Flirted To The End

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 358, 19 May 1928, Page 1

Flirted To The End

DIOMEDE SAILS AWAY PENNANT LEFT ON SLOOP’S MASTS Barricades and a cordon of police and harbour officials had little chance of stopping the Diomede from pressing Auckland’s hand in a “so long” grip to-day. Until about 9.30 the crowd which had assembled to wish the ship farewell, called out from behind the fence, and the Central Wharf was kept clear about the ship. Then the absurd interference of officialdom was overcome in a practical example of “love will find a way.” Girls and men swamped through the cordon which did not resist very much and rushed to the side of the ship, amid the cheers of the assembled sailors. Hands went across the little strip of water and good byes were begun. Straining and billowing out in a great curve from mainmast to the ensign staff at the stern, the immense “paying off pennant,” like a new kind of sail, was urgent with the breeze. Two sailors held it in and half of its snowy length of 200 or 300 feet lay rolled on the awning. At the mast end of the strip of white bunting was the red cross of St. George. It was the measured symbol of the months H.M.S. Diomede had spent in New Zealand waters and a sign that she would be re-commissioned at Portsmouth. Gesture of Parting Then a minor tragedy happened, the breeze was too strong for the bunting and the pennant snapped off and went writhing into the air. It wrapped itself round a crane in a pleasant gesture of affectionate parting. Handkerchiefs were busy, but it was a merry farewell for the most part, the crew lined the decks in mingled white and blue uniforms. A few bands were taken off caps and thrown to eager hands on the wharf. Streamers fluttered across. On the quarter deck six marines with fixed bayonets assembled and the ship’s band struck up “Auld Lang Syne” as the tug, with smoke belching, tightened on the tow-line. The long ship began to slip out and ribbons snapped. “Home Sweet Home” the band was now playing. Meanwhile the pennant had been hauled down and busy hands knotted the broken length on to it. As the ship passed the end of the wharf the pennant writhed out in serpentine twistings, the gold ball at the tip leaping and skimming over the water. Handkerchiefs were waving now and voices were just carrying across the increasing width of water. The wild horse crest of Diomede, the ancient trainer of the carnivorous steeds of Thrace, who was thrown to his own team by Hercules, showed in the sunlight as the stern swung round. Her nose was pointing seaward and the towing hawser was dropped. A white surge at the stern and H.M.S. Diomede moved smoothly out. . She headed for her sister ship H.M.S. Dunedin, lying at the Devonport base and passed close. As the ship passed the sloops Veronica and Laburnum, the breeze again took charge of the pennant and wrapped it round the rigging of those ships. With a final gesture of flirtation, like the dropping of a handkerchief, the Diomede left half of the pennant flying gayly from the sloops and with the other half at her main top, she dropped down stream.