Hullo Old Home

[brian daley]

We were ?turned to? closing the hatches, putting on the tarpaulins ,three to each hatch , dropping the derricks and making everything ready for sea . The men worked like a well oiled machine , each man to his own task ,the senior ratings doing the difficult jobs and the junior ratings supplying the brawn. As a rookie , I could just about keep from tripping over my own feet . I was the new boy and it was very apparent that I knew very little about proper deck work. All I could do was trail after my cabinmates and keep out of harms way . For a newcomer it was breathtaking to see the speed and efficiency that these men displayed. Pretty soon everything was made shipshape and we were all set to let go and sail.
The tugs bustled alongside , like little ducklings abreast their mother. I was put on the back spring with a couple of old hands , this was a thick wire rope that helped keep the ship tight alongside the quay. I was regaled with tales of men who had been decapitated when one of them had parted and was extra careful to stand clear.
Soon the engines started up , making the whole ship shudder as the powerful screws began to propel the ship . We left the quay stern first and the head ropes were cast off and the little tugs nursed us toward the lock gates ,the dockside panorama swinging by as turned head up to go out.
We were soon into the river, sailing down the Thames toward the North Sea , experienced sailors get the ?channels ? when heading for home, I had them now heading for Hamburg.
I was now put in charge of the sailors mess , the Bosun ,having seen my performance on deck most probably thought it was a safer option, I was?nt too unhappy about the deal . It was warm and although I had a lot to do , I at least knew what I was doing. Deck experience would come later.
I was still eating for England , even after three days of none stop gorging ,I could?nt help it ,everything was so tasty. The chief cook was a Birkenhead man ,he was about 50, burly and surly ,but he ran a good kitchen. All of the rest of the kitchen staff were Chinese ,they were from Hong Kong and spoke ?pidgin? English. I had to pick up the rudiments of it to get the sailors meals. If I wanted a loaf I had to ask ?Hey cookie ,you catchee me one loaf chop ,chop!? Not difficult, I got a lot of practise with my requests for more puddings ,? Hey cookie you catchee me more duff ,chop ,chop!?
Well , on the third day aboard ,and my 10th time of asking for more duff ,the cook grabbed me by my throat and hauled me through the kitchen hatch. He looked furious, wielding a chopper , he sat me down in front of the butchers block (I thought he was going to behead me!).On the block was a ten man steamed pudding??and a spoon.
Holding me by the throat ,he pointed to it and said ?YEW FACKIN EAT !!?
I looked at his reddened face ,twisted in anger, he waved the chopper ?FACKIN EAT,NOWW!!? he roared. I picked up the spoon and ate, it was lovely ,for the first twenty spoonfuls ,I wavered and up went the chopper. On and on I plodded , forcing it down, all the portholes around the galley were filled with the heads of crewmen watching this ghastly ritual, death by duff! I was made to eat every last crumb, it was a long , long time before I could face a pudding again.

In the messroom , all the talk had been about what a fabulous place Hamburg was, this was 5 years before the Beatles and just 13 years after the end of the 2nd world war. The Deutsch mark was 12 to the pound and you could get a fortune for English cigarettes, coffee and other items that were still regarded as luxuries. Prostitution was rife and the sailors waxed eloquent at the earthly delights that awaited Jolly Jack Tar when he went ashore in that old sailor town. Looking back over 50 years , when the world was a lot simpler to a callow youth, I was not burdened down with thoughts of exploitation and political incorrectness , I was a testosterone filled youth about to burst his trousers, and here was a town full of young ladies only too willing to help me lose my cherry. It was a stormy crossing to Germany but the Eumaeus was a well found ship, she was made to face the roughest that nature could throw at her , and she was fast.
All too soon we were making fast in the docks in St. Pauli, the very heart of Hamburg. like Liverpool ,was a real sailor town , the dockside was full of little bars ,the deck crowd all had girl friends there and the most favoured bar was one called the Cabbage Patch ,but I had heard so much about the Reeperbahn ,and in particular, the Winkelstrasse, that I was not going to go anywhere else if I could help it. After our evening meal ,the washing up done and all squared away, we were sitting in the messroom and no one seemed to be making a move, why? No money that was why, we had only been aboard 5 days ,not enough time to have any spending money. Not on 2 pound a week anyway. But this was Hamburg , a place I had long fantasised about. I asked one of the A.B.s how we got money to go ashore , ?Just go up and ask the captain, he?ll give you some ?. Like a lamb to the slaughter , I made way up to Captain Curpheys stateroom . He was sound asleep in his bunk when I walked in, I went over and shook him by the shoulder (This Man had just brought us across a stormy North Sea and was having a well earned kip, but what did I know?)
He sat up and groggily shook his head, ?Wazza marrer?? he growled. ?Erm ,can I have some dough please skip?? I replied. He looked at me in disbelief , slowly, shaking his head ,as though he was having a bad dream ,he pointed to his trousers laying across the back of his chair .?Give us them ?ere ? he said ,I did so and he stuck his hand in one of the pockets and pulled out some notes. ?Ere,? he said ,thrusting the money into my hand,? Now sod off and let me get to sleep!?
I went back down to the messroom , clutching the three pound notes in my hot little hands. The look on the sailors faces was magic, it was not the result they had expected.
I went and got changed,almot feverish with excitement ,?tonight?s the night !!? I was going to kiss my cherry goodbye.
One of the senior ordinary seamen ,or SOS as they were known ,came into our cabin, ?I can show you the way to the Reeperbahn ,save you getting lost and that? he said, I was more than happy for him to show me the way, I would be doing the business that much sooner.
It was dark as we made our way there ,the district had been heavily bombed during the war and there were still lots of Bomb sites about . Soon we were at the Reeperbahn ,nothing in life had prepared me for this, there were endless neon lit bars and lots of beautiful young ladies plying their trade on the pavements, Matelots of every nation thronged the street ,hungrily they eyed the women. The very air reeked of unconsummated lust. But I wanted to go to the Winkelstrasse, this was a place of legend ,known by every sexual naif throughout the world, I had seen the photographs, I had some idea of what I could expect.
And then we were there. Metal screens stood at the end of the street , they were emblazoned with posters ,in 3 languages, forbidding entrance to all Allied personnel.
When the SOS and I entered , we could?nt move for Allied personnel!
The sight I beheld was beyond my wildest imaginings, the street had what appeared to be large shop windows lining both sides , about 6 windows on each pavement. Inside the window were tableaus of worldly delights, Dressed up like Lewis? window at Christmas, instead of pixies and snowmen there were ladies attired in all manner of titillating outfits.
Little Bo Peep , with her shepherds crook, the Dominatrix in her basque and thigh high boots ,nurses and milkmaids, blondes princesses and bewinged fairies. This was a Disneyland of lust and I staggered from window to window , hotter than hell under my collar and more nervous than I had ever been in my life. I could?nt make up my mind .Up and down that street I went ,in daze ,?Here it was, did I want to do it??
The SOS tore the money out of my hand, hurrying into one the doorways he called out ?I?ll tell you what it was like after ? I waited a miserable quarter of an hour and he came out looking like the cat that had got the cream. We had a couple of drinks on the way back to the ship and, as we were passing what I thought was a florists window,we noticed a silk shawl bearing the Blue Funnel badge , it was draped over an urn.
Stopping for a closer look ,we saw it bore the name of one of our sister ships that had been in port when we arrived. Written beneath the badge was the legend ,?In Memory of,? and here it bore the name of a seaman known to the SOS, ?who was killed on the 20 th of December 1958? just two days ago!
We walked back to the ship in silence,a very sombre ending of what should have been special night.

[brian daley]

