Old Cliffie knew that something was wrong when he woke from a fitful sleep to find himself clinging to the edge of the bunk. The ship creaked and groaned as it slowly righted itself, and then with quickening speed rolled the other way until the porthole - that had looked so high above the waterline in port - crashed against the black Pacific Ocean. Slowly, old Cliffie became aware of keening laments echoing the crashing noises of the ferry. Deciding that if the end was nigh he might as well meet it in company, old Cliffie crawled towards the lounge area of the ferry, where Chinese families huddled, weeping and clinging together.
When you sit in the dentist's chair, the minutes may seem like hours but at least you can reassure yourself that the pain is temporary, not terminal. The overnight ferry from Hualien on the east coast of Taiwan to Keelung near Taipei tossed and turned for several hours at the edge of a tropical storm. And the hours, the minutes, seemed neverending.
When the ferry at last edged into Keelung harbour, three hours late, the passengers filed off looking like refugees who had spent 12 weeks - not 12 hours - at sea. Bizarrely, the shipboard PA system played a scratchy recording of 'Auld Lang Syne'. Old Cliffie fled to the Taipei Hilton to spend the day in bed. When he awoke, his head was still spinning nauseously.
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