In 1967 I moved on to become District Commissioner, Gilbert Islands District in the
GEIC. This was a considerable change from being a District Agent in the New
Hebrides, where I had commanded one clerk, one typist, a driver (for a year or so only)
and my dog. On Tarawa I eventually had no less than three A.D.Cs, a Senior Executive
Officer or two, a Head Clerk and a bevy of underlings, plus Island Executive Officers and
their staffs on each of our fifteen islands, before I was eventually abolished. I won't say
that I wore gold braid on my shoulders, but mentally I could feel its weight. All the same,
travel conditions were only a little grander than they had been in the New Hebrides.
Though airfields were beginning to be constructed, nearly all communication was still by
sea, and the administration had designed and had built in Singapore two administrative
touring vessels to carry officials about their duties. This was fine, and I even had an
official District Commissioner's flag, to be worn by any vessel I deigned to favour with
my august presence. These two touring ships were fine little vessels, perhaps eighty feet
long, with two first class cabins (ten feet by six, with two bunks each), a dining saloon, a
second class flat below deck and room for forty or so deck passengers, plus a tiny hold for
cargo. All in all most suitable vessels, though they were high out of the water and would
have rolled ferociously on wet grass. They were named ''Tautunu" and "Tabuariki" , but
the latter foundered at her moorings before leaving Singapore. She was hastily dried out,
and her name changed from the perhaps inauspicious one of the Gilbertese pagan god of
thunder to "Temauri" or "Good Fortune".
This was all very well, but by the time that the two ships had reached Tarawa, their
role had been altered. Government, always anxious to turn an honest penny in a colony
alleged to be financially embarassed, had decreed that the ships were to be operated by
the Colony Wholesale Society on a commercial basis. This was all very well, but they had
been designed for touring only, with no consideration given to such a radically new role
for which they were totally unsuited. Their hold space was negligible, and as passenger
transport they were handicapped by having only a small deck space and a paucity of
sanitary and cooking facilities. From my point of view, these were minor drawbacks
compared with the difficulty of actually getting a passage. The District Commissioner and
his understrappers had to book their passages like anyone else, and if there was no room
for me or mine, we just had to wait for the next scheduled trip, however inconvenient, and
however vital the travel. I had no say as to where the ships went, or how long they stayed
at an island, and if one of us got off to transact business, he either had to be back when the
ship was ready to leave, or be left behind with no certainty of being able to get on a ship
even on its next scheduled voyage. This made smooth administration a nightmare at
times, but keen development experts in the Secretariat and later in the Development
Authority could maintain that economic progress was well served.
The Colony also operated a couple of cargo ships "Moana Raoi" and "Nivanga". both
efficiently skippered by Tom Murdoch and Teitia Redfem, two Gilbertese officers of great
experience and skill, but their function was largely commercial, which made them of no
value for touring; I only ever made one voyage on the latter, dancing attendance on the
Resident Commissioner. This trip was uneventful, apart from a minor hiccough when at
Makin, and the touring party was coming off from the island in the ship's boat. Anxious to
be helpful, Teitia brought "Nivanga" close inshore to pick us up, and the sight of her bow
bearing down on us induced the Resident Commissioner's lady to demand immediate action
from her husband to save us, only to get a peremptory adjuration to sit down and calm
down, for there was a limit to the powers of even Knights of St Michael and St George!
