Hullo Old Home

Mr Turner told us that we lads had been selected to represent the Merchant Navy at either the Armistice Parade at the Cenotaph ,or the British Legion Festival of Remembrance at the Royal Albert Hall. We were staggered , it had not entered our heads when we were doing all that square bashing that it was all to do with that !
We would be taken to the sea school at Gravesend and be trained with boys from there, to either march at the Albert Hall , or the Cenotaph .Not both , apparently a different type of marching was required at each ceremony. When we told the lads in our hut , they called us jammy buggers ,but wished us luck ,Dickie Eames ,the lad from Rochester ,asked me if I would go and see his Mum when I was in Gravesend. He gave me 15 shillings to cover the cost of any fares .I wrote home to Mum and gave her the news’ , her letter back to me was bursting with pride . The post was great in those days there were three a day and the letters posted at 6-00p.m of an evening were guaranteed to arrive next day. Mail call was the most important time of the day for a Vindi boy, we would crowd into the mess room and Popeye would sit out front with stack of letters and parcels . He’d call out your name , you’d put your hand up, and he would send that all important bit of post right into your hand .Years of practise had gone into his unerring aim . My Mum used to send me a wedge of Danish blue cheese once a week, Popeye took a great delight in hurling it at me , it was quite pungent .
Our party was leaving Sharpness on the Saturday , a fortnight before Remembrance weekend, on the Thursday night before our hut turned out en-masse for a farewell trip to the Flying Angel ,there would be no time on the Friday ,we had to do our packing and get an early night. We never drank anything but pop or tea but we had a good time anyway, a couple of games of table tennis or snooker and then a few songs around the piano. On the way back to camp we would bellow out The Vindi song or the latest Pat Boone hit , Love Letters in the Sand. All good clean fun.
After the nightly cup of cocoa and the late chorus of the bedsprings ,it was dreamtime.
Next day passed in a blur, not long before the off. I was running back to our hut after dinner when I slipped and wrenched my ankle. I was shattered, I could’nt stand , the pain was excruciating .I saw all my dreams fade as I was helped back to the hut by two of the lads.
I wish I could remember the name of the big Scouse kid who took charge of things that night . There was still time to go ashore and he and another kid got me by the arms and helped me down to the Flying Angel , they got Mr. George on the case and he ,and his daughter, bound my ankle in an elasticated bandage . He gave me strict instructions not to remove my boots when I went to bed . The lads helped me back to camp ,and I went to bed fully clothed . I did’nt bother with breakfast next morning ,the walk down to the Vindi would have crippled me. I mustered with the rest of our party and was helped aboard our transport, which was a Morris Commercial truck that was fitted out with wooden benches . It was canvas covered and uncomfortable as hell, but at least as I was’nt going to be on my feet for the best part of a day.
This was in the days before the motorways and the journey was really nice , passing through all of those towns and villages ,each with its’ own character ,was a real experience . The sight of Market Crosses and quaint town halls , the different high streets,not a Starbucks or a Macdonalds in view . I’m glad I saw it ,it now belongs to another age. It was ironic that there was’nt a single Londoner in our party , so when we passed through that great city we were all held in thrall by its’ many wonders .
We arrived in Gravesend just in time for dinner , and the food was so much better than we had been getting in Sharpness . The school itself was totally different too , we were told that it had been a womens’ prison in days gone ,although its’ design was more reminiscent of a hospital. There were several storeys and the dormitories were open and oval in shape ,the centre was hollow .as in a prison ,and there a wrought iron rail around it to prevent us falling over . There was a pier and a boat deck on the river side of the building. This afforded a wonderful aspect of the river , diagonally across the Thames lay Tilbury, where we could see the P.&O and the Orient liners. The sight of them gleaming in the sunshine, evoked images of distant ports in strange lands.
I never got tired of looking at the ever changing pageant of vessels that passed in view before us . This made my future at sea more immediate , at Sharpness we only saw a few cargo boats ,here they were in our line of sight every moment of the day.
Gravesend was different in many ways from the Vindi ,there seemed to more catering trainees here ,and there were some trainees that we never had at the Vindi, bell boys.
They all looked about twelve years old , a lot were Jimmy ****heroe look alikes . But I learned very early on that you don’t take the mickey out of them, I did , I think I said something like “What’s the weather like down there shortstuff “,no sooner than the words were out of my mouth than I was thrown to the floor and mobbed by a whole gang of them . I gave them every respect thereafter.
You could’nt go out in a party at Gravesend , they called the boys peanuts because no more than two were allowed together ,the result of fights that had taken place in the past . A lot of the lads did’nt bother with the High Street , they had a friendly landlord in a dockside pub who let them drink there of a night. His main trade was done in the daytime with the dockworkers ,and if it had’nt been for the sea school boys he would have no trade at all of an evening. A lot of girls frequented the pub and were known to put out for the lads , the ones I saw were not the type I would have liked for a girl friend, as desperate as I was ,I was’nt that desperate ! Besides I was very , very naïve.
On my third day there , I decided to visit Dickies Mum ,the local officers had told me where to catch the bus , and being November the night came quickly so by the time I was aboard the bus it was dark outside. I had no trouble finding where Dickies house was. I did’nt know if she was expecting me because I never had a phone number to warn of my arrival . I was impressed with the houses on his estate , nice semis with mansard roofs , a world away from the tenements in Garston.
I rang the doorbell and it was quickly opened by a very nice looking lady who seeing me standing in the darkness, dressed in my uniform cried “Dickie!” and threw her arms about me. “Erm, I’m sorry Missus “ I spluttered ,and she stepped back ,shocked to see a stranger and not her son . She ushered me into to the living room and called her daughter to see me .Dickie had written ,but we were both the same height and build that she had thought I was him . Dickies sister was beautiful and so nice. She and her mum made me so welcome and asked lots of questions of how things were at the Vindi and of how Dickie was. After a drink and some refreshments she said that Dickies friend had asked if I would see him while I was there , and I nodded my assent. Luckily he lived next door and was waiting on the step for me ,I was surprised to find that he was a married man with two little boys who had been allowed to wait up to see Dickies friend from the Vindi. I had a really thick Scouse accent in those days and the two little boys , who were aged four and five ,had beautifully modulated accents. They could hardly understand a word I said , but they and their parents were really kind and friendly. I was taken into their home and given more refreshments , after which the boys were put to bed . They had school in the morning , and when I enquired which school they went to they replied “Borstal”, I was astounded and their
Dad laughed and told me that it was a public school and not what my faced showed I thought it was. They asked their Dad if I could read them their bedtime story, which I was happy to do so. They shrieked with laughter as I struggled to make myself understood. I left that lovely little household with an invitation to dinner that Friday.
When I went back to say goodnight to Mrs. Eames , she told me that her daughter would go part of the way back to Gravesend with me . It was so nice to ride on a bus with such a pretty young lady ,she was on her way to see her boyfriend ,lucky guy.
My ankle was totally healed now and we were training in earnest. Everyday we were on the promenade, two groups one lot training to march up and down stairs and the other group ,mine ,training to march in line on the road . I was in the Cenotaph team. The Albert Hall boys would do their stuff on the Saturday , three shows, and we marched ,just the once ,on Sunday. We were mixed in with the Gravesend lads and were becoming a team. There was no competition between us , we were told that we were one team ,the Merchant Navy team. We would be issued with boiled white shirts and we would be expected to outshine every other service represented at the respective parades. If we were not marching we were polishing our boots ,soles and all ! The toecaps took on the appearance of highly glossed patent leather.
On the Saturday before Remembrance weekend ,a football match was organised for a mixed team of Gravesend and Vindi Boys and an amateur team in Strood. The match would be played in a park in Strood and we all looked forward to the change in our routine .I was chosen to play as a full back ,they were ignorant of my lack of sporting skills, and thought the whole thing would be a hoot. The other team had some supporters in attendance and one of them was very abusive towards us, he was a silvery haired old guy ,and one of our team told him to “shut his geriatric gob”
Stroods centre forward took great exception to this piece of advice being given to said old gent, particularly as said old gent was his dad . A lively debate ensued , during the course of which several blows were exchanged and we ended up running for our coach. We had to get changed as we drove along and our instructors told us to say nothing when we got back ,they had thrown a punch or two as well.

I wrote , a little earlier ,that I was very naïve, to illustrate just how naïve ,read on /
After a lovely dinner at Dickies friends I was walking back to the School from the bus stop in Gravesend and was passing a row of Regency houses when a lady called me into her house ,she was wearing a negligee and it never occurred to me that she wanted anything other than help of some sort . I stood in her living room waiting to see what she wanted and at ,length I asked her what she wanted . She gave me a puzzled look and then pointed to her kettle,”It’s not working “ she said ,I looked ,it was’nt plugged in so I plugged it in for her and smiled and went on my way. I was told later that I had missed my chance , she was known for her liking of lone young sailor boys . I had a lot to learn

The lad from the Pennines gave us all a surprise one night at Gravesend,we were in the recreation room and he sat down at the piano and started to play the Warsaw Concerto ,a very dramatic piece that was in an old British war movie called Dangerous Moonlight . The opening bars filled the air and I thought "He's bloody good" ,but that is all we got ,the opening bars ! He could just about play Chopsticks after that ,still ,he was a good laugh.
On the Friday before the Big weekend , the Cenotaph contingent were taken to Birdcage Walk Barracks ,right by Buckingham Palace. We were going to be taught how to march on light gravel , a supposedly tricky feat. Birdcage Walk was were the military contingents would start off from on Sunday morning and they did'nt want anybody tripping over as they marched across the gravelled parade ground to the Mall.
We got it right after a couple of attempts and ,after a quick tour around St James Gate to look at the Grace and Favour estate, it was back to Gravesend for our evening meal. After dinner , we assembled in the gym for a briefing on the weekends events.
Mr Turner looked very grave "One of the Albert Hall lads has injured his foot" he announced, "Is there any lad from the Cenotaph group willing to take his place?"
My hand shot up, I was hoping that they would pick me; as it happened ,noone else wanted to go. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to see the Albert Hall,it would be a long day ,but that never even entered my head. There was a small snag though , I had absolutely no idea of how to march up and down steps! I would have to cross that bridge when I came to it!
I was disappointed that I could'nt alert Mum and Dad to the fact that their little lad might appear on the Telly on Saturday ,they never watched the Beeb on Saturday!
Next morning we were up at the crack of dawn ,our crisp white shirts were issued ,togged up, it was on to the coach and then off through London to the Albert Hall.
There were literally hundreds of people milling about when we arrived ,coaches were queued up disgorging their passengers, Boy scouts , Sailors, Chelsea pensioners ,British Legionnaires, Wrens , Nurses ,Guardsmen , Gordon Highlanders , National servicemen........and us!
A sense of order gradually asserted itself and we eventually came onto the body of the Hall , there, the man in charge of the whole show ,Sir Ralph Reader , explained ,with the help of a huge public address system ,the order of play.
Most of our commanders had been well briefed beforehand , our particular commander was the Commodore of the Orient line. He had been warned by Mr Turner that I was a last minute replacement and so I was placed last in the line of march so that I would'nt put other people off their stride . When I saw how steep the stairs were I did a mental flip. I was glad I was at the back.. Rehearsal lasted a couple of hours, we actually did a full performance as though it were for real . Lunchtime soon arrived and the whole lot of us were taken off to Derry and Thoms rooftop restaurant in Kensington . Nobody had told us about that treat!
All of the participants were split up so that we sat amongst mixed groups of people.
When we sat down , I had an old Indian Army officer sat opposite me, a Wren to my left and a Chelsea Pensioner to my right.
I gulped when I looked at the tableware , I had never seen so many utensils , the old Indian Army officer had noticed my look and discreetly picked up his soup spoon and silently mouthed "Outside in" with a twinkle in his eye. With his leathery face and walrus moustache ,he looked as though he had just stepped out of a Kipling story..
The Wren took a motherly role with me and the old Pensioner told me of his time in the Boer War . I could never have a meal in such august company again I thought , but we were to have dinner there before the evening show.
The matinee was packed, there were families from all over the country , our group were sat behind the Royal Naval party and we made friends with a couple of Wrens who sat immediately in front of us. They gave me , and the lad next to me, a full packet of 20 Navy cigarettes each . Between the matinee and the evening show , which was to be televised , we had some free time after our dinner at the rooftop restaurant. Kensington may be a wonderful looking place , but it is'nt much fun if you have only got a few shilling in your pocket. Whole groups of us wandered around , staring enviously at the super rich alighting from their limos as they sailed into the glittering restaurants and bars. Never mind ,one day that could be us ,one day !.
It was back to the Hall for the Big one , the Queen and Prince Philip were due to arrive and the crowds were thronging the pavements. That is when we felt a little privileged , we did'nt have to queue to see the show, we were part of it!!
Running around the entire basement of the hall is a circular corridor , it was there that the various groups were gathered ready to take their place in the hall. As the Merchant Navy lads were assembling a Naval Commander wearing full dress uniform ,leather boots and cutlass, came amongst us. It was Commander Kerans ,he of the Yangste Incident ,the man who was played by Richard Todd in the film of the same name . We stood agog , awaiting to hear what he would say. "Any of you lads marching at the Cenotaph tomorrow?" he queried. All eyes turned to me ," Me sir" I whispered. "Well Lad ,your lot will take their orders from me tomorrow, so keep your ears open for my commands !" And with that he gave smile , did a quick about turn and disappeared. My head was swirling ,that was Commander Kerans???
Pretty soon we were standing at the top of that precipitous stairway about to make our entrance to the tune of A Life on the Ocean Wave. I was out of step from the start, down and down those stairs I went , skipping to get in step ,and failing every time.
Across the floor of the hall , I looked like I was doing a Tennessee two step.
Television cameramen love losers and idiots .That night I fell into both brackets.
Mum told me , when I got home, that she was watching her programme on Granada ,when she became aware of someone yelling "MISSUS DAALEE!!" over and over again. She ran to the door and saw Kathleen Flynn , a girl from across the square ,yelling at her "Your Brian is on the Telly!!"
Mum shot back inside and switched over , just in time to seem me skipping and hopping across the floor.
The camera looked lovingly at the Pennine kid and me as we flirted with the Wrens in the seats in front of us . By the time I got back to Garston , I was a star ,I had been on the Telly,with the Queen!
The show was marvellous ,we saw things that were extraordinary, the precision marching by the RAF, the displays by the scouts and the bands of the Marines ,the high point was the playing of the last post. The moment was so poignant ,the beautiful ,mournful notes of that silvery trumpet are something that I will remember forever. The Royal party seemed like gods in those far off times , as we took surreptitious glances at the box I could'nt help but feel proud to be a part of the occasion. All too soon it was over , and then it was back to Gravesend to get ready for tomorrows parade.
It was a tired and groggy Brian Daley who appeared at breakfast next morning, I was the brunt of mickey taking for a little while ,they had all seen my silly walks and the officers were non too pleased at our flirting with the Wrens. It did'nt last for long ,we were off to Birdcage Walk to do what I really trained for.
I forgot to tell Mr Turner what Commander Kerans had told me the night before , I mean to say, they had done this ceremony before ,they surely were'nt relying on a boy to give them their orders, were they?
Well it quickly became apparent that something was wrong immediately we started off down towards Horseguards Parade, the front half of our group were marching at a different pace to the back half. We had a Naval band in front playing something stirring and martial ,and a Police band behind playing The Death March. Whoa!! And who never explained about the lampposts in the middle of the road ! Being at the back I could the marchers in front dither as they came to the first obstacle ,Which side to march on? Or do we split , and go down either side of them? It was messy for a while , but thank God ,that part was'nt televised . By the time we got to Whitehall we were in step and in order.
Watching the thousands of old warriors pass in front of us as we stood to attention at the Cenotaph was a moving experience, there were still a lot of Great War veterans young enough to march ,and there were more than a few Boer War veterans too. The British Legions ranks were filled with men and women in their late thirties and forties, the men and women who had saved Britain and Europe from the stranglehold of terror in that all too recent war.
After the two minutes silence and the laying of wreaths ,we marched to our coach and were taken to lunch at Lancaster House. This was a surprise , and a bigger surprise awaited us when we arrived. The meal was hosted by the then Minister of Transport , Mr. Heathcote Amory, with him were the Commodores of Cunard ,P& O.the Orient Line and the Admiral of the Fishing Fleet. we were told to make ourselves at home (As if!! ) and to order what drinks we liked . Oh really? "Yes boys .just give the barman your orders" said Mr Amory. A horses neck ! Brandy and Soda ! A Manhattan ! Dry Martini please. Drinks we never knew what tasted like but had heard about in the movies. We were then split up and sat at table with one of the Brass .I was fortunate enough to be sat with my old customer from No. 6 the Serpentine, Commodore Ivan Thompson. I reminded him of the time he asked his paper boy for the Radio Times ,you could tell he did'nt remember ,but he was gracious enough to pretend that he did. After a really slap up meal , one that exceeded all of our schoolboy fantasies ,we were chauffered back to Gravesend sea School for one last night .Back to the Vindi in the morning ,and just four weeks to go before we go home !