We had discharged the last of our cargo and made the ship ready to sail for home, I was a little more “savvy” than when we had left London ,this time I was trusted to stand by with the after crowd . It was all rope work at the poop. It was my job to coil the ropes as they were hauled back on board. It was getting on dusk as we made our way out of St Pauli ,I heard the second mate calling “You Lad “ I looked around to see what he wanted ,it was me he was calling. “Get aloft and clear the house flag” he said. I looked up at the after mast and saw that the flag was stuck in the rigging at the highest point of the topmast. He wanted me to go up there?
I stood gaping at the mast “Today…..please!!” he said firmly. I nodded and fled up there, it was exhilarating. , the deck shrunk in size as I ascended ,I looked out across the harbour and could see for miles, I must have taken too long for I heard him yelling from below. It was only a kink in the halyard that had snagged in the block. Job done , I descended and felt like I had passed a milestone. The sky was blackening as we cruised down the Elbe ,word had it that we were heading into a gale. Being mess peggy ,I had to get the sailors dinner served so did’nt get chance to watch the scenery going down to Welcome Point,it was dark anyway and by the time we got out of the river we were in very heavy seas.. My first storm, the wind was screaming through the rigging and the sky and the sea was black, white hores stampeded on the wave tops and the ship juddered and rolled ferociously. She was empty of cargo and seemed to bounce and shake , I should have been frightened ,seasick and cowering in my bunk, I was none of those things, I was fascinated, no movie ,no story book could prepare you for this. The endless mountains of waves ,rolling toward you ,curling and crushing against the bows , the engine seemed to race as the stern was lifted from the sea,and everything in the messroom was on the move. We had battened down and were roaring toward home. I was very tired after such a long day and got my head down early. Some of the daymen were doing overtime cleaning the hatches and my two cabinmates had joined them. I did’nt take much rocking to get to sleep, I was deep in my slumber when I was shaken roughly awake. Whammy stood by my bunk,he had on his oilskins and so’wester, a haunted look on his face.”Get up!!” he yelled, were we sinking? I was scared stiff, “Get on yer ‘skins and get down number 2 hatch,tell Lampy the fore tops’ls blown out and and we’re gonna lose the mast!!”
I scrabbled into my gear and made hurriedly for the deck, “ Get down there quick lad or we've all had it!!!” he called after me, I sped as though on winged feet.
In through the masthouse and down that ladder, I must have looked as the I was being chased by the very hounds of hell. Out of puff and gasping for breath ,I managed to shout out the garbled message, and ,as the words left my lips ,I realised that I had been had……again! Blushing like hell,I ascended the ladder to roars of laughter. Bloody sails ,on a motor vessel. Whammy was well in his cups when I got back, he gave me a cuff and said “Ye’ll larn lad,ye’ll larn” This was Christmas Eve ,a bit different from home,no use hanging a stocking up here boy.
Next morning was different, no work was done by the deck crowd,only the watch men and the peggies had to do their bit. If I thought the food had been good before , the fare on Christmas Day was awesome . It started off with a gargantuan breakfast and then was followed by a Christmas Dinner right out of Dickens.
The Captain allowed the men a generous ration of ale and all those not on duty got stuck in to a bacchanalian rout.We peggies had to keep the nosh coming and to keep a low profile ,old salts don’t like uppity kids. The Captain and the Mate came down to the mess during our evening meal, he brought a couple of cases of Double Diamond ,a bottle of Four Bells rum and made a toast, after which he made a sharp exit and let the men to continue their carousing.
As soon as he left ,some of the younger A,B.s thought it would be fun to have a bun fight , it might look fun in a Laurel and Hardy movie ,but when you’re the poor sod who has to clean up afterwards, it kind of takes the shine off it. There were trifles splattered on the deckhead (ceiling) meat pies and all manner of cakes squashed on the deck ,there was a hardly a square inch that was‘nt grunged and us peggies were stuck at it for hours before we got it clean again. Our alley was quite lively when we got back to our bunks , there was the sound of drunken singing coming from the cabins. The other lads said it would be best if we kept out of the way,if things got too rowdy we might get hurt. It was too noisy to go asleep so we thought we would go to the mess room and have a cup of something. I was the last to leave the cabin and ,as I was walking to the door on deck ,an A.B. from the Dingle ,Big Peter, called me to his cabin. “’Ave a drink pegs “ he slurred,offering me a bottle of Double Diamond . I was chuffed ,he had never said a word to me before then. He slumped down on his bench “Go on, gerrit down yer” he said, I raised the bottle to my lips and was smashed in the face by his bony fist .”Never let me see you drinkin’ yer F++++’n punk” He grabbed the bottle off me and slung me out his cabin. Smarting with pain ,and anger,I made my way to the mess and found it empty. I could hear the sound of an Elvis Presley record coming from a nearby cabin and went to investigate. Passing Whammys cabin ,I saw him sitting at his desk, a bottle of scotch to hand ,working on a belt that he was making, it was like macramé and had a Navajo Indian pattern. He paused and looked at me ,”it’s all about knots lad “ he said,”learn your knots and you could do this”. He reached under his desk and pulled out a Turks Head, “ make me one of these before we get to Birkenhead an’ I’ll gi’e ye a pound” .He passed the knot to me and let me go. The music was coming from the chief cooks cabin next door, I could hear the other 2 peggies in there and went to join them. They were drinking Tennants lager and motioned me to come in. The cook looked at me with drunken eyes “’Ere she is, Madame X, come and sit by me “ he leered. He was very, very drunk. A can of lager was stuck in my hand, the first I had ever tasted, it was good, the music was good ,and pretty soon there was another can, and then a glass of rum. I was getting whoozy. I did’nt notice the lads go, somehow it was just the cook and me. He looked at me in a way I had never been looked at before,
“ You’re a sexy little bastid y’know “ he said rising out of his seat, “I’ll show you what shagging is all about boy “ I stood up to go and he grabbed me about the waist. He was a strong swine ,he was panting and he forced me toward his bunk,” I’m gonna ‘ave you boy “ I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he strugglied to undo my belt. I was kicking and wriggling for my life. The bosuns’ cabin was next door and I screamed for help ,my hands were free and I reached across his bunk and banged the bulkhead but nothing was heard but the sounds of rock and roll. I managed to twist around and I kneed him in the crotch,causing him to loose his hold. I shot for the door and he tried to grab me again ,but I was through it and pulled it shut on his fingers with a pleasing crunch. I raced back to my cabin ,the lads were sound asleep and I nearly cried ,so lonely and helpless did I feel. Christmas night, peace on earth and goodwill to all men . Next morning,when I told them what had happened , they said that he was having a laugh , I was mistaken and that nothing would have happened. I knew different ,I had felt his erection sticking into my back!
We got to Birkenhead on the 27th of December,nice and early, we were paid off and could go home as soon as we liked , I had to clean up in the mess and the other peggies helped ,one of the O.S.s said that he would pack my kitbag so that we could all get the bus and ferry together . I thought how kind he was and thanked him. When I got to the cabin,all was shipshape ,the kitbag locked and ready and then it was off ashore.We caught the bus at Morpeth lock and the O.S. said to bring my kitbag upstairs, someone might nick it from under the stairs, I had to look after it ,I had 200 hundred duty free in there.
When we got upstairs ,he took my bag off me and opened it,it was stuffed full of his smuggled duty free!! And one of my cabin mates had stuffed a ruddy great shackle in there for good measure. I did see the funny side. When we got off the ferry at the Pier Head ,I felt a bit sad a leaving these new made friends, it had been less than a fortnight ,but it had seemed like a lifetime. Walking toward my bus stop , I was filled with happy anticipation of seeing my family once more.

[Ged]

Should be in a book all this Brian.

[lindylou]

Should be in a book all this Brian.

I keep telling him that Ged

[brian daley]

Since finishing that last posting ,other memories of my first trip have surfaced into consciousness. The strange feeling you experience when stepping on to terra firma after a few days of bad weather, the solidity throws you out of kilter. Your first few steps are wobbly ,so used are you to the pitch and roll. Secondly ,the silence , every moment at sea you are living with the constant beat of the engines ,like a child in the womb is soothed by its? mothers heartbeat ,so the measure of a sailors day is to the accompaniment of the engines tune. It was hard to get to sleep for the first few nights at home.
When we received our pay off ,I found that Captain Curphey had not deducted the ?3 .00 he had given me in Hamburg, the S.O.S ,however repaid me the ?3.00 he had whipped out of my hand in the Winkelstrasse. This money,combined with the laundry money and my pay,with overtime, gave the princely sum ?11.18s,after deduction of insurance, union dues and 2 allotment of a pound a week to my Mum. I was awash with dosh!!
When I stepped off the 82 bus at Speke road Gardens ,I felt like a millionaire.
My elder sister, Jess was now courting ,very seriously ,a local man named Graham, we had known him for years ,and he was part of the welcoming committee that greeted me as I arrived home. It was still fairly early and Mum suggested that I might want to spend some of my money on a new outfit ,I had grown out of all my existing clobber. I still fitted my blue zipper jacket with the white piping on the lapels. I thought I looked very American in that, ah! the delusions of youth. That jacket and a pair of gaberdine trousers , were the only things that fitted me. Mum refused to take any keep off me ,she told me top get some decent clothes instead. So, it was off to town to get kitted out. Mum came with me and I went to Burtons, Hepworths, and Lewis?s before I settled on beautiful brown suit with a subdued tartan pattern. Mum bought me a Tattersall check shirt to go with it and I got a pair of golden brown suede shoes from Lennards. An emerald green cheese cutter and Lovatt pattern woollen tie finished off the ensemble. Never in my life had I felt so complete as a person, Dad said I looked like the Duke of Bootle.

That night Mum and Dad let me have a drink ,the first official drink at home. I was too elated to do much that night, so I stayed in with my Mum and kid sisters watching I love Lucy and whatever else there was on then. I had expected to have a good few days in which to enjoy my new status ,see Anne, my cake shop girl and go and see Harry. Well ,the best laid plans of mice and men etc.; next morning there was a telegram from Blue Funnel, I had to ?phone them immediately. I went to the ?phone box by Bryant and Mays and made the call. Did I want to sail on another of their ships was what they wanted to know, I answered yes ,yes !
They told me to go to Birkenhead ,now, and pick up my ticket for the midnight train for Glasgow. I had had one night at home, talk about torn. I was to join the Jason for a voyage to Australia. It seemed unbelievable, to cross half the world ,journeying through European ,Arab and Australian ports . I went home in a tizz.
Mum eyes filled up when I told her, but she never cried, I looked at Bette and Chris, and wondered if they knew how much I would miss them. And Anne and Harry, no time to see them and tell them the news. Instead it was a trip into the Army and Navy Stores to buy a Lybro jacket and some dungarees. I was embarrassed wearing the Vindi outfit and wanted to look like the rest of the crowd. I picked up the ticket from the Odyssey works and went home and packed.
I left home in plenty of time to catch the midnight train , I did?nt want mum or sis to see me off, and was too embarrassed to ask Dad. So there I was in Lime Street, kit bag and new suitcase (Mum said not to wear the suit on the train, It would get rumpled on the long journey). Sixteen years and seven months of age, and making the biggest journey of my life.
At that time of night ,Lime Street belonged to travellers and bums, most of the travellers were Scots returning home for Hogmanay, there was no rowdiness, just the polite chatter of strangers. Because I had missed Christmas ,and was going to miss New Year, Mum had made me up a parcel of her fabulous Christmas fare.
She had put in a very large wedge of her Christmas cake, this was a juicy confection, full of whiskey and fruit, the marzipan and soft icing giving it a magical once a year taste. I was going to enjoy that on the train. Just before we were due to leave, an old guy, who looked as though he had had a very hard time ,came and asked me for some money so he could get a bite to eat. He told me that he was an ex Merchant Navy man and could see that I was a sailor ,he was a flatterer. I fell for his story though and gave him my Mums package. The look on his face was wonderful ,it was showing ?F=+&^n? cake!? but he thanked me with words.
I was going to need that packet ,or so I thought .When the train got under way, my fellow passengers were kindness itself, they had come well prepared and were starting their celebrations early. We travelled through the night ,stopping at very few stations, but each time we did ,it was to pick some more home going Scots.
By the time we got to Glasgow ,I was looking forward to Hogmanay.I still had a couple of pounds left.
A new day was dawning, what was I walking into now ?

[brian daley]

