Hullo Old Home

[Paddy]

Thats vey readable Brian, lucid and entertaining. I sometimes think that the English have a propensity to accepting that you can fall by the wayside, as in 'Poor chap lost eveything but a good sport really' on the road I have met so many people all with their own stories to tell. It makes one wonder about personal destiny or fate.

[brian daley]

Different Worlds

The journey back home was uneventful,this time I was on my own and was anticipating my meeting with my pen friend from Vernons.
We had?nt exchanged photo?s so this made our meeting even more fraught than usual. Was she pretty? She was articulate, her letters had been descriptive and easy to read. She was my age and seemed to like the same things as I did??.but was she pretty?
I got home late Saturday night, too late to go out dancing or clubbing it ,
Instead I watched the last of T,V. (Eamonn Andrews chat showe) while broaching a bottle of duty free with my father..
I had arranged to meet my pen pal outside of Vernons on Monday evening, so on Sunday I went down to Walton with Dad to say hello to Nin and Granddad and have a drink with his brothers . This was a ritual that had endured all of Dads adult life; his brothers ,and brothers in law ,would gather at the family home in Tintern Street. Nin would sit at the table ,welcoming her grandchildren. She would say to the assembled visitors ?Is?nt like our Joe?? holding a battered photograph of her long dead brother dressed in his quarter masters uniform,the ribbon on the cap bearing the name ?SS Alcantara? Hanging from the ceiling was a bird cage which had an African Grey parrot,a present from her son ,also called Joe. Each grandchild was told how like someone else they were,her side board mirror bore photographs of her vast brood. After all the greetings and courtesy?s then men would look at the watches and say ? We?d better gerrup there for a swift one? And gradually Nins? dining room would empty of men,the children would find their own way back home.. We we would the begin our procession along Walton Rd. There would be no pints or shorts on this procession,just halves of mild or bitter. We would go to every pub along the road, at the Royal Oak at the bottom of Spellow Lane , I would have my last half with the ?Brothers? and go up to the Winslow on Goodison Road. I would join Granddad Hengler there and a couple of halves with him and ,at closing time we would go down to 69 Eton Street where Grandma would have a Sunday roast awaiting us. The world seemed so unchanging, there would always be a full table at Grandmas, her menu would be frowned upon by modern day chefs ,but to me it was ,and always will be the best !
Her style was unvarying, three veg , roast meat and Yorkshire pudding. A rich gravy would cover everything and there was the appropriate sauce for whatever meat was on the menu. Sweet would be rice, semolina or sago; if we were lucky she would put on spotted dick and custard. I would sit with the gathered family and watch a bit of T.V. and then start making tracks to Kirkby.
My Granddad Hengler ,and my Dad, always used to spend Sunday afternoon in their beds, they were sleeping off the ?Midday session? and gathering their strength for the Sunday night out. It was on that particular Sunday night out that my world turned upside down.
I had always spent my first full night at home by going out with Mum and Dad. This meant going to the KTA club at the bottom of our road.
Weekends would find it packed and you had to get there before 8.00 pm if you were to get a seat., We were a bit late that night and we got a seat
at a table where a family that my parents knew were sitting. They had their daughter with them and she was a very pretty young lady. We had a few dances and she seemed to be very nice Mum had worked with her at Vernons. Funny how life can deal you sucker punches, I was?nt prepared for the one life was going to deal me. That night happened 48 years ago , the consequences of it are with me still. I am loth to write about this period, decisions that I made were those of a young man very wet behind the ears. Love and Lust are two very different emotions and I was too stupid to know the difference.
Have you ever taken a wrong turning in life ,even though you were cautioned against taking that turning? The girl I met that night was a girl in distress; she had been spurned by her boyfriend when he learned she was pregnant. I felt sorry for her??????????????..
I met with the young lady who had been corresponding with me; sh was?nt pretty, she was beautiful. While we sat drinking and making conversation I thought of the other girl, pregnant and afraid to tell her parents. I found myself saying to my pen pal ? I?m sorry, but last night I met a girl who I must marry?
She looked stunned and a load of questions sprang to her lips ?How long had I known her?? ? Was I sure of what I was doing? Etc ,etc etc.
Looking back ,I did?nt know what I was doing, head was full of romantic dreams and reality was not allowed to enter it. On Tuesday night I met with M. and told her that I would marry her,I did?nt ask her ,I told her. She cried and then she went home and told her family and our lives took a quantum leap into madness. I will write no more of this matter, I am not an injured party, just a fool who could?nt take advise. When my leave was up I took a job on a banana boat, one of Elders and Fyffes. She was in Garston and was sailing empty .
They called the men on Fyffes ?Hollywood Sailors? it was an appropriate nickname. Apart from watchkeeping and tying up and letting go there was no sailor work on a Fyffes boat. Instead of a deck knife and a marlin spike you needed suntan oil ,shades and a comb.
My cabinmate on this banana boat was the ultimate poseur, he used skin creams and body lotion .the first AB I had ever known to do so. He could?nt pass a mirror without looking at himself and he spent every available minute ?bronzying? He had a permatan and he liked to be fancied ,man or woman, it did?nt matter, just as long as they thought he was good looking.
As soon as we left Garston docks and were sailing down the Mersey we were turned to for overtime ,we were going to be hatch cleaning. It was a warm October night so I wore a T shirt ,shorts and a pair of flip flops, when I got down the hatch I noticed most of the lads were wearing long sleeved shirts ,jeans and sea boots. I thought that was a bit odd ,but stood and listened to the bosun telling us our duties. The hatch deck was covered in duck boards, which we would lift to clean under. So far so good, my foot felt ticklish and I looked down and saw a big black spider
crawling across my instep . I dropped my broom and streaked up out of that hatch in record time. Off went the T shirt and shorts, as well as the flip flops. On went long sleeved shirt ,T shirt and seaboots; thus armed I returned to the hatch to commence cleaning. Being the last one down there I was given the job of sweeping out the space behind the insulation. I was given a handbrush and a torch; there was a space just wider than a man and it ran the length of the hatch. I opened the small door, switched on the torch and saw a million little eyes looking at me. SPIDERS, thousands of them. It was said that I immediately came out the other end
after closing the door I went in through. ?All done bos? ? I gasped. .I don?t believe that those insulation gaps were ever cleaned. The guy who had done the other side was quicker than me.! Spiders were to play a big part in our lives whilst on board that ship. They never seemed to invade the accommodation though, I recall just one of them ,it was crawling along the crew corridor when I trod on it, I was wearing seaboots. It struggled from under my foot and ran off. Idid?nt tell anyone in case I caused a general panic. That happened a short while after. We had set up a cinema screen on the after mast, the hatches were open so that they could air and we sat around the coaming watching Larry Parkes in the Jolson story. The cook had given us bowls of ice cream and we were tucking in to them when I noticed a spider coming up out of the hatch. It was huge but looked bigger being back lit by the screen. I was sitting amongst a load of engine room crew and I thought I would alert them to the presence of our visitor. Wrong move. As soon as the words left my mouth there was a general melee as the greasers tried to scramble away . Ice cream was everywhere as people tried to climb over each other in a bid to escape. The deck crowd, and the spider, never moved, it was a good movie!
The only other brush I had with our 8 legged companions was when I was sent to dip our house flag in salute to another banana boat the was passing us on her way home. I clipped the flag to the halyard and it was unfurling as I was pulling it up ; When it was completely unfurled a big wolf spider fell off it and landed by my bare foot. It ran toward me and I nearly had an out of body experience, but our cross eyed bosun threw his deck knife and pinioned old wolfie good an proper. In Tiko we would see some creatures that put our spiders in the shade.

