after another drag himself to the deck of the old Mararoa, and gaze with dull eyes at the Lyttelton Heads. Even yet, all was not over, for the more tender ones among them. Here and there some one lay half over the rads ducking spasmodically downwards, r * “ Good trip?” shouted someone on the wharf to a friend with ironv as . delicato as an elephant’s foot, i “ Good h—ll’’ was the uncivil hub wholly understandable answer. “ Mother I Earth will do me for the rest of mv life,” he added as he made his wav to the gangway. Landed on terra finna he turned on the old ship a look that could not he interpreted in polite words. Land Lubber.