Bootsie ,Billo and Me

I joined the Jason in Govan ,she seemed much bigger than the Eumaeus, by just over two thousand tons. She had the same graceful lines and ,with the extra tonnage ,had an even greater appearance of strength and solidity. Laying just along the quay from her was the Eumaeus ,she was beginning to load cargo for her next voyage to the far east. There was hardly anyone about when I got aboard ,no bosun or deck crew were visible . I went up to the chief officers cabin to report and he took me along to the captains cabin to get signed on. My situation here was as it had been on the Eumaeus, I was a last minute replacement.
The captain sent me along to the second steward to draw my linen and towels,and he showed me to the peggies cabin after giving me the necessary.
The cabin was laid out differently to the one I had just vacated ,the three bunks were in line, two ,one atop the other, as you came through the door,and the third at the end of these two, screened by a wooden partition from the others ,with the bottom of that bunk beneath the porthole. That was the best bunk because you could see the ocean, or the shore if you were in port. The two best bunks were already occupied. My cabin mates ,who I had yet to meet, had joined her in Liverpool. So, I was left with the top bunk , it was about 7 foot off the deck , not the easiest berth to get into and even harder to make the bed. After unpacking my gear and stowing everything away ,I made my way to the messroom to see if there was any grub ,the evening meal was being served up but there were hardly any crew about. I sat myself down at the handiest position and was tucking into my dinner, when the first A.B turned up, he had been working down the hatch ,hence my not seeing anyone, looking at me ,he said "You don't want to sit there". The messroom had been empty," I don't see anyone else wanting to sit here" I answered. "Well ,don't say I did'nt warn you" he said, sitting down to eat his own meal. I was just starting to eat my pudding when an old salt staggered through he door ,he looked as though he had been at the bottle because his eyes were shut fast and he was feeling his way about. Fumbling toward me ,he made to sit down in the place I had occupied, feeling me instead of the chair ,he cocked his head sideways and opened his eyelids, very slowly. "Poooh yurr!" he snorted as he grasped me by the scruff of the neck ,and with one yank ejected me ,hurling me across the messroom as he did so. That was my introduction to the legendary Wally Skeggs. He had some kind of affliction which made it very difficult for him to fully open his eyes, the company allowed him to sail as a promenade deck man and his disability did not stop him functioning in that capacity. He was very old and I came to love him like a grandfather. The man who warned me of my faux pas was a Welshman called Elwyn Jones , he was one of the famous Welsh Navymen , all from North Wales ,they formed the backbone of most Blue Funnel crews . I was to learn a lot of seamanship from Elwyn .But of my cabinmates ,there was still no sign. When I finished my evening meal ,I strolled along the dock to the Eumaeus , the two peggies were still aboard her ,as were a couple of the E,D.H.s.
They were happy to see me and I was even happier to see them , I would'nt have to spend the night on my own now.
We went into Govan and had a mooch around ,it was'nt the liveliest of places and it seemed a lot bleaker than Liverpool, the pubs were warm and friendly though and we passed the night quite happily. Feeling sleepy after such a long day, I made my excuses and went back to the Jason to get an early night, the three pints of Heavy were making themselves felt. When I opened the cabin door, I was shocked to see my bedding strewn about the deck, there was still no one about ,only Wally and Elwyn .I quickly remade the bunk and went to sleep in a murderous mood.
I was sound asleep when the door crashed open and the lights were switched on . Standing in the doorway was a drunken young Teddy boy and a half cut callow youth.......my cabinmates! I roared awake "Which of you two smart arses tipped my bunk to the deck ?" I shouted . Bootsie , his face contorted in drunken aggression,replied "Ooh the f8=k are yew!" Sitting up, I said "You're new cabinmate ,Now which of you two *******s tipped my gear?" Pulling his Green River deck knife out of his pocket ,Bootsie waved it at me ,"D'yew want some o' this ?" he shouted. It was a stupid thing to do ,but I did it without thinking. I rolled out of my bunk and landed on his shoulders, which sent him crashing to the deck. He had dropped the knife and I grabbed his ears whilst I sat on his chest,and gave his head a good drumming on the deck. I thought I had been fighting for my life, poor Bootsie was crying "Don't hurt me mate, don't hurt me!" Tears were pouring down his face and his body was wracked with sobs. I stood up and saw Billo,cringing in the corner ,I could see he was very frightened. I helped Bootsie up and he told me that it was one of the O.S's who had made the mess ,they were too frightened to stop him.
After that bad start ,we shook hands and got our heads down. I would have to face that O.S. in the morning.
We were called at 5.30 in the morning by the night watchman. There was a hot cup of tea and a warm slice of toast for each of us in the messroom , the night watchman had prepared it before calling us. I met the bosun ,Wilf was his name ,a man about sixty ,chubby and hard looking, he gave us peggies our duties. We would work week about as ,deck peggy, mess peggy and bosuns peggy. The work load was equally weighted , we would start at 5-30 every morning and work through , with meal breaks and smoko's, until the last plate had been washed after the evening meal . There would be a Captains inspection every morning while we were at sea ,this took place at 10-00 sharp and everything had to be spotless. My first go was as bosuns peggy, the first job I had to do every morning was to clean the recreation room. This had 8 brass portholes, six tables ,each with four slide away brass ashtrays ,and brass strips on the door way . All of that brassware had to be polished ,the deck had to be swept and washed ,and then it was up to the bridge to polish the port and starboard lights and then the telegraph and compass housing. After that little lot we had to get breakfast for the bosun , lamptrimmer and chippy, like the other meals ,they were four course ,with the appropriate tableware for each course. When they had finished , the pots had to be scrubbed ,you had to find time to get your breakfast, and then you had to scrub the petty officers bathroom, the three cabins and then ,finally, the main cross alleyway ,which was also the engine room entrance. This latter was done on your hands and knees with brillo pads to get off the oily foot marks.. The duckboards from the bathroom had to be holy stoned before it was all set for inspection. This ritual was carried out by the captain ,accompanied by the ships doctor, chief engineer and one passenger . The captain carried a torch and wore one white glove , he would stroke the top of the doors and the underside of tables, randomly , the torch was used to shine into places that were hard to reach, beneath cupboards and under bunks. Sometimes he would put a chalk mark on the inside of a lavatory bowl, unseen by you of course. If there was a smut of dirt on his glove ,or a dull piece of brass, bit of dirt in the far recesses of a cupboard or beneath a bunk, if a chalk mark was still showing ,you would lose a days pay. Sometimes, he put a penny on a shelf that was high up ,or a door ledge, anything in fact to catch a tardy peggy out. He would see the joke if you exchanged the penny for two ha'pennies.
This then was the daily morning grind of a deck boy, come 7.o clock at night we were bushed, a long soak in the bath, do your dhobying and then sit by the men as they chatted about ships and the sea. A boy could sit on the sidelines ,he was'nt expected to join in.
When I went on deck that second morning ,I saw the Eumaeus pulling way from the quay, I felt really sad , I would'nt be spending New Years Eve with the guys I knew. And I still had to face the O.S. who had destroyed my bunk .I went along to his cabin before they turned to after breakfast. He was a big lad ,Norman was his name. " Did you tip my bunk out last night ?" I asked . Looking at me with disbelief written across his face ,he said "What about if I did ?" I replied " I don't mind a joke, but you can stuff your pantomime !" and walked quickly away. His mates had seen what I had just done ,there were bound to be repercussions.
I went ashore with Bootsie and Billo that night, we had a few in the pub outside the dock gates but the mate came in and wagged a finger at us ,out we went. The next night was Hogmanay ,New Years Eve ,the dockers had told us what a fabulous night it would be. So the three of us got decked out in our best gear and made our way to the centre of Govan. People seemed to be in ever such a hurry, we soon found out why, the pubs were shutting after 8.0 clock so that the staff could get home and prepare for the coming festivities. But what about us ? What were we supposed to do until midnight? A slatternly woman came over to me asked if I would first foot them . I asked her what she meant ,and she explained that it was good luck for a dark haired man to be first at the door to bring in the New Year . Looking at my mates I asked them what they thought. Like me, they imagined a booze up and some nosh as well. So I agreed and her husband gave us their address.
It was a bitterly cold night that we exited into from the pub, we walked for ages trying to find somewhere warm to have a drink and pass the time to midnight. Around half past nine we were ready to surrender and go back aboard. This certainly was'nt the way we did New Year at home. Feeling the piece of paper with the family's address on ,I suggested we go there to get out of the cold. It was'nt far from the docks and was on the third floor of an old brownstone tenement block. We were assailed by the smell of boiled cabbage and blocked toilets as we ascended the stairs. We gave the door a hearty rap and the door was opened on to a scene of poverty ,there were grubby faced kids climbing over ragged furniture, there was a mean coal fire glimmering in the grate and the father was supping a beer straight from a bottle. " You're way early man" he said as his wife ushered us into the room. Giving us the once over ,he said "Did you no bring a bottle ?" "No" I replied , Well you can't come in here without a bottle" Hogmanay!!??
The three of us went off to Glasgow town centre, it was still early ,and though the main square was festooned with festive lights ,there was hardly a soul about . There was a chestnut seller at the side of the square so we went over to get a warm by his stove ., Also standing there were some harridans ,there faces overly made up so that they looked like parodies of prostitutes. At least in their fifties ,they were eying us up as potential customers."Would you no like a wee girlie?" one of them wheezed. Jeez, lets get outta here !!! We fled back to the comfort of our cabin ,where all was silent. We still had two full days to go before we left for the continent.

Norman could get me any time..........................

[brian daley]

We were still in Glasgow and I was expecting to be tackled by Norman, for what could appear ,to him, impudence. I had given a senior rating "lip". Billo and Bootsie told me that Norman was threatening to put me in my place ,in fact I got some very heavy glowers from him but nothing else. Being a natural born coward, I did my best to avoid any situation that would put me and him alone together .On the evening of the first day after the New Years break I waited until all the lads had gone ashore before I ventured abroad . Instead of going to the pub by the dock gates, I went to the Black Cat cafe a little further down the street. It was empty when I walked in , behind the counter stood a young girl, about 16 or 17 years old . I was wearing my plaid suit and cheese cutter and I could see from the look on her face that she was bemused. I asked for a coffee and a scone and she brought them to my table, there were just the two of us and she sat down and asked where I was from. She knew the Jason and told me that none of the boys came to the cafe any more. It was'nt much of a place so I could understand why. I asked her what her name was , it was Betty, she looked a bit like Connie Francis ,she black wavy hair, regular teeth and dark flashing eyes. We spent a little while chatting and I asked what someone like me could do until she finished work. When she asked why , I answered that I would like to walk her home. She told me she did'nt finish until after 10.00p.m. and there was only the pictures if I did'nt want to go the pub. I finished my coffee and told her I would come back later to see her home.
She gave me a big smile and said "See Ya Later".
The only film on the cinema was Merry Andrew with Danny Kaye and Pier Angeli , I paid my shilling and spent the next two hours thinking of Betty. Back out in the cold , I made my way through the gas lit streets to the Black Cat ,the lights were still on so she would still be there. I pushed the door open and was surprised to gang of Teddy boys sitting at the tables. The door closed behind me and I turned round to see who had closed it and saw 2 more Teds standing by it. Sitting at the table nearest the counter was a huge blonde haired guy with a razor scar that ran from his forehead to his lower jaw . He looked fearsome , he nodded and I felt my arms gripped by the Teds who had been standing at the door. I was scared to death ,what the hell was going on. They took me to his table,"So you're Brian" he said. I nodded affirmatively."And ye want to see Betty to her hame?". I nodded yes again. "She's ma sister ,by th'way" .I blanched ," So ya ask me furst".
To say I was tongue tied would be an understement. He nodded to the boys at my side and they let go of my arms. "Sit" he said ,I sat.Ah'm Johnny an' these are my boys2 he said gesturing round at all the gang. "We're the Bingo Gang, and we run this place. He called to Betty and told her to fetch me a drink and proceeded to give a potted history of what he and his gang did ,they were razor boys. His tale was filled with stories of chibbing , when he saw that I had'nt the foggiest of what chibbing was, he pulled out a flick knife and jabbed with it ."That's chibbing boy" he said ,he then got on to the subject of Betty. Yes I could walk her home ,but I would have 2 of his men to watch out for me, so no funny business . Tomorrow night I could take her to Barrowlands and 2 of his boys would watch out for me there too.
I was the perfect gentleman when I walked Betty back to her Tenement, the 2 Teds were lurking in the background and I did'nt know what the form was, if I touched her would I get a braining? She pulled me into the stairwell and gave me a kiss, and then I kissed ,holding her for a little while I felt the stars shine down over Govan.
Next day sped by in a blur, I could'nt get ashore fast enough ,this was going to be our last night in Glasgow and I was spending it with Betty. She was waiting for me at the Black Cat with our escorts , we got the tram into town and we had a good chat, they were just as wild as Johnny ,with their stories of razor fights and chibbings, they both had faces like patchwork quilts. When we got to Barrowlands they stayed in the background and I spent the next few hours twirling Betty around the dance floor.That was in the days of the big bands and glitterballs ,it was a night of musical magic , a pretty girl ,great music and not a care in the world ,what more could could a kid of 16 and a half ask for.?
Walking Betty home that night ,I was struck at just how lucky I had been to meet her, she was pretty ,good to be with ,and hard to leave. We kissed and cuddled in her stairway and ,as I walked away after saying goodbye, her brother strolled along with me. He told me he would see me safe through the neighbourhood, and ,as we walked ,he asked me if there was anyone aboard I would like chibbing . I had to stop myself from laughing , he was serious, I was Bettys' boy and if anybody gave me a hard time ,Johnny would chib them . I thanked him for the offer , and as the docks came into view, I bade him goodbye.
As I was walking past a shop doorway I heard the faint mewing of a cat, stopping to look ,I saw a little tortoiseshell kitten cowering in the corner, she was tiny .
I looked about and could see no sign of her mother and bent to stroke her, she looked so lost ,and I was still feeling good after my night with Betty. I let her follow me back to the ship. There was no one about when I got to the gangway,so I picked up puss and took her to the messroom to give her a saucer of milk.
She was starving ,and polished off a bowfull in no time. I left her in there and went to get my head down.
She was still their in the morning and we were due to sail, what to do ? I did'nt have to worry the cook liked her and gave her some titbits,we had a ships cat!
We left Glasgow and set sail for Hamburg, but this time there would be no trip to the Winkelstrasse ,I was saving my money for Antwerp,that was where we would go after Hamburg . The older hands told we three boys that we would all lose our cherries in Skipper Street at a place called Danny's Bar. We could'nt wait.