It was a slower and colder ride back to the Vindi than on the outward journey, our heads were still full of the sights and sounds of the past few days . We would miss the friends we had made in Gravesend but we were getting back to our old mates in Sharpness.
Things had moved on in our absence,our group was now the senior ,all the lads had done their lessons and we now had practical work to do .Alan was now a full bosun as were some of the other lads ,but George was the camp bosun. His grit and determination had got him where he was,the ex tearaway ,now the top man. It was a truly remarkable achievement . We marching boys, even those of us with two stars on our sleeve ,were precluded from any promotion ,only fair I suppose ,but it rankled with some of us because there was no longer the friendliness that had been there before. So we little stars had to get stuck in to manual labour like the rest of the lads who had no stars The bosuns never mixed with us like they did before and they were always on the lookout for kids to stick on jankers .These were the ones who had to do the jobs that noone else would do. Sometime jankers were inevitable ,you were given jobs ,as part of your practical work which would cause you to breach some stupid code. An instance of this was the rule that said that you could'nt go to the messroom in dirty gear ,but you had to stay at whatever job you were doing until it was time for your meal .I was painting the toilets on the quay alongside the Vindi one morning when the bell was sounded for breakfast, I never had enough time to go and get changed and took a chance and joined the meal queue .I was fairly clean ,just a bit of paint on my boots and the back of my hand. One of my old mates saw me and told me to stand under the clock. This meant seeing the duty officer and getting both a rollicking and a spot of jankers too.
So,as well as going without breakfast,I was going to be stuck on the Vindi that night ,scrubbing the pots and peeling spuds ,no shore leave that night. Next night we jankerboys had to polish the gym floor.
After the third night I fell back on my own resources, on the morning of the fourth day I reported sick at Codeine Annies hut . I gave her a reasonable enough tale to be given a berth in the hospital . There were about half a dozen lads already in here with the “Flu”. I got into bed and found that we were nearly all kindred spirits ,skivers and refugees from the chain gang.
I was as fit as a flea ,no temperature ,no runny nose or cough. Old Codeine would becoming round the ward after tea ,she would be taking temperatures and dishing out pills. The boy in the next bed told me that she would go around the beds and stick a thermometer under each boys tongue and, after she had stuck the last one in she would go back to the first boy and read his temperature and so on. There was a radiator next to my bed ,which was halfway around the ward, when she left the thermometer under my tongue I put it on the radiator and left it there until she was at the bed before mine. I slipped it back under my tongue just as she moved toward me.
She pulled it out and looked at it ,her eyes nearly came out on stalks .She quickly felt my forehead ,and then put her face right into mine . "You are a very naughty boy!" I was afraid of what she was going to say next. She spoke softly to me "Are you trying to escape Jankers ?" I nodded yes. " Then you can stay here ,but you can't leave here if you are ill" I agreed and thus escaped the unceasing round of jankers that seemed to be my lot.
I missed out on the visiting concert party being stuck in there ,but there were some good guys in there ,in fact I sailed with one a couple years later ,a guy called Brian Rutter. He was from Liverpool too and he had a great sense of humour and thus kept us entertained . I would have liked to see the concert party ,they had been there before ,when we were rookies and the girls were very pretty as well as talented. The officers were all over them like a rash. We could hear the strains of the music and laughter up there in the sick bay , but you can't have everything. I was allowed to stay until I was a Bridge Boy ;this is what we called ourselves when the days we had left corresponded in number with the spans on Lydney Bridge..
The practical work we had to do now was the type of work we would be doing at sea,rigging ,operating cargo winches wire splicing etc.
We also had to attend lectures on sexual hygiene ,as most of us were virgins we pretended to know it all. How wrong we were ,first of all we were shown a film about venereal disease, it was horrifying. They showed a picture of a diseased member ,it looked like a sausage that had been very badly cooked ,it's a wonder anyone of us ever considered sex again .And the lecturers stories filled us with even more horror,none of which I would dream of relating here.
The days were now hurrying by ,we mentally ticked off those spans each morning.
Time was taking it's toll on our physical hygiene ,the lack of proper laundry facilities was giving our underwear a greyish yellowy tinge ,our bodies were little better , we must have been riffy,but because we were all riffy you never stood out.Walking contradictions,immaculate on the outside and pongy and dirty underneath . We were moved aboard the Vindi for our last two weeks . It had a terrible secret that no one mentioned before hand . The bed decks were swarming with cockroaches. We had seen cockroaches in the kitchen ,some boys often found them in their burgoo,but no one mentioned the bed decks.
When we stowed our gear away the accommodation appeared to be a lot more comfortable than the huts ,it was certainly warmer and we were going to first in the queue for meals. However,that night ,shortly after the lights went out we heard a rustling sound ,it was everywhere, the darkness was suddenly pierced by a dreadful scream. The light was flung on and we saw this black carpet splitting in two and disappearing into the bulkheads on either side of the bed deck. Was just like watching curtains being drawn, but fast ! These were creatures of darkness ,Mr Agate,it was he who had put the lights on, told us we were alright if we did'nt get out of bed when the lights were off. As I was falling asleep that night I felt something padding up my body ,I could’nt see it and ,when I felt it settle on my tum,I put out my hand to have a feel. It was the ships cat ,and I was in its bunk. We became good bed companions in the few remaining weeks .There is something comforting in the gentle purring of a cat,that and it’s warmth helped me enjoy some restful nights.
I was'nt swimming in that blue tropic water anymore, my nocturnal fantasies had taken a different course since London..........my night time lover was none other than the Queen herself!! I was guilty of Lese Majeste !!
I could'nt tell anyone ,but night after night she would share my bed ,god knows what we got up to but I was always wracked with guilt in the morning.
It's funny how quickly you accept things as normal,that nightly rustle after lights out became as much a part of our regime as pulling the sheets up.
Then came the day when we were photographed for our discharge books ,home was a short while away. It was down to the Flying Angel to say goodbye to Mr George and his daughters, come morning we would be marching up to Sharpness station to catch the train home . All too soon those friendships we made would be torn asunder and it would be each to his own. I could'nt wait to get back to Liverpool now ,I was going to be a Merchant Seaman!!

Saying goodbye is never easy. As we assembled before Captain Duguid to receive our discharge books and hear the farewell speech ,I was filled with a mixture of sadness and anticipation .Sadness that I was leaving a group of lads that I had become mates with ,and anticipation of seeing my family again . It was the end of the second week of December and we would be reporting to our local Shipping Federations to start our seagoing careers come the 15th of that month. George ,Alan and I to Mann Island in Liverpool and the other lads to Bristol, Plymouth ,Hartlepool ,Manchester and London. There was a spring in our steps as we left those camp gates , we had been given a medical just prior to our leaving , Old Codeine had said at the beginning of our course that our diet was designed to make us healthy and strong ,well we were all heavier and taller. She must have been right !

The journey home was a little bit different than the journey down there, George and Alan had put a bit of distance between myself and them by virtue of their rank. It took a good few mile of travelling before we became easy with each other again.
By the time we got to Central Station we were back on form and promised to meet up on Monday morning to see if we could get a ship together.
Pretty soon I was on the 82 and heading for Garston, looking out on the roads and avenues ,it seemed as though I had been away a lifetime , it was well into winter now and the trees were bare and the skies were greyer . I hoped Mum would have some scouse in the pot ,I was starving!
I got off the Bus at the tennies , I was in my uniform ,kitbag on my shoulder ,boots gleaming brightly , I marched into the square and prepared to meet the folks.
The welcome home was terrific , Chris shyly greeted me ,Mum nearly hugged me to death, Jess and Bette gave me welcoming smiles and Dad told me that I looked very smart. There a beautiful smell coming from the kitchen , a smell that had my nose atwitch with memory, Mum had done me a tea that had surpassed all my expectations.
Stuffed and braised lambs hearts,with roasties ,cabbage peas and thick ,rich gravy.
I was home!!

On Saturday I went to visit Harry , who was still in Hospital , he was still full of optimism, talking was very difficult for him now that he had no lower jaw . He said that the surgeon had promised that he would soon have a plastic replacement. He did'nt know when this would happen but we both hoped it would be before the summer .
I was at a loose end that Saturday night ,putting on a couple of inches meant that none of my clothes fitted anymore ,and there was no hope of getting any new ones, I had'nt earned a bean for three months . Saturday night and nowhere to go!
Mum gave me a few bob and told me to go to the pictures ,nobody would take much notice of my uniform in the dark .I got a few odd looks as I walked into Garston ,this was a time when lots of young men were in army uniform . You could tell by the looks I was getting that they were wondering what service I was in.
I called in to say hello to May Newby at the chippy just down the block from the Empire, she was thrilled to see me and gave me a free bag of chips by way of a welcome back.
I can't remember what the film was , I got a seat on the front row of the balcony, right in the centre ,prime position for viewing the film. There was a load of short trousered young scallies sitting a couple of rows behind . They were being generally rowdy as young kids are ,but the cartoon had just finished and the Pathe News was next so maybe they will have settled down before the big picture..
It was during the Pathe News ,when I saw the flash of something twinkling in the light of projectors beam, there was a yelp of pain from the stalls ,one of the little scallies had chucked an empty bottle.
Within minutes the police were storming into the balcony audience ,the little scallies were sitting as quiet as mice, looking all angelic ,angry voices were raised and the next minute yours truly was wrenched out of his by a big flat capped policeman.
Arms up my back ,I was frogmarched down to the foyer and told I was under arrest.
The little sods had fingered me. The manager intervened and the policemen let me go ,but I was'nt allowed back in to see the show.
I ended up at home watching t.v. .I could'nt wait for Monday.

Dad had me up early Sunday, he had put the salt fish on and cooked it as he had always done ,slow boiled in milk. He had promised my Nin and Granddad that I would see them before I shipped out and so we had a journey that was so like those of a few years ago, just he and me and our great city. He had a wealth of information about our towns history so our journeys were never boring .At Nins I was given the once over,"Ees a big Lad now Billy ,the image of ar Joe". She got a picture of her brother Joe Maher, he was killed in the war ,there he was, in his quartermasters uniform on the Alcantara. It was true , I did look like him. That photo used to come out ever after when I visited Nins.
Then it was off along Walton Road to Grans in Eton Street ,another fabulous Sunday dinner and then up to Gilmoss to see my favourite Uncle, Billy Hengler. Aunt Sarah always baked me wonderful jam turnovers for Sunday tea. It was lovely to be back in the bosom of my family.
Sunday night was spent in checking everything in readiness for the Pool tomorrow,
After a fairly hectic day ,I hit the hay and sank into a deep sleep.
I was awakened next morning by mum calling me for breakfast, I yawned my way into the living room and saw a full cooked breakfast awaiting me . The radio was on and Godfrey Winn was reading out a record request from some lady somewhere. Housewives Choice, Housewives Choice!!!! What was the time!!? I was supposed to be at the Pool for 9-00a.am. Bloody Hell !! Mum had let me sleep in!
I was two hours late when I arrived at Mann Island, Mr Brown was not a very happy camper ." Punctuality ,Daley, punctuality is everything !" My mates were on their way to join their first ships. I was bereft , I felt that I had broken a pact. And, sadly , I never ,ever, saw them again .
Mr Brown took me through to see a Mr Repp,this man would play a great part in my seagoing life ,but that is in the future .What was going to happen now ? Had I well and truly missed the boat. Mr Repp looked at me and turned to look at a man seated behind him, he was a big burly man ,dressed in a three piece suit with a beautiful Albert chain across him tum. He came to the counter and inspected me , I felt like a lot that was about to be auctioned . He rubbed his chin and nodded to Mr Repp ,"He'll do" was all he said. Who was he? It turned out that he was from Blue Funnel Line and he was a boy short for a ship called the Eumaeus.This was beyond my wildest dreams ,you needed a letter from God to get in Blueys ,they had their own training school in Aberdovey and hardly ever took pool lads. I know for I had tried many times before to get into it .
I had to report to the Odyssey Works in Birkenhead,there I would be given a medical and instructions of where ,and when I would join my first ship.
I passed the medical and was told to go home and wait for the post.
Mum was a bit put out when I told her ,Christmas was just a couple of weeks away and I was going to miss it . But a whole new world was waiting for me and I was keen to get started.
.

The morning delivery on the 17th of December, included a letter addressed to me. It was from Alfred Holts and contained instructions for me to be at Lime Street station on Thursday the 18th of December. There , the crew for the Eumaeus would meet and be given their warrants to travel to King George V dock in London. I was trembling with excitement as I read the letter, this was it, in 24 hours I would be on my way.
Mum had got my clothes back to their usual pristine condition after the ?abuse ? they had suffered at the Vindi,what had been greyish yellow was now sparkling white.
She helped me pack my kitbag that night, there would be no lie in tomorrow !
After a hurried breakfast next morning,I kissed Mum goodbye ,Dad and Jess were at work and Bette was off to school, Chris came to the top of the stairs and gave me a hug as I stooped to kiss her . It struck me then that I would miss Christmas at home, no wonder Mum had been sniffling.
There was a large group assembled by the gate for the London train and I recognised a clerk that I had seen in the Odyssey works office. He was in the middle of the crowd and was being subjected to a bit of good natured ribbing, he was a bit gormless looking in a George Formby way. I thought that he was a bit like Masefields? grey squirrell, someone who would have liked to have been a sailorman ,but sailed a desk instead. He knew most of the men by name and was giving each one their papers. He came on the platform with us , I suppose to ensure that we all actually got on board the train. As the whistle was blown and the train started to move away , one of the men ,who was holding the carriage door open , proferred his hand to the clerk to shake goodbye. The clerk took hold of it and was hauled aboard and deposited on a seat .
?Oh no!? he wailed, this happened to him lots of times apparently. I felt really sorry for the sad man , it would be Crewe before he could get off!

I cannot remember the journey across London , time has erased that particular trip, but I clearly remember my first glimpse of the Eumaeus. She was tied up half way along the quay, she looked enormous, her big bluff bow , which curved down to the water ,the long sweeping lines of her hull .the sides of which were mighty steel plates that had double ,and sometimes triple ,rows of rivets. This gave her an appearance of strength and power. She was a three island ship, in laymens terms , she had a forecastle,the bow; then there were three hatches, a centre castle, this was where the accommodation ,bridge, engine room, galley and mess rooms where. Then there was a small hatch and aft of that was the sailors accommodation. There were two more hatches after that and then there was the poop deck, and it was here that the Chinese engine room crew lived . From the quayside the fore and after masts looked as though they scraped the sky. Her large funnel , atop the centre castle, was painted bright blue with a black band at the top. Ascending her gangway , I began to get the smell of her, the fuel oil ,mixed with the aroma of her cargo ,filled my nostrils with a scent as heavy and beguiling as any that Paris could offer. The feel of her, the steady thrum of her generators ,the hiss and wheeze of her steam pipes. All of this made me aware that this was a living entity.
She had just returned from the spice islands and we were a relief crew, the old crew was busy signing off in the officers mess and we had to wait for them to leave before we could occupy their cabins .
Some of the old crew knew the relief crowd and they swapped yarns whilst waiting for the off. She was going to be in London for a couple of days and then she had to go to Hamburg to discharge some of the cargo there after which she would sail to Liverpool. So it would be a short trip for me then.

After the homeward bounders had made their exit I was shown my first shipboard ?home?. It was a three berth cabin ,very spacious , with proper wooden bunks, a wooden locker for each of us and two drawers apiece for our clothes. We also had heavy weather lockers which doubled as two seater benches on either side of a table.
It was a lot cosier than I had anticipated. My two cabinmates had done a couple of trips before and were due to be promoted to junior ordinary seamen when we got back to Liverpool. At that moment though we were the three deck boys known more familiarly as ?Peggies?. It would be our job to look after the deck crowd , getting their meals ,washing the dishes ,scrubbing and polishing the messroom , bathroom ,recreation room and alleyways. We would take it in turns to do that job , the other two would either , work on deck or be the petty officers peggy. Whichever job we did meant working from 6-00 a.m. to 6-30p.m. with meals and ?Smokoes? in between.
The cooks were Chinese and the meal they were preparing that evening had me drooling at the mouth. After three months of short rations at the Vindi I was in for one heck of a surprise.
Being brand new I was?nt considered good enough to be a messroom peggy just yet so I sat down with the rest of the men for the evening meal . My eyes took in the fact that there was four lots of cutlery , soup spoon, entree knife and fork ,main course knife and fork ,and a dessert spoon .Was this a mistake ? No! I had died and gone to food heaven???we started off with a rich minestrone soup (the first time I had tasted it )this was followed by a beautiful Cornish pasty ,the shortcrust pastry so light it melted in my mouth ,the filling, not some noisome paste but a viscous mixture of meat chunks and fresh carrots peas and potatoes. This was followed by a dinner plate filled with roast beef ,potatoes ,parsnips carrots cabbage and gravy, oh very heaven itself, and this was Friday night ,not Sunday!! For afters there was a steamed fruit pudding that was right out of Mrs. Beetons book , figs .prunes .dates and sultanas all moistly embedded in a rich sweet suet mix, topped with a caramel custard???
I put three inside me that night. When I finished the last spoonful ,I looked up to see the astonished faces of the crew, they were trying to understand what they had just seen. THREE PUDDINGS!!! ??E must ?ave bloody ?oller legs ? one of them said . But they had?nt just left the Vindi..!
I helped the Mess Peggy to ?scrap up?, that?s what they called washing up. Once everything was squared away we had to get the Supper in , this consisted of a collation of cold meats and salad which would be left in the mess room for the deck crowd to snack at during the evening.
When we had finished our chores we had to shower (Mandatory) and do our personal dhobying, (laundry). You quickly learned that this was not an option ,it was something that you were expected to without question. My two cabinmates taught me to dhoby properly. Here ,unlike at the Vindi, there was an abundance of hot water and soap powder. We had a great big scrubbing board which ran along the bulkhead over the sinks ,and it was there that I was taught how to get whites sparkling clean through the power of elbow grease.
The A.B.?s actually paid us to do their laundry because we were so good at it.
I never had enough money to go ashore when we were in London and so I got to know the Chinese crowd because they stayed aboard too, they were inveterate gamblers and would spend hours playing Mah Jong. The steady clack of the tiles hitting the table being interspersed with hisses and many ?Aah So?s? They drank whiskey by the gallon and let me have a sip as well.
I explored the ship as best as I could during those nights aboard in London ,she carried half a dozen passengers ,there were none on board at present, and had a deck crew of 18 ,There was a Bosun, Lamptrimmer(He was a kind of Bosuns?mate ) and a Carpenter (known as Chippy )
While we were in port , we had a night watchman to look after the gangway. The one looking after our vessel was an old chap who had a very weather beaten face. With his oilskins and battered old peaked cap he looked the very image of an old tar.
I asked him if he would like a drink of tea and was very surprised when he answered yes, for his voice belied his features. It was a cultured voice, one that you would expect from an officer. I made him a cup and had a chat the first of many in the short time that we were there. I could?nt guess how old he was , his leathery skin and hawk like eyes made him appear ageless. I asked him if he had ever been to sea and he gave a little smile by way of a reply. ?A time or two? he answered . I asked him how long ago he had packed up going to sea . ?A good few year ago ? was all he said. We sat in silence , looking at the darkened warehouses and the skeletons of the dock cranes. I was curious , this man was older than my Granddad, why was he sitting here on a cold winters night. ?What were you when you were at sea ?? I asked. ?What do you want to know for ?? he asked in return. ? My Granddad was at sea before the First World War, I just wondered if you were the same as him ? I replied rather lamely. ? I could tell you a tale or two my boy, but you might not believe them? he said, looking at me across the years. ? I love to hear some ,honest?
He was a pipe smoker and he stuffed it full of a black mixture, all the while looking at me ,was I a young punk out to take a rise out of him? I got up and went to the messroom and brought back two oranges, one for him and one for me .
?D?you really want to hear an old mans story ?? ?Yes ? I nodded. He picked up the orange and began to peel it . The story he told me was of a man who had been a master of this very company I now belonged to. He was the Captain of an ?H? class liner and was due to retire , this was during the last days of peace ,and he had opted to retire to a life on a plantation on Malaya. He had taken his retirement money in sovereigns and he and, his wife were going to spend their sunset years in that far away land. They had no children , nor any ties to bind them to a life in the cold .cold northern climes. They were going to be the ?Tuan and his Lady?. He did?nt bank his sovereigns ,he had them in a brassbound chest locked up in a strong room in his bungalow.
Sadly for them ,the Malayan Peninsular was overrun by the Japanese army before they could get away. He managed to get his papers ,which included his Masters certificate, the money was lost ,taken by his captors. He was imprisoned in Sumatra and his wife was taken somewhere else .He never found out where ,she never survived.
At the wars end he was repatriated to England where he set about finding work.
He spilled ink across the date of birth on his Masters certificate and succeeded in getting a berth with Cunard, he managed to do a year with them before his deception was discovered ,and here he was now ,a lowly night watchman ,eking out his meagre pension.
You can imagine how the older hands laughed when I told them his story at breakfast the next day, ? If you believe that , you?ll believe anything Lad? was the general contention. When I saw him again that night , he smiled and greeted me by asking for a cup of tea. I fetched him one and when I sat down with him he pulled a waterproof package from his pocket which he unwrapped and took out a sheaf of papers.
I craned my neck to get a better look at what it was that he was holding.
He unfolded a piece of paper that looked like an old birth certificate ,it was his Masters certificate, tattered and inkstained ,there it was ,testament to his story. He passed across an old black and white photograph, it was of him as a younger man ,standing proudly on the bridge of an old steamship, four stripes on his sleeve denoting his position of Master of the vessel. That had?nt been a fairy story he had told me the night before ,it had been the story of his life.
Come Sunday morning I was roused out of my slumbers by the Bosun , an old Scotsman who was nicknamed? Whammy? (a rope yarn), because he never swore but used the expletive "whammy" instead of something stronger.?Pegs ? he yelled ,?It?s Sunday morning and you?ve to go and see the Mate for the altar cloths for the morning service?. Now I had?nt fallen for the usual japes like a ?long stand ? or a ?bucket of steam ? so I was prepared not to be taken in by this one. ?Sod off? I says. He grabbed me by the shoulders, ?we are all God fearin? men on this vessel ,and ,contrary to what you may?o been told , we pray of a Sunday. Now get your whammy carcase up top and ask the Mate for them altar cloths!? he roared. I was up the companionways tout suite. I knocked on the Mates door ? Mr Mate sir, the Bosun has asked me to fetch the altar cloths?, ?hang on a minute," he said " I?ll just have a look,?
He came to the door and told me that the Chief Engineer may have taken them, these were officers ,they would?nt be involved in a joke would they? And thus it was that I went from pillar to post in search of the unfindable. When I reported back to Whammy that they had disappeared, he told me to go along the dock to our sister ship the Diomed to see if we could borrow theirs?. When I climbed wearily up the gangway of the Diomed I was met by a very fat , balding man with the worst false teeth ever. ??Oo are yew ?? he enquired. I told him of my quest.?We ?aven gorreny? he said ? Yizz?l ?ave to yoos burlap instead!? he cackled. I crept back to the Eumaeus, his laughter ringing in my ears.
We were sailing in an hour, was I the only one to be excited,we were going to cross the North Sea, woww!

