STORIES SO FAR

A LETTER TO HEAD OFFICE( TOP ^)
It is not often that confidential letters between Captains and their Head Office come to hand for publication, but recently the following letter was found in the personal file of an old 'sea dog'. He has agreed for it to be published on the undestanding neither his or his ship's name will be revealed.

We are pleased to abide by his wishes

Dear Sir,

It is with regret and haste that I write this letter to you. Regret that such a small misunderstanding could lead to the following circumstances, and haste in order that you will get this report before you form your own preconcieved opinions from reports in the World Press. For I am sure that they will tend to overdramatise the affair

We had just picked up the pilot, and the Apprentice had returned from changing the 'G' flag for the 'H'and, being his first trip, was having difficulty in rolling the 'G' flag up for stowing away. I therefore proceeded to show him how.

Coming to the last part I told him to 'let go'. The lad, although willing, is not too bright. I therefore had to repeat the order in a sharper tone. At this moment the Chief Officer appeared from the Chartroom having been plotting the vessel's progress and thinking it was the anchors that were being referred to, repeated the 'let go'order to the Third Officer on the forecastle.

The Port anchor, having been cleared away but not walked out, was promptly let go. The effect of letting the anchor drop from the 'pipe'while the vessel was proceeding at full harbour speed was too much for the windlass brake and the entire length of the Port cable was pulled out by its roots.I fear that the damage to the chain locker may be extensive.

The braking effect of the Port anchor naturally caused the vessel to sheer in that direction, right toward the swing bridge that spans a tributary to the river up which we were proceeding.

The swing bridge operator showed great presence of mind by opening the bridge for my vessel. Unfortunately he did not think to stop the vehicular traffic. The result was that the bridge partly opened and deposited a Volkswagen,two cyclists and a cattle truck on the foredeck. My ship's company is at present rounding up the contents of the latter, which, from the noise I would say is pigs.

In his efforts to stop the progress of the vessel the Third Officer dropped the Starboard anchor. Too late to be of any practical use for it fell on the swing bridge operator's control cabin.

After the Port anchor was let go and the vessel started to sheer I gave a double ring Full Astern on the Engine Room telegraph and personally rang the Engine Room to order maximum astern revolutions.

I was informed that the sea temperature was 53 degrees, and asked if there was a film tonight. My reply would not act constructively to this report.

Up to now I have confined my report to the activities at the forward end of my vessel. Down at the after end they were having their own problems. At the moment the Port anchor was let go,the Second Officer was supervising the making fast of the After Tug,and was lowering the ship's towing spring down onto the tug. The sudden braking on the Port anchor caused the tug to 'run in' under the stern of my vessel just at the moment the propeller was answering my double ring Full Astern

The prompt action of the Second Officer in securing the inboard end of the towing spring, delayed the sinking of the tug by some minutes, thereby allowing the safe abandonment of that vessel.

It is strange, but at the very moment of letting go the Port anchor there was a power cut ashore. The fact that we were passing over a 'cable area' at the time may suggest that we may have touched something on the river bed. It is perhaps lucky that the high tension cables brought down by the foremast were not live; possibly having been replaced by the underwater cable, but owing to the shoreside blackout it is impossible to say where the pylon fell.

It never fails to amaze me, the actions and behavior of foreigners during moments of minor crisis. The Pilot, for instance, is at this moment huddled in a corner of my day cabin alternately crooning to himself and crying, after consuming a bottle of Gin in a time that is worthy of inclusion
in the Guinness Book of Records. The tug Captain,on the other hand, reacted violently and had to be forcibly restrained by the Chief Steward who has him handcuffed in the ship's hospital, where he is telling me to do impossible things with my ship and my person.

I enclose the names and addresses of the drivers and insurance companies of the vehicles on my foredeck, which the Third Office collected after his somewhat hurried evacuation of the forecastle. These particulars will enable you to claim for the damage that they did to the railings of number one hold.

I am closing this preliminary report for I am finding it difficult to concentrate with the sound of police sirens and their flashing lights.

It is sad to think that had the Apprentice realised that there is no need to fly Pilot
flags after dark, none of this would have happened.

For weekly Accountability Report I will assign the following Casualty Numbers T/750101 to T/750199 inclusive.