[brian daley]

Glasgow was now behind us and we were sailing up around Scotland on our way to Hamburg, I would'nt be going ashore this time ,we were saving our money for Antwerp. We three deck boys were now getting settled into our routine ,we were up and out of our bunks at first call every morning; we had learned to our cost that it did'nt pay to ignore the man who called you, if you were not out of your bunk by second call ,you could be rudely awakened by a bucket of icy water. I was lucky I had the top bunk,Billo was the first one to suffer the icy awakening,and that's all it took for me and Bootsie to be early risers thereafter.
The Galley staff on the Jason were all English ,mostly Merseysiders ,and as she was a first class passenger liner,she only carried about 30 ,the catering staff were all top men. The chef was a man called Alf Brierley, he was as round as he was tall ,with arms like great big hams ,his number 2 was a man called Pete Heygarth,I think I've spelt that right. Pete looked like someone out of the Godfather, tall, granite faced with tight wavy black hair and a mercurial temper. The sous chef was a sleepy eyed laid back guy whose name I've long forgotten,but whose small kindnesses I remember well. The baker was a little camp guy ,the colour of the flour he worked with,dumpy and nearly always smiling, Billy the Baker could make tabnabs that would melt in your mouth and bread so fresh and light that it was no sooner made than eaten. Whenever I saw Larry Grayson on T.V. he always evoked memories of Billy with his soft ,camp humour.
We also had a deck crowd of regulars,these were men who would sail on the same ship for years. Wally Skeggs had been on the Jason for longer than he could remember, the Bosun,Wilf ,was also part of the fittings ,the Lamp trimmer Vic ,he was a Blue Funnel man who had been on the Jason for a couple of trips ,and then there was Elwyn,another regular. Frankie Kearns, was a man I would like to have modelled myself on ,quiet, almost taciturn,he only spoke when he had something worth saying. There was big Mike, a Russ Conway look alike, "Ruby" Murray ,an acid wit who was liked by everyone, Alan Roydes, international playboy, Peter Jeremiah ,another Welsh Navy man,Lenny Pitman ,from the south west ,he had a lovely accent ,I think he was from Cornwall. We had a deck crew of 22 , 9 men were watch keepers ,we had 2 senior ordinary seamen, 2 junior ordinary seaman ,three deckboys ,and the other six men ,were day workers. The sailors peggy had to scrap up after those 22,each meal being of four courses ,meant four pieces of crockery per man per meal ,plus cups and cutlery ,it was a huge undertaking but one that was very quickly mastered. There was always a plentiful supply of hot water and suds. The one thing we did'nt like was people who lingered too long over a meal, our free time was dependent on getting our jobs finished and we would use every stratagem to get the guys fed and out of that messroom as soon as possible. But there was always an awkward bugger,the guy who,instead of taking his post prandial cup outside ,liked to hog the table thus stopping us getting finished. Thankfully it never happened too much. The peggies life was also made sharper by the galley staff ,they seemed to resent us ,we boys were always copping the sharp end of their tongues. Like us ,they wanted to get their work finished and have a break too. So meal times ,for those whose job it was to to make things happen, was always fraught, you tried your best not to upset the cook,you tip toed round the second cook because like his soups ,he was always simmering. But gradually and by degree you tuned in with the mood and got on with the job. As deckboys we were expected to be seen but not heard,when the senior ratings sat talking about who was sailing on what ship and whatever happened to so and so ,I being unwise in the way of things ,would often join in, having overheard my uncles and grandfathers talking of the men they had sailed with and the ships they had sailed in,I would offer a titbit here and a mention there ,blissfully unaware that I was treading on forbidden ground. We were on our way to Antwerp when the dam burst, Frankie Kearns was chatting with the rest of the lads around the table, when he was talking about who was bosun on the one of the Empress boats ,I jumped in with the name I had heard at sometime . Frank turned around and said "The next bleedin' thing you' be tellin' us is you know the Commodore of Cunard!!"” “ Yes “ I replied “ Mr Thompson,he lives at 6 The Serpentine”
Jaws sagged in disbelief as Frankie screamed something unprintable ,but I got the message.
Billo and I started to make a little money on the side by doing a bit of dhobying for the A.B.’s. We were not going to get rich but everything helped ,we all left allotments for our mothers, it was’nt resented ,it was the custom then and a ships Captain would take a very dim view of you if you never made an allotment out for your mum. I used to send home 30 bob a week,you did’nt miss it because you never got paid until you got back to England. So all those extra pennies were going to come in handy when we went on the town in Antwerp. It was cold when we docked in the old port, there was a depressed feeling about the place, the war was over fourteen years ago but these people seemed very poor. The lads were selling coffee ,cigarettes and even blankets, one of them said women would sell their bodies for a proper tin of coffee, we did’nt have any proper coffee so we deckboys we not going to lose our cherries for a tin of Maxwell House. And anyway ,had’nt all the lads told us that there were all those beautiful ladies awaiting our young white bodies in Dannys’ Bar?
And so it was that the three unwise, and very foolish virgins, excitedly made their way through the ancient gas lit streets of Antwerp, seeking out that nirvana, we never broke our stride ,soon we were in Skipper Straat, the neon signs winked brightly in the gloom. There it was ! Dannys’ Bar the bright green neon lighting the way to heaven. It was only about 8.00p.m. and the streets were not yet crowded ,we entered the bar and were almost blinded by the lights and mirrors,chrome and dark mahogany and brass. The most beautiful women that I had seen this side of the silver screen sat at the tables around the bar. There were no men in there ,just us three boys. There was a Lana Turner lookalike in an off the shoulder gown ,her pale skin and generous bosoms thrusting at the front of her dress ,there was Jane Powell,and Rhonda Fleming too.The guys had been telling the truth,and they wanted to sit with us!!Oh heaven,this surely was Fiddlers Green. So there we where, a lady by each of our sides and they were buying our drinks. Somebody put a record on the jukebox and Lana took my hand and led me to the floor. She took a firm hold of me ,pressing her body into mine ,should I kiss her? her perfume and the feel of her bosom thrusting into my chest had my hormones running wild. Her husky continental accent,sounding like Marlene Dietrich had my trousers near at bursting point ,she knew and whispered into my ear “You want to make love Dollink?” she asked, rasping her five o’clock shadow against my virginal cheek.AAAARRGH!!!!! Lana was a Laddie,not a lady We three made our discovery almost simultaneously ,as we shot to the door we could hear Danny laughing his head off ,”Good night Darlings” he cried after us.
We were shattered,when we got outside. What do we do now? It was only early and there was a bar next door,the sign over the door said the Zig Zag Bar,let’s give it a try. In we went and this place was full of young women ,real women, not all raving beauties, but women . We sat down and ordered three beers ,the barmaid wagged her finger,no beer ,we’ll have a coke then .No coke she wagged,she pointed to the door and the we took a closer look at our surroundings, this was a lesbian bar. What kind of a mad world had we wandered into. When we got out into the street we did’nt know which way to go ,left or right ,we did’nt know the place. So we turned right ,the street was really poorly lit ,it had rained and the cobblestones glistened in the gaslight ,up the street we walked and just ahead in the darkness ,we could see a great big Norseman ,stripped to the waist,battering a man ,and laying on the pavement were two bodies ,motionless. Oh dear god ,what kind of a nightmare where we in. We turned a corner and saw a neon sign winking its name,The Cosmo, it had clear glass windows and we could see lads our age in there. Seeking a safe haven ,we entered into its’ cheery brightness and sat in a circular booth ,ordering three beers as we did so. Billo was visibly upset, the fight had unsettled more than anything ,it had been very violent. As we sat commiserating our selves ,we were joined by a French Foreign Legionnaire, he looked at Billo and asked him what had upset him. He seemed very friendly and Billo opened his heart to him, the Legionnaire put his arm around Billos’ shoulder as though to comfort him ,just as I noticed two of the barmen sticking their tongues down each others throats. WHOA!!! Lets get outta here!! We fled out the door ,down the street ,past the Big Skowegian adding another stiff to the pile on the pavement ,when we were brought up short by a group of men having a real knife fight on the
other side of the street. They were by a gas light and you could see the blood covered knives flashing in the lamplight ,we cowered in a doorway. It was so brutal,there about six of them and it seemed to last forever; you could hear the grunts and screams and we were near in hysterics. Hope to God they don’t see us in the doorway . Suddenly shots rang out ,and we could see some policemen running up the street toward the fight. There was a creaking sound behind us and we turned to see a small black guy ,he had a white dinner jacket on and a red carnation in his lapel .Tugging on his bow tie he said “Come on in boys. It’ safer in here”
What were we going into now? It was so dark ,there were people moving about in the shadows and we began to see a little better as our eyes adjusted to the darkness. We were in a brothel. The man was very kind,he could see that we were real babes in the wood and he gave us each a beer and ,when all was quiet outside ,he bade us goodnight and let us out into the darkness. Our feet never touched the ground until we got back to the ship. Abroad was very different from Garston!!