[brian daley]

Tiko
We arrived in Tiko ,in the Cameroons,a little over 10 days after leaving Garston. Tiko is just a bit below the Equator in the Bight of Biafra. The weather was very humid and the shore were lush with vegetation .It was like living in a greenhouse, you hat to wear a sweatband on your forehead to stop the perspiration from getting in your eyes. We were in banana country, there were endless groves of banana bushes everywhere you looked. When we tied up it was at a quay that was devoted to one thing ,the exportation of the yellow fruit. A little electric railroad brought the banana stems to the quayside and elevators with canvas holders carried the bananas from the quay right into the hold. The dockers hefted them from the elevators and stowed them into the refrigerated holds., I never heard the Banana boat song when I was there. That little train was our sole means of transport into the ?town?, there were carriages that had back to back seating and they travelled non stop throughout the day. Tiko was British run in those days, the Cameroon had been a German colony until the end of the First World war when it was divided between Britain and France. It had a strange feel about it , the Brits were running the place but it did?nt seem like Ghana or Nigeria. The natives were friendly enough though, they all wanted to marry our sisters and come and live in England.
A few of us ventured into the ?town?, this was a collection of warehouses, a couple of bars and the shanties that the dockers and their families lived in. The bar we drank in was a straw hut but it had electricity and cold, cold beer. The train journey to the bar was quite scary for a first timer, as you traversed the plantation you could the hordes of giant land crabs that lived among the bananas. They were gruesome looking creatures, purple and red in colour, with enormous claws that they clattered ,they had no fear of us. I often wondered if they were carnivorous and capable of chewing chunks out of us. I never heard anything to that effect, but none of us ever walked through those groves.
After leaving Tiko we went to a Portugese island called Fernando Po, this looked so much more organised than Tiko, the buildings were smarter and there was a sense of order about the place. I learned that the Portugese were hard taskmasters and this sense of order was created at the end of a whip. Soon Portugal would be faced with open insