Cherry by Sara Wheeler

he was a short, jolly man, deeply religious, teetotal and, like Apsley, a keen nature enthusiast and pheasant shooter. Towards the end of 1908 he had accepted an appointment as travelling secretary of the Church of England Men’s Society, an organisation with over 100,000 members committed to the promotion of muscular Christianity. In this capacity, Woollcombe was to carry the message on a three-year tour of Australia, New Zealand and South Africa.
    Here was the obvious solution to Apsley’s dilemma. He could sail to Australia with his friend, travel with him for a period and then split off on his own. Woollcombe was delighted with the plan. Evelyn was less pleased. She hated the idea of being left in charge of Lamer, let alone the other estates. But she didn’t make things difficult, comforting herself with the knowledge that Apsley would be back within a year. Fortunately, she did not know what lay in the unfathomable future.
    It seemed a good time to leave. In March 1909 panicky rumours surged over the country concerning the alarming growth in Germany’s naval power, and two months later, as Apsley’s ship was being loaded, parliament was obliged to step in to deny ‘evidence’ that Germany was plotting war. Imperial power was being shored up all over the globe, and at home Liberals and Conservatives were at each other’s throats over free trade and Home Rule for Ireland with more than the usual measure of venom.
    On 16 May Woollcombe and his young friend set sail from Plymouth on the Orient Steam Navigation Company’s 6,400-ton steamer
Ormuz
, one of the best-known liners of her day (‘the greyhound of the Southern Seas’, according to
The Times
). They called at Gibraltar, Marseilles, Naples and Port Said before proceeding down the Suez Canal, where the crew of a passing ship hailed the
Ormuz
to ask which horse had won the Derby. After crossing the Arabian Sea to the western coast of India they steamed round to Ceylon, where Woollcombe hurtled ashore to address members of the Colombo branch of the Men’s Society. On the longest leg of the journey, a haul over the Equator and down to Australia, the
Ormuz
battled the squally south-west monsoon while everyone on the upper deck was sick.
    The Orient Line, of which the Steam Navigation Company was an offshoot, had recently lost the Australian mail contract, though its southbound ships, all beginning with ‘O’, still carried cargo as well as 400 passengers, of whom just over a quarter travelled first class like Apsley and Woollcombe. Their upper-deck cabins featured bathrooms with marble baths, and they dined in a saloon panelled with inlaid rosewood and mahogany and upholstered in velvet, its revolving chairs anchored to the floor to prevent diners from shooting across the carpet and colliding with the soup tureens. The first-class passengers dressed for dinner, the men in black or white tie, spats and watch chains and the women in elegant evening gowns. When the ship was in port coaling, there was plenty of time to stroll down the gangplank and indulge in some gentle tourism. In Naples Woollcombe and Apsley had a guided tour of nearby Pompeii, and at Port Said they were taken to the new mosque, where they were obliged to put on large slippers which looked like wicker baskets. At sea they lounged in cane chairs on the wide promenade deck, rising occasionally for a game of bucket quoits or deck billiards or even cricket, at which the passengers were regularly thrashed by the officers.
    Apsley took to shipboard life immediately, even the impromptu dances on deck after sunset and the fancy-dress balls. While Woollcombe held evensong in his cabin, Apsley lounged in the smoking room, visited the on-board barber for a shave and noted the birds wheeling in the ship’s wake, as well as the pretty girls leaning on the rails. His experience on the
Ormuz
left him with a love of cruising that was to last his whole life. Loosed from his moorings, the abundance of free time