[brian daley]

We went to Dunkirk after Antwerp,I never saw very much of it but I was shown the “scars” that were still visible of that awful episode in World War two,the stone work at the harbour mouth was a mass of shrapnel marks. It was hard to imagine the carnage that had taken place there not a lifetime ago.
On the way there I was given a bit of good news, good for me that is; Norman would not be making the voyage to Australia, he had been arrested in Antwerp for a bit of GBH. and was being held in jail awaiting trial . Somebody up there must have liked me. We crossed over to the Solent and picked up our passengers plus a replacement for Norman ,this was a young man who was nicknamed Bronco. I think he had been given that monicker for some past exploit with a toilet roll . I never found out the truth of the matter. Bronco was the perfect foil for “Rubys’” wit ,they had sailed together sometime before and got along fine. So, there we were, a full complement of good guys and no one to be afraid of . Our days now would be spent learning to be useful members of the crew.
The weather was brisk and the sea was choppy, this was winter in the Atlantic,my previous trip to Hamburg had removed any fears about being seasick so all the tales the lads told us about the Bay of Biscay seemed to be old salts tales. We’d be crossing it tomorrow,so what ! I’d been in a full blown storm in the North Sea, I’d got my sea legs ,bring it on !!! How are the mighty fallen………………
Bootsie and Billo were quite queasy next morning , the Jason seemed to be moving six different ways at once , Keeping things together in the mess was a nightmare,in the galley you could hear the clatter of pans and crockery as the waves buffeted and shook her . I was working with one of the A.B.s on the after hatch ,securing the the blocks on the derricks, we were on the weatherside .I noticed a passenger leaning over the promenade deck railings,he looked as though he was heaving. He was, and over the weatherside too!! Suddenly this multi coloured cloud spurted out of his mouth, it was scooped up by the wind and came hurtling aft……………all over my head !!
I was totally covered ,it was in my eyes,ears nose and mouth. I felt the gorge rising in my throat and fled toward the accommodation. I crawled to the toilet bowl and was having a technicolour yodel when I heard the soft south western tones of Lenny,”Hey Pegs,” says he “ If you feel any thing hairy in you throat, swaller quick!!” “Why?” I groaned ,”Coz’ it’ll be your arsehole boyo !!” he shrieked,laughing his head off.
The weather seemed to worsen and I seemed to worsen with it ,I must have been hollow by the time night fell. I crawled into my bunk when I finished all my chores and slept the sleep of the dead. When we were awakened the next morning I tried to throw back my sheets and blankets to get up but they were stuck to my knees. I had to peel them off for they were congealed with blood ,my blood! Billo told me that we had rolled really badly during the night and that I had been thrown out of my bunk.I had landed on my knees and they were both badly grazed . I had got back into my bunk ,all whilst still unconscious. I had no recollection of anything.
Pretty soon we were into the Mediterranean ,passing Gibraltar as we got there ,the sky was clearing but the wind was still fresh nevertheless we were in for fair weather.
As the temperature rose ,so did the spirits of the men , the blue skies and green seas seemed to have an exhilarating effect. This was time when the gear was overhauled , the block were lowered from the mast housings and oiled and greased, wire ropes were run out and given a coating of an oil and grease mixture. The mast stays were coated with Stockholm tar and the paintwork was scraped away and the bare steel plates given a good scrubbing with wire brushes and chipping hammers. All the way down the Med we chipped ,scraped and oiled. The bare steel was first coated with
A covering of boiled oil,this seeped into the pitted surfaces and helped stop oxidisation. When this had dried hard, a coating of red lead was applied and then we would put on the undercoat. By this time we had arrived at the Suez Canal.
This was our first truly foreign port of call, you can smell it before you see it , not the exotic smells of ancient Araby, but the pungent smell of thousands of years of piss and ****. But the smell belies the site, as you near the Canal you have been treated to a parade of every kind of merchant vessel that ever sailed the seven seas; tankers , liners
Arab Dhows, cargo boats,feluccas and all manner of small craft.An empty pedestal was all that remained of where the huge statue of Ferdinand de Lesseps once stood on the sea wall as you headed into the canal, a sad reminder of that short war in '56.
In the background was Port Said itself. A jumbled skyline of red tiled roofs and minarets,buildings gleaming white in the sun ,and the air filled with the sound of tug boats ,hooters ,a cacophony of car horns and the gabble of the myriad peoples milling in the crowded streets. We moored stern end onto the passenger stage and soon the ship filled with a procession of dock workers ,bumboat men ,booksellers,barbers,and ghillie ghillie men. They literally swarmed over the whole vessel. You had to make sure that your cabins were firmly locked and your portholes screwed tight.
We were fascinated, the bumboat men sold carpets,watches and Egyptian mementoes, the book sellers would sell,or swap paperbacks of every kind ,some of the lads took the opportunity to have a haircut but all of us watched the Ghillie Ghillie man.They could perform tricks that seemed impossible, this one had little chicks and three metal cups. He would place one of the chick under a cup,just like in the shell game , switch them about and then take bets as to which one the chick was under. It was under any one of them ,of course, but what surprised all of us was where it really was. When he had taken all their money ,he pointed to me ,3 rows back, and said “’E ‘as got it” and ,as he said it ,I felt it fluttering inside my shirt. To this day I still don’t know how he did it. We did’nt venture ashore in Port Said ,the passengers left for a trip to the Pyramids and would go on by train to the other end of the canal, but I would’nt have missed that journey through the Canal for anything. Once we left Port Said we sailed through Egypt,the banks to our left led to the Sinai,but the banks to our right led through farms and villages were life went on as it had done for thousands of years,we could see the fellahin at work in the fields ,riding their little donkeys and tilling their fields as that yellow orb burned brightly in the sky above. The sound carried clearly between the banks of the canal. We stopped at Ismailia to let ships coming north pass by and we saw how nice this place was , it had been a rest and recreation area for British personnel and was now used by the Russian pilots as accommadation.
Half way through we came to the Great Bitter Lakes and dropped anchor ,all those who were off duty went over the side for a swim, to my shame ,I was still a non swimmer.
Next morning we arrived at Port Tewfik and picked up the rest of our mail, the passengers too and headed into the Red Sea and seriously hot weather.
To a young boy from the north ,the Red Sea was a revelation, the sky and the sea were different shades of blue and the air was hot and dry,the only breath of air was that created by the speed of the ship. This was ideal weather for painting ,the heat kept the paint runny making it so much easier to apply. All of the deck crowd had discarded the jumpers and jeans that had been so necessary in the colder climes,shorts and flip flops would be the whole of our wardrobe from now on .We were now on our way to port Sudan where we would unload some machinery and take on water.
If there is a hotter place that ships do go than Port Sudan ,then I have never heard of it;
You could , quite literally fry an egg on the bare steel deck it was so hot. This was 1959 and it was still a British Protectorate, the dock workers were the descendants of those self same followers of the Mahdi ,who in the 19th century broke the “British Square”
Warrior like , they still wore their hair in the style of their ancestors ,we call it Afro now, then they were known as dervishes. Clothed only in a short shift ,with the black patches of the faithful ,at their waist they had the short curved sword that had decimated the British soldiers not a hundred years before.
They never bothered us , in fact they did’nt seem to take notice of our existence.
I was the bosuns’ peggy at that time, and after washing the lunchtime crocks ,I went and had 30 minutes on No.5 hatch . I fell into a very deep sleep, I had stripped to the waist and was lying face down , it was incredibly warm ,too warm . I was awakened by the Bosun telling me it was time to get back to work , putting my shirt on hurt like hell. I was badly sunburned. In those days , sunbathing was allowed ,as long as you did’nt get sunburned. You were liable for a logging and a fine if that happened . I was sunburned , but I could ‘nt tell anyone who could help with the problem. Because I could’nt afford to pay a fine. The next day blisters appeared and I was afraid to tell
The doctor in case he told one of the officers.
In no time at all, my back turned septic and began to suppurate ,by the time we had arrived in Aden I could barely see straight the pain was so great. Gradually the whole of my shoulders was scabbing over ,I could’nt admit it and so suffered in silence.
Vic , the Lampy ,came up to me and said I was’nt looking too happy,as he said it he patted my shoulder and I passed out with the pain. I came to lying face down on the hatch,the bosun was peeling my shirt off and I heard one of the lads let out an expletive. Old Wilf was kindness itself,he got me up to the doctors cabin and he dressed my back. I had learned very quickly ,and the hard way, just how dangerous the sun can be.
We sailed to Aden from port Sudan, the British still had a big base there and it was the premier refuelling port for most shipping companies .Aden was also a duty free port and a great place to go shopping. We had a night there and so we three deck boys went ashore to see what there was to buy and look around the town. Most of the shops were run by Sikhs and were stuffed full of cameras and transistor radios ,still a novelty at that time. There was no end of counterfeit goods ,everything from toothpaste ,cigarettes to Wranglers and Lee jeans..We stocked up on what little our money could stretch to and were exploring the back streets when we saw what looked like a childrens hospital ,a two storeyed building with bars on the windows,there were little boys sitting outside on benches. They were wearing little cotton shifts that were open at the back and they waved to us as we got near. When we saw grown men picking the boys out from the benches, we realised the true nature of the place ,a brothel for paedophiles!!! We had heard the lads joking about such places ,but never dreamed that they actually existed . The three of us were learning that the world was a wicked place for some. It would be a good few years before I stepped ashore to visit Aden again.
Early next morning we left the grand harbour and started to head south across the Indian Ocean ,we would sail past the Horn of Africa , the isle of Socotra to the east and journey many hundreds of miles to our first port of call in Australia. We were into flying fish waters now ,there was the Equator to cross and we would soon get our first glimpse of the Southern Cross,we were well and truly thousands of miles from home.
And I still could’nt swim!

[brian daley]

It is amazing how quickly my sunburn healed, the doctor treated it with some heavy duty ointment and the pain,and blisters, gradually disappeared. I did'nt go out into the sun uncovered because the heat was intense and we were headed for the Equator..
A swimming pool was erected in front of the forepart, it was a wood and canvas affair , it looked very primitive but it was never empty out of working hours.
During the day, the passengers and off duty officers and engineers had sole use of it.
The crew could use it at all other times, because it was adjacent the pool , number 4 hatch was the favoured place for bronzying. The watchmen who were not working would be found there everyday, a pillow ,a towel and a book were the essential requirements then, sun block was unheard of.
As sailors peggy ,I could squeeze a I hour break after the afternoon smoko ,the sun was'nt so fierce then and I used to go into the pool because it was always empty at that time.
The pool was filled with salt water and I was able to float a little , I had'nt told anyone that I could'nt swim and was determined to have a go at learning. I was still having those erotic dreams ,swimming through clear blue waters ,searching for my beautiful naked lady, she was always there waiting with open arms to receive me . The heat played hell with our testosterone levels.
I did'nt realise that my attempts at swimming were being observed ,after a couple of days I was joined in the pool by the 2nd steward, he asked if I really wanted to learn how to swim and I answered yes. Within an hour he had me swimming ,first ,he taught me to relax, then, how to float ,getting me to lay floating face downwards,he then taught the breast stroke . I was thrilled ,I was no Olympic medallist ,but I could swim. I spent every spare moment in the pool thereafter; we were going to have a crossing the line ceremony very soon and the pool held no fears for me now.

