Dancing,Dalliance,Debarking, ...Delightful Java

Of course it was during the thirties.  Boat cruises and all the 

wonderful send-offs with colorful streamers and champagne and boat whistling and tooting. Crowds everywhere.

Turning back to our stateroom on the second deck, such a

grand view of the bay broadening into ocean as the shore-

line receded.  Going down the Grand Staircase to lunch in

the Grand Ballroom, the orchestra playing "Toot, Toot, Tootsie,Good-bye" and other lovely jazz nonsense.  Every

thing was festive and gay, everyone was happy.  Caviar,

smoked oysters, you name it.

A brief nap.  Henry, of course, up and about, smoozing, I 

think the word is.  He was never one to miss an opportunity, building up connections and sales.  This was our first trip to the far east.  Henry has gotten it into his head that he could make a mint selling his  Rolls to what he called "the rich potentates of the East."  So there we were, headed out for half a year of traveling, building up trade among the titled and the wealthy tea plantation owners.

He had seen to it that I had the latest Chanel, Mainbocher,

and Schaparelli, while he stopped at his tailor's in the City

to update his wardrobe.  He even insisted that all my under

garments come from Italy and be of silk - which gave us

both pleasure, I can assure you.

So we ate and danced out way through Suez.  Well, you

know from your own experience that from there on out, the

weather is entirely different from home.  No more dancing

late what with the heat becoming the "topic du jour."  Every-

thing seems to sag after eleven in the morning.  Too hot for

morning tea, but great for Pimm's once the whatever it is 

has gone over the yardarm.  Even Henry wilted, which made me relieved in one way that at least he was human like the rest of us, losing his usual crisp, take charge, full speed ahead.

We formed the habit of drinks in the bar, dinner and then 

chatting with others as the orchestra played each night in

the ballroom.  Although others were dancing, we simply

found it too hot and stayed put, chatting away.  I really 

wasn't interested in the conversation as Henry was - as always still working, making contacts and being pumped-up cheerful , which most everyone else seemed to find attractive.

I'd sit, stirring the watery drink, looking around the room,

as were some of the other women at the table.  I started to look at the details, the intricate woodworking of the stage

and panels.  It was then that I spotted the dark, handsome

man playing the bass fiddle.  He was a whizz with it, bringing out twists and tricky turns during his solos.  We "twigged." Henry would be still working when the orchestra folded for the night.  It was only the first time with the fiddler that I was late getting to bed.  Once established, we found other times and places to meet which worked out well.

He was a good lover, and I began to fantasize about our life together.  He said he wasn't married, coming from an

extended family in Indonesia.  He had no education to speak of, but once he'd gotten the job on board the ship, had started reading some of the great writers of western literature on his time off.  I know that he knew he was handsome, just the same way I knew that I'm an attractive woman, but, except for jokes between ourselves, this didn't matter.  And I can't tell you how refreshing and clear this felt.

After Suez, the steamer relentlessly made its stops of call, Singapore, Java, Sumatra, and so on.  By the time we got

to Indonesia, I had made up my mind; I would leave the 

ship and belongings in Java, disappearing to start a new life with my love, happily wearing sandals and colorful  cotton batiks, fresh flowers in my hair and welcomed into  an enormous affectionate family, a new circle of friends, and the love of our long, good, simple life together.

As for Henry, he got over it in time, returning home with lots

of sales and potential connections, which made him happy.

He married Maud, his office secretary, who made him a

good wife –  happy at serving tea and drinks to his friends and potential customers.  We kept in touch, occasionally visiting each other.  All things forgiven.  He even lent us money to get our own plantation which is now successful with the loan repaid with interest.  Every once in a while, my man will get out the bass fiddle and I'll dance to his wild rendering of "Toot, toot, Tootsie" collapsing into his arms to watch the night stars splashed across the dark immensity of sky.

My man and I just love happy-endings;  that's what we

work for, for everyone.

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