Woolwich
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Working on a liquid lard carrier is about as far removed from the romantic image of life at sea as it is possible to be. Having to do such long hours meant that we suffered badly from sleep deprivation. When discharging our cargo we could spend up to 36 hours working non stop. The lard was liquid and had to be kept very hot,as soon as discharging began the fat against the side of the tank would begin to harden as the level dropped. To prevent this happening we had to put a hose on the discharging manifold and run it back into the tank.There would be a nozzle on the end of the hose,just like a fire hose,and the unlucky man on watch would have to go down in the tank. There ,he would stand on a platform above the hot bubbling fat and play the hose on to the sides of the tank to melt off the hardening fat. This was a long and exhausting process, you become soaked in hot fat ,and , you would be naked excepting for a pair of boxer shorts. You had to spend the whole of the discharging time in that tank,to do otherwise would mean the lard solidifying and that would be disastrous. When we were berthed near Swanage ,I actually spent a day and a half down the tank ,non stop, playing the hot fat on the tanksides and bottom. Food and drink was lowered to me and I ate and drank as I played the hose on the sides. When we were finished discharging ,I had a hot shower to clean every last bit of lard off me and went and crashed out in my bunk. I immediately sank into much needed slumber. I was awakened by the new Mate who told me to get up on deck to start work. I looked at my watch and saw that it was just 30 minutes since I had crashed out. I went to attack him ,calling him a silly young bastid. He fled my cabin and left me well alone.
We did manage some time off while we were down there and I went to Woolwich and caught the ferry to the north side. I arranged to meet the lady from Plaistow. I cannot remember what we did ,I was too tired for dancing ,that much I do remember. It was after midnight that I left her in Plaistow. I did’nt have enough for a taxi to Swanage and the buses had stopped running,so I had to walk the journey to the ferry. As I was strolling along I heard the sound of a bus coming. It slowed down as it neared me and I hopped aboard the platform. I got seated near the stairway and noticed two things,the bus was in total darkness, and it was full of busmen.They were all in uniform ,discernable only by their outline,pealed capped heads atop mackintoshed bodies.And they were silent.
I asked if the bus went near Woolwich ferry and was answered with a low growl “ this is a feckin service bus ,git orrff !”
It was a bizarre scene, scripted by a madman.
It took forever to reach the ferry ,and it was closed !. Luckily there is a foot tunnel and I decended into it . It was a spooky experience,early hours of the morning and alone,not the best time to be making the crossing. I don’t know how far I descended, I do know that I could hear a conversation that sounded very close, as though people were just feet away. The tunnel arcs in a gent curve giving you a foreshortened view. The sound of my own footsteps echoed around the walls and the two man conversation seemed loud and clear, quite close. I never saw them the entire way under the Thames . I was so glad to get back to the surface on the south side , there were a couple of taxis parked nearby and I had just enough change to get me back to the ship.
We did one run up to Selby,it was a weekend and I decided to get the train across the Pennines to Liverpool ,it had been a long time since I had seen my folks and I could’nt be so close and not go home. Mum did’nt have a telephone so could’nt warn her of my arrival. I got a very early train which had me at home for lunch. It was a wonderful homecoming , Jess and her family were up for a visit and that meant I had all of my immediate family together for a joyful reunion. The children had shot up since I last saw them. Jess now had three offspring and Bette had a little boy. My young sister Chris was now very much the young lady, her puppy fat had now melted and she was a sylph like young maiden. I felt so old at seeing them all so changed.
Mum had some wonderful news,I was now a free man. The divorce had been undertaken in my absence but I was free at last.
I had to get a train back to Selby, there was one train scheduled to leave Lime Street about 9.00pm. I left my family with a firm promise that I would be back soon and set off for the station.
The train was at the platform when I arrived, I boarded in plenty of time and sat with the Sunday paper, reading yesterdays happening whilst I awaited the whistle signalling our departure. It never came, instead we were informed that there would be a delay whilst they exchanged locomotives, The new departure would be 10.30pm. I was allowed to leave the train and went to the Golden Egg café in Lime Street. My cousin Dot worked there and the hour whizzed by as we caught up with each other At ten thirty I was seated back aboard the train but she still was’nt moving . I was allowed to disembark and made it back to the Golden Egg. It was 2.15 am before we left Lime Street, I made the crossing in a half conscious state. I got back near the wharf where the Acclivity was discharging and found that there was a flurry of activity around her, she had broken away from her moorings ,the discharge manifold was broken and hot fat was spilling everywhere. I was dressed in my best gear. I did’nt think twice………I walked away from the docks until I found somewhere I could get a bit of shut eye. When I returned three hours later all was cleaned up and shipshape. I never told them that I knew what had happened. That company never paid you for ruining your gear.
My opposite number on that ship was a great guy, he was 20 years older than me and was a Scot. He had fought in Korea and was captured by the Chinese who held him for two years. He told me of the brainwashing classes that the UN prisoners were forced to attend . You never hear tales of the brutality meted out to the Allies by the Chinese ;according to Jock it was a daily occurrence.
He had suffered at their hands ,he developed appendicitis and they would not treat him. A fellow prisoner ,who had been a first aid man, operated on him with some scissors and a razor blade. . It was successful but he was left with the most horrendous scars. His swollen lower abdomen looked like the top of a cottage loaf. The crossed scar was deep and jagged ,and this was 15 years later.
He was an enjoyable companion and held no bitterness for his former foes.
Below are a view of the bridge with the Skipper looking out at the sea and,secondly yours truly ,with Jock coming up behind me as we wash the old girl down,
BrianD
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