It was in False Bay, tortured and traumatised by the most frightening storm I had ever experienced, that I promised myself that one day I would discover what it was like to experience tranquillity on the ocean waves.
Our tiny, wooden-hulled mine-sweeper, the SAS Walvis Bay, was dwarfed by huge seas crashing over the forecastle, drenching helpless souls on watch on her bridge-wings, dreading the inevitable plunge into another trough before the whole process repeated itself ad nauseum for four agonising hours.
I was wearing a T-shirt, a blue navy shirt, a jersey, a padded jacket, a Burberry and foul-weather gear, yet I had never been so cold in my life. I was sick when I came on the graveyard watch (midnight to 4am), then dizzy and nauseous and sick again when I signed off like a wretched rat on a savage ship.
Seconds felt like hours and all I wanted, more than anything, was a warm bed that didn't move. Those agonising hours, as a conscripted seaman, left one wondering what had been done in a previous life to deserve this latest incarnation. Even Davy Jones's locker felt more appealing than a God-forsaken ship at the mercy of the cruel sea.
Legendary single-handed yachtsman Chay Blythe referred to the South African coastline as the most treacherous in the entire world. Huge southern ocean swells crashing into the continental shelf had broken the Oceanos in half and the spirit of many a tough man.
Mercifully, the watch ended and I scrambled below deck and was astonished at how I could even sleep with my head bouncing a metre off the pillow. But sleep always came easy for the 50-odd crew crammed below decks on a minesweeper.
The next day, I ran out of a claustrophobic wheelhouse and puked, downwind and unfortunately into the path of our sea dog coxswain. He responded with a volley of expletives in my direction that could only have come out of a sailor's mouth.
Two days later, we sailed into Port Elizabeth and the crew, battered and bruised, were determined to paint the town every colour imaginable. I was on watch, one of the unfortunate few who were sober that night when the mob returned.
The officers had locked themselves in their cabins for good reason. One able seaman, a popular, likeable fella when sober, had found the chef's knife and wanted to murder the First Lieutenant.
It sounded as if they were tearing the ship apart.
Two Atlantic crossings later, on small, claustrophobic yachts, from Cape Town to Rio and in the other direction - lasting 21 and 25 days respectively - finally convinced this Joburg born-and-bred landlubber terra firma was the only place to be. That was seven years ago.
Then all of a sudden a magical opportunity arose. The chance to experience ocean pleasures at the other end of the food chain on the new Liberty of the Seas, the pride of the Royal Caribbean and the biggest cruise ship in the world, measuring 340m, the equivalent of 37 London buses or five Jumbo jets.
I was shaking with excitement as she came into view at the dockside in Southampton. With 18 decks at 72m tall, 160 000 tons of hedonistic pleasure - a salacious ship if ever there was one - was just waiting to be discovered.
Bright, friendly faces in smart uniforms welcomed you onboard and, without hesitation, I made for the upper deck to get a view of her curvaceous lines.
"You've got to be kidding!" I whistled in astonishment through my teeth. At her stern was a wave-rider, pumping 128 700 litres of water a minute, and two teenagers surfing to their hearts content.
It was dwarfed by a 13m-high climbing wall, offering 11 different routes to the summit of the funnel, from "terrified" to "expert", a mini-putt-putt course and a tennis-cum-basketball court.
Amidships was the H2O Zone, the ideal playground for kids, and her upper deck was ringed with a two-lane running track spanning half the length of the ship.
And to top it all, Liberty's upper deck features two giant, cantilevered whirlpools suspended 3,5m over the side of the ship.
She was dazzling and sparkled with radiance. It was love at first sight - a R6-billion pleasure boat, tailored for the fun-loving, quickly erased all thoughts of cruising as a pastime for wealthy geriatrics biding their time for the Grim Reaper.
Below, you could take glass elevators from one deck to another, where the focal point was the Royal Promenade, a 136m mall of shops, restaurants, pubs and a casino - wider than a dual carriageway.
You even had a balcony off your cabin, giving sweeping sea views, complete with a flat-screen TV - which I never turned on as lazing around is just not Liberty's thing.
The cheapest cabin, a standard interior room, costs about R25 000 for a family of four for a week. A balcony room will be about R37 500 for the same period for four. The Royal Suite comes with a concierge and a private lounge, going for about R67 000.
And then there's the most luxurious suite of all, the Presidential Suite. This opulent home, sleeping 11 in four separate bedrooms, comes complete with a private jacuzzi, dining room, a butler and a large balcony offering sweeping views from the stern of the ship.