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.

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.

Should be in a book all this Brian. :handclap:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Ged

Should be in a book all this Brian. :handclap:

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I keep telling him that Ged :) :)

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 ?

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..........................

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.

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!!

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!

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.

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 !!

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.

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:PDT_Piratz_26:

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.

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!

Hi Kevin,You are the same Kevin as on the Sailors Home are'nt you?
I'm really glad I'm helping to tickle a few of the old memory cells,it has been a great exercise for me too,I seem to have opened up doors that were shut for too many years. I can see myself getting closed down for going on too much.
I'm quite happy to carry on if the Moderators don't think I'm taking up too much space,
I can't wait to write about Brisbane.......................................... .......
BrianD

'Spoilsport' Brian!! Come on! tell us who K.D. was in the 'Tennies' I might even have known her!!!!

Norm,I'm 66,so she would be about 75 now,her address had the same numbers and letter as our did,but in a different order. I would,nt like to get myself,or anyone else, into to trouble. I have wondered, for many years,what the relationship was between the two of them. And yes,I did deliver the letter when I got home. I will only give someones name when there is no chance of them being identified ,or for money!!
Cheers,
BrianD

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by brian daley

Hi Kevin,You are the same Kevin as on the Sailors Home are'nt you?
I'm really glad I'm helping to tickle a few of the old memory cells,it has been a great exercise for me too,I seem to have opened up doors that were shut for too many years. I can see myself getting closed down for going on too much.
I'm quite happy to carry on if the Moderators don't think I'm taking up too much space,
I can't wait to write about Brisbane.......................................... .......
BrianD

---

Yes - same Kevin.

Never got anywhere in OZ but Adelaide, so looking forward to hearing about Brisbane.

If moderators complained you were taking up to much space, which I'd doubt they'd do, they'd probably have a mutiny on their hands!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by brian daley

Norm,I'm 66,so she would be about 75 now,her address had the same numbers and letter as our did,but in a different order. I would,nt like to get myself,or anyone else, into to trouble. I have wondered, for many years,what the relationship was between the two of them. And yes,I did deliver the letter when I got home. I will only give someones name when there is no chance of them being identified ,or for money!!
Cheers,
BrianD

---

"Good on ya"! Brian, 75 eh! same age as myself!! perhaps just as well we do'nt know the name! I lived in 14A but that was before 1950!!! Cheers, and keep the stories coming!:PDT11:PDT_Aliboronz_24:

The strange thing about Australia was how different it was from home and yet how familiar everything seemed to be. The town centres of Melbourne and Sydney were full of great buildings that were not unalike those in the centre of Liverpool ,the large department stores were like those of Lewis’s and Owen Owens, newspapers were so similar to those of home, The Daily Mirror ,The Sydney Morning Herald ,and the magazines ,so like the Picture Post and Everybodys that you could be forgiven for mistaking them at first glance . It was the sunshine ,cleanliness, the people and the environs that let you know that this was not England . Open the papers and you would immediately see the difference, there seemed to be a matiness in the content ,and words like bludger, bonzer , galah and many more sprinkled the pages. This country was as different to England as America is . I used to like the cartoons in the newspapers , Bowyang Bill and Doc Witchettys’ Tribe were two that spring easily to mind, in one particular magazine there used to be a feature called “Come in Spinner” which readers would contribute tall tales to ,I really liked that because it illustrated the real Australian sense of humour . The magazines also taught me of how little I knew of the Anzacs, that fabled army that did so much to keep Britain in the frame in North Africa and help defend the Australian and New Zealand people from the Japanese menace. I was to meet many an old Anzac during my time down there , Australian Anzacs that is ,never forgetting that it was a force of both the New Zealand and Australian armies.
So , leaving what had seemed like a second home, we sailed from Sydney and made our way to Newcastle. This was a very different place to Sydney, it was very industrial, here were the steelworks and copperworks and coal mines too. The bay was full of bulk carriers , anchored awaiting a berth. A lot of them were Australian and were very drab looking, no fancy coloured funnels or white paintworks ,they were like the British colliers, painted in a monochrome maroon ,funnel ,superstructure and hull. But ,the older hands told me that conditions on those ships were far superior to ours. There was one large bulk carrier lying way offshore ,separated from the rest ,and not by distance alone. She was Japanese bulk carrier , the very first Japanese merchantman to enter Australian waters since 1939. The wharfies were refusing to let her enter to pick up her cargo of iron ore , this was where I learned a lot more about how the Aussies felt about their erstwhile adversary.
When we tied up at our berth we could see lots of ex-servicemen carrying placards telling the Japs to go home. A common slogan was “Remember Kokoda !”, I was told that this was a place in New Guinea were the Anzacs fought , and held, the superior forces of the Imperial Japanese Army. This was only 13 years after the end of the 2nd World War and events were still fresh in the minds of most Australians.
The situation was headlines in all the newspapers and we saw it on the cinema newsreels too. Unfortunately ,I have no great memories of Newcastle as a place ,the striking Wharfies and one other incident have remained clear though. As I was scrapping up after the sailors midday meal ,an old soldier popped his head through the messroom door and asked if I had “Any spare tucker”. I had just cleaned the last remains off the plates into the gash bucket and it was now full of garbage ,fish heads and the bits and bobs that are usually left on the plate,plus tea leaves and soup. A real grisly potage. This guy spots the bucket and says,”I’ll empty that for yer mate!” then grabs the bucket and scarpers. He was wearing a slouch hat, an army great coat and a tattered old pair of K.D.’s, he was also barefooted. Bizarre! We never saw the gash bucket again !
Gash buckets ; sailors and peggies were constantly at loggerheads over gash buckets, they had to be emptied after every meal ,if you left them they would pong in that heat and were unsightly too. To leave one unemptied overnight constituted a major crime. If the ship was at sea and she started rolling ,the bucket could tip and it would take a lot of cleaning up. Consequently ,the senior ratings were forever giving peggies a reminder to clean out the bucket ,or else! We found out what the “or else “ could be when Billo forgot to empty it one night. He had the bunk below mine and ,in view of what happened, I was glad I was up above him this particular night .
It was about 2.00 in the morning and we were all sound asleep in our cabin when we were awakened by Billo yelping as though the ship was going down. The farmer on the 12 to 4 watch had placed the full gash bucket in Billos bunk, right next to his head, he turned over in his sleep and got the lot over him. Phwoar, poor sod smelt like a skunk.. We never ,ever forgot to empty the bucket after that. ( A farmer was the man who did the middle two hours on lookout, the first and last hour being on stand by)
One last story of the gash bucket, the Jason was a first class passenger boat, the cooking was of the highest standard possible , we were all well fed ,and sometimes the sailors went right through the menu, some days though the gash bucket got filled pretty quick ,like the time we had kippers as first course for breakfast .We were in the middle of the Australian Bight and the sea was a bit rough and a lot of the lads gave the kippers the go by. I was cleaning up for morning inspection ,our lads ate between 8 and 9 a.m. and the passengers sat down to break fast at 9.00. Big Alf , the chef, squeezed his way through the mess room door ,this was something new ,the chef Never, ever ,came in to the sailors mess. “Pegs” he says “ ave yer gorrenny kippers left?” I pointed to the gash bucket ,”Only them in there Alf “ I says. “Orlright “ he says and scoops up three ,sticks them under the tap to rinse the gubbins off ,and says “We’ve got none left for the bloods” (passengers). Well what the eyes don’t see…….

Soon it was goodbye to Newcastle and then on up the coast to Brisbane ,the weather got hotter the further north we sailed ,the coast line was interesting ,there were lots of little settlements along the cliff tops ,interspersed with great stretches of what , I was told ,were eucalyptus forests. I was doing a spell at the helm when a forest fire came into view and the mate on watch told me that this was perfectly natural, the plants needed fires to propagate ,the heat opened the seed pods and the ashes helped fertilize the soil. You learn something new everyday.
Brisbane is on a river of the same name, it meanders for miles and the shorelines were full of multi coloured bungalows , there were wharves dotted along the river ,each with ships flying the Red Ensign at the stern. This was where Britain got the bulk of its’ frozen lamb and beef ,plus tinned fruit, we were carrying cars, tractors ,rolls of steel ,plus a myriad products from Britains’ factories and we would return with the food needed to keep a hungry country fed. This was the place where we would finally empty our holds and then begin the process of cleaning them out and preparing to carry food. I was to learn how immense this task was ,in Brisbane I was deck peggy.
We dropped off cargo at various little quays on our way up river ,until we arrived at the jetty across the river from Bulimba. We had come here to empty our rubbish and there was tons of it. In those days ,cargo was carried in what was called “Break bulk” fashion, that is to say ,it was carried loose and each consignment had to be stowed so that it would’nt move ,or contaminate the cargo adjacent. This was a highly skilled art and the mate , bosun and carpenter were the men who oversaw the stowing. The carpenter used dunnage (wooden planks cut to size) to contain the cargo and keep it intact in all weathers. It was now our job to clear out the dunnage and get those holds spick and span. We had no wharfies aboard whilst we carried out this work, our lads manned the derricks and winches as they filled the gigantic canvas slings that were used to unload the mess. My job was to stand on the back of the rubbish wagon on the quay and unhook the slins so that they could discharge the dunnage into the wagon. It was hot and dusty work .I was only wearing shorts and boots. There was a wooden wall at the east end of the quay ,on the other side of which there was a small ferry landing. As the load grew higher in the back of the wagon ,so I began to see more of the ferry landing , there was a small wooden gangway running down to a little jetty, that was were the Bulimba ferry came .At the top of the gangway stood a little shelter in which there was a wooden bench, and on that wooden bench sat the most wonderful girl I had ever seen. I was too shy to take a proper look at her ,but I could see that she was looking at what I was doing ,I was filthy and dusty and embarrassed that such a pretty young girl would have to see me in that state. When the wagon was full it drove off and I had to do the same on the next wagon, and as the load grew higher I began to see that that lovely young lady again………..she radiated sunshine. She had strawberry blond curly hair and was wearing a flowery print dress, as I was taking another furtive peek at her I saw she was looking at me, as I was about to look away ,she waved , she waved again .I was’nt mistaken ,I looked around, there was no one else, she was waving at me! When the wagon was full and I was waiting for the next one ,I heard her call me ,there she was at a hole in the fence ,beckoning to me. I ran over ,my heart racing , close up she was even prettier than I could have believed, her strawberry blonde hair and her golden skin ,spreckled with lovely amber freckles made her seem like someone out of a dream. She asked me where I was from ,what my name was ,how old was I, how long would I be here ,and all the time I just stood and gaped…………..She was talking to me! A voice yelled “Andy,get yer arse back on that wagon!!”
I fled to the wagon, crushed that I had muffed my chances, as the load grew higher ,I saw her still sitting in the same place, my heart leapt.

I had’nt noticed before ,but I saw that little ferry putt puttering across the river half a dozen or more times and still my lady sat smiling. When I finished the next load , I shot across to the fence to find her waiting at the hole, this time I asked the questions. She was looking at me with golden lashed green eyes ,a smile hovering on her cupids bow lips. Her name was Pat, she was a student nurse and lived on the campus across the river. She loved everything English and would love to go to London, all this through a hole in the fence. She was on her way home when she saw me and thought I looked different ; taking my heart in my hands ,I asked her if she would like to see me after work.Cat calls and wolf whistles were being made by the lads aboard ,but I did’nt care ,she said yes ,she would like to see me and did I have a friend .You bet ! So we arranged to meet outside the gates at 7.30 that night ,she got on the next ferry and waved as it crossed to Bulimba. I felt ten foot tall ,no lying about being 5th officer ,she had seen me as I truly was ,a deck boy. At afternoon smoko I went along to the galley and asked Terry ,the scullion, if he fancied a double date, he was well up for it ,he was the same age and build as me, and we got along just fine.
We did’nt know where we could take them ,we had never been to Brisbane before. I could‘nt wait for work to end so that I could get a shower and put some decent gear on.
Just after our evening meal ,old Wilf came and turned us to ,what the hell for ? I had to get ready. “We’re shifting ship lads” he said. I could’nt believe it ,what about Pat?
The older hands could see I was shattered, to find someone so nice and then to lose her again so quickly! I felt murderous as we moved slowly back down river. We finished berthing at the other wharf about 7.15, but ,what the hell ,I did,nt know her address, how far away we where, and if I did ,how could I let her know we had moved.
Muttering disconsolately ,I helped to rig the gangway, the shore telephone was passed aboard and the jack plug put in ,I was still holding the unit when it started ringing. I lifted the handset from the cradle to hear Pat saying “Is Andy there?” Wowee, “It’s me, Pat ,it’s Andy” , “ Andy, did you get a mate ?” Yes ,Yes I answered . “ Good , we’ll see you outside this gate in half an hour “ she answered.
The wharf we were at had palm trees on the perimeter ,night had fallen about 6.00 and it was now as dark as midnight . This was the sub tropics. Terry and I walked anxiously to the gate, what was his date going to be like?
They were sitting on a fence just outside the gate and their faces were wreathed in smiles as we stepped toward them, Terrys’ date was lovely, gamin ,with an Audrey Hepburn haircut ,she was as dark as Pat was fair. We asked where they would like to go and they answered “ just for a walk”. We fell into step and we talked , and we talked, it was so joyously free from any awkwardness, they were just as full of dreams as we were. In an age when instant sexual gratification might seem the norm, it may seem foolish to some folk when I say that I was so thrilled just to be able to hold her hand and walk through that tropic night ,listening to her voice tell of her hopes and aspirations. The gentle breeze shushing through the palm trees and nameless night birds trilling their evening songs, the silvery yellow moon so large in the black velvet sky all went to make this night so special. We sat on a paddock fence and sang the songs of our childhood, we ran through the jacarandas and bougainvillaea ,playing tag and hide and seek. This was an innocence so far removed from the slums of my mind ,I felt carefree and so much in love. Can that happen in the space of a few hours? All I knew was that my heart was aflame with joy at the veriest touch of her hand . All too soon the night was over ,they asked if we could meet again tomorrow and could they see the ship? Yes ,we answered, for Terry was as smitten as I was. They had told us that that would really like to hear the songs from My Fair Lady, at that time a Broadway hit , they had only heard the occasional song played on the radio, they had never been aboard a ship either and they were as excited as we were to have them aboard. After a fond and loving goodnight kiss , we saw them safely on the ferry and made our way back aboard. Frankie Kearns was nigh****chman ,and he had seen us with the girls. He never made the expected ribald remarks, he must have seen the stardust in our eyes. “Two nice girls lads, are you seeing them again?” I spilled out our story ,yes we were seeing them ,tomorrow ,they want to come aboard ,but I could’nt take them to my cabin, Bootsie would go into overtime and pull himself to death. “Andy ,I’m on the nigh****ch again tomorrow ,you can have my cabin “ I was so happy at those words ,up to yet I had only seen the hard side of Frank. “I’ll get you some drinks in as well ,and you can use my record player too” I was so excited when I got into my bunk, all was quiet ,Billo and Bootsie were well away. I can’t remember a thing about the next day , only the night . Terry and I were waiting at the ferry at 7.00p.m.. They were both wearing light dresses and had high heels on, they looked gorgeous. We led them to Franks cabin and there were the beers in a bucket with some ice and some Schweppes soft drinks too. The record player was set up and ,waiting on the turntable was the LP of the Broadway show My FairLady, Frank,you angel. The girls were ecstatic, we sat and cuddled as we listened to the songs that they had so longed to hear ;we had been sitting thus for about half an hour when the door was rapped, I got up to see who it was. It was Pete Heygarth, the 2nd cook, in the
full outfit ,crisp white chefs hat ,spotless white jacket and blue checked trousers ,a white kerchief ,and in his hands ,a silver salver ,holding a prawn cocktail with a cold collation and Peche Melba dessert. “Supper for the men and their ladies” he announced. This was totally unexpected ,he came in and laid out the feast as though we were first class passengers and not deck boy and scullion, as he finished serving he gave me a smile and a conspiratorial wink. Pat and her friend were so overcome with the splendour of it all. The night was perfect ,we supped and chatted and then walked to the ferry ,gently kissing and holding each other. This was heaven and I never wanted to leave. And so the days passed , a romantic idyll ,chaste ,yet filled with tenderness. On the Saturday before we sailed , one of the lads had the great idea of going out to a farm and hiring some horses. The idea seemed just right, this was like the wild west and we could play at cowboys. So ,taxis were ordered and we were off to the paddock . Eight of us went and when we got there ,the ranch seemed to be the size of Wales. The horses were like Brumbies,a half wild thing like a mustang, you had to collar your own out of the herd that was ranging around the paddock. That did’nt take too long, even though I was a rookie, I’d only ever been on a donkey at New Brighton, we had to put the saddles on the horses ourselves. I did’nt want to be cruel and so left the girth a little loose, wrong ! I mounted up and the horse immediately galloped over to the herd that was roaming loose , and ,as he galloped the saddle started slipping sideways until I was hanging from it, my hitting the earth with every step. I was petrified in case I was hit by one of his hooves. Happily I slid to the ground and had to chase after him. Once caught , I tightened the girth till his belly looked like an hour glass. Mounted again , I rode over to the rest of the lads and we turned around and headed for town. We thought we were the Bees Knees, looking like a sheriffs posse. I managed to get into to the rhythm of the horses canter, the paddock gate was just ahead and then we would be on the road to Brisbane ,we’d find a pub with hitching posts’ and then and get some 4 x’s down our necks. I was at the back of the crowd tailing behind them as they headed out the gate. My horse stopped at the entrance and refused to move another inch. I dug my heels into its’ belly ,pulled on the reins, shouted Giddap a thousand times. It was going nowhere. I turned its’ head to go back to the house , still would’nt budge, I got off and started pulling it towards the stables, it stood rock still. Would’nt go forwards ,or backwards. Two little blue jeaned boys with straw hats on, were sitting on a five barred gate across the road. They were chewing on corn stems,”I reckin ‘es a Pom mate “ said one , “Bloody looks like it “ said the other one. I got back aboard the recalcitrant one and gave up the struggle. I must have dozed off ,for all of a sudden I felt the horse jolt beneath me and it reared and turned back toward the stables, the lads were on the way back in and this little swine wanted to race them back to the stables. I was totally out of tune with it ,as its backside came up ,mine was going down, it was bump ,bump all the way back ,and at speed too. She slewed to a stop outside the stables and threw me sideways. I’ve never felt quite the same about horses to this day. It was Saturday night and we were going to a hop at the campus.