Liverpool seemed an age and another world away now , the ship was so peaceful ,the long ,slow waves of the Indian Ocean ,giving the Jason a gentle rolling motion, it was fascinating to look across the deck and watch the horizon fall and rise with the movement of the ship. This was painting weather and all the day workers were set to painting the deckheads and bulkheads, their mood seemed to be in concert with the weather, you could hear the quiet murmur as they talked ,interspersed with bursts of gentle laughter. There were no seagulls about now ,the only things flying were the fish. We three first timers were amazed at the sight of the silvery projectiles ,rocketing out of the waves and gliding for yards along the crest of the waves,they were dazzling in that brilliant sunlight.
The three of us were now a team, as with all Blue Funnel crews then, we had an hierarchy , there had to be a senior deckboy ,just as there were senior ,O.S's and leading hands. I think I was made senior hand because I was slightly older and had got one discharge in my book already ,it certainly was'nt because of my seamanship skills . Bootsie was a far better deckhand than me ,and Billo knew his rope work better than me too. They had far better training at Aberdovey than we had had at the Vindi .But I was put in nominal charge of them ,this meant that I had to see that they were doing their jobs properly in the messes and make sure that the recreation room ,bathroom and brassware were all up to standard, if they misbehaved ashore ,I would be held responsible . I would be logged ,and possibly fined ,for any of their misdemeanours. I thought it was a bit much ,but they were both good lads ,in fact Bootsie was the most popular lad with the crew . He was quiet and always had a smile on his face ,excepting for our bad start, he was never any trouble. After all our work was done ,and we had spent our evening in the rec room watching the lads play cards or some other game,we would grab a bit of supper and a cup of cocoa and then get our heads down. Laying in our bunks we would talk about everything and anything ,but ,sooner or later ,the talk always turned to "It" .We three were still ignorant and ,if the old hands were to be believed , that would all change as soon as we hit the coast .
Bootsie was like a Bonobo monkey , every spare moment in our cabin he would get himself excited and then give himself relief, three or four times a night. He would'nt break off a conversation whilst he was so engaged , we could'nt see him because of the screen, we knew by the tremor in his voice and the grunt when he had finished.
All that use had given him equipment that would have pleased any woman ,it looked like a baby's arm holding an apple . I don't know about Billo ,but I was envious as hell.
It was Saturday when we were due to cross the Line O.S's and younger A.B.s had been preparing the noxious brews that would be used as part of the ceremony ,we three did not like what we saw ,there were buckets of grease and oil and whatever else could be found to make us look disgusting.

On the day ,and at the time ,King Neptune appeared with his courtiers,the pool would not be used for the ceremony, it would take place on the steel afterdeck by No 6 hatch.
There were 2 catering lads, a middie and us three who were up for initiation. The captain ,officers and passengers stood at the promenade deck rail to view the "entertainment". We were told to hide and the Kings guards would be sent to capture us , it was traditional to act as an unwilling participant ,until the moment that you appeared before the King.
Jimmy McClay ,a young E.D.H was sent after me ,he played the part well, dragging me as I struggled to escape, as we entered the "arena" he gave me a cuffing on the back of the head ,still playing the part, I retaliated ,and, before you knew it ,we were rolling about the deck ,going at it like prize fighters. It was getting out of hand! King Neptune sussed what was going on and commanded his men to bring this vicious upstart to have his due . I realised that I had been stupid in fighting and took my gunking like a man . I liked Jimmy, and I'm glad that he liked me ,little things like that can sour a situation. There had been no bullying on the Jason so far.
The initiation over, it was clean up time and back to normal, in those days, Saturday morning was a normal working day, afternoon was time for doing your washing and ironing, we peggies earned our extra coppers by doing the A.B's shirts and denims ,we never did underwear, that was beyond the call of duty. The toilet doubled up as a laundry ,and the Jason had baths as well as showers. We would throw the heavy washing in the bath and get in there with it , we looked like those people treading the grapes, it worked wonders on the wash.
The ship carried a laundryman , a little Chinese guy called Hu Ken Lu , he was tiny and his laundry was just outside No 6 hatch, as peggy we had to take our dirty sheets and towels to him and thus got to know him a little . He was from mainland China ,where he had a family, but, because he was on the Australian run, he had'nt seen them for nearly two years. The bulkhead of his laundry had on it pictures of his wife and 2 children, Marilyn Monroe in a pin up pose and a grim faced Chairman Mao.
He seemed more sexually frustrated than anyone of us ,he was always talking about jigajig. One day ,when I went to collect some fresh laundry , he was doing the passengers private laundry and amongst the pile was an enormous pair of pink bloomers that belonged to a very matronly first class passenger , Lu got very excited ,pulling them out ,he stroked them and was chuntering away in his sing song !Whoarrrrr Yunnggg Dahhhh "he crooned as he stuck them on his head. He started doing what looked like a war dance,the knickers looking for all the world like a red Indians war bonnet, whooping ,he jumped outside and started dancing around by the hatch "Oy Oy OyOy" he whooped ,not noticing the owner of the drawers standing at the prom deck rail .Someone called out and Lu looked up, his face a picture ,he shot back in the laundry and almost cried . I left him as he awaited whatever punishment might be his due. She could'nt have reported him because nothing was ever said.

The passage across to Australia was long and relaxing ,we worked hard but the surroundings were so enjoyable, the sunsets were like no other I had ever seen.The day workers would bring their chairs out of the rec and sit at the after end of our deck, supping a can of lager as they watched the sun dipping down beyond the horizon ,and as it did so the sky would go from blue to gold upon the horizon, golden shafts under lighting what few cloud there were ,the sea mirroring the sky ,became a wash of gold and heliotrope and gradually the curtain of night was drawn across the heavens. Black and velvet, splattered with trillions of flashing diamonds, below , the sea now a rumpled black silk, soon the moon would rise and cast a shimmering path across the waters.
As night settled in the real beauty of the deep was revealed .You look over the side and there in the depths below are green clouds of light ,they seem to boil and bubble and ,of a sudden ,green rockets seem to burst and explode beneath you. Porpoise !! they flash and frolic through the phosphorous at great speeds ,putting on the most fantastic pyrotechnic display imaginable. The whole scene is so magical that you feel the urge to join them. The raptures of the deep!

Soon we would be sighting land ,each of us wondering what magic there would be in this far off land ,Australia.

[brian daley]

The weekend before we hit the Australian coast ,the Captain deemed the weather fine enough and the sea flat enough ,to have a cricket match. It was to be Officers and Gentlemen ,the deck crowd, and what stewards who were good enough ,being the Gentlemen. Nets were stretched either side of the welldeck,from the scuppers to a height of about 15 feet. We had the proper equipment and the best eleven were picked to represent our side. The captain was umpire ,and I was in the usual important role of, spectator . In such a confined space , the game was fast and rather furious;there was no really safe place to view the game ,the balls ricocheted all over the place. We never played it again ,I think it would contravene every health and safety condition today.And then there were the darts matches…………being a scorer in a rolling sea can be a very hazardous job, and just throwing a double can take forever. I never did sail on a ship that had a snooker table. Table tennis was bad enough; but I digress. 2 days out of Fremantle there was an emergency in the engine room, I can’t recall the full events of what caused the emergency, only that it was to do with a valve being jammed and steam pressure building up to a critical level. The whole of the deck crew were put on to their fire stations ,hoses were run out, the Kidde Rich fire suit was donned with the helmet at the ready .The engines were stopped and every available engineer was in the engine room working like the billy oh to get the valve released. I was assisting on a hose pipe at the engine room entrance and had a panoramic view of the proceedings.
The heat was volcanic , steam pipes hissing and shrieking. The engineers and greasers were stripped to their underpants ,sweat pouring down their bodies. The chief engineer a dour old Scotsman ,his body a mass of knotted muscle, was in the centre of danger, wrench gripped in both hands ,straining to open the valve. The heat was so bad that we in the area adjacent the entrance were being blinded by the sweat as it ran freely down our faces. I was both afraid and awestuck, any sane person would have fled ,but the men at the centre of it all worked with a feverish efficiency ,no sense of panic. Old Wilf ,the bosun ,kept us at our stations with a calming hand “Nearly done now boys” “ We’ll all ‘ave a nice cuppa when we’ve done “ Little and by degree ,the temperature rose at the tension heightened, but the older guys kept us younger one’s calm by recalling similar events they had experienced in the past. So calmed was I that I began to notice the state of the working alley. It was my job to clean it and it was getting filthy with all the activity and gear that was taking place there. I was going to have a hard job getting it clean when this lot was over. Suddenly it was all over ,valve freed, pressure dropped ,everyone back to their jobs. I was amazed at the switch from life and death to everyday. I suppose it was that attitude which led men like them to win against the odds in the last war. “They were only doing their job”
In those days ,we had fire drill ,lifeboat drill, and atomic warfare drill ,every week without fail. Life boat drill was called without warning , wherever you where in the ship ,you had to hurry to your station and get your boat into the water as fast ,and as safely ,as possible. The mate would time you and a very healthy spirit of competition always entered the proceedings. It was always the same team that put the boat down ,that would have been too easy ,we were set against each other and worked with a pride to be the best . We actually put the boat in and the ship would turn full circle while we practised our rowing skill as well. We could get a boat away , from the first warning and into the water, in under 2 minutes. Passengers could feel safe on a Bluey. I was ‘nt too keen on the Atomic warfare drill though, I was to be on the team that had the job of washing the fall out off the ship in the event of an A bomb going off.
In other words, I was expendable.

The morning of our arrival off the Port of Fremantle was heralded by a glorious sunrise ,the sky was a pastel shade of the palest blue against which the silhouette of the dark finger of land split the sea and the sky. There was a gentle breeze blowing from the shore, riffling the wave tops and the gulls wheeled and turned overhead, gleaming whitely in the first rays of a newly risen sun. The outcrops of the horizon began to take on form, set against the sunlit background the geometry of the town began to take shape. I was filled with an excitement as we ran out the rope and springs in readiness for berthing, the decks were being made ready for the unloading of our cargo and there was an organised bustle as everyone went about their respective duties. As sailors peggy my job was to get the breakfasts in for the deck crowd ,we would just have time for before we were ready to dock. I stood outside the messroom ,watching as we neared the port. A launch was cutting its’ way through the blue towards us , it was the bow wave like a bone in its mouth. It was a silver colour ,and, washed in the morning sun it looked almost magical. A young girl stood in front of the wheelhouse, her blonde hair streaming in the breeze, she was only a child of ten or eleven, may have been the pilots daughter but with her flaxen hair and her golden skin ,dressed in a floral print frock, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Remembering the children from that cold northern city ,I was enraptured by that golden child . Sometimes I recall that scene and remember the feelings I had then, this was a country that I would be happy for my children to live in. Australia fair.
Soon the Customs men came aboard and rummaged through our cabins to see if we had any contraband , we had bought watches and mementoes from Port Said ,prayer rugs and pyramids . A giant sized Customs man asked Bootsie if he had anything to declare ,”No ,only a f**king rug” he said ,”Gor’blimey blue “ said the man ,”I did’nt know they made them for that now!” Our first introduction to that dry wit that the Aussies excel in. We did’nt get chance to get ashore in Fremantle , we were only there a couple of hours, but what we saw of the dockworkers really opened our eyes.
Wharfies they were called ,and they came to work in what we would call leisure clothes ,get changed in their locker rooms and set to work in shorts and tartan patterned shirts, they were so CLEAN!!!. They were also sticklers for union rules. Demarcation lines were rigidly observed ,you were not allowed to operate any of the winches while they were aboard .We had been prepared for this by the bosun and lampy before we got there, you did as you were told and stuck to the guidelines ,no exceptions allowed. Apart from that , we found them to be a great gang of workers ,and they all wore trilbies !! Nearly everyone over 20 wore a hat in those days , the hatters of Oz must have made a fortune then.
By afternoon we were back at sea, heading for our next port of call, Adelaide, on the other side of the Great Australian Bight, a journey of many hundreds of miles.
It was high summer when we were there , the temperature was in the high 90’s and we heard reports of the very young and the very old being badly effected by the heat ,some had died because of it. As we sailed down the coast to Cape Leeuwin , we could see the trees on fire in the forests ,it was like a scene from hell ,in the dark you could see the infernos glowing as we swept by . Soon we turned past the corner and ,passing Cape Howe ,had our last look at the land for a few days ; we were now on the northern limits of the Southern Ocean. Here we would gain a loyal companion , an albatross, probably the most beautiful of all sea birds. When Elwyn pointed it out to me ,it was far astern, a tiny dot high in the sky, it seemed to glide lazily,now along the wave tops ,then soaring aloft ,almost to the clouds. It swooped and soared and soon took station above our stern. It stayed with us all the way across the bight ,a solitary giant keeping quite sentinel as we sailed safely on.

