Screen your calls
May 20, 2019
3 minutes
We set sail from Cape Town, bound for the island of St Helena. It was sunset and Table Mountain was disappearing over the horizon. I stood on the aft deck of RMS , witnessing the most curious of modern phenomena. Passengers lined the guardrail, holding their phones aloft, desperately eking the last reception from the Mother City. The terror of the coming days at sea with no connectivity had gripped them.
You’re reading a preview, subscribe to read more.
Start your free 30 days