One Face in a Million Book 1: Mu Shangaaniana. William Bond

that somewhere on the vessel there would be a dining room and a lounge where one could enjoy whatever amenities the Tropical Sun had to offer.

      She ventured back along the narrow corridor and soon stepped out onto a deck that overlooked the wharf. She waved to her mother and gestured toward the cabin area, showing with her hands that her quarters were very small. Her mother responded with an open-handed gesture that conveyed the idea, “That’s the best I could get you—so what can I do?”

      They could have spoken more to each other, but there was little left to say. Soon, dockhands were drawing up the gangway or were throwing off the ropes that had kept the freighter tethered to the wharf. Deep blasts of the ship’s foghorn reverberated across the busy harbor, and moments later, the voyage commenced as the freighter eased away from its mooring place.

      Christine mouthed things like “I love you” and “I’ll miss you.”

      Clara nodded in agreement. They exchanged waves several times, and Clara found it hard to take her eyes off the ship that was taking her daughter to America. Perhaps, Christine could not see that tears were now streaming down her mother’s cheeks. She had held her tears in check because she had wanted to be strong for her daughter’s sake, but the ship had now departed. She watched the Tropical Sun until she could no longer see Christine, and then, she headed to the car to commence the long, lonely trip back to Tavani.

      Christine had not seen her mother’s tears, but perhaps that was because she was looking upon their departure through tears of her own. She remained on deck for some time, watching the wake that trailed behind them toward Lourenço Marques. It was a sunny day and the breeze was pleasant, but she wasn’t feeling excited or happy. She was very uncertain about what would happen in the next phase of her life, and she was mindful that she might not see many of her friends ever again. She had been missing Jim for several weeks, and now, she was going to be missing her mother. Before long, the coast of Mozambique had receded into the hazy distance. Christine felt unhappy and lonely. Did Mother feel the same way? No doubt she did.

      After a while, Christine returned to her cabin and organized some of the clothes that she planned to use during the long voyage. Later, she left her cabin and discovered that passengers were confined to a rather small part of the ship. In addition to the area where the cabins were located, they had free access to a couple of outside decks, two lavatories, a lounge and reading area, and the dining room where all the meals were served. Before lunchtime had arrived, Christine had already discovered that there was little to see—and not much to do—on the Tropical Sun, and she quickly concluded that her voyage to America would be about as pleasant as spending a fortnight or two in a floating prison.

      Around noon, those who came for lunch were offered soup, sandwiches, a slice of cake, and a choice of beverages. The food was passable, but the fare and the plain dining area suffered in comparison to the fine meal and the splendid room where she and Mother had dined on the previous evening. From her seat at the table, she could see the southern coast of Africa in the distance, but it wasn’t very interesting. Eventually, of course, they would be heading northwestward across the Atlantic Ocean, and there would be nothing to see for many days. After lunch, Christine returned to her cabin and stretched out on her bed. Without doubt, the trip to America was going to be both long and boring, and she was asking herself, “How can I ever endure this?”

      Later in the afternoon, she went to the reading area by the lounge and looked for something that she might enjoy reading. There were a number of novels available, and she finally selected a book by Emily Brontë called Wuthering Heights. She took it back to her cabin, and before long, she was drawn into the intriguing love story that is set in the bleak Yorkshire moors of northern England. By the time dinner was to be served, she was so involved in the book that she hardly wanted to have a meal. Nevertheless, she knew that the reading could wait, so she went to the dining room and was invited to sit with the captain at his table.

      Captain Stevens was an amiable middle-aged fellow with a trimmed gray beard. A few other crew members were also sitting at the captain’s table. As they began their meal, the captain had those present introduce themselves, and he acknowledged that he had been working at his job for twenty-two years. He also acknowledged that he had a family in Cape Town. Before long, it was Christine’s turn to speak, and she disclosed that she had recently finished her schooling in Swaziland and was going to the United States where she hoped to find employment and earn some money so that she could continue her education. She also acknowledged that she had grown up on a mission station in Mozambique and that she enjoyed reading.

      “Have you found our little library?” asked the captain, as he was cutting a forkful of meat from a piece of roast beef.

      “Yes,” Christine replied. “I’ve just begun a novel called Wuthering Heights.”

      “Ah yes, I’ve read that novel years ago,” said the captain. “It’s a book I won’t forget, but I won’t comment on it and spoil the story for you. I’ll just wager it’s a book you’ll never forget. Do you see all those lights off in the distance?” He continued, “That is the port of Durban. We aren’t stopping there or in Port Elizabeth, but in two days we will be in Cape Town for at least twenty-four hours, I should think. You’ll want to go ashore there and have a look about. It’s quite a fascinating city.”

      The captain talked about various things that one could do in Cape Town, and then, he took a sip of coffee.

      “I understand several passengers will be coming aboard in Cape Town,” he continued. “Eleven, I believe. With a few more on board, it won’t be quite so lonely for you.”

      “That will be nice.” Christine smiled. “The more the merrier, I suppose,” she quipped, not knowing what else to say.

      “Indeed.” The captain smiled. “We seldom have more than twelve passengers on this ship. That’s it!”

      They continued with casual conversation, and when it appeared that everyone had finished their bread pudding dessert, the captain finished his coffee, excused himself, and rose to his feet.

      “I must return to my duties now and let some of the others come to dinner, but I should tell you to be prepared for rougher seas in the days ahead. Down here where the two oceans come together, we get what we call the cape rollers. You might get a bit seasick, but just remember that after we leave Cape Town, the sailing is usually pretty uneventful. So, I’ll wish you a good evening, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      After dinner, Christine returned to her room to read her book, but before turning in for the night, she put on a light jacket and went out on deck. The sea was quite smooth, and to the north, she could see occasional clusters of lights along the distant shoreline. She looked skyward to note the stars and easily located the Southern Cross. In previous centuries, seamen had used the stars to guide them on the oceans of the world, but navigation now was done entirely differently. She couldn’t imagine how Captain Stevens and his crew did their jobs, but as she returned to her cabin, she instinctively knew that she was in good hands.

      On the following morning, Christine was aware of the ship’s movement, and when she looked out of her porthole, the sea swells were quite noticeable. These were the cape rollers of which the captain had spoken. The endless expanse of whitecaps and the rugged coastline looked quite beautiful in the light of the morning sun. Despite the motion of the ship, Christine arose, dressed, and made her bed before she went to the dining room for breakfast. The two men who had boarded the ship in LM smiled at her when she came into the dining area, but they were speaking Portuguese, and she was not invited to sit with them. Some crewmen were having breakfast, and they acknowledged her with smiles, but Christine sat at an unoccupied table near a window. When a crew member asked what she would have for breakfast, she asked for scrambled eggs, bacon, toasted bread, and hot tea. Several minutes later, her food arrived on a tray, and she began to eat. The gentle movement of the ship was quite noticeable, but the motion wasn’t bothering her, and she dared to hope that she would not suffer from seasickness on the long voyage to the United States. She had crossed the Atlantic on four occasions, and she could not recall that she had ever been seasick. She dared to hope that this trip would be accomplished without bad storms or rough seas.

      She