The Dance was to be held at the campus ,which was home to a lot of young people ,nearly all of them students of some kind. It had been built for American troops in WW2 and was a nice looking place. When Terry and I told the lads on the Jason about the hop, there were so many that wanted to go that we had to order three taxis to get us there . We duly turned up in style, there were about ten of us ,all the junior ratings, deck and catering alike. Everyone one of us had put on our best clobber because this was a Saturday dance. The boys who were already there were in “T” shirts and denims ,or tartan shirts and denims. We were a little bit over dressed and the atmosphere seemed a bit strained at first, when the music started ,the ice was well and truly melted when they locals watched how the lads from Merseyside danced rock and roll. The whole thing was free and easy, there was a local group who did sets between the records ,there was no D.J., some kid just kept on changing the records. And what records they were, Nash Rambler, Long Tall Sally, Paul and Paula, Singing the Blues and many , more. When the dance was finished ,Terry and I got our girls and walked ,we were going to have to say goodbye tonight and I did’nt know how I was going to manage it .They knew we were shifting down to Borthwicks and it was going to be too far to get back to see them, how do you say goodbye to someone who has stolen your heart ? There was a song that was popular at the time ,it was from a film called The Inn of the Sixth Happiness ,a chidrens’ song called “This Old Man”.
The four of us sang it as we walked through that star filled night ,the cicadas providing a wall of sound around us , we sang and we dreaded reaching the ferry. Pat said “Come on fellers, let’s play hide and seek , you two count to fifty and then come and find us ,no looking now “. Like kids ,Terry and I started counting……….1.2….
35,36 when we had nearly reached 50 ,Pats voice called out from a distance “Goodbye ….,Goodbye .Andy “ her voice breaking on that last syllable. There were no street lights , I strained to look at where she had called from but could only see the
moonlit topped palm trees . Terrys’ girl called out goodbye to him and we descended to the ferry in silence . I felt my heart breaking as we climbed back aboard, Frankie was at the top of the gangway, “Yer a sailor now lad ,heart aches are all part of the job”

Borthwicks was were we going to load the frozen meat for home, it was miles from anywhere because it was an enormous meat packing plant that processed cows ,sheep, lambs and calves from the hoof to tins or carcases. The three of us deckboys took a walk to see if we could get to a nearby hamlet ,we were told that there was a little cinema there. The main road must have a couple of miles from the packing plant
because it took us along while to walk to it. There were huge paddocks either side of the road and they were filled with cattle or sheep. I had been to Stanley Abbatoir a few times ,but that could never prepare you for this . The animals seemed to know what they were there for ,the lowing of the cattle had a very mournful tone and although it was dark they crowded to the fence calling as we passed.
When we reached the main road we saw that it stretched endlessly to the left and right, which way to go? As we stood and pondered a little Holden pulled up alongside and the driver asked where we were going , we told him that we had heard about the cinema that was nearby and he told us to jump in. His told us grandfather had come from England and that he worked on the packing plant , he took right up to the cinema. It was a shed ,a long shed , and the seats were deck chairs locked together in rows. There were about 12 rows and the floor was bare concrete with a gentle slope, it was’nt the Odeon but it was purpose built. This was farming country and the audience was mainly young farmboys and girls, it was not the type of audience you got at home. Boisterous and chatty ,we never got to hear the movie properly ,but we did get to see how the farm kids enjoyed themselves, after finishing their bottle of coke ,they would roll them on the floor and they would career down the slope ,their ribbed sides making a noise like a tank on the concrete . They were not aggressive and they took not the slightest notice of we three strangers in their midst. When we started walking
back to the main road another Holden pulled up by us and asked where we were going, these people were great, they were not suspicious of strangers like folk in the big cities . They dropped us off at the top of the road and we walked past those animals ,trying not to think about what was going to happen to them tomorrow .
Next day we set to work to the sound of industrialised death ,the thud and thump of the factories machinery accompanied by the noises of thousands of distressed animals.
Now ,don’t get me wrong ,I’m not a vegetarian ,I love a rare steak, but when we saw the brutal way in which the process took place we were all chastened. The big paddocks we passed the evening before all led into a marshalling paddock which had overhead lines from which dangled live electrical cables, hundreds of them, there were lines of piping overhead too and these had shower heads on them ,The cattle were soaked by the sprinklers and the live cables delivered shocks which were conducted much faster by the dampness. Mounted drovers herded them toward a ramp which they went up in single file. At the top of the ramp was an affair that looked like a horse box ,this was about 10 foot above the ground floor ,on top of the box stood a man who looked like your worst nightmare,shaven headed dressed in just shorts and a leather apron ,every part of him splashed with gore. He was astride the box , above the cow, and he had a pole axe in his hands , the cow entered the box ,the gate slammed shut behind it and Igor swung that axe through an arc of 180 degrees ,crushing the animals skull. The instant the smashing sound was heard ,a man beneath the box threw a lever and the trap door opened beneath the box ,the cow fell struggling in its’ death throes and one man stepped forward and looped a chain around its’ back legs . This was attached to a winch and the cow was pulled up,a second man stepped forward with a razor sharp bill hook and slit open its’ stomach ,the offal falling over him as he did so. It was like a scene from Dantes Inferno ,as soon as one cow was hoisted another was in the box being slaughtered. A conveyor line carried the carcases through some screened doors and about 50 yards beyond that ,lines of corned beef tins rode on a conveyor belt toward the despatch bay. I wo’nt write about the slaughter of the lambs and calves ,as an ex butcher boy I could see that it was gratuitous slaughter. We were only there for a couple of days but we used to bet each other how long we could watch it without feeling queasy, the answer was forever. You can get used to anything if you watch it long enough, the men who worked there seemed brutalised by the job , sometimes you would see the same kind of guy in an English abbatoir. Just don’t get on the wrong side of them.
We left the Brisbane River next morning to find we were one S.O.S short ,Bronco had skinned out. He went quietly , packed his bags and no one saw him go ,we would miss him because he had a great sense of humour and used to help us learn the ropes. It was back to Sydney now , me nursing a sore heart and the three of us still virgins.

Going back down the coast to Sydney was not as exciting as it had been as arriving there for the first time, we were a bit sad to be on the homeward leg.
Bronco had gone ,and with him a little bit of magic ,he had kept us lads entertained. Plus it was not just me who had got all silly over a girl, a couple of the younger ratings were a bit down in the mouth about leaving their girls in Brisbane too.
The older hands were not at all sympathetic towards us moonstruck kids,"Yer shoulda give 'er one" was the phrase most used, as well as "She was'nt after your sweet nothings boy,next time just do the business and get it over with" . With moral support like that ,you could'nt be down in the dumps too long..
Back in Sydney I mated up with the galley boy ,Jimmy Traynor ,a nice kid ,he was on his first trip too, he was quiet and unassuming ,he had to be for he was right at the bottom of the pile in the catering pecking order.
I remember that the movie "The Vikings"was showing at one of the big cinemas and a few of us bottom feeders went to see it. We thought it was great and it had a really distinctive theme tune, it started off with the sounds of long brass horns playing a haunting refrain. Jimmy learned to play this refrain on the kitchen hosepipe and would drive old Alf the chef round the twist with his incessant blowing. We deckboys never succeeded doing it on our hosepipes.
Nothing remarkable happened while we were in Pyrrmont ,excepting for the time the three of us were in our bunks ,we were still awake , Billo and I were reading and we knew what Bootsie was up to by the sounds coming from behind his curtains ;he had drawn his bunk curtains ,but not the ones on the portholes. We were all brought to full consciousness when a loud Ocker voice shouted through the open porthole Fack me mate ,yew've got more ta bleedin' play wiv than I've got to walk with !!" This gap toothed wharfie was laughing like a drain ,he said he'd been watching Bootsie ,on and off for half an hour . We heard the sound of the curtains being drawn and Bootsie went back to his business.

We shipped a replacement for Bronco in Sydney, a deckhand from Liverpool, he had gone out on the ?10 scheme and now wanted to go home. He was what we boys thought of as cool, his Scouse accent had been softened by his time in Oz and he did everything in a laid back way ,he had hair like Jeff Chandler (noone knew then that Chandler was gay) and a lopsided grin. He never treated us lads with anything but kindness and was a real Jack the Lad with the ladies.
Someone must have told him about my unfulfilled state because one evening he came to me and said , "If you go to my cabin you will find something that will do you good"2” I went to his cabin not knowing what to expect, the vision of what confronted me lives with me still . Mr “Cool” had sent me to his cabin , and there I found a woman ,sitting in the lotus position, facing the door, with nary a stitch of clothing on her body . My eyes came out on stalks ,for there was the secret of secrets right in front of my face. But, but , she was an old woman and the flesh on her thighs hung in massive folds and her womanhood looked ,well , past it .
She did’nt turn a hair “Yew want some ?“ she asked parting her thighs even wider .”Oh god ,no,for christs sake missus ,close your legs !” I screamed inwardly . I was so embarrassed,”Er ,Ronnie asked me to see if you’d like a cup of tea “ I stammered. “Naw” she replied and I fled , burning with shame and embarrassment.
I did’nt tell a soul, if I??d told Bootsie you can imagine the consequences . That night the gang of us went down to Circular quay to have a drink in the legendary pubs down there .There was an Orient boat in and the place was really lively. I can remember going in to the Captain Cook ,but I cannot recall much after that. Just before we left Sydney a car with some of the girls from Brisbane turned up outside the docks .One of them must have taken her Dads car, and they had driven all the way. The police came aboard and sought out the respective boyfriends’. They warned them that they could not go anywhere near the girls as they would be committing an offence ;we never found out what that offence was, but the girls had to go back to Queensland.
Shortly after that we set course for Port Melbourne. It seemed we were going to be in for a lively time for the radio was full of a festival that was to be held there ,it was called Moomba on the Yarra, there was also going to be a bit of a do for the arrival of Australias 10 millionth immigrant .
The Italians seaman had ended their strike by the time we got back to Port Melbourne, the pier had a Strath boat ,an Orient boat ,a beautiful looking Port boat and an Italian liner ,the Sitmar, all tied up alongside. Smokey Joes’ ,the café at the end of the pier ,was packed, full of sailors and girls and the juke box playing hits like the Platters “Smoke gets in your eyes “ and many more.The atmosphere was brilliant ,so many lovely girls that Pat was quickly going on to the back burner.
The three of were sitting near the bar when we saw this guy walk up to the counter , he was tall ,deeply suntanned ,wearing a white polo shirt that was in danger of being ripped apart by the huge muscles that strained beneath it . With his strong cleft chin and Tony Curtis haircut ,he looked how we would have wished we could look,a mountain of testosterone filled manhood…………And then he pulled out his little purse and lisped “A rathberry cordial pleathe”,daintily dropping the coins into the the barkeeps hand. Billo just blushed ,Bootsie and I were stifling our laughter………………and then it happened.
This guy, about 30 years old ,came up behind us and asked if he could buy Bootsie a drink ,he did’nt want to know about Billo and me. He asked Bootsie right off if he would like to go back to his house and have a drink with his wife. So the stories were true!! Billo and me were crushed ,what had Bootsie got that we did’nt have,did that docker in Sydney spread word? So off went Bootsie and me and Billo nursed our discontent over a couple of cokes. Each thinking “Dirty ,.lucky *******.”
We failed to pull and made our way back aboard, after a bit of supper we went back to the cabin. Sleep was out of the question , we were kept awake by the thought of what Bootsie was doing now, and what we were’nt! The hours ticked slowly by , midnight was sounded on all the liners at the quay,one a.m. came and went ,”Jeez,I bet he’s drilled her to death by now “ said Billo. Half past one ,quarter to two, I said that he would explode through the door and give us chapter and verse. It was just past two when Bootsie stole into the cabin, like a thief in the night, he crept toward his bunk. We sat and listened to him climb beneath his sheets,the two of us jumped up and went round to him.”Well ,come on…What was it like!” He was sitting with his knees up to his chest ,silent,oh so silent,his little shoulder heaving as he broke out sobbing. His voice broken with pain ,he shuddered out the words of the ordeal he had undergone . Oh ,he had made love alright,he had lost his virginity, and when he was in the act of losing it the husband entered him. That was fifty years ago and I still feel the pain he was filled with that night. If I might move the narrative forward 16 years ,I can relate the consequences that summer night had for Bootsie. I was stopping with Mum and Dad for a few days ,my wife Sue had gone shopping with Mum to Kirkby market and so I took my ,then ,three year old son Steven ,for a ride on the ferry . We went to Birkenhead , I wanted to see what the old Blue Funnel stamping ground was like , although there had been quite a few changes ,D’olivieras Café was still there. That was where the Bluey boys would meet up of a day time . I took Steven in for a pop and a cake. There were’nt too many people inside , a couple of old aged pensioners some young kids , and this piece of exotica sitting at the back. This was midday in Birkenhead , and this bouffant haired ,mascara’d and lipsticked guy was sitting there ,fluttering his long black lashes at me. Yes ,he was looking at me ,smiling coyly….and then recognition dawned, Bootsie !
I went and had a up of tea with him, but I just felt so sad . Was this his true destiny? I’ll never know ,all I do know was that he was set on that road in the summer of ’59.
Billo and I kept the rape a secret from the rest of the lads,.in fact we never spoke of it again. Bootsie was quieter, he got on with his deck work and became very proficient at it. God knows what he was nursing within him.
Port Melbourne brought other changes too.

One of the more pleasant aspects of mooring on the passenger quay in Port Melbourne was watching the liners depart, it was always a very colourful occasion.
On the Saturday, I stood watching a Strath boat leaving for England ,there were hundreds of people who had come to wave goodbye to their loved ones, thousands of coloured streamers seemed to hold the ship fast to the quay, the great horns were blowing their goodbyes and the farewell music on the ships tannoy helped add to the ,already emotional atmosphere. Slowly ,she pulled away from her mooring ,the bells of the telegraph could be heard across the boardwalk ,heartfelt shouts of goodbyes and good luck filled the air as the streamers began to part . As she was tugged and manoeuvered into position ,her great propellers threshed the waters and she gently steamed toward the seaway ,the crowds turning to make their way home. There were lots of pretty ladies who had come to see their men off ,faces wet with tears they walked slowly to their loneliness.
Later on I was feeling pretty lonely, it was Saturday night and I never had the money to go ashore . Billo and Bootsie had gone to the movies and most of the other junior ratings were also ashore. There seemed to be just me and the night watchman. I was sitting by the gangway ,dusk was turning to night and I was watching the quay ,ogling the girls and wishing I was elsewhere. The shore telephone , which was at the top of the gangway ,shrilled out ,being close to it ,I picked it up to hear a female asking if I wanted to go to a party. Without hesitation , I answered yes ,she asked if I had a mate ,I asked her to hang on while I went to see if I could find one. I dashed into the accommodation, running past all the ratings cabins , Old Wally was in but I ruled him out, a couple of lads were lying on their bunks ,lost in their lager fuelled dreams .Stan Hall was in ! Stan was in his late 20’s , he might be game. He was sat on his bench , a case of 4xxxx’s at his feet ,looking at the cool glistening cans like a father looks proudly at his new born son, I asked him if he fancied going to a party ,that some Sheila was waiting for an answer. He was really torn , could he leave his tinnies for a real party? I was a salesman even then , I told him they sounded great and that it was supposed to be a really great “do” at the nurses home .All he had to do was put a shirt on and we were made. “O.K. pegs , take me to the party”. She was still on the line ,”Meet us at the gate” she said. Stan almost had to run to keep up with me , I was excited ,a party at a nurses home, this was the stuff of legends ,and most of the lads had missed out on it.
It was well and truly dark now, standing in the shadows near the gate were what looked like a female version of Laurel and Hardy. “Oh jeez, let the little one be mine .” “Are yew Andee “ she called. “Yes “ I answered “And this is my mate Stan” . Stan muttered murderously out of the side of his mouth .”What the f**k d’you call this peggy” I cringed and asked their names, the little one said “Oim Del and she’s June “ pointing to the large one . June gripped hold of Stan , like a sumo wrestler grips hold of a chicken leg. “I guess we’re gonna a have a great toime boy ” she threatened . Stans look could have killed most men at thirty paces.
“Er, listen fellers ,the girls just told us that the party’s been cancelled ,so we’ll have to go somewhere else “,said Del. Stan hissed into my ear “Andy ,you are so f**king dead”
This was Port Melbourne, if you wanted to drink after 6.0p.m. , you had to dine . “Where ar yer takin’ us girls ?” asked Stan. Del said that she knew a nice little place in Melbourne , we would need a taxi though. I did’nt look at Stans face ,it would’nt do me any good at all. Nevertheless ,Stan hailed a cab and we took a slow ride into the town .Stan sat in front with the driver and I sat in the back with Stan and Ollie…………and Stanley, I mean Del ,was feeling fruity and the night had’nt even started. At length we drew up outside our destination , it was that posh nightclub I had gone to when we were on our outward journey. I mentally closed my ears to the death threats that were issuing from the side Stans of mouth. We took our places at a table by the dance floor and the girls ordered a cart load of food and buckets of beer. I was lapsing into the throes of fear instilled insanity, Stan sat staring balefully at me ,mouthing the foulest of threats whilst our dates used shovels to load themselves with a months stores. June ,burping gracefully into a ham sized hand ,asked Stan if he was into cha cha, half dazed by the sight of the gorging ,he nodded weakly and she grabbed him and steered him round the floor. I had seen films of first world war veterans who were in throes of shell shock, Stan looked very much like the worst of these when he came back from his dance. June sat down and started on the sweet trolley ,she had the good grace not to eat the wheels as well. It’s amazing how fear can add a new dimension to a night out, I could see it in Stans eyes when June said that he could see her home that night.
We got a taxi back to the pier and Del walked me to a secluded spot out of the range of prying eyes, June frogmarched Stan somewhere else ,and we two were alone.
Stood up against that warehouse wall ,Del did things to my body that no female had ever done before ,I was lost in wonderment as she let me freely explore her every part , I was like a gynaecologist ,a pioneering one at that ,I was going where I had never been before. But when I left her I was still a virgin ,my natural timidity had prevented me crossing that final bridge. Still, I went back aboard with ahead full of technicolored, erotic dreams.
Luckily for me ,Stan survived his ordeal and was now reunited with his case of Castlemaine. I fell into to a deep slumber, no underwater dreams that night.