There was also the "Ninikoria" (later renamed "Teraaka") of nigh on a thousand tons,
a former Yugoslav tourist ship. I believe that she was the first tentative step in that
country's efforts to enter the tourist market for her capacity was limited. There were
perhaps four double first class cabins - small, but with bathroom and loo, a few more
second class, and room for many deck passengers. There was one minor snag technically
with the ship, for the engine room manuals were allegedly in Serbo-Croat, a language not
in vogue in the Pacific; still the engines were the well-known and reliable Sulzer diesels,
and with skilled officers they invariably ran smoothly. She was superbly skippered by that
fabled doyen of Pacific captains, the inimitable Vic Ward, and it was a pleasure to travel
with him; he used to maintain that the ship had been built for the well-known European
monarch King Sito (so pronounced in Gilbertese, but spelled Tito). Because of her size
she spent much of her time transporting Gilbertese and Ellice workers to and from Ocean
Island and Nauru, so that it was only when Ocean Island district was abolished and came
under my authority that I could find any good excuse to travel in her, though I did have a
splendid trip almost by chance, shepherding a gaggle of British MP's led by Peggy
Herbison. She was a former minister of the Crown, as well as (a little later) Moderator of
the Church of Scotland, and of fairly advanced years, but she brought the house down
when the old men in the maneaba on Tabiteuea asked if she was married and she struck
back - "No, but I'm still looking''.
There was yet another large ship, the “Teraka” ; she had started life as the Norwegian
ferry “Baroy’’. during which time she had been cut in half and had an extra chunk stuck
in, so that she had many cabins. This was almost ideal for her usage as the training ship of
the Merchant Marine Training School. Her trips with cadets were of no benefit to my
work, so that I only travelled in her once, when the Resident Commissioner used her as
his own touring ship and I perforce had to accompany him. This venture was not a great
success, for after I left her at the far end of my district she shed a propeller and had to be
towed home. There she swung at anchor for several years until some panjandrum suffered
a rush of the Napoleons to the head and had her towed out to sea and scuttled, but without
making any worthwhile attempt to salvage all the valuable bits and pieces; she went to the
bottom with a brand new donkey engine that had Just been installed.
I must not omit one other small but stalwart sea-going vessel, the landing craft/ferry
"Tabakea" (turtle), a largely home-made effort. At the start of her career she sported a
loo built out over the stern. It was an alarming convenience, for inside the little hut the
sanitation was Just a hole in the seat, and you dangled immediately above a large and
rapidly threshing propeller. Since most of the ship's work was ferrying passengers, cargo
and vehicles between Betio and Bairiki, a matter of twenty minutes or so, the loo was
removed. This was all very well, but "Tabakea" also made occasional visits to the two
nearest outer islands, which could take a day or two, to collect huge loads of pandanus
thatch, the main roofing material in Tarawa. It was an impressive sight to see her fully
laden, for the thatch was light and could therefore be stacked to great heights, so that the
ship resembled a floating haystack, and must have handled like one.
One of these trips was quite eventful; with the acting Senior Magistrate (John Leaney)
I made a day trip to Abaiang, which allowed both of us to get some useful work done. For
this voyage the acting Marine Manager, Willie Schultz, had decided to keep his hand in
and command the ship. On leaving Betio he realised that the ship, having recently
undergone a major overhaul, had its compass badly out of true and should have been
"swung". Since the southern tip of Abaiang is only some three miles from the northern tip
of Tarawa, the atoll on which Betio stands (though the anchorage to anchorage distance
must have been about twenty miles) and the voyage was to be made in daylight, Willie
decided to press ahead. The outward leg was easy, but for one reason and another, our
departure was delayed, and it was nearly dark when we left. The night was stygian, and Willie cautiously picked his way along Tarawa's outer reef. This was tricky enough, but
to get into the lagoon and reach for safety in Betio was even harder, for it was necessary
to find the reef passage, marked by the Fairway Buoy. We turned at approximately the
right spot and peered anxiously into the dark, trying to spot the buoy. Suddenly John
shouted "I can see the light - there it is" (we think that his eagle eye had actually spotted a
light on Betio several miles off) "Got it" says Willie and swung the ship. There was a
slow crunch, and very gently we rode up onto the reef No damage was done, but we were
stuck there until the next high tide, unless someone came out from Betio to help us. This
was where Willie's injured Islander pride came into play, and not for any inducement
would he, a Master Mariner foreign going, summon help, so there we sat until dawn,
when we crept, unwashed, unfed*, unrelieved and rather shamefaced, into Betio harbour.
*Almost - I had brought along a tin of cheap meat originally meant for my dog and
John and I wolfed it down
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