I underwent my final RNR voyage, destination Ostend in Belgium, towards the end of the summer of 1977. My best RNR oppo Colin was sadly not onboard, but thankfully a new close seafaring friend was. His name if my memory serves me faithfully was Adam, and If Colin was of the type of the bluff and good-humoured Londoner, then Adam, who was probably about 26 or even a little older at the time, was every inch the gentleman cavalier, a tall and elegant redhead a little in appearance like the charismatic British actor Edward Fox.
His family background was almost inconceivably tragic, and his soft and courtly manners masked a troubled inner life which he kept almost entirely to himself, as well as considerable physical courage: I remember a time when for some reason an inebriate jack tar started behaving threateningly towards me in a bar, and Adam placed himself between me and the sailor, before convincing him to desist from any violent activity he might have had planned with me in mind.
I can imagine that back in '77 there might have been those who wondered precisely for what reason such apparently refined and cultivated young men as Adam and I chose to serve as Ordinary Seaman; I am thinking in particular of some of the young men of another RNR Division liaising with us to and from Ostend. There was an incident I can recall quite clearly now when some of these feisty salts were excitedly congregating in an Ostend street intent on defending their honour for some slight or another, and one of their number, a young sailor of about 16 or 17 years old turned to a small group of us from London Division including Adam and myself, and incredulously enquired: "What's wrong with youse guys?"
What he was asking was something to the effect of what kind of man, and especially military man, cowers in the face of conflict when his honour's at stake. But Adam was, as I've already stated, the least cowardly of men; he was moreover, according to what I observed and what he told me, more than somewhat attractive to, and succesful with, the opposite sex. Yet, for his own reasons he deemed it politic to obfuscate his valiance and virility with a display of gentlemanly reserve. While I was no less robustly heterosexual than he was, I did not share his inner fortitude, which would eventually see him assuming the uniform and calling of a naval officer: it had of course been his destiny all along. But not mine. My tenure with the London Division, RNR came to an end in late 1977 with a glowing character report, one of the finest I ever received as a young man. However, I would never wear a military uniform again.