I was a bit put out on Sunday, I wanted to see Del again ,but I had’nt taken her address or ‘phone number ,I would’ve like to see how much further things would go, but I was stymied, there was no way I could find her.
Alan Royds ,our night watchman, came to the rec’ room, ”Andy ,there’s a woman on the phone,she’s asking for you” I tore around to the gangway ,picking up the handset ,I heard, “Andee, darling is thet yew?” I mumbled yes “ Sweetie, could you look in the left pocket of yer jackit,Oi think Oi moight ev dropped my lighter in it by mistake last noight”
I told her to hold on while I looked , it was there! Back on the phone , I told her that I had found it and that I would bring it to her.
“Don’t worry sweetie, I’m at the gate , come and fetch me aboard”
Years older than last night ,I told her I was on my way. I told Alan of my predicament ,”don’t worry And, you can use my cabin ,I’ll get you a couple of beers too.”
What a guy !
I took Del into the cabin and led her to Alans bunk, she tore my clothes off and slipped her own off so quickly that I was making love before I knew it , no preliminaries, just the most fantastic experience of my life thus far, she moved as one with me and I felt worlds collide and crash, a continuous series of shuddering explosions racked my frame as my innocence was at last ended . Spent with the power and the fury, we relaxed into each others arms ,our hot flesh enfolding us …..and then I heard the sound of applause. Alan had gathered what wharfies and crewmen there were and they had viewed the whole show through the opened portholes .The bugger had pushed open the curtains without us noticing . Del was’nt fazed at all , she reached up and closed the curtains and she got me going all over again .
Laying there ,in the warm afterglow, the smoke of our post coital cigarettes entwining as they coiled towards the deckhead, Del said “ You know ,I only came down to the pier yesterday to wave goodbye to my new husband……..he’s a sailor on that P.&O. boat, we got married nine days ago.” I felt lousy! How could she do that ? I was still very young , but I did have a very strong sense of right and wrong . When I said goodbye to her that night ,I meant goodbye and not au revoir.
I went to Smokey Joes the next night ,Billo and Bootsie came with me. We were sitting listening to the juke box when this really nice looking young girl came up to me and asked if it was true that I had taken Del to bed. I was shocked rigid, how could she know? I asked her who had told her that and she answered ,Del. She must have spoken favourably of me because this girl wanted me to take her “home” too.
I did not get involved with her ,just a one night stand, I was becoming a sailor.
Only three more ports to go ,I was starting to look forward to going home , I wanted to see Anne again.

The run up to Adelaide was pretty straight forward ,calm seas ,no forest fires lighting up the night skies ,and a general air of contentment amongst the crew, we were on the homeward leg.
We went dancing this time in Adelaide ,I think it was in a United Kingdom club, I seem to remember the hall being draped with Union Flags and a large Annigoni painting of the Queen taking pride of place on the rear wall of the stage.
The band was made up of elderly musicians and they were playing the type of music that Victor Sylvester played on his radio show. I was bemused by the instruments the musicians had, the drummer had a set of cow bells, and the bass player had a broomstick upon which there countless metal bottle tops which gave a jinking sound when he shook it. There was a soprano saxophone and a banjo, this was not a rock and roll band, and the dancers were not hep cats. The average age of the ladies would have been about 50, but ,God bless them, they were there to see that we young jolly jacks could have an evening of frivolity and cup cakes.
Where did all the young ladies of Adelaide go? We never ,ever found out.
On leaving port, we had the long haul across the Australian Bight and then we were going to a place called Albany, this is a town that is situated at the southern most tip of Western Australia a little to the east of West Cape Howe. We would be spending the one night there and it was all ashore to taste the delights of this far away place. It was dusk by the time we got into the main street and the sight that met us was incredible. The town had taken on the appearance of a wild west cattle town, there were jackaroos galloping hell for leather up and down the main street . If you have ever seen Frederick S Remingtons paintings of the bronco busters hitting the town ,it will give you an idea of the scene that we were faced with. A policeman, who was calmly watching the proceedings , told us that the jackaroos had just driven a herd of cattle hundreds of miles and were letting off steam. "Don't go near 'em boys, they're gonna get so ****ed that they will fight any man who is'nt one of their crowd. So we stood on the verandah of a store and watched the "show". To see the horsemen tearing up and down that street ,whooping and roaring and making their brumbies wheel and turn ,the horses nostrils flared and snorting, eyes ablaze with a devils fury. It was one of the best sights I have ever seen.
We never got a beer that night, but we watched a few good natured fights.
Come daylight ,a silence reigned over the town as we crept out to sea .
Fremantle was next , another Victorian type town , a good seamans mission and lots of young lady volunteers made it a pleasant enough stay ,but the smell of home was in our noses.
Sailing back up to Aden was just as good as heading down to Oz, we had our airborne companion with us ,wheeling and dipping ,as much a fixture of our ship as was the Red Duster fluttering at the stern. We were making the ship ready for home ,paintwork and greasing was the order of the day, we peggys' were learning how to use a chipping hammer and scraper, mastering the art of sujying, mixing the right amount of lye soap and caustic soda so that you could could through the salt and grease but not damage the paintwork. Every morning commenced with the washing and scrubbing of the decks ,teams of men ,armed with stiff brushes and holy stones, mounted in steel clamps at the end of a brush pole, would follow a leading hand who was applying a strong mixture of soap and caustic soda to the wooden decks. We started on the bridge and made our way down all the deck levels scrubbing and rubbing until those decks gleamed bright in the morning sun. A team of lads followed the scrubbers ,they were the hose men ,and they washed away all the dregs. We would start at six a.m. and were finished in time or breakfast. A great way to start the day, there was always a laugh and a joke to be had, and on those warm southern mornings you never wore anything but shorts and seaboots, you'd burn your feet if you wore flip flops.
For those of you who are landlubbers ,I'd better explain what a holy stone is . It is a large block of sandstone, many times larger than the ones used by our grandmothers to scrub their doorsteps. There are several versions as to the origin of the name,some say that it was because the decks were originally scrubbed on a Sunday and that the ancient seaman had to get down on their knees to scrub that it looked like they were praying. The stone Ashlars in Masonic temples are the exact same size and composition and this would offer another explanation of the use of "holy". But ,I digress, all that brushing and scrubbing would give a young man a hearty appetite, and the cooks made sure that we were not disappointed when we sat down to breakfast. But I have told you about that already..
The measure of our days when sailing was marked by a regularity, we awakened to a hot cup of tea and a slice of buttered toast ,prepared by the 4 to 8 watch "farmer" .By 6.00 we were out working and at 8.00 we were dining. 9.00 we were back out on deck ,and then at 10,30 it was smoko ; we worked for one and a half hour stretches in the main,and we really did work,no slacking was allowed. The only man to work to his own routine was Wally Skeggs, our promenade deck man. Wally was ,and still is ,a bit of a mystery to me. In a profession where you were subjected to rigorous medical examinations every six months ,and your eyesight was the most important part of the examination, it did give a person pause for thought as to how a "blind" person could still make it to sea.
Apparently ,Wally had perfect eye balls ,he just could'nt raise his eyelids . He seemed as old as the hills,but was very far from feeble, when you saw him stripped to the waist you could see that he had been made out of solid muscle when he was younger. I don't know where he came from originally ,his accent was an enigma ,a mixture of Australian , scouse and west country. His skin was olive coloured and his head was packed tight with thick iron grey curls. When aboard ship he was always wearing a cap ,taking it off only for meals and showers ,when he went ashore ,he always wore a trilby and a brown .pin striped three piece suit ,looking every inch a gentleman with his gold Albert chain strung across his waistcoat. He loved to bet on the horses and you would see him of a weekend ,making his way ashore through the densest of traffic ,eyes clamped shut ,striding across Flinders Street ,or wherever, scattering the cars and buses ,they gave way to Wally!!
We peggy's respected him for his age ,as well as his skills , to see him tie a whipping on a ropes end with his eyes shut tight was amazing, to hear him tell tales of ships long gone was engrossing. The only thing about Wally that would set our teeth on edge was his timing, every morning ,as we peggy's were putting all the finishing touches to our making ready for the 10.00 a.m. masters inspection, old Wally would come into the sailors washroom for a clean bucket of water for his prom deck sujying . He would stumble down the newly cleaned alleyway, barrel his way into the washroom ,feel his way to the sink ,stick his bucket under the tap and fill it until it was slopping over the top and then stumble his way back out ,splashing water all over the place ,muttering "Pooh yer,huh huh huh".
We then had to make a mad dash to get things clean again. Some things you learn to live with. Some people were very cruel to Wally, I was a replacement on this ship ,and it was'nt until we were homeward bound that I heard about the lad I was supposed to have replaced. When the ship was newly arrived in Glasgow, it was deep in the heart of winter and Wally was in the showers cleaning himself up after work. Two of the EDH's went into Wallys cabin and removed all his clothes and bedding ,opened the portholes and blocked off the blowers, When Wally went back to his cabin ,wearing only his towel ,the lads pulled his door closed and locked him in. A silly enough joke to play on anyone, but on an old man? Wally soon realised his predicament and started calling for help,there was no one around to hear his shouting and he was getting very cold ,and very angry. When they had decided he had had enough ,they quietly unlocked his door ,retired to a safe distance and shouted to him that it was unlocked .And just at that moment a new deckboy was making his way down the alley past Wallys' door looking for his new cabin ,out steps Wally ,maddened to a frenzy, carrying a very large fid ,the size of an Indian club ,seeing the deckboy through his eyes ,which had used all his might to open , he swung the fid down on the boys skull and practically killed him. I was the said boys replacement. I never found out which of the EDH's carried out that prank . It was never talked about openly. A second outrage was perpetrated against Wally ,this time by an Irish slimeball ,if he is reading this he will know who he is, a psychopathic bully, good looking ,but mean and nasty. He was always quietly bullying us peggies, we never let him succeed though ,we stuck together and never let him get us down........................but old Wally,the punk thought that he was easy meat. When Wally sat down for his meal ,the peggy would place it in front of him ,it was no effort and it kept the boy happy. Beef was on the menu today ,Wally was sat awaiting his food ,and when the peggy placed it in front of him ,Irish dropped a floor cloth over the top of it. The messroom went silent ,Wally set about trying to cut his meat, "Poooh, it's bleedin' tough today Peggy boy" he grunted. Eventually he succeeded in cutting a slice of cloth and put it in his mouth to chew it, choking ,he spat it out and strained his head sideways ,slowly forcing his eyelids to open. It was a frightening sight ,the rage that appeared to burn out of the reddened orbs would have scorched anyone he looked at. Grasping the floor cloth ,he uncurled himself from his seat and bellowed with rage "If I find the man who did this, I'll facking kill him". Trembling with anger ,he made his way back to his cabin and got hold of his trusty fid. For three whole days he stood out side the door to the after deck ,head to one side ,eyelids straining open, as he scanned the faces of the men stepping out on deck. The Irish slimeball had shot his bolt ,we never grassed on him, but he knew we could ,end of bullying! After that little episode Wally was left in peace.
We were going to call in to Aden on the way home, it would give us a chance to buy gifts for the family ,the bum boat had some great stuff to sell, Japanese and German cameras, new fangled transistor radios ,battery powered toys and loads and loads of counterfeit goods. A pound could get you an awful lot in Aden .
It was still a British possession in those days and we were going to pick up a family of three who had been out there for some time.
The third person in the family was a little boy of about four years of age ,when he climbed up the gangway and saw the oil stained seamen in their shorts and flip flops ,he squealed excitedly "Look Mummy ,white coolies!" Oh, how it endeared him to us!!.
Among the many bits of bric a brac that I bought in Aden ,was a musical cigarette lighter. Style ,or what ,it played Smoke gets in Your Eyes everytime you lit up.
Caused a sensation when I got home, had orders for half a dozen if I ever got back to Aden .
Back in the Red Sea now ,so hot it feels like somebody has left Hells doors open ,our cabin was too hot to sleep in so we took our bedding to the passageway outside our cabin, looped a blanket over the bulkhead handrail and tucked the other side beneath our mattress, making an open ended tent the gentle breeze that blew through it keeping us cool through the night. Beat all the air conditioning ,the sound of the sea hissing past the ships sides and the steady thrum of the engines gently led us into the land of dreams,and this time my dreams were of home.

The Jason was a fast cargo liner, she could do 450 miles a day ,not much when compared to the Atlantic greyhounds but fast enough for a cargo boat.
We were soon at Port Tewfik , at the Red Sea end of the Suez canal , there was a lot of mail from home for all of us . We would each take our letters and find a quiet spot to catch up with the news from our loved ones and friends . I was getting used to the idea that life still goes on at home even though you are not there. Mum's letter had to be read twice before I grasped what she was telling me, our Jess was now Mrs Tillett . She had married her soldier boy Graham ; it was a register office wedding (had to be ,too many religious differences to accommodate and cause offence if it was the "wrong" church). So I now had a brother in law.
I was a bit peed off to have missed the celebrations but this was all part of going to sea. Family life really can go on without you ,you learn that you are not the centre of the universe,just a part of it.
There was the usual Dear John letter pinned the notice board after mail call ,the older hands were very philosophical about romance , the ones who were in serious relationships kept quiet about them ,the "Jack the lads" were out for a girl in every port ,rivers of booze and a non-stop good time and all the rest was propaganda..
We were very shallow in regards to the opposite sex , the messroom conversations consisted mainly of our conquests ,of the girls we had tupped and the ones we were going to tup. Love 'em and leave 'em was the attitude that seemed to govern them ,and I was no different.
Sailing through the canal was a peaceful interlude . You glide along a mirror like surface through a landscape of sand hills and palm trees ,passing villages and farmsteads that are splashes of emerald amidst the never ending gold. Sound carries clearly along the river bank and you can hear the braying of the donkeys , the crowing of the roosters and the laughter of the children, it is almost like sailing through someones backyard, so close and yet so removed from the life around you.

Arriving in Port Said is always exciting , the huge harbour is so full of ships from the world over ,liners ,tramps and tankers lay at their moorings awaiting transit through to the Red Sea. This was 1959,just three years after the Franco British invasion of Suez , and the port still had some sunken wrecks that had been victims of that war. There was a hulk moored to the far side of the harbour on which the legend "Home Rule For Wales" was emblazoned on its hull,what the Egyptians made of that I don't know but it was always a source of mirth for those who saw it for the first time.
We stopped in Port Said for a few hours ,giving us the chance to get some last minute presents, some postcards and some of the little novels that the port was so famous for. "The Autobiography of a Flea" being the most popular in this genre. The bumboat men were so quick witted and could speak many languages and dialects. There was a barber who could switch from Scouse to Geordie and most other British dialects ,and he was perfect in everyone of them ,it was worth the price of a haircut to hear him perform. There was also a bookseller who had an American sense of humour ,he came out with non stop one liners ,one of the lads wanted to swap some books and Abdul looked at him ,witheringly and said "Whaddya tink dis is,.............a lending library?" But the funniest was the guy who was engaged in a haggling session with one our Chinese firemen, the bumboat man had met his match with our fireman, he had beaten Abdul down to the lowest possible price until the bumboat cried "What are you,.........a Scotsman?"
The bargaining and the bustle was ended all too soon and then we were out into the Mediterranean ,speeding for home, we had to get a good tan before arriving in Liverpool and so the decks were littered with bodies at every work free interval ,we never used sunblock or tanning lotions ,no one knew of the devastating effects that overtanning could wreak back then, we just wanted to be brown ,it was a good puller we were told..
Springtime in the Med can be great, mild breezes and a warm sun combine to make perfect sailing weather ,and the colours are so different too.
After the sultry reds and purple textures of the arab seas, the azure and turquoise of the middle sea was so refreshing ,the white topped waves and the seagulls wheeling and turning in the skies above were heralding our return to northern climes.
Within days we were passing Gibraltar , around Finisterre and then across the Bay of Biscay, colder and fresher but Summer was in the wings and there were no storms this time.
Dunkirk was our last port of call before going up to the Mersey, mail call brought a lot more post and we went off to read the letters ,agog for the latest from home.
Mum had a bit of trouble getting her words down, she was all over the place ,and then the words sprang out and stabbed to me in the heart .
The doctors had given up on Harry and were sending him home to die . It pains me still to write this even after all the years that have passed since then. I was heartbroken , blinded with tears, I walked aft until I was at the stern end. Leaning on the rails beneath the ensign, I re read the letter, I was riven with guilt, I had been having the time of my life and poor Harry was all the while dying , I had written the odd letter and collected some Australian magazines that I thought he would like, but I felt so guilty . As I stood grieving I felt a hand on my shoulder, it was Vic the Lampy. "Some bad news Andy?" he asked gently. I struggled to tell him what I had read, "I wish I had a friend who cared for me like you care for him Andy, you'll be home soon, go see him" He gave my shoulder a squeeze and left me. I felt so comforted by his few words ,he was a kind man.
Whilst we were in Dunkirk we had some cleaning ladies working in the hatch ,we were unloading grain and they were sweeping up the spillages.One of the women was hit by a fully laden sling and was very badly injured. She had to be lifted out of the hatch strapped to a hatch board ,I heard that she had died of her wounds ,life can be so arbitrary.
The "channels" gripped everyone as were sailed up from Dunkirk, the mess was alive with stories of what the men were going to do when they got home,new suits ,new girls and good times were the order of the day,meanwhile we had a ship to get ready for home .The paintwork was given the finishing touches ,the brasswork was buffed to perfection and old Wally was slapping on the varnish on the prom deck rails.
Bootsie was subdued in our cabin ,we sympathised with him ,but we were caught up in the general excitement of going home.
After we picked up the pilot from Holyhead the excitement was at fever pitch, we were just hours from home.
It was mid morning when we passed the Bar Lightship ,the sun was still in the east, silhouetting the waterfront ,there were the cranes in the Gladstone over the water stood New Brighton ,still proud then ,and the ferries buffeting across the coffee coloured waters. Tugs busied themselves about us like ducklings ,lines were thrown ,hawsers paid out ,whistles tooted and horns blared. We were home.

