Final Break with Seafaring

December 1958, I arrived at the Samarai Hospital in Papua as I had been diagnosed with an inflamed appendicitis by the Third Mate on the ship I was serving on. Such a diagnosis was quite common at the time as the general philosophy among the medical profession was to remove anything considered unnecessary. Whether our Third Mate had the required knowledge remains questionable.

My admission was rather bizarre, as apparently a tribal battle with stone axes had just taken place a few miles up the road over the ownership of some pigs.Wounded Papuans were all over the place awaiting treatment. This was quite a normal event the nurse assured me as she lead me to my room to be prepared for the operation. Readers must remember that the Cargo Cult was still very much in favour, tribes would build marking platforms in the jungle in the hope passing aircraft would drop cargo by parachute.This was a hang over from the second world war.All sorts of unlikely events could take place at any time.

After the operation and  a day or so in bed I resolved to leave the sea. Only three months early I had missed my 21st birthday , time doesn't seem to exist at sea all you are aware of is dawn and dusk and the vast ocean. The constant travel, the climbing in and out of my bunk at midnight to stand watch, staring into the distance in the pitch dark for hours on end had taking their toil. Many people view life at sea through romantic eyes, not with eyes watering from starring  for hours on end into a fierce wind at a distance horizon.

After flying back to Sydney I decided to undertake a aptitude test as I had no idea where my future lay. I was told that I had both a strong sense of social justice as well as an artistic disposition and most likely would make a good art teacher. This didn't sound too bad and I resolved enrol at The National Art School. Unfortunately my lack of secondary education raised its head again and I was denied entry unless I returned to school to complete my education. Such a course would take several years and I was still supporting my mother plus her mother, who was looking after her as old Jack had died, so I was going to have to work and could not afford such a course of action.,

A little lateral thinking was required and I decided to enrol at the Julian Ashton Art School and then complete my art education in Italy later on. I was aware that the Italian Government offered free university education to foreigners as part of their war apology to the world. This however is another story.