PART 3: Wellpark arrives to an uncertain welcome in Taiwan

[Mike Newton]

It was decidedly hotter on Wednesday 4th October. The horizon was hazy and the coastline of Taiwan was veiled in mist as we got closer to land. Many of the teenage Vietnamese had been standing at the ship’s side, day-dreaming as they watched the water slide past Wellpark’s hull as she powered forward. Only two whole days after their rescue it seemed they were at home on the ship and enjoying the experience like some low cost cruise.

But arrival in Kaohsiung meant confrontation with reality, the reality that these people only had one rightful home, which was Vietnam. By all rights they should be returned to their homeland on arrival in Taiwan. As Wellpark entered the quarantine anchorage we could see enormous pylons, hundreds of feet high on which were mounted the biggest red flags I had ever seen. A number of jet fighters flew low across the ship. It all added to increase the air of tension.

A cutter came out to Wellpark with uniformed Port Health and Immigration authorities on board. We all wondered what would happen. We tried to pacify the Vietnamese. Perhaps naively we told them Wellpark was British property, an island of safety and security on the other side of the world. We were passionately protective of our refugees.

But the formalities seemed to be straightforward and were completed that afternoon. Perhaps things had been settled at Government level before we even arrived. But before we could berth to unload our cargo all the Vietnamese must be inoculated against Cholera and Smallpox. And a more comprehensive list of identities would have to be drawn up with left thumbprint, photograph, signature, occupation, Vietnam address, and relative addresses, where possible. Strangely it was discovered there were now 346 Vietnamese on Wellpark, three more than were counted before! The fact that the ship was now cleared ‘inward’ led us to assume the Vietnamese had been accepted by Taiwan. This was to be their new home. I was a little crestfallen. I couldn’t help feeling these kind, gentle, respectful and smiley people on board our ship deserved a better home than Taiwan, which was a country I always perceived as ‘unfriendly’.

As it turned out we were left in doubt a little longer, uncertain what would happen. The grain berth with its grain elevators was still busy unloading another ship and the ship was ordered to remain in the anchorage. Now that we were ‘in’ Taiwan it was hot and humid. Even though we were not going anywhere, we were still working hard. There was no navigating to be done, and no cargo could be unloaded, but in the heat we were worked hard to prepare the ship for a busy time in port.

Through the day there was no escape from the heat. The ship was so low on fresh water that it was rationed even for the crew. That meant no shower after a hard days work, but as the sky darkened at night we could still go out on deck and sit on No.5 hatch and relax in the cooling night air, talking amongst the families, asking them about the lives they once lived in Vietnam, and discussing what their new lives might be. Slowly friendships grew to a point where we found ourselves ‘adopting’ families. They would ask us to write down our names and home addresses or might ask for an essential item; perhaps a needle and thread to mend clothes, or for a pen and paper to write with. The crew had lent some books, a few games and even a couple of guitars to help make their stay more pleasant. Earlier in the day, quite spontaneously, the crew donated every bit of clothing they could spare. It was a token gesture because we had no clothing suitable for women or children, but the smiles on the Vietnamese faces showed it was appreciated. We had all been working so hard that we had not previously had time to stop, but at that point I noted how the crew had been transformed. Only ten days earlier in a boisterous initiation ceremony, Crossing the Line, some cadets had some rather nasty things done to them. Some were given savage haircuts, chunks cut out of one or both sides of the head , and were daubed, dumped in and forced to swallow all sorts of revolting fluids. Presumably all the Vietnamese were too polite to ever ask why some of the cadets had such patchy haircuts! First trippers had the worst time of it, but now as one, the crew had grown into one ‘family’ with the Vietnamese, a family given to sharing and helping, caring and loving each other. In a corner of the hatch cover a group of three girls were singing. Slowly they lowered their voices as the parents tucked up the younger children under the blankets stretched on the steel deck. Gradually they too settled to sleep and we retired to our bunks with sprung mattresses, our hearts filled with a sense of fulfilment and peace.