Aftermath

As soon as our foredeck came close to the Gladstone lock entrance ,the shore gang jumped aboard. These were mostly ex Bluey sailors who had swallowed the hook ,they replaced us in our docking positions thus enabling us to go and get ready for home.
Everyone , except the mess peggy, made a dash for the showers ,the mess peggy had to make sure that everything was clean and packed away ,the shore skipper would inspect it and if it was not up to usual inspection standards the peggy could be "logged".That is fined a days pay and have a black mark against him for next trip. We did'nt have too much trouble getting everything squared away, we were going to go "round the coast" on her anyway. This meant having only 5 days at home , rejoining her to discharge her cargo in Glasgow, Hamburg ,Amsterdam and Antwerp ,we would be back in under 3 weeks and then have another 9 days leave. Bootsie , Billo and I decided to come back for another trip ,we had gotten used to each other and we liked the "run".
The crews quarters was filled with crowds of people by the time I got finished in the mess, everyone was going home ,some for 5 days and some who would'nt be making the return trip. The sailors alley was going to be empty and I had to find someone who could take care of Puss while we were on leave. Old Wilf suggested I ask the head man down aft ,he was from Shanghai and had been on the ship for years..
I carried Puss aft and went to the Tomilows cabin ,I pointed to Puss and asked if he would look after her until I came back next week. Smiling and nodding ,he took her from me and gave me the thumbs up. Job done, I went back to our cabin and finished packing. Jimmy the Galley boy lived quite near to me in Garston so we decided to share a taxi. We had'nt officially signed off yet , that would happen tomorrow at the shipping office in Birkenhead. We had to wait to be cleared by Customs ,the "Rummagers" were going through some cabins with a fine tooth comb. There was'nt much you could smuggle from Australia and drugs were not even on our horizons. No, these guys were looking to see if we had the extra bottle of spirits or a surplus packet of fags. Having got our taxi ,not a difficult job ,we then had to negotiate our way out of the dock gate, you were warned by the old hands to have at least half a crown ready for the Bobby on the gate. No money and he would have you out of that taxi and search your cases for contraband.
This was in the days before mini cabs, our taxi was one of those Hackney carriages ,the driver up front in his little cab ,luggage space on the left hand side of him instead of a passenger seat and a great big klaxon horn just in front of the drivers door. A real taxi.
As we drove along the cobbled Dock Road we were in an unending stream of traffic, to the right of us was the Overhead Railway, elevated above the rail lines that ran beneath it. There were steam wagons ,with great solid tyred wheels wheezing there way along, horses and waggons jostling with 10 ton trucks for their place in the traffic. Above us ,the little brown wooden coaches of the Overhead glided gracefully along , no impediments to their passage; on the rails beneath steam tank engines of the dock railway chuffed their way along, big brass bells warning of their progress. The air was filled with the chatter of steam winches and the rattle of chains, the honking of wagons and the whinnys' of horses. The pavements were abustle with dockers, shipmen and sailors of every size and colour, buses and trams made their way through this mayhem, Liverpool in all it's mercantile glory.
Jimmy and I decided to spend some time together if we could, after seeing my family ,I wanted to see Harry .I told Jimmy how guilty I felt and he surprised me by saying that he would like to come and see if he could make him feel better, Mum had said in, her letters, that none of the people from the shop bothered with him now, I thought Jims offer was spot on.
After dropping Jim off we drove into the our square ,passing under the great arch of the service road, my heart beating like a sewing machine . Kids were playing on the swings and roundabouts ,mums and dads leaning on the balconies ,laughter echoing around the buildings, the driver honks his horn and all eyes turn to the taxi.
He spins the hackney around the square and pulls to a stop at the foot of our stairs, I get out and pay him, unload my luggage and notice that I'm surrounded by kids ,little ones. It's still school time , Jess will be at work and Bette down at Banks Road school.. One little kid is smiling at me ,her fringed face with twinkling eyes and lovely smile , it's Chris ,my kid sister, she's with her little friend Doreen and she is too shy to run and kiss me. Leading the way , she scampers up the stairs to warn Mum of my homecoming . Neighbours wave hello as I pass them on my way up, it is a wonderful ,glorious feeling , cries come across from other landings , Mrs Flynn ,Mrs Barnett , Mrs Wade, waving and greeting. And then I'm on our step and there stands Mum, a smile to light the heavens and her eyes aglitter with unspilt tears. The smell coming from the kitchen tells me that my homecoming is being readied. Stuffed and roasted hearts followed by sugar crusted apple pies and custard. After a little hug ,she lets me go and unpack while she goes back to her cooking. Looking out my bedroom window I get a strange feeling,nothing has changed ,everything is just as I left it. The only thing different is me ,and then I realised ,we were one member short . Our Jess.

Jess was not at work as I had thought ,she was now living with her new husband in Walton ,it would seem strange not having her at home any more. The only good thing about it was it meant Bette and Chris now had their own room.
Mum came into my room to see if their was any dirty washing, eyeing my neatly ironed shirts and spotless underwear, she expressed her amazement ,she had expected a load of smelly old clothes.
When everyone was home ,Mum served dinner and the world seemed such a peaceful place ,I had little gifts for them all and I wanted to give them after dinner. I was in my room ,getting the presents from my case, when the front knocker was rapped .Mum answered it ,I heard her say "A. what d'you want ,ar Brians 'me " "I know" answered A,"Ive got something for 'im", she replied. And then I heard Mum screech "Gerroff yer dirty cow!!" and then the door slammed. I asked what had happened and she looked at me ,eyes filled with laughter, "She was wearin' a mac,held closed by 'er 'ands ,and when I asked 'er what she 'ad for yer, she opened 'er mac an' she 'adn't gorra stitch on !!" Mum laughed ,and I limped back into my room.
It was hard, in more ways than one in getting to sleep that night. There was no sound ,the heartbeat that had rocked me to sleep for the past 3 months was silenced.
Next morning I awoke to a smell that I had never smelt at breakfast in our house, bacon and eggs! Mum had been to Coopers in town and bought corn cured bacon in honour of my return. It was a beautiful to start the day. Freshly washed and dressed I had to meet Jimmy and go to Birkenhead ,it was pay off day .We got the tram right down to the Pier Head and then the ferry across to Woodside .On reflection ,there was so little road traffic about then and public transport was so frequent that time was not a problem in getting anywhere. 10'0clock saw us in Argyle Street ,a lot of the crew were already there, looking so different now ,all dressed up their very best suits, some of them had their wives or girl friends with them. As we stood chatting on the steps ,a beautiful maroon coloured Jaguar saloon glided to a halt , "must be the Captains" I thought . Out stepped a very good looking lady and two very smartly dressed schoolchildren and they were followed by the driver, Alf the Chef.
It would be an understatement to say I was gobsmacked ,she was beautiful and he had to be at least 25 stone.!
We would be back here signing on in 5 days time so it was quick goodbyes all around and back to Garston ,we had money to burn!! All ?28-00d of it ,four nice white fivers eight green ones and some silver. My pockets had never been so full.
But first things first, I had to go and see Ann at the cake shop , see the crowd at the butchers see if I could find Ronnie and then visit Harry. I was in for five very busy days.
I made arrangements to go with Jimmy to see Harry later that afternoon ,first it was up to the cake shop, after a quick hello at Kearns, then up to Ronnies place. I felt sorry for the lads in Kearns, they seemed so pasty faced and unsmiling compared to my shipmates, Sid gave me a smile and told me I'd grown and that was about it.
When I walked in the cakeshop I got a fantastic welcome, Ann looked lovelier than ever , we would go to the movies that night and then to the Park on Saturday. I then hurried up to see Ronnie and was lucky to find him in. He had married his Mary and she was expecting their first child ,he asked if I could babysit for them on Saturday and was amazed when I said yes, I would get Ann to do it with me and we could be alone to do what we wished.
I met Jimmy a little while later and we travelled up to see Harry , I had brought the magazines I had saved from Oz, I was full of trepidation ,not knowing how Harry would be. I warned Jim that it might not be pleasant.
We got there just before 5 o' clock, Harry was sat in a Queen Anne chair by the front window ,his head was resting on the palms of his hands when we walked into the room . The atmosphere seemed so desolate , there was no hope left in him. He slowly raised his head and looked at me ,he was finding it hard to focus, recognition crept across his face. Inside ,I cried great tears ,this was the Kid ,indomitable, what kind of God can do that to anyone!! His face was bloated from the drugs and he could only talk with difficulty. I went and sat beside him, showing him the colourful pictures in the pages of those magazines. He rested the palm of his hand on the back of mine ,and I understood ,no use showing him all that ,it reminded him of what would never be. Jimmy was great he spoke to Harry ,telling him of some of the things that we had done ,he even made Harry smile. I was too emotional to handle things at the moment. The front door clicked open and I was startled to see the beautiful supervisor from Woolworths standing there. She crossed over to Harry and spoke softly to him ,there seemed an intimacy between them. Harrys' mum motioned me into the Kitchen and told me that ever since I had left for sea she had visited everyday ,she sat with him until bedtime ,holding his hand ,talking gently. She was truly an angel ,the most beautiful girl in the district, any man would have been proud to call her their own ,but she gave her love where it was needed most. I saw Harry once more before I returned to the Jason, Jimmy continued to see him after I was back at sea ,another unexpected angel.
Sitting in the dark of the cinema that night ,my thoughts were mixed, Anne was by my side but felt guilty about my mate in Gateacre.

I was a shallow youth, I was so intent on carnal pleasures that I would listen to any fool advice . As we were sailing home ,some of the older Lotharios would give lessons in sexual conquests. No woman likes a wimp, you have to master them ,they love it. If you don't try to tup them they will think you're *****. Just kiss 'em and tell 'em you love them. Let them feel you are excited, that is how they make you feel." "You're a woman ,I'm a man ,we're only acting naturally". "You would be amazed at how successful that is kid , kiss 'em and grip 'em tight and it will come out right".
And thus it was on Saturday night. Anne and I had spent a lovely day in Sefton Park, we had taken a boat out ,gone to the Palm House and walked through the little tunnels ,kissing and cuddling and whispering endearments ;and all the while I was thinking of the night ahead.
We waved Ronnie and Mary off as they headed off to their night out ,the boys were safely abed and I quickly changed the living room into a den of seduction. Anne thought it was fun ,the bottle of wine and the sexy music ,I closed the curtains ,dimmed the lights and sat ,no lay, beside her on the couch whilst I attempted to seduce her.........................t was awful. I was ashamed that I had even attempted it. She was'nt Del, she was a good clean girl who deserved better than this . Anne went home as she had come out, but I could never face her again.
I learned that you must be yourself ,not some cheap piece of work.
I saw her home ,and ,sadly never saw her again, so Anne, if you ever get to read this Anne,............................Sorry.
After a whirlwind 5 days, I rejoined the Jason in Birkenhead. When I went to get Puss back off the Tomilow, he smiled and said "Tank Yo,velly good chop" Poor old puss had ended up as a chow mein.
When we got to Glasgow ,there was a letter from home,on opening it a little piece of paper fell out on to the deck, it was a newspaper cutting from the obituaries column, my best mate had passed on. And thus we pass from childhood to manhood ,via a journey of broken hearts.
The ropes that had tied me to the shore were being severed one by one ,I was on my way to being a sailor.

Full Steam Ahead

We got back to Birkenhead in mid April and had five days leave before sailing again. I kept close to my family in the time I had left ,making sure I visited the grandparents and all my uncles and aunts . I also re-visited the Wilson Hall ,the place where I was almost put off dancing for the rest of my life,but now I could dance , and I had a great time rock and rolling . It was never going to be the same without Harry,but he was gone and life has to go on.
The days seemed to whizz by , and it was’nt long before we were setting out for the Continent and Australia. There were a lot of new faces among the deck crowd, Bootsie and Billo were still my cabin mates,but we had new Jos’s and Sos’s and a couple of new AB’s too. Vic the Lampy had left us and was replaced by a little fellow who came from a large family of sailors,all them with a reputation of being “hard men”. Our new Lampy wanted us to believe he was cast in the same mould as his big brothers,problem was he was five foot nothing, ginger headed and built like shrimp. He tried to walk like John Wayne,carried a Bowie knife nearly as big as himself and had a cat o’ nine tails pinned to the bulkhead above his bunk. He was totally without a sense of humour,laughing only at other peoples misfortunes , and tried to treat us peggies as less than human. The three of us had now gained enough experience to hold our tongues and never give cheek ,we would always get our own back ……we served them their food!!!
Amongst the deckhands we had an unpleasant little AB,he looked like Joe E. Brown the comedian,he always had a smile on his face, but there was murder in his eyes. Slightly built and in his fifties, he tried to push the younger ratings about ,sometimes making an entertainment out of it for the benefit of the whoever was in the vicinity at the time. We kept out of his way as much as we could ,never rising to the bait ,sometimes that only made him worse. He would do nasty little things like “accidently “ knock over a full gash bucket so that we had extra work or keep you waiting while he lingered over a cup of tea,stopping you from getting your work done on time. But more of him later.
We were back in Hamburg now ,this was my third time in 5 months,I was getting to like the place . St Pauli was a real sailortown , although it had suffered major damage during the bombing just 15 years ago ,it was now a boom town,there were cranes everywhere as building were being erected and the docks were full of ships of every nation. Going ashore in such a place is exciting, the little bars were full of seamen ,and the women who depended upon sailors for a living. The dockside bars were very different from those at home, they were nearly all polished mahogany and brass with just enough room to swing a cat, the music on the Juke boxes was nearly all German ,a singer called Freddie was number one on the playing lists and even we Brits liked him,he sang songs we understood .
A Royal Navy aircraft carrier arrived while we were there and the streets began to fill up with jolly jacks in their fore and aft uniforms. I met a gang of them as I walked up from the ferry, they could see I was English and called out to me . I went over to them and they asked if I knew where to go, I took thenm to a little family bar that I had been to a couple of times. They ordered a round of beers ,which was served in half litre glasses decorated with a coat of arms and a gold rim. The lads commented on how nice they were and supped up ,pocketing the glasses as they did so. The landlord asked them to put them back and one of their number, a little London Italian, walked to the bar ,glass in hand and said “Yew want this back mate?”
The landlord nodded and said “Ja ja” and the little jolly jack smashed it right across the landlords face. I was horrified, his nose and cheek opened to the bone and there was blood everywhere. And the jolly ,oh so ,jolly jacks ran giggling from the bar. That was the first time I ever felt ashamed of my countrymen. I had to leave the bar and walked up to the Reeperbahn. Passing the Winkelstrasse ,I made my way to a little bar at the far end of the street ,it was the only one that did’nt have a doorman and I thought there might not be a floorshow. There were films though, pornographic cartoons,they looked just like Disney cartoons ,but I had never seen what Donald and Daisy were doing before ,let alone Mickey and Minnie,and Goofy? Well I’ll draw a veil over it here,the was a beautiful working girl there who came and sat by my side,her face was so familiar that I bought her a drink. I had seen her before but could not remember where, she was smiling at my perplexity and said “You haf seen me beforetime Ja?” I nodded and she gave rueful smile “Photos ja?” Yes ,that was it ,Alan Helsbys pack of pornographic playing cards ,he’d brought them to school and let us have a look …………52 different positions and here she was sitting by my side! I never had enough money to do the things that her presence made me want to do. I drank up and left and walked slap bang into a crowd of German matelots,just getting warmed up. Down the other end of the street were our British sailors getting their rations too. It was going to be an interesting night.
I ducked into a small bar that had clear glass windows and waited for the show to start. The one outside I mean, within minutes the Battle of Jutland was being re enacted before my very eyes, they launched themselves at each other with a ferocity that I had never seen before,there was blood and snot everywhere and the sound of sirens and police whistles got louder and louder. Soon there were Naval Police and civilian Police caving heads in as they separated the warring factions. I tarried a while longer until peace was restored and then sought another bar, I met up with a guy off a Ben Liner and we had a couple or three before heading back to the ferry. Passing the police station you could see matelots having out of the barred windows singing for all they were worth ,faces black and blue ,teeth missing ,not caring a ****. They were going to have a hell of an awakening in the morning. The Ben boat man and I had a bit of an awakening when we got to the landing stage ,we had missed the last ferry!
The was a fairly large vessel still alongside the stage, all the lights were out on it but you could see the saloon and the door to the salon was open. So we went on board and got our heads down on the very well upholstered settees, it was’nt too long before we nodded off .
I came to with a start,the settee was moving gently and I could feel the throb of an engine. I sat up to see that we were heading down the Elbe ,the sun was up and the harbour was coming to life. We ran up to the bridge and the skipper near had a fit ,he did’nt speak English ,nor we German ,but ,good enough ,he headed right back to the landing stage and put us ashore.
Back aboard we commenced a re run of our first trip, Amsterdam,Antwerp and Dunkirk, we did’nt call into the Solent this time but left France and headed for Suez. And it was at Suez that we saw Joe E. Brown get his first comeuppance.
To most Englishmen at that time ,the Egyptians were just “wogs”,to be treated with contempt and never to be trusted. One Englishman could finish off ten “wogs” before breakfast;such were the thoughts of the simple minded ,and Joe was surely one of their number. We were just leaving the Great Bitter Lakes and the lads were playing cards and enjoying cold beers on the after end of the accommodation. Joe was explaining to everyone how “wogs” were all “arse bandits” One of the boatmen from Suez was sitting nearby and Joe would nod in his direction as he coined his latest witticism. “They don’t mind where they dip their wicks, d’you Abdul” he shouted, “Camels ,donkeys, they do’em all,eh ,don’t you mate?” The boatman sat never showing what he felt. Joe raised the ante,for he now had an audience “That Nasser ,eh Abdul ,I bet ‘e’s a bit of an arse bandit eh!?” The boatman stood up and walked over to Joe,landed a a whacking great smack on his nose and said “English, make joke of me ,I don’t care,make joke out of Nasser………….I care!” showing Joe some knuckle he went back to his seat and carried on smoking .Joe slunk back to his cabin.
Between him and the lamp trimmer we peggies took a lot of stick. But we never let them beat us.
On the passage to the Australian coast we had to take action against Joe and we did it the only way we knew how ,with fear. The three of us were red leading the the housing beneath the aftermast and Joe was working in the stores inside the housing . We positioned ourselves outside the porthole to the stores and spoke loud enough for Joe to hear what we were saying. He was on his own,and we talked of how we would follow him when he went ashore ,we were going to jump him ,drag him into an alleyway and give him the hiding of his life. We waxed eloquent about the hammering he was going to get,and we even said that some of the Jos’s wanted to have him as well. At Smoko that afternoon Jo was very polite,saying what a nice cup of tea the peggy had made. We never had any trouble again from that little bully. The Lampy was another story though.
It was’nt just us he was bullying ,it was everyone below the rank of AB ,that fool did’nt realise what a hate bank he was building for himself.

That second run to Australia was but a pale shadow of the first, the crew did not seem to be as happy go lucky as on the first run plus we had a couple of bullies who were trying to make names for themselves .There was "Joe E. Brown" a simian faced little guy who took pleasure in browbeating boys ,we had him sorted before we got to Oz. The Lamptrimmer was another story; imagine a man about five feet three inches, built like a whippet, ginger curly hair and given to blistering in even a mild sun.
He had deliberately cultivated a gruff voice to give an air of hardness, he could never address a junior rating in civil tones, everyone was "YEW!!" as in "Hey Yew!!,"
He wore a deck knife that was overlarge ,almost a cutlass, swaggered and strutted ,his lack of confidence was apparent to all ,he would be forever standing in the shadows of his big brothers.
We three boys put up with his bullying there was no way we could hit back and not be punished we did however pay him back with every mouthful of food he ate . We always made sure that the meals we served him had that little bit "extra ", it gave us great pleasure to watch that little prat stuffing his mouth with our "special recipes."

It was winter when we were down under this time, you could'nt tell it from an English summer ,but there were reports of snow in Victoria ,we saw it on the newsreel, just a couple of flakes ,but snow nevertheless.
There were no events that made this trip stand out in ones memory ,save that of Bronco coming down to see us when we got to Brisbane, he was doing great and had got himself a good job, and the other odd event was when an elderly couple took out adoption papers to enable one of the EDH's to settle down there in Newcastle. It very near came off, I think it was his real parents who put a stop to it.
And so the days , and ports pass by in bleary recollection .By Julys' end we had cleared the coast and were heading for home, this would be our last trip as deck boys, we had achieved our steering tickets and could sign on our next vessel as Junior Ordinary Seamen. I was determined to take a China Boat for my next trip, I had heard so much about the ports out there and I wanted to see if they were as good as the lads said they were. But we had to get home first, and we had a few more weeks to go . After leaving Port Said for the homeward run,we spent the remaining time painting and polishing,that ship had to look good as it sailed down the Mersey.
Our little lampy was beginning to realise that the Jason was going to be more than a few men short in the crew department, hardly anyone could stomach the thought of having him giving his orders again. Blue Funnel measured the success of a Bosun or Lamptrimmer by how many of the crew returned for another trip.Little Red was facing humiliation by the exodus that would be taking place on arrival home.
To try and undo some of the wrongs ,Lampy organised a "Channels" party in his cabin and invited everyone above the rank of deckboy to it . There were caseloads of ale and the party went on into the wee small hours of the morning, come daybreak lampy was missing from the hose party and the bosun sent me to see if he was still asleep.
The scene that was before me in Lampys cabin was horrific ,and blackly comical too.
The first thing I noticed on entering was the blood ,the bulkhead by his bunk had a peacocks tail pattern of it ,thick and dark red ,he was lying in his bunk with a hobnailed boot stuck on the left side of his head. It was congealed to his matted hair and his nose and cheeks were red ,black and blue. I thought he was dead and then he drew a ragged breath, I touched him on the shoulder and he sat bolt upright ,boot still stuck to his head! He groaned and felt his face and then glanced across at his mirror, he shrieked upon seeing his reflection and accused me of "Doing Him"
I replied ,with barely concealed hate, that "I did'nt do it ,but wished that I had done."
The police were called when we docked but things just died away ,no one was prosecuted and I never found out who beat him up. I was'nt sad to leave the Jason, she had been a good ship, just had a few bad apples on it this time.

