Not james bond

It wasn't James Bond Archives 1950 - 65

My old school chum kept in touch while we were both overseas and one
particular night in the Ladbroke Arms he told me a tale. I'd asked if
any of his experinces involved the cloak and dagger people during his
naval service. Here it is :

In the early sixties, serving on HMS Nevermind, an aged destroyer due
for refit, we picked up a marine party in Aden for drop off in
Gibraltar. The ship needed careful/gentle handling in view of it's age
and condition so progress from the Indian Ocean was liesurely. The Suez
Canal had been nationalised, so when an Admiralty signal graded ZZZZ
ordering maximum speed to a rendezvous at a Turkish fishing port to
pick up ST 122 was received while we were in the Red Sea, our Captain
was relaxed, knowing the embuggerance we could expect if any hint of
urgency had been revealed to the Arab authorities.
Once into the Med the taps were opened, the stern went down and full
speed was gradually worked up.
Many hours later, heavy weather had blown up an evil sea making headway
difficult, even dangerous.

It so happened a regular report of ship's state, personnel, ammunition
returns, equipment maintenance, plus a sackful of other administrative
detail was due. Our Captian craftily included in the admin returns a
ZZZZ request to divert to a calmer route regarding the Turkish pick up
and giving a revised rv time. The reckoning was the routine nature of
the signal would get by and we could make the course alteration by
default. We were rather excited by the prospect of a civilian pick up -
clearly an agent of some sort. James Bond didn't exist then, but we all
expected to see a real, live intelligence man, ultra fit, expert in
unarmed combat but in a bit of trouble needing our evacuation
assistance.

No more than 2/3 minutes later the typex machine clattered into life -
" graded ZZZZ - maintain present course and speed. "

In total darkness, the fishing port was spotted on the beam, the marine
party set off to cover our landing and I plus 4 seamen set off for the
breakwater. We found our hero sitting on a suitcase under the port
office verandah.
Not what we expected. I recognised him straight away as a professor of
Sanskrit or Persian history at my Oxford College, well into his fifties
- no he man he. Bit of a disappointment.
Back on board we were instructed not to discuss our passenger. He got
himself sorted out quickly, then requested the use of our wireless
equipment where he sent off a 4 group signal lasting 25 minutes. We
dropped off our marines at Gib and gently sailed home.

Ancient Mariner