I went out on deck on a crisp and early morning ,the clouds like little puffs of cotton wool scudding across a turquoise sky ,a gentle breeze making the white horses on the wave crests, standing on the starboard side of the after well deck ,I heard the sound of the Captains voice intoning a prayer and looked up to the prom deck and saw a huddle of uniforms standing by the rail as the Captain read out some words from the Bible.
A church service , here in the Great Australian Bight? I stood, intrigued as to what was happening, the Captain finished speaking and handed the good book to a middie who then handed him a jar. The captain the took the lid off it and then shook it over the side. A cloud of ashes blew out and swirled through the air, the breeze picked it up and blew it over the afterdeck ,covering me in the process . The Mate hurried down to me and helped dust me clean. They were the last earthly remains of the young man whose memorial I had seen draped in the undertakers window in Hamburg , and here he was now ,in my eyes and in my hair. He had expressed a wish before he died that he be cremated and have his ashes cast into the Bight. It brought home with a force just how small this little planet can sometimes appear.
Not too long before we get to Adelaide ,we should be there a little longer than we were in Fremantle. The tales the older men were spinning around the mess room table were making we three virgins very excited. Lots of young Australian ladies we waiting for the chance to bring us into manhood ,and ,if that was’nt enough ,there were men who would come down to the dockside cafes to find young sailors to take back to their wives so that they could have a bit of young lust. Oh roll on Adelaide ,we are ready and willing to answer the needs of Australias womanhood !!

[brian daley]

Well here we are, nearly a month board the Jason and I have missed telling you something that happened to me ,I lost my name! Old Wilf , the bosun , thought that I looked like Alfalfa ,the goofy kid in the movie shorts “Our Gang” .The name stuck and everyone called me Alf for short……..until I bought a cap in Aden .Then I was called Andy ,after Andy Capp in the Daily Mirror cartoon strip. That name stuck with me for nearly two years. It was only after I left the Blue Funnel line that I got my real name back.
So it was as Andy that I sailed into Adelaide. We were going to be there for two days so this time we would have the chance to see what Australia was really like.
It was quiet! Adelaide seemed to be about 50 years out of date ,the streets were wide,there were hitching posts out side the shops and the sidewalks were like those you see in the western movies. Verandahed to give shade from the strong sunlight,the shop windows were set back out of the sunshine. We never found any lively places and ended up going to the cinema. I can’t remember what we saw , but I do remember the audience, they seemed to be predominantly Italian. And they gabbled through the entire movie . In those days the National Anthem was always played at the end of a show , a picture of the Queen would be displayed as the music sounded ,and we always stood to attention until it finished. All my life that had been the tradition, here ,the music played and the Italians made a mad dash for the door. We were disgusted ,never had we seen such shows of disrespect . How old fashioned we must have seemed, it was only the few crewmen of the Jason and some very old Ozzies that stayed until the end.
So, we put Adelaide down as waste of time for young sailors, Port Melbourne was next.
We thought it was a beautiful place, big wide bay, a café on the pier and a few liners tied up alongside, very picturesque. There were two Italian liners in port and the crews on them were on strike, the bars and cafes were full of them , although they were on strike they seemed to be having a good time, every spare girl was taken up by them. We lads never got a look in at the port so we got the train into Melbourne to see what was cooking up there. This was the busiest place we had been to so far ,very Victorian in design, it was clean and had some handsome buildings. Across the road from the station was a pub in which there was a painting of a naked lady called Chloe; we had been told by the lads that you had to have a beer there before you could claim to have been to Melbourne. We did and I’m afraid we overdid it because we got very,very drunk. Somehow I ended up back on the beach in Port Melbourne,flat on my back on the sand, being shocked awake as the incoming tide washed over my head. It did’nt take many jugs of joy to make us tipsy.
It was at Port Melbourne that I was first introduced to the “gashmen”,these were the men who would collect all the waste food. Normally we would just empty the gash bucket over the side ,here all of the waste was collected and put into a big cart on the back of a truck. The stench of them was dreadful and these guys had to level the loads as they went along,this they did with their barefeet. It was bizarre to see them slapping the piles of gash down with their feet, they looked a bit like line dancers.
We moved up river into Melbourne itself to discharge more cargo and it was while we were there that the news came that Buddy Holly had been killed in ‘plane crash. As most of the crew were young men this had a saddening effect on them. The radio station played non stop tributes to the three young men who had died in the crash, Buddy ,the Big Bopper and Richie Valens . Funny how things stay with you down the years, I was sujying with a bucket of teepol mix when one of he A.B.s working with me started to tell me how that would be the end, no more rock and roll, Don Mclean
sang about it 20 or so years later in American Pie.
The bosun showed me how to make some extra cash in Melbourne, none of the lads stayed aboard for lunch, they would all go down to the nearest boozer for a liquid lunch. Wilf told me to draw all the meals as usual and he would get his mate ,the wharfie gang boss ,to bring his lads in for a meal. I got half a crown a dinner,three courses of course.. This had been a tradition for years and I did’nt have to give Wilf a piece of the action. It put a bit of spending money my way and I went night clubbing for the first time in my life.
Now Melbourne was not a wild town ,the pubs closed at six o’clock of an evening
So night clubs and illegal shebeens were the only places you could get a drink of a night,either way it was an expensive proposition to drink “after hours”
The nightclub I went to was the swishest place I had been to yet. It was right in the town centre on the first floor of one of the large blocks. It was full of business men ,,ladies in evening gowns ,and them bloody Italians ,they were everywhere.
There was a good combo playing standards and the Eyeties filled the floor, I’ve got to admit it ,they were far better dancers than we were. Volare was number one at that time and they sang along with gusto. A torch singer appeared ,she had long black hair in the style of Veronica Lake,here emerald green dress reached to the floor and was split to the top of her long ,and lovely , legs. Her shoulders were bare and she looked as though the gown had been painted on her. She glided silkily across the floor as she sang “Pennies From Heaven” in a throaty and sultry voice. I was sitting at a table near the band and she came over to me and sat on my knee as she warbled into her mike. The spotlight was on us and I could feel her gorgeous body next to mine ,I almost had an out of body experience. And then with a touch of her lips to my cheek , she was gone. She was the first real female I had felt the warmth of for months and I went back to the ship feeling scorched.


Television had’nt made any inroads yet in Melbourne, there were a few stores which had sets on display in the windows and of a night time you could see families sitting in deckchairs on the pavement watching the programmes through the glass window. It reminded me of how it had been for the 1953 cup final in Garston, when people sat outside the radio shop window in St. Marys’ Road. I was standing looking at the flickering images of Wagon Train when an old man spoke to me ,”Are you English?” he asked . I nodded yes and he said, “ I’ve been here 40 years, came after the Great War, where are you from?” I told him Liverpool “ Never got there, would’ve liked to, I’m from London ,never been back ,I miss it still though” I looked at him ,he was about 65 ,smartly dressed, you would not have known him from an Australian ,his big moustache and wide brimmed trilby hat gave him the look of a native. “My two boys don’t want to go to England, my wife’s from Geelong ; sometimes ,just sometimes ,I wish I was going back with you boys” He touched the brim of his hat and was gone.
I felt so sorry for that old guy ,he had such a sense of loneliness. Australia was still along way away then . But the mail service was good, you would get a letter in three or four days then, and letters were the very breath of life itself for most of us.
A great many of the crew were regulars on the Jason, they had girls in most of the ports down there, they would be off like a shot every night to see their ladies. It was only the new ones that went “ hunting”. I used to write a lot of letters back then, I wrote to Anne ,Maureen ,my pen pal, to Mum and dad of course, to my cousin Willie, to Harry ,and to my maternal Grandparents. Consequently ,there was always a letter at post call . Sometimes the mail would bear a Dear John to some poor sod. A good Dear John was ,invariably, pinned to the noticeboard. I’m only glad not to have had that experience ,I saw one guy totally crushed by the contents of a letter. There was an Ordinary seaman called Joey who did’nt get any post for three months once .As they got back to Gladstone dock he was given a letter posted the week before. It said “Dear Joey, I have’nt been able to write because I have had laryngitis…….”.

While we were in Melbourne we had another mishap occur, a rating called Peter slipped a disk in his spine as we were cleaning out the tween decks. He just bent forward and then screamed in agony. I wondered what the hell had happened. He was taken away in an ambulance and we would not see again until we returned to Melbourne, Sydney was our next port, that was supposed to be the best place in Oz.