I now had three weeks of paid leave, it was hard to know what to do with all that time.
The first thing I did was to make a grand tour of the greater family, Dad took me with him on my first Sunday home and this time I joined him and my uncles for our Walton pub crawl, we would start off at the top of the street next to Tintern and have half a glass in each one until we got to the Royal Oak at the bottom of Spellow Lane.
I would then bid the Papists goodbye and join with the Protestants in the Winslow ,from whence we would repair to Grandmas in Eton Street for one of her fabulous Sunday dinners.
After dinner I took the 19 up to Gilmoss to visit my favourite uncle ,Billy. He was a long distance lorry driver and had taken me all over the country with him when I was younger . He told me that he had an overnight run to Newport in south Wales and asked if I fancied the run. He was leaving at ten that evening and I jumped at the chance, the roads were still a pleasure to drive on in those days.
Ten o'clock that night saw us leaving the depot in Studholme Street with 10 tons of cargo for Newport. We were in an old AEC, it seemed huge then, an eight legger as they called it ,big bluff fronted old beast with a top speed of 45 mph. The steady thrum of the engine soon knocked me to sleep and I awoke with the sunrise as we entered Newport. I pick up Billys' road atlas and looked at where we were ,we were right on the River Severn, not a million miles from Sharpness and the Vindi, looking at the map I could see Lydney ,just along the A48 from Newport . And there , a little way out of Lydney , was Yorkley,the hamlet where my pen pal Maureen lived. I showed Billy the map and asked if I would have time to go there. He said that we had to leave Newport at 7.00pm that night and as long as I got back in time he was happy for me to go .After breakfasting on a lorry drivers special, I caught the bus to Lydney, once it left the environs of Newport ,it travelled on the lower edges of the Forest of Dean ,passing through ancient little towns and villages. We stopped in the market square in Lydney and it did'nt take too long to find the winding lane that led to Yorkley. There were no buses ,it was Shanks's pony ,but it was a beautiful day and the sun was high in the sky. The lane slowly wound upwards through hedgerows that surrounded fields of golden corn, reapers were at work ,dipping and bending as they tied up sheaves,no monstrous harvesters then, lovely big shire horses were drawing the combines along and the workers were burnt brown ,as tanned as any returning sailor. I was waved at as I walked by, there were no cars or wagons on that little lane ,just the jingling of harnesses and the click of blades. At length I entered the main street at Yorkley, which way to go? I turned left toward a hill, Maureens' postal address was "Near the Stag Inn", let's look for that. In the distance I could see a building at the foot of the hill ,it had a pub sign outside and I could see the Stag portrayed on it. It was opening time so I thought I would have a cool glass of beer to refresh myself.. The Stag Inn was not your usual pub, there was no bar, just a trestle table upon which were a collection of glasses and bottles. On the floor were four barrels of ale, each sat in a little cradle and covered with a sod of grass. As I stood gaping at this scene a lovely ,motherly lady came in from the back room and asked if I would like a drink , I asked for a pint of her best and then she floored me by saying "You must be Brian then?" This was 1959 ,telephones were as rare as hens teeth and I had'nt called or written to say that I would be coming...........how could she know?
Seeing the puzzlement on my face, she laughed and then told me that nobody ever visited Yorkley, Maureen had a sailor that wrote to her regular, here I was all sunburned and looking all lost asking for a beer in a funny accent ,"You has to be Brian ,don't yew?."
I asked her where Maureen lived and she took me out back and pointed up the hill ,there stood a little cottage and at the fence of the cottage stood two ladies, they were waving to me ,calling "Hullo Brian!" This was a very strange experience ,the jungle telegraph worked very effectively in that little hamlet.
I walked up to the cottage and was greeted by Maureens Mum and Grandmother, they did'nt stand on formality ,I was hugged and greeted like a long lost son. They took me in the little house and sat me down to a nice cup of tea and a sandwich. They had read all my letters and were asking me about some of the things that I had seen and done, the horse riding in Brisbane had made them laugh and they thought my descriptions of the Suez canal were colourful. I sat there amazed, those letters seemed to mean such a lot to them, but where was Maureen ? She was working in a factory in Lydney, finished just before 5.00 ,I could go and meet her Mum said,""She'll be surprised boy." she laughed. The bus for Newport left just after 5.00,it was going to be a short meeting. And then I heard Grandma saying "When you come back ,we'll have your tea ready and we will take you down to my sons where you will be staying the week " I was embarrassed ,how could I tell them that I was only down for the day? I did'nt realise that this meant so much to them . I found it very hard in telling them that I had only called by chance ,I would have loved to have stayed, but Uncle Bill would be awaiting my return and I had no way of contacting him, and besides , I had come without a change of clothing.
They were sad but understood my predicament. Soon I was strolling back down to Lydney, wandering what Maureen looked like. She had seen a photo of me but I had'nt seen one of her, I only knew she was blonde.
I sat on the steps of the cross in the market place ,groups of ladies were coming out of the lane that led to the factory ,which one was she?
At last, two young ladies stood staring at the lad on the steps of the cross, one blonde the other brunette. They looked at me and said something to each other,looking and nodding as they stood there. The blonde walked hesitantly toward me "Is it Brian?" she asked in a lovely soft accent. "Maureen ! " I replied. She sat down beside me as I gave her a quick resume of the events that led to the market cross. She was lovelier than I expected, her complexion pure peaches and cream ,her golden curls and cornflower blue eyes were to die for , and I had a bus due any minute. I learned that she was off to London when the summer break was over ,she was going on a teacher training course and would be there a few years.
Soon the bus arrived and I boarded it with the greatest of regrets, everyone had been so open and friendly , I would have loved to have stayed . But Fate has a way of toying with you ,I had been given a glimpse of another life ,but it was not to be mine.
Billy was pacing up and down outside the depot when I got back, I was only just in time.On the way back we stopped at an all night cafe somewhere in Shropshire and I met a girl there who was as lusty as me, she was going to Liverpool too and wanted a ride..............she got one!!

Hello Brian, I,m sure I know you from somewhere!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!haha

I can,t continue with my story for some reason I think I,ve been censored but I keep trying my friend.....and getting frustrated..............and trying again.

keep at it Bri, great stuff.:PDT_Aliboronz_24:

Chippie,great to hear from you,don't self censor,Gerrit down!!! You have got a story to tell and we are waiting to read it! Like your web name ,keep chippin' away,
Cheers,
BrianD

The Ordinary Seaman

My long leave gave me the chance to go places that I had'nt been to for a long time,
Llandudno ,and to do things that I had'nt done in Liverpool before, dancing at the Locarno and Grafton Rooms. My mother was responsible for my going ballroom dancing ,she did'nt like to see me spend all my time in the pub and persuaded me to get up to West Derby Road and get dancing ,they say mother knows best and that was very true in this case. This was so very different from the dance halls in the ports we had been to ,the whole scene was fabulous, the girls in all their finery, the red plush and the glitter balls and most of all the music. Looking back it seems incredible that we danced to 20 piece bands with an array of vocalists that were top line. The rotating stage would spin and the big band would disappear and there in its place would be a rock band or a jazz group; we took it all for granted ,our few shillings gave us the chance to dance in style and cop off with some of the best looking girls in the world .
You had to have a good dress sense when you went there, young men used to wear tailor made suits from Britains finest ,Burtons ,Hepworths ,Weaver to Wearer etc.
After paying your entrance fee it was down to the toilets to check the hair and tie ,practise a few moves and then up to the bar to see what the talent was like.
You only had to be able to dance to pull, I nearly always went alone but I never left alone, I saw girls home to every part of Merseyside during my dancing days.
Just before my leave was up I decided to go and see cousin Willie in Llandudno.
I had'nt been there since my accident those many years ago, I had seen Willie and his family at my Aunt Bettys'wedding just three years ago ,but they came to Liverpool for that; I fancied going back to see some of my old haunts. I got a travel warrant because I was a merchant seaman so the faret cost me practically nothing. The journey was a rerun of that taken back then with my family ,I had'nt told anyone I was going just thought I'd pop over for the day.
Aunty Dolly would'nt hear of my going back so soon ,and Willie, Eleanor and Elisabeth were just as strong in urging me to stay. It turned out to be a wonderful few days, Willie rousted up the members of his old gang and we went out on the town and had a great time. We found ourselves on the seafront in the early hours of the morning, me with a gorgeous young girl from the west Coast of Ireland, she was a chambermaid in the Hydro. Her hair was glossy black ,hanging in silky bangs and her eyes were emerald green ,she wore no make up and her skin was the purest alabaster .But her voice, the sheer delight of her gentle brogue was music to my ears. We sat in the shelter by the promenade ,watching the night turn to dawn ,touching each others very souls. We parted as innocent as we met , loth to leave each other, hoping we might meet again. Alas we never did. She was confined to"barracks" the next night and I was back home the night after that.
On my last night there we went to the cinema to see some forgettable British comedy ,whilst I was in there I unknowlingly, dropped my discharge book ,without which I would never get a ship. I discovered the loss when I got back home. Blue Funnel had sent me a letter asking me to report to the Odyssey Works ,they must want me for another trip ,better take the discharge book'............................that is when I found it was missing.
It was two days since I had left Llandudno,I'd only taken the book so that I could show my cousin. What the hell was I going to do now? My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the mail coming through our letter box, looking at the envelopes I could see one addressed to me ,from Wales. Upon opening it I found my discharge with a letter attached to it. It was from the cinema manager, his cleaner had found it and sent it to me that very day. When I was back at sea I wrote him a letter of thanks for he had saved me an awful lot of trouble.
Thus armed, I was able to report to blue Funnel at the appointed time.
I was met by the personnel officer, a very nice lady, she said that I was now able to sail as a Junior Ordinary Seaman and a berth was available for me on a ship that had just completed its maiden voyage. It was called the Machaon and was sailing to the far east ,my cup was overflowing. When I expressed a wish to join her she filled a form in and asked me what books I liked to read and what kind of music I liked.
I was quite bemused but she told me to report the following day for a medical ,after which I would go on board to sign articles.
Did I tell you of Blue Funnels medical officer? No?.Well,he was a very dapper man he wore chalk striped suits with silk ties and matching handkerchiefs and he had a patent leather haircut a la George Raft....,until you looked closer and saw that every hair was skilfully drawn on with an eyebrow pencil. Ah vanity.
On joining the Machaon I missed another important family occasion ,the birth of my sisters first child ,she came into the world two days after we sailed ,she would be four months old before I clapped eyes on her.

The Machaon was built in the traditional Blue Funnel style a three island ship ,meaning she had a forecastle ,upon which was the windlass for the anchors the winches for the mooring lines and under which were the rope lockers ,chain lockers and deck stores. Then came the forward well deck in which there were two hatches and the main mast and housing ,above the well deck was winch housing and Sampson posts for the fore hatch on the main deck ,and then another winch and Sampson post island for the hatch in front the the centre castle .The centre castle was where the accommodation and bridge and engine room were situated and then came the after well deck in which there were another two hatches and the after mast and housing.
Aft of this was the lazaret, the name originating from the time that lepers were kept isolated from the crew but now it was where extra cargo could be stored. The after castle was where the Chinese crew lived ,and where crew men with a taste for real oriental cooking could be found when the Chinese cook was feeling generous.
The sailors accommodation was air conditioned which was a very rare thing at that time, our cabins were superior to anything that I had seen and the architects had seemed to anticipate a sailors needs. She promised to be a comfortable berth.

The Bosun was radically different from old Wilf on the Jason,this man always wore a neatly iron dungaree jacket and trousers, a white peaked cap ,polished boots and gloves. Today ,he would be dressed as though he was going out ,then he was just ultra smart. He was stocky and had a bullneck, cauliflower ears and a very broken nose. This was a genuine hard man, he was very much in charge. His Lamptrimmer was the same one who was on the Eumaeus ,Big Bob, we had a mutual antipathy ,I had'nt liked him on the Eumaeus and the indications were that that was going to remain the same here. The leading hand was a guy who Elzie Seagar modelled Popeyes arch enemy on. Big Albert was a dead ringer for Bluto ,I was going to have to start eating spinach if I was going to survive this trip.
My cabin mate was a very dour Welsh youth from the west coast of North Wales, grim and unsmiling he spent as little time with me as possible . The other junior ordinary seaman was a great character from Chorley, Joe Preston was his name and he had a wry sense of humour. Joe more than made up for my cabin mate. There were only two peggies, one was north Liverpool and the other was a very open faced lad from south Devon, his name was Fred and he was ever cheerful.
One of the nasty *******s from the Jason was in this crew,the Irish guy who had thrown a flannel over Wally Skeggs' dinner . I was going to have to watch him.
On the plus side we had a guy called Joey Snelgrove ,he was a Cunard Yank in the making ,he had'nt yet been to the States ,but coming from Bootle it was essential that he complete his growth pattern and get to New York.
There were also two brothers, non drinkers ,but very musical ,both played guitars
And they could perform as a duo, they were also photographers and carried all the equipment required for the processing films. This ship was the only one I ever sailed on that had a hobbies room on and this was utilised by the photographers.
Socially this could be a good trip.
.

The Machaon called in to the continent before heading out east ,this time it was to Amsterdam ,Antwerp and Dunkirk ;although I had been at sea less than a year,these ports were becoming familiar to me. I loved Amsterdam because of its wonderful mix of sin and saintliness .The canals lined with brothels, where the ladies sat in open display in their little windows ,beneath them ,on the canal pavements ,children played and sailors and tourists milled about .Sometimes there would be a Salvation Army Band playing hymns ,the churches towering over everything ,with the bell booming out to signal matins or the angelus ,the barges tied up alongside the quays ,some selling flowers and produce and others being homes for the families that sat about the decks.
The garish bars and restaurants sat cheek by jowl amongst the brothels ,and family life went on as normal amidst this festival of carnality. Somehow it never seemed seedy.
Another thing I liked about Amsterdam was the food ,little cafes abounded in the centre, McDonalds had not yet arrived and so the delights of Dutch cooking were freely available. Nothing could be nicer after a night in one the bars than a bag of hot croquettes and fries, I can just about taste them now.

Soon we were cleared of Europe and heading for the Med it was strange not having to serve the meals, I was now in the mess room pecking order. You had to use the same position at the mess room table everyday, every meal .There, the pecking order was rigidly adhered to. Senior ratings had the best seats ,there were two long tables that were in line ,with a break in the middle ,wide enough for people to access through to get to the places that were adjacent the bulkhead. The positions at the middle end of both tables ,adjacent the bulkhead and thus facing the door ,were reserved for the leading hands; they were at the centre of things and seemed to orchestrate the conversations that took place. Woe betide a junior rating who tried to usurp their positions. Being a very junior ordinary seaman my place was at the furthest end of the table with my back to the hot press.
The food on the Machaon was no less than excellent ,she did'nt carry as many passengers as the Jason ,but she still had the same high standards .
Two of the cooks were solid gold nutters, Oxo was the second cook, a roly poly little guy who sported a Van dyke beard ,and his mate Taff a hulking great thing who was totally subservient to Oxo in every way, I was reminded of John Steinbecks novel "Of Mice and Of Men". But they had a great sense of the ridiculous, as we will see anon.
There was a young galleyboy on his first trip who was just like Ananias ,he could'nt help lying ,every time he opened his mouth out came a porky ,and they were'nt even good lies .But he was good for entertainments sake.

Although I had only been on a very short trip with Bob, the lamptrimmer, he remembered me very well ;I was not a Blue Funnel boy ,worse, I was from the Pool ,a Federation boy. I was given every job that was filthy or boring, he had me on my knees for nearly a week ,using a wire brush to strip the after well deck down to the metal, the other ordinary seamen had the pleasure of painting it,I was given the job of Stockholm tarring the mast stays,fore and aft stay too.My fingers were ingrained for weeks.
Big Albert ,being Bobs number 2 usually oversaw me carrying out my tasks, we hardly ever had direct contact with the Bosun ,he would be there on deck when we were working, but he never spoke to us junior ratings ,excepting in anger.
Another special task that I got landed with was greasing the running gear on the derricks. Most ships I ever sailed on would see all the gear lowered from the mast tables and Sampson posts so that the work was carried out on the deck. Not so on the Machaon ;some bright spark had the idea of send the Jos (me) up aloft with a bucket of oily grease and a big wad ,the idea being that we would reach out ,or up, and grease the blocks in situ from the mast tables or Sampson post spider bands. This meant leaning out from the spider band and stretching as far as you could reach to dollop on the oily mix. You needed one hand to hold on with and the other to work with.
Not a good idea ,especially you and the post are slippery with grease.
I managed to do the mast running gear, the Sampson posts were something else, I was reaching out as far as I could but the Holy Trinity (The Bosun, Lampy and Big Albert) were shouting at me to reach further ,any further would mean letting go of the spider band. There was no way I was going to do that, "Hold on to the block and grease under it" yelled Big A. The block was heavy with grease,I'd just greased it "Eff Off!!" I replied. The Bosun grinned, he looked like an undertaker ,Lampy leaned forward and said something to Albert. " If I 'ave to come up there and show you ,you'll really be sorry boy!!" "No way" I shouted back. Albert grimaced and his face clouded over with thunder,"You can always go back peggying boy!!!" he roared. Looking at his big red ,angry face ,I dipped my wad in the bucket ,and then hurled it down on to his physog. It hit him square on ,the image lives with me still ,all hands frozen ,heads turned toward Albert, Albert tearing the wad from his face ,howling with inchoate rage.
"YOU'RE EFFIN DEAD BOY!!!" He raced to the post ladder and scrambled upwards ,20 stone of raging hell .The Sampson post trembled as he thundered his way upward, "Where was that feckin' spinach?" All heads were now looking aloft ,not a soul stirred ,only my bowels. Albert had his knife between his teeth, he was still climbing, muttering imprecations through his clamped teeth. Suddenly he was here ,climbing on to the spider band! As he stepped toward me I slid around the post and literally slid down the ladder as he went around the post after me. I hit the deck running and shot down aft to the Chinese quarters. He never came after me ,the Bosun saw that things had got a little out of hand. There were no repercussions ,Albert was not that kind of man...........and then we started lowering the gear to the deck to overhaul it.
Oxo was always playing little pranks, he could'nt help himself , he told the galleyboy that he could do hairdressing ,and the galleyboy ,being the possessor of a very fine Tony Curtis wanted it trimming ."No Problem" says Oxo ,and they agree that he should do it that evening .I was sitting in my cabin when the galleyboy appears at my door, "Andy" he wails "look at me 'ead" He was as bald as a coot. I went down to see Oxo ,he was lying on his bunk ,nudie magazine in hand ,doing some serious reading.
" Yer made a right mess of the kids head" I said. "I got me film stars mixed up, I thought he said 'e wanted a Yul Brynner" Oxo said smiling. All of a sudden I was clamped from behind ,it was Taff the Hulk. "You need a bit of a trim yourself Andy" Oxo grinned. Within a trice I was pinioned to the chair ,held fast by Taff and the Galleyboy whilst Oxo laid waste to my wavy black locks. I left that cabin sheared to the wood. When we arrived in Port Said next day I purchased a gob cap and a ten gallon hat .He had left my sideburns so it did'nt look too bad in a hat.
There was another thing that Oxo was "good" at ,"spreading" or mooning as it is known as today. When we were sailing through the canal we were passing the ex British military hospital ,which was now used by Egytian and Russian military personnel. The nurses and patients were waving at us from the balconies and suddenly their waves turned to shrieks as hands covered their eyes and the men shook their fists .Looking to see what could have brought this about ,we heard obscene yells coming from below and ,looking over the side I saw a line of bottoms sticking out of the catering cabin portholes. It was an Oxo production ,the first of many!!