'She's majestic in all her splendour'
It's heaven on the high seas for those who can afford to pay R82 000 for the week, but hey, a guy accustomed to sleeping in pipe cots, scrubbing decks and painting entire hulls wasn't complaining.
At the pool deck bar, I befriended Hans, a smiling German travel agent chilling out and sampling a variety of cocktails. But like all sailors, the call of the ocean struck a chord. You just couldn't wait for Liberty to fire up her engines and head out of the solent for open seas.
The moment arrived after nightfall, following the kaleidoscope of colour in a spectacular fireworks display celebrating Liberty's first voyage, and you barely heard or felt it. Unlike our dirty old minesweeper, which droned while her funnel spat diesel oil over anything on the upper deck, Liberty was majestic in all her splendour.
She made for the open seas with only a gentle vibration in the toes giving any indication that she was moving at all.
Clearly, there would be no nasty bouts of sea sickness on this baby, and that meant it was time to party. A good place to start was at the ice-rink, where an ice-show would be starting soon after supper.
Seating 4 300-odd passengers for meals in any arena is some feat. Liberty accommodates them in two sittings at two eating outlets of the ship, one in a three-storey dining room boasting cuisine from all over the world to satisfy even the fussiest of palates.
Guest entertainment galore
But there is also a fast food outlet, a steakhouse, an Italian diner and an Asian-fusion restaurant. And after supper, you can take a glass elevator up to the Viking Lounge, the perfect venue for cocktails at one of the highest decks of the ship, offering sweeping, 180° views.
The ice-show was breathtaking. Featuring 30-odd skaters, including fire-eaters, they brought their audience to their feet in a standing ovation. The most popular was a Russian couple, who coaxed the crowd to throw hoops in their direction and then caught these over their heads. These gymnasts-cum-skaters are a not-to-be-missed attraction on Liberty as their acrobatics are truly a sight to behold.
You don't worry about time on this ship. And entertainment is plentiful. After the ice-show, the entertainment crew put on a 1970s musical show in the Royal Promenade and by the time I retired, the more nocturnally minded were still gyrating.
Even with about 4 000 passengers on board, not to mention 1 300 crew, Liberty is so large she never feels cramped. Her cinema is more spacious than anything I have experienced on land and her gym, where you can cycle while enjoying the view of her bows stretching into the seas, is a state-of-the-art wonder. It even has a boxing ring and it was here that I encountered my first South African accent.
"Are you paid to beat me up?" I joked to Hanneke van Niekerk from Paarl, a Stellenbosch University physical education graduate who oozed enthusiasm.
"No, I'm paid for you to beat me up," she retorted.
With that, I gloved-up and proceeded to receive my first boxing lesson from this petite young woman. It was fun as we traded punches, but I drew the line when she wanted me to perform some tough-looking exercises.
Liberty's soft, plush carpets and her artwork, imparting a part-Picasso, part-Gaudi mood to the ship, were utterly alien to me as a sailor.
But I just had to see the bridge and it was here where I met Captain Hernan Zini, a tall Argentinian, who seemed to make every woman blush.
The bridge, a state-of-the-art technological marvel, left me spellbound. There was no wheel, just a small joystick to steer a boat completely comfortable at navigating her passage on autopilot.
"For a seven-day cruise, we would use about 800 tons of fuel," Zini explained for the more nautically minded. "And 300 tons of that is just for power, electricity and so forth."
A Russian colleague wanted to know whether the ship would ever be under risk of being hijacked by pirates.
"I don't think so," said our captain. "She is too big for that and I don't think pirates would be able to handle her."
From the bridge, I just had to go forward to the pulpit, just to do the Titanic thing.
It's at the bowsprit, looking aft, that you sense the soul of the ship. It's here that her grace and elegance are best sensed and it's where I knew Liberty had exorcised my tortured nautical soul from King Neptune and all of his nasty demons.
- Dale Granger travelled as a guest of Royal Caribbean Cruises and Thompsons Tours.
- Thompsons Tours offers a seven-night Western Caribbean Cruise on board Liberty of the Seas, departing on December 15 2007. The cruise price ranges from R8 475 per person sharing. Airfares are not included. The Liberty will visit Miami, US; Labadee, Haiti; Montego Bay, Jamaica; George Town, Grand Cayman; Cozumel, Mexico; then return to Miami. This is a stunning cruise.
For further information, give Thompsons a ring on 086-184-6677 or visit Thompsons
To see the Royal Caribbean Cruises, visit their newly launched website: Royal Caribbean Cruises