Yours truly

IT’S IN THE BOOK(TOP ^)

The Ship Captain’s Medical Guide is designed to assist ship captains and other trained personnel to deal with illness and accident on ships not enjoying the benefit of a doctor. It’s a weighty volume and on first reading, it can have the same effect as a Stephen King book. It can keep you awake at night imagining the horrors that await you.

Your first step into the mysteries of the medical profession is usually by way of a short course in First Aid, plus instructions on how to give injections for various tropical diseases without doing too much damage to the patient. After that you are on your own except for The Book.

So You have completed the Ship Captain’s Medical Course, passed the examination and now possess a certificate. You are now allegedly qualified to care for the sick, lame, weary, and those merely seeking free transport at the next port of call.

Your pass marks in the exam? Eighty per cent? Not too bad. The odds in favour of success stand at four to one. With luck the unfortunate fifth man will at least survive to the next port where the professionals can take over and get him back on his feet. Or kindly arrange for the flowers of his choice.

In these extreme cases it is important to put the patient’s mind at rest. Tell him not to worry. At this point you will be doing enough worrying to satisfy both of you.

Of course, you can add to your knowledge by serious study of the Ship Captain’s Medical Guide. The downside of this is you may convince yourself you have serious medical conditions yourself. You could then become more worried about your own health than your shipmates.

There will inevitable come a time when you are called upon to apply bandages and dressings to cuts, grazes and assorted wounds. For the peace of mind of the patient do not overdo the dressings. He will not be impressed if he comes in with a minor cut and leaves looking like the sole survivor of a motorway pile-up.

While a simple plaster may do the trick you will discover that iodine on an open cut is a great deterrent to both germs and patients. One liberal application can reduce your workload at a stroke. Your patient will discover a latent streak of self-reliance, and will in future be inclined to treat his own cuts.

No language problems will be experienced with foreign crew. “Aaaagh” seems to be a universally accepted expression signifying the onslaught of sudden pain. Your diagnosis will be swift and certain. Your patient is conscious, alert and heading for the dispensary door - presumably to resume normal duties. You are entitled to feel a glow of satisfaction.

We will now consider some of the symptoms and problems you may come across in your new career:

LOSS OF APPETITE
If you are a Chief Steward this is one symptom you will obviously not want to discourage. The most common cause of loss of appetite is chronic indigestion. Your SCMG will advise you to rest the patient and keep him on a light diet. But a word of warning.

Captains are inclined to be unsympathetic if they find half their crew tucked up in bed on light diets. Some have been known to get downright nasty and may question your medical expertise. Not to mention your motives. Their version of the Hippocratic oath at such times is inclined to be far more pungent. Nor are they likely to be impressed with the argument that feeding costs will be more than favourable.

DEAFNESS
This is a common complaint among seafarers. The onset may be sudden and often occurs as the patient is being detailed off to perform a task he finds distasteful, leading one to suspect a possible psychological connection. This point is perhaps worth an article in The Lancet.

As a clout round the ear to dislodge any obstruction is not encouraged under maritime law, the Higgison ear syringe is the next best thing. In extreme cases it may suffice to shout louder.

An alternative treatment not mentioned in the SCMG is to whisper “I’m stopping your shore leave for three months. You will immediately note a frown of deep concentration appear on the patient’s face as he strains to hear what you are saying. It has been known for the patient to cry out “But you can’t do that”.
In that case you can put away your Higgison syringe and chalk up a miracle cure.

EYES-BLOODSHOT
Another common complaint among seafarers. Saline solution is recommended. If this fails, try closing the Bar for a week.

HYPOTHERMIA
Not widely experienced in tropical waters unless you have upset the cook and he has shut you in the deep-freeze room while on inspection. Prevention being preferable to the cure do not upset the cook.

GOING WALKIES (TOP ^)

One of life’s necessities at sea (apart from the beer) is exercise, and something a little more taxing than walking up to the Bar for another drink is recommended. A brisk walk ashore often fits the bill. Particularly when you need some shopping and they’ve once again berthed the ship about four miles from civilisation.

One time in Galveston we were berthed at a terminal close to 37th Street. The nearest shops were somewhere around 45th Street and a mere mile away. The main shopping centre on 92nd Street offered a bit more to the adventurous spirit being situated five miles away.

A pleasant stroll I thought to myself and set off early one morning safe in the knowledge I would be pleasantly warmed by a steadily rising sun. Not then aware that was currently producing temperatures of 109 F when in its stride.