At Port Tewfik we embarked some pilgrims who would be making the Haj
We had to rig up awnings over the midship hatches for that was to be their home for he next few days. They were going to Mecca and as it was Ramadan, these pilgrims would not eat or drink between dawn and dusk and we were entering Gods oven ,the Red Sea. They were a picturesque crowd ,nearly all men ,and nearly all old men at that ,their pristine white beards and crisp white galabayas ,gave them a biblical look, and our surroundings heightened that effect, the far off mountains of Sinai recalling tales of Moses and that other biblical journey. We found our travellers to be polite and respectful and we ,in turn ,respected them.
The journey to Djeddah was but a few days ,the weather was so hot that the sweat was drying to salt on my forehead, even with a sweatband and a Stetson .
Entering Djeddah was a journey back in time ,most of the buildings
were still low rise ,and nearly all were a startling white ,the only signs of modernity were the dock machinery and the motor vehicles. All of the men were thin and wiry ,for the most part draped in galabayas and tarbooshes, they were timeless. On the quayside were Cadillacs and Lincolns ,amongst them were caged trucks ,and in those trucks were the labourers.........chained together! They were using prisoners to unload us!
They were unshackled and hustled aboard ,barefoot with the steel anklets still on them ,they went to their allotted tasks ,the overseers carried thin sticks with which they would flick at the dockers ,encouraging them in their labours.
Our steel decks were so hot that you could feel the intense heat through the soles of you shoes ,the dockers were all barefooted ,they must have had hooves instead of feet.
They did have a sharp turn of wit, Joey was leaning across a winch to do something when he let rip with a sonorous fart. The old Arab winch man standing nearby retorted " Don't speak to me of love when there is work to be done!!"
A lot of American servicemen came aboard and were whisked off up to the bridge ,we thought they were on an official visit ,but they were just waiting for us to sail, Saudi Arabia was ,and still is ,an alcohol free country. The penaltys' for possession are very severe ,the Americans would be sailing with us to beyond the three mile limit when they would get stuck into Scotlands finest. Meanwhile ,it was Friday ,the Islamic Sabbath and the local agent invited us to go and see the Friday executions and amputations in the main square ,we all passed on that one.
As the day passed we saw all manner of traffic on the quay ,military jeeps with Arab personnel ,coloured burnooses instead of caps or berets, block long limousines with darkened windows ,behind which we sometimes glimpsed yashmacked beautys with kohl blackened eyes ,the stuff of Arabian nights. In the harbour were magnificent Dhows ,some reminiscent of those great Elizabethan galleons that once circumnavigated the globe. The nearby shipyard had a half dozen under construction,and they would sail to the very reaches of the Indian Ocean and Africa.
As the sun set we let go our lines and headed into a fiery sea ,and the Yanks made for the bar. A U.S navy launch followed in our wake ,waiting to pick up the imbibers.

Another benefit of being a JOS was that I was now allowed to have a beer ration, there was no drunkenness at sea ,but you could save your ration and have a pleasant ,sup or three after sundown when all labours had ceased .We were well down the Red Sea one such evening ,three of us Junior ratings and half a case of cold Guinness. The night was as cool and black as our drinks ,the lights of distant Araby twinkling in the distance ,overhead glowed a crescent moon and there ,high in the sky ,shone Venus ,the symbol of Ramadan. The ship was ours again now ,the faithful had departed at Djeddah and we were a day away from Aden where we would load up on the duty free swag. I shouted to Joe to throw me another bottle from the bucket and as he did so ,it exploded in mid air. It was quite spectacular ,like a liquid supernova. He passed me another one and we resumed our rambling conversation when I felt my foot sliding in my flip flop. I looked down and saw a gaping wound on my instep. Blood was pumping out like a gushing fountain . The lads helped me up to the nurses room and put my foot in a blue plastic bowl while they went to fetch the nurse. I sat watching ,fascinated as the blood started to cover the bottom of the bowl and then slowly rise up the back of my heel. The nurse bustled in ,he was a big man, very camp, but capable. He threw up his hands when he saw the amount of blood in the bowl. One of the A.B.s came in to the room ,by this time the blood had reached the top of my ankle and then something very strange happened. I was looking at what was happening..........from a position high above everyones head, I felt as though I was bobbing about on the deckhead (ceiling) and I could clearly see myself sitting there with Alan ,the A.B. and the nurse attempting to stifle the bloodflow.
Of a sudden I was free and flying high up in the sky ,below was the Machaon ,the bow wave and wake glowing luminous against the wine dark sea ,above me were the stars
And over yonder lay the whole of Araby and then all was blackness.
I came to encased in a bamboo stretcher ,they had put a tourniquet on my thigh and given me some morphine. When the nurse heard me groaning ,he told me that the RAF were sending a fast launch for me ,I was to be taken to the military hospital in Aden.
The sun was well up by the time the launch came alongside, I was gently lowered onto the launch and watched as anxious faces looked over the proceedings. I was passing in and out of consciousness and have scattered memories of what came next ,it was a bumpy ride ,I can remember the attendants being solicitous ,wiping my brow ,soothing my fears. Soon we were bumping alongside a quay and I was lifted ashore and laid to rest on a stone paved quayside. The sun was a boiling yellow orb in the sky and I was fortunate that someone had remembered to put my hat on, I would have burnt to a crisp without it
I was only able to move my head a little as the bamboo stretcher had me tightly bound, I was drowsy and kept fading in and out of consciousness. An old Arab was squatting by a wall about 20 yards from where I lay. At length he rose and came toward me ,he took hold of my chin and turned my head left and right ,I felt him feeling about the outside of the stretcher ,muttering who knows what as he did so. I faded again ,when I opened my eyes he was still sat against the wall .Where was the ambulance? How long had I been here? Sleep claimed me again and then I felt myself being lifted ,waking fast ,I saw that a veritable giant of a man was carrying me ,like a suit case! He smiled and told me not to be afraid ,the old man had called them,them being the Red Cross. He carried me out to a Singer Gazelle estate painted in the Red Cross colours .The man was a local and could speak perfect English ;he said that the old mans call was the first notification they had had, I would still be lying there if he had'nt called .I was resting with the stretcher in the passenger footwell ,the passenger seat was folded down and the back of the stretcher was resting against the rear passenger seat .This position afforded me a good view of where we were going , out through the town and then into some military installation ,there ,over on a patio type area were some British military types ,in dressing gowns ,some in wheelchairs other on crutches and some just sitting. This was the hospital ,but we were not slowing down, we passed through a barrier and went off into the mountains ,stark and grey, they looked ominous. I must have looked frightened because my driver pointed to the logo on his badge "Not Military,Red Cross ,is okay?" I nodded ,we were really climbing now ,a little chapel appeared on one of the peaks "There is hospital" my driver smiled. We pulled up in front of a prefabricated building and a Nun appeared accompanied by a smiling, tubby character ,with a florid complexion and a drinkers nose. He had bushy black eyebrows and was wearing a bush hat ,calico shirt ,khaki shorts ,green wellingtons and a brown rubber apron. He was the surgeon and both he and the sister were from southern Ireland. With the assistance of some huge Arab orderlys they had me off that that stretcher and on to a gurney in double quick time. I had been half a day on that stretcher ,the Machaon had been due in Aden that very morning and I told him that it would be sailing early afternoon. The good doctor knew naught of this and he informed me that if he were to operate ,and get me back to the ship on time ,then an anaesthetic was out of the question , he left me to make the decision. "Just do it Doc" I answered. "Good man yerself",he said "I'll give you an Arab anaesthetic."
I was wheeled to a theatre that looked for all the world like a fairground booth,it was circular,had a conical roof in which the lights were set and the was a low rise wall all around beneath the canopy .There was an opening for the passage of trolleys. Patients and visitors leaned on the half wall viewing the proceedings ,the doctor gave a whistle and four big orderlys' came in,"Here's your Arab anaesthetic" says he as each one sits on my shoulders and thighs. "Don't let these fellers see yer afright" he smiled "Remember yer British!!" I had severed the main artery in my instep ,it required much pain and many stitches to put it right. He was fast and he had me back in that ambulance and speeding back to harbour within minutes. The Machaon was ready to sail by the time we got to the harbour ,the Doctor had called the agents and there was a launch at the quay waiting to take me out there.
I was half carried back on board and taken straight to the hospital, a two berth cabin near the nurses cabin. The nurse came in to see me settled and later on Fred the peggy brought me my dinner. This was the life kid!
The nurse gave me a sedative to help me sleep that night and I was awakened by Fred with a cooked breakfast ,he had even brought me a magazine. This was turning out to be a cruise. Just after nine the Bosun came in with a coil of rope "We don't carry effin passengers ,get stuck into that lot ,I wanna see a load of Lizards when I get back,an' if yer want to eat,get off yer arse an' get down the mess room!!" and with a growl he was gone. That was his form of TLC.

There was only one problem with having to keep the dressing on my foot dry, I could'nt have a shower or a bath and we were now in the Indian Ocean where a body needs bathing at least once a day. I was having to make do with an all over wash and it was proving to be none too successful. Within a couple of days I had contracted *****ley heat. This was a dreadful affliction which caused the sweat glands to block up and the surface of the skin became brittle and very itchy. I was already being treated by the nurse for my foot and he took great delight in administering his treatment for my affliction. The rash first appeared across my shoulders and he painted the affected area with salysilic acid............................................. have you ever had a spot of acid ,caustic soda or some such ,burn your skin? Well imagine it burning the whole of your shoulders.
4.00p.m.everyday I had to go for the treatment ,it spread to my armpits ,chest and stomach and the treatment was unrelenting ,the nurse said it was essential to burn off the epidermis in order to unblock my sweat glands. I used to watch with horror as the rash slowly reached down to my meat and two veg ,when it did ,the nurse enlisted the aid of one of the stronger A.B.s to pin me to the table. To para phrase Martin Luther King Jr. " I have been to the mountain top !!"
Happily ,both my foot and the rash were cured by the time we got to Penang on the Malayan peninsular.
This was my first sight of the mystic east and it did'nt let me down ,the sea was a dark green and was full of jelly fish ,millions of them bobbing along just beneath the surface, in the distance we could see a green covered peak that rose above the red tiled roofs of the shining white buildings. The waters in front of the port were carpeted by a vast array of ships ,liners, freighters, dhows ,sampans, fishing vessels and all manner of small craft . We anchored off the port and an army of barges and launches came bustling towards us, our passengers were going to spend the day ashore and we could follow them after our work was finished. The shore wallahs came aboard and they were a mixture of all the races that had been a part of the recently deceased British Empire ;there were Sikhs ,Chinese ,Malays ,Hindus,
Tamils and the British too. Malaya was not yet independent.
I had heard of the delights to be enjoyed ashore in this old port, there was the food ,the beer ,the sights but most of all ,a certain house of ill repute where the ladies taught boys to be men.
After a light meal and a few beers ,I was led by the hand to paradise.
This was not like the seedy haunts of north Europe ,nor the clinical milieu of Amsterdam ,it was sensuous ,the atmosphere was relaxed and the sounds of Indian music, low and melodic telling of old romances filled your ears and your senses.
I met a young Malay woman, she was clothed only in a diaphonous sari, her pert young breasts ,like lush pomegrenates, longe to be be touched and suckled. Her smooth bare midriff rose above her beautiful mound of Venus and I was made as Adam and she was Eve and we were driven to the wilder shores of ecstasy. It was paid for love ,but how else was a young sailor to enjoy the bodily pleasures when in port for such a short time?
After an evening of earthly delights we progressed to the godown where we would get the launch to our ship. There were four launches tied abreast of each other and ours was the outermost one ,to reach it we had to cross three large passenger launches which were from some of the big liners in the harbour. Our boatman had a list of who was ashore and had ticked everyone off except Taff and Oxo. We had to make everyone wait until those two reprobates were back. And then we saw them ,silhouetted by the lights of the town, weaving an unsteady passage to the godown. Some of the crew started to yell encouragement to spur them on.................big mistake. Little Oxo ,hearing his name, staggered on to the godown, followed by a teetering Taff, he stopped beneath one of the lights and waited for Taff to catch up ,he said something to Taff and they both turned their backs ,dropping their trousers as they did so ,and treated the passengers of all the launches to an almighty spreader. Sounds of applause mingled with screams filled the Malayan night and the two malefactors then proceeded to make their way across the launches. They were bulletproof ,impervious to the looks of outrage from the passengers ,and the lustful glances of the crew of a Greek liner; on reaching our launch,Oxo made his way to the wheelhouse ,where a little chinaman in a starched fore and aft rig stood at the helm. He seized him by the scruff of the neck and slung him overboard ,leaned out the wheelhouse window and yelled "Mr Mate, let go forrard ,let go aft ,Taff steer for feckin Yokohama!!!!"The boatman was safely recovered and we made our way back to the Machaon in an embarrassed silence. Just before we reached the gangway ,one of the passengers, a bearded geologist, called for everyones attention ,he said that what we had just seen was nothing more than a display of very high spirits and that he personally would not like to see this matter go any further ,he felt sure that if the helmsman was paid some recompense that would end the matter for all concerned, We crew were astounded ,we thought they would have wanted them both flogged. He passed his hat around and all ended happily . Well nearly all. Next morning I was passing the recreation room and saw Oxo and Taff asleep on the banquettes ,they were each lying down one length of a corner piece ,their heads touching at the corner. They had vomited over each others head and were stuck together. Not a pretty picture.

Port Swettenham,or as the Americans called it ,Port Sweatingham ,was our next stop.
This was reached by passing islands of mangrove swamps and is on the Sengui River,the rise and fall of which is about 30 feet. The speed of its flow was quite awesome and it required great skill on the part of the pilot to get us safely to our moorings. It is a very industrial port ,most of the rubber from the plantations is processed there and it is not a sailortown. We ventured to the seamens mission for a dip in the pool but found it closed, a hapless Skowegian had taken a dive from the top board into to the deep end when the pool was empty!

We were off to Singapore after Sweatingham.
Nothing can prepare you for the vista of the Grand Harbour, all else is prologue.
Imagine if you can, a scene stretching from horizon to horizon and the whole of that scene filled with hundreds upon hundreds of vessels of every shape and size, a vast tapestry of sail and steam ,pirogues and gleaming white liners ,sampans and river steamers ,ocean greyhounds and junks, a multi coloured display of mercantile history passing by ,each vessel an argosy ,row boats and launches ,pinnaces and tugs ,there is no point that eye can look and not wonder. The town beyond this armada was still a low rise one, the tallest building being the clock tower on the harbour front ,beyond that there is a jumble of red tiled rooves and the skyline is dotted with minarets ,
steeples,onion domed mandhirs and gold tipped bhuddist temples all vying for the allmightys' attention. From the town there is a concatenation of sound that bodes a very busy place. We can't wait to get ashore; we're tied up close to Anson Road ,a proper sailor town. Work over ,best T shirt and a clean pair of jeans ,a pocket full of Singapore dollars ,we are off to sample the delights.
There was a massive market strung all along the waterfront where stalls sell everything that the Orient has to offer, silks and calicos, perfumes and spices, herbs and dried snakes ,ointments for every ill, battery powered toys from renascent Japan, cameras,radios and all manner of things you never knew existed .The dollars burned holes in my pockets as I loaded up on shirts and sarongs .We were close enough to the ship for me to drop my packages off before I went dancing, and I was going to Tobys' Paradise to start the night off ,along the street it was on were dance halls where you could get a taxi dancer; the dancers were not *****'s, just nice young ladies out to earn a few bob ,and some of them were lovely and very good company. But there was so much else to see and do that it was a job to squeeze everything in. Boogie street was another must see place ,this came alive after dark and was a street full of open air restaurants, a quite spectacular sight then ,lots and lots of cooking ranges with seats adjacent ,all lit up by Tilley lamps with each wok tempting you toward it by its' marvellous aroma. In the background was the parade of fabulous lady boys ,famous here before the Bangkok ones and even more exotic traps for the drunken jolly jacks.
After a night of kaleidoscopic wonders it was off to bed , tomorrow was Sunday and we could get some sight seeing done.
The scene in the Sunday morning mess room was one of alcoholic remorse, faces that looked as though they had been to hell and back grappled with breakfasts that were beating them, a round of toast and they were back off to their bunks.
I'd been told that the Tiger Balm Gardens were one of the must see sights of Singapore and so I walked along the front to view them for myself.
The gardens had been put together by Aw Boon Haw ,one the founders of the tiger Palm company and were meant to depict the spirit of Chinese religion and show the meaning of good and evil. When you entered the gardens you walked through series of beautifully created tableaux showing the pantheon of Chinese gods ,the creation of the world, and the evils that lie within it and the rewards that are for those that lead good and pure lives.....................all with the aid of Tiger Balm of course.
I went down to the toy stalls in the evening and learned to haggle ,the stallholders liked it when you engaged in a bargaining session ,drinks would be poured and you had to be patient ,they did'nt like to be rushed, your "bargain" would be shown to you as though it were some prized possession and a price would be set for its purchase, you would be expected to disapprove and slowly but surely you would arrive at its real price. They trained me well for I did'nt buy anything that day ,I had heard of the "Kumshaw" that deal that could be struck when you bought in bulk. I asked how much Kumshaw they would give if I came back and ordered a case load ,they laughed and said come tomorrow and see. When I got back on board and told the lads what I could get ,four of them asked me to get them some as well. What were they? Things that would fetch a fortune now but were considered gimmicks then ,a model of the earth sat upon a pedestal that had dials and switches ,between the pedestal and the globe was a little blower with a nozzle on top .When you switched the gizmo on the earth would rotate and the blower would send up a jet of air on which you sat a model of the sputnik, a bleep, bleep sound was made ,and there you had a model of the worlds first satellite. Another was a model of a rickshaw in which there was a drunken sailor rum bottle in one hand and Chinese cheongsammed dolly bird at his side ,at the front was a rickshaw boy and when you flicked the switch of he would go, little legs flying ,crying "Lickshaw, lickshaw" .And there where police cars with sirens ,707 jets with screaming engines plus robots galore. When I went the next night ,I bought so many toys my Kumshaw covered the cost of the toys I wanted plus a beautiful leather wardrobe case to put them in.
The night before we left, I went to the White Horse Bar and had the misfortune to run into some "freedom fighters" ,they were Chinese and they hated my white arse. I did'nt realise they were serious when they started accusing me of being an aggressor ,me the kid from Garston! I tried to walk away but one of them stood in front of me ,stabbing me in the chest with his finger and ranting away. Another Chinaman took my arm and told them to behave themselves leading me out of the bar, he shook his head and told me to go home where I would be safe. For now my ship was my home and we still had a lot of travelling to do. We were leaving for Balewan
in the morning and that was in the East Indies.