[John(Zappa)]

Brilliant reading ANDY,sorry Brian!
I had heard of "Gashmen" before but thought it was someone saying "gasmen" without their falsies in??
Anyway excellent stuff

[brian daley]

Although it is nearly fifty years since I made that voyage to Sydney ,and the names of places along the coast have dropped from memory, the visual memory is still strong .
The heat wave was even stronger as we neared our destination, we had remained in sight of the shore for most of the way and the forest fire were still burning ,lighting the night skies with a spectral glow.
Nothing could prepare you for your first sight as you approach the Heads, north Head and South Head ,two Bluffs that that stand sentinel at either side of the entrance to the harbour.You are now in the South Pacific Ocean and the great waves that have begun life thousands of miles away come crashing against the foot of those mighty cliffs. I was told that the Cliffs at South head were called Suicide Point because of the amount of deaths that occurred there over the years. We arrived at the harbour entrance on a crisp summer morning ,the sun making myriad rainbows on the surfing wavetops while overhead the shrieking seagulls wheeled and turned. We had a gentle a gentle rolling gait as we swung headwards toward the main harbour opening and the vista that was slowly revealing itself was almost beyond words.There was Middle Head in front ,an emerald green expanse dotted with red tiled roofs and multi coloured houses , Watsons Bay to port ,Taronga Park to starboard, the Harbour ,now filled with small craft, yachts, motor boats and busy little ferries. Trying to work with so many distractions was almost impossible I was on the foc’sle team and had the best view possible ,if only I did’nt have to work !
There was Sydney Harbour Bridge ,huge ,and there beneath it was the memorial to HMAS Sydney, the bows mounted on the north side being a poignant reminder of those lost in the last war. Lunar Park with its legendary funfair was just past the Bridge. Passing Circular Quay, we headed for Darling Harbour where we would tie up at Pyrmont Wharf. Back then ,Sydney was a low rise city, the Tallest building being the Caltex Towers which were 13 storeys high, the radio had been announcing its’ opening for the last few days ,and there it stood ,the highest place in Sydney.
As we swung into to the harbour ,a twenty foot sailing dinghy came close to us and we saw that that the deck was graced with beautiful young ,bikinied ladies and there young men, they were deeply tanned and looked so alien to us ,we just gaped. One of the young men blew us a raspberry and, lovely stuff, his mates were changing tack and the jib boom swung round and caught him on the back of the head and knocked him overboard.
In no time at all we were alongside ,squared up and ready for the town, I was still sailors peggy and my restaurant would be open for business pretty soon. But today was Sunday so it was time to scout out the town. It was stiil like England in those days, most places were shut on the Sabbath, but it was a good time to see all the main places. It was not too far to get into town, just a short hike across Pyrmont Bridge brought you into the bottom of the city. The main streets ran north and south and had names like York,Kent ,Sussex and Clarence, the cross streets were, if I remember correctly ,called Market,King ,Erskine etc. For me it was love at first sight. This was like no other place on earth, the broad avenues and the buildings ,clean and elegant made it seem strong and confident. There was everything we had at home, except the grime and bomb sites.,There was a lot more too, the shining bay ,the hills, thick and verdant with all manner of trees and those ships at the quaysides ,the backdrop being new and clean ,instead of old and tired. A lot of our crew had well established girlfriends here ,they would be ashore for all the time out of working hours, the lunchtimes would be spent at Montys’ .a pub close by , I needed a till here. I had a messroom full every lunchtime. We used to sit 22 men in the mess,including myself, about 15 used to go ashore for a liquid lunch most days, that was nearly four pound a session for whoever was sailors peggy. Seeing as we were on less than three pounds a week ,that gave us considerable spending power while we were in port.
Next day we three went ashore to what we could get up to, we were’nt into getting drunk yet, so we looked for soda fountains and cinemas, and boy ,Sydney had them in aces. My experience of cafes was limited to what I had seen in Merseyside , Capaldis
was about the best then, in Sydney they were like the ones I had seen in the Hollywood movies, uniformed staff and proper soda fountains. What really impressed was the pure fruit drinks, the walls behind the counter had glass fronted storage spaces that ran from ceiling to counter and they were chock full of oranges ,apples .pineapples and coconuts. When you ordered your drink they would pick the appropriate fruit and ,within a short space of time have it crushed and pulped and served up with ice . The cinemas were quite magnificent too. There was one called the State and it was an art deco masterpiece, the space between the seat enabled you to stretch out in comfort without causing people who wanted to pass you any hindrance. The ceiling seemed to disappear into the sky it was that tall and the art work around the auditorium was a fantasy of ‘30’s styles. It felt great just to sit there. And here we were to see our first glimpse of the modern cinema, Cinemascope! There was no story,it did’nt need one ,just a collection of shots ,from a roller coaster ride ,through to a a performance at La Scala ,Milan. Enthralling then , it would never make a penny now.

Those bloody Eyeties were all over the place here, I did’nt realise they had so many ships, and like everywhere else so far ,they had hoovered up all the girls. We went to the ,I think it was called,the Union Jack club, this was full of them too. Billo and Bootsie upped stakes and left to go elsewhere. I was desperate for a bit of decent female company and stayed put. I was lucky. There was a real nice young lady ,she had come with her mates fro a nurses home out at Coogee but they had copped off with a couple of marineros and she had’nt fancied that. Robin was her name ,petite ,brown eyed and lovely black hair ,she was a good dancer and great company. She asked me what I was aboard ship ,not wishing to lose her if she thought I was one rung up from a ships cat, I told her I was the 5th officer. She was impressed ,and there was no one around to blow my story. Soon it was time for the national anthem and home ; I asked Robin if I could see her home ,not having the slightest idea where Coogee was pleased to let me do that and ,having a pocket full of half crowns , I hailed a taxi.
We spent the journey kissing the faces off each other and time sped by, pretty soon ,it seemed ,the cabbie said “Hereya kids ,Coogee Beach” We had stopped on the esplanade above the beach , the stars were glittering and out there in the bay was a little black mass dotted with twinkling lights, “That’s Wedding Island “ said Robin.
The moon overhead painted the trees with a silvery gleam , it was a romantic sight. I asked Robin if we could see each other again and she said “ Of course” and then kissed me goodnight. It was only as we drove back to Sydney that I realised how far we had travelled ,bloody miles. I had sod all left after I paid the driver. Still the “restaurant” would be open again tomorrow.
Next day I sold my Kodak brownie camera for 3 quid and my tailor ,birds eye suit for a fiver. I was more than solvent for tonight folks.
I was doing my peggies duty, scrubbing the deck on my hands and knees,out side of the messrooms. Heard the clatter of high heels on the gangway and the sound of female laughter coming towards the entrance door. “Excuse me “,it was Robins voice!!!
“Can you tell us where the 5th mates cabin is please?” Jeez, I had told her what ship I was on!! I had my back to them ,she had brought her mates too, and I was in my rags. I did’nt turn round but pointed upwards and buried my head in the bucket.
That night I went on the ale with the other two peggies. We went to Montys’, and as we were about to go in ,a crowd of raving “queens “ came sashaying down the street, pastel chiffon scarves tied at their necks and cheeks powdered and painted . “Cooee
sailor boys” they called to us, “Who’d like to have a naughty girl then?” By now the three of us were surrounded, cheeks were pinched and bottoms goosed and Billo near passed out with horror. Shades of Antwerp!
Some of the lads were already in there and they were laughing at our predicament.
They had seen it all before, now these “queens “ although madeup, were not in the least effeminate, built like brick s**t houses, they towered over most of the men in there. We felt most uncomfortable being the target of their affections. A huge one came and whispered in my ear “ Do you fancy a little girl then?” “Not if she’s got a pair of bollocks “ I replied. He grabbed me by the throat and drew back his sledgehammer fist, just as he was about to put me out another of the “queens “ grabbed hold of his fist and wrenched it back. “Leave the kid alone “ he growled ,hurling him away. He then turned to me and asked me where I was from, I was very wary because he was wearing make up and I did’nt want to go from frying pan to fire. “Liverpool “ I answered, “ I know that kid ,whereabouts in Liverpool?”
“Garston “ I replied. He cocked an eyebrow ,”Whereabouts in Garston?”
“Speke Road Gardens” “Really?” I nodded yes. “That’s where my judy lives” He could see the look of incredulity on my face .”It’s along story kid” I was listening ,”D’ya know K… D ….?” I not only knew her but her mail was regularly sent to our house by mistake, I was nodding like a good ‘un. He told me that he had’nt been able to get any letters to her because she was married and her husband was a very jealous man. “E’d kill ‘er if ‘e ever found out “he said. He asked to stay where I was for a bit as he was going to get back to his digs. The other lads were curious to know what we had been talking about and I just told that he knew a lot of people I knew.
He came back about an hour later and handed me a letter, there was no name on it,”Get that to K… when you get back home ,fer christs sake don’t let her old man see ya, he’ll kill ya if he finds out what yer doin” With those memorable words he left me a rejoined the gaggle of “Queens”
A little old man appeared at the bar ,he looked like every picture that I had ever seen of a Jolly Swagman ,battered old hat ,shaggy beard and timeless ,threadbare old rags,he had bowyangs on his trousers and looked like he had taken the wrong turning at the last billabong. He was on the bum ,but he looked interesting enough to buy him a cold beer,the hit song out here at the time was Slim Dustys’ “The Pub with no Beer”
I ordered a pint of Richmond and he thanked us profusely, after quaffing his first draught, he set his glass down and sucked the excess off his moustache then asked “Wurra yew fellas frum?” We answered Liverpool. A look of comprehension came on his features.. “Liverpool, ah thets jist outside o’ Londin aint it ?” And I suppose from an Australian perspective ,it is.
Sydney was getting to feel a lot like a place I’d like to live, but we still had Newcastle and Brisbane to go to before we returned on our homeward leg.

[kevin]

Hi Brian - and others,
I tend to read several installments at a time so the following points don't relate all to one thread.

Getting to KG V. Think it was the same as for West India dock - tube to Aldgate East and then a taxi to the dock. There'd usually be a group of us so we'd split the taxi cost so it wasn't much.

I went to Adelaide once, and loved it - the only sad part was hearing that John Lennon had been killed the day before we docked. It was a Liverpool-registered ship, MV Warrior, with lots of scousers on board, so the mood was sombre. We were meant to be there a week loading grain for Jeddah. We were a bulk carrier but Jeddah had no bulk handling gear in those days so they ended up having to bag the grain on the keyside and load it on pallets, with dozens down the hold stacking the bags. As they stopped work if the temperature hit 40c, and it was that by twelve each day, we ended up there for three weeks.
We were actually docked in Port Adelaide, a few miles from the city. The bars still closed early in those days (9.00pm?) but we discovered you could still get a drink in restaurants if you were eating. We found an Italian restaurant.
'What's the cheapest thing on the menu?'.
'A dozen oysters'.
'Great. A dozen oysters each, please, and two litres of dry white wine'
We ended up in there a few nights a week and got very friendly with the staff.

Antwerp. Laughed my socks off because I saw something similar.
I was there in dry dock on a ship being sold to the Chinese - we were opening various parts of the engine up for inspection.
Went ashore at night - about 8 of us. One, known as 'Pinky' (the way he stood while playing darts reminded everyone of the Pink Panther) was getting very friendly with a young lady in a bar. We'd clocked straight away that it was no lady!
As the night wore on Pinky kept feeding her alcohol and trying to get his hand up her skirt. After several hours they were both pissed and swallowing each others tonsils - 'she' was sitting on Pinky's knee. Finally, he got his hand up her skirt and discovered and handful of something he wasn't expecting. He stood up sharply, dropping his playmate of the floor. We all screamed with laughter and Pinky realised we'd all known but said nowt. He stormed out.
Saw him about 5 years later and he told me the story had spread throughout the company, and every time he joined a ship and introduced himself, someone would say 'was that you in that bar in Antwerp?. He never lived it down.

Keep it coming, Brian - stimulates my own memories!