Reaching 49th Street I was going well, and fortified by three ice-cold Colas consoled myself with the fact I only had another 43 streets to go. No problem there, so long as I kept remembering the Americans still drive on the wrong side of the road. I know these thoughts occurred because I was passing a cemetery at the time.
At 82nd Street the sun was really doing its stuff and I have to admit I faltered. Stopping at a bus shelter I asked a little old lady where the shops were. Confusion flitted across her face until she grasped what I was talking about.

“Oh” she drawled (and they really do drawl in Texas. Speak at the normal rate of conversation and they think you are talking in a foreign language) “ You want the precinct “ she said.

This came as something of a surprise to me because my limited knowledge of the American idiom had the word precinct marked off as the local cop shop. The fault of watching too many American cops and robbers TV shows.
But following her instructions I did find a variety of shops further on. Poor old 92nd Street still remains unexplored.
Having made my purchases I set off back to the ship but somewhere around 53rd Street there is a sign that points toward the sea and indicates that somewhere in that direction lies Seawolf Park and Submarine. Which seemed an interesting proposition at the time.

So I set off down the road. Two miles later I crossed a very substantial bridge while collecting curious stares from the occupants of cars passing in both directions. I’m told that most Americans consider that legs are there to keep your butt off the ground, maintain the sale of trousers and to take you only to places where a car will not go.

At this point I waved down a truck and asked the driver where this Park was because all that stretched ahead of me was a long ribbon of road punctuated by telegraph poles. The end seemed to disappear into a heat haze in the distance.

The driver looked at me as though madness had set in and his companion said “You’ll never walk it buddy. I could only agree. So they invited me to hop in and they would drive me there.

Four miles down the road we arrived and my chauffeur and partner informed me they were going off wade fishing. Whatever that is.

So I find myself parked outside an Observation Lounge wondering what perverse brainwave got me trekking all that way to look out over the ocean. Albeit through a telescope. A recent fourteen day passage from Port Said had allowed me to do all the ocean staring I needed, free of charge.

At this point I had a raging thirst which neatly coincided with the only refreshment counter being closed, and the nearby cold drinks machine was empty.

Outside in the picnic area a group of Nuns were dispensing ice cold orange juice to a group of visiting children and I did seriously consider fainting near them.

However, the high spot of a visit to the Park is the opportunity to look over a Submarine and a Destroyer. Preserved relics from WW2. Entry fee was $1.50. A point to recommend it further was that some sensible soul had installed a Soft Drinks machine just inside the turnstile.

It was worth the entry fee just to get near to liquid refreshments. The submarine was well worth a visit but I happened to tag onto the end of a family party and Grandma got stuck in the hatch leading to the conning tower.
I reluctantly bypassed that as they were having problems extricating here while trying to spare her maidenly blushes by ensuring her pink drawers were not on display to us lechers on the lower deck.

The Destroyer was a bit of a disappointment because all the interesting areas were closed off for repairs. All we got to look at was the guns fore and aft, and the ratings toilets. I don’t know if there was any intended connection but the toilets seemed very close to the guns, and there were a lot of them. Guns and Toilets.
At 3 p.m I felt it was time to make a move back to the ship but this was the nasty bit. The kind gentleman who drove me down had not considered it part of the service to tell me there was no transport back, and no telephone to call a cab.

A rapid calculation put the ship about seven miles away and I felt a strong desire to go kick a couple of Wade Fishermen just to feel better.

For the record, after walking four miles along a dusty Texas road the leg muscles start to feel numb, the skin starts to peel from your nose, your throat feels like the inside of a concrete mixer and you do wonder if the occupants of cars that stream past you really do think you are doing it for fun.

I did eventually have one bit of luck. A pick-up truck stopped and gave me a lift for about a mile and a half. And I have to admit that even sitting in the back among an assortment of tools, all with sharp edges and long handles, was still preferable to walking.

I finished the last couple of miles back to the ship in a more cheerful frame of mind and once again felt that familiar pleasure of seeing my floating home only a few more strides away.
At least they hadn’t ‘shifted ship’ in my absence.

Gordon Tumber

CROSSING "THE LINE" (TOP ^)

Having survived my first trip I paid off and headed back home for 17 days leave, I know knew why I went to sea and not to the local paper mill.

Every body wanted to know what I had done where I had been, and I quickly found myself itching to get back “on board “ the “London Bridge”. Away from these ordinary people. So on 24/02/75 I caught the train back to Wallsend and rejoined my ship, this time apart from a few others and me the rest of the crew comprised of “geordies”. The bitter feud that I witnessed between those from south shields and those from north shields was UNbelievable, yet if any body upset them they became “one” a strange, yet loyal breed of men!
We finished dry docking and crossed the north sea to Rostock (east Germany) and loaded coal for ports in Brazil. No sea sickness this time, and I had developed a western ocean roll and I had only been at sea for three months! We left the cold February skies and headed for warmer climates.

The crew soon settled down and the daily fights became fewer! I wondered how long it would take before word of “the line” would raise its head and soon old salts were filling my head with what was to become of me once we arrived at the equator. It did not concern me and I carried on with the jobs that kept CT Bowrings shipping company afloat, cleaning the toilets scrubbing the galley deck and polishing every port hole I could find!.
All too soon the weather turned hotter and we approached the equator. Strange things were bubbling in galley pots and chairs were erected on the poop deck! When it happened it was bloody awful. I was covered in the contents of the ships bilges my hair (that I hadn’t had cut since being a peanut) was expertly dispatched by a burley A/B, but I took my punishment and paid homage to “Neptune”.

We ran before calm seas and soon the landmass of South America loomed over the bow, I will never forget the monument of “Christ” and Sugar Loaf Mountain, the view from the sea was magnificent.

We dropped the “pick” and soon small boats containing officials etc. swarmed around us. Some of the boats contained some of the local girls who assaulted the ship like a well-trained battalion of SAS troopers!!!.
The chief ordered the bosun to turn the deck hoses on any un wanted visitors. The “Geordies" spoke to the bosun and some evaded the hoses!!! (I will say no more about these ladies. I was still only 16 and still had to ask permission to smoke off the “Old Man”. I am sure he would not have liked to tell my mum about those Rio girls!!
We stayed in Rio for two weeks and I cannot forget the squalor that the majority of Brazilians lived in. Beneath the surface it was a seething cesspit of humanity, yet every body smiled.

It was back to Germany for the next cargo,then outward bound for Brazil again. More first trippers joined and I soon began to collect my “slops” and quietly chuckle did these fresh lads know what to expect?
I paid off in Korser Roads (Denmark) in August 75) and was asked to join my next ship the MV Capulet in Marseilles in September for African ports and the Persian Gulf………………..
Unknown to me I would be “made up” on my next trip to the dizzy heights of messman. I had served my apprentaship and come out relatively unscathed.

Mick Thistlethwaite

LLAMAS, SCORPIONS AND BOTTLES OF WHISKEY

GRAVESEND SEA SCHOOL (TOP ^)

MARITIME MUSINGS (TOP ^)

First Impressions
Approaching Brunswick Dock, I saw that my first ship, the S.S “Scholar” was lying alongside loading general cargo for the West Indies.
The pungent smell of stockholm tar and other mysterious odours filled the air, the quayside and transit shed vibrated with the thunder of steam winches, the clanking of blocks, and the rattle of trucks and bogeys- the shouts of the dockworkers added excitement to the scene.
This, - to a young Cadet about to sail on his maiden voyage was the glamorous prelude to life at sea – don’t things change quickly.

Tobacco
On being introduced to my “Mate”, the Senior Cadet – I saw that he smoked a very handsome pipe with some panache – this was obviously the style that all sailors should emulate!
At the first opportunity therefore, I raced up to the Dock Road to buy myself a pipe and some tobacco. (I had not yet heard of “ duty free” and that “Plug Tobacco” was the worst choice that could be made-by me!)
We sailed that night down the Mersey and during my first watch on the bridge (we kept bridge watches for the first three days of a voyage)……and then shock horror, on with boiler suits until nearing the next port!) I decided that this was obviously the time to christen my new purchase – How seriously wrong can you get.
As soon as I “lit up” a bellow came from the Officer of the Watch to “Put out that b….. light, - don’t you know yet that there is no smoking up here?!!. Get below at once.
The Officer relented later and sent me to the galley for “smoko”. I wish he hadn’t.
This hot and malodorous little room did not help me as I puffed strongly on my new pipe and it seemed only minutes later, having passed the Bar Lightship that “Scholar” began to pitch and roll in a most alarming way.
The consequences were obvious –sick,sick,seasick for three whole days. Never had I been so ill until then.
It is worth recording that this incident did me a great favour! I have never smoked or been seasick since that momentous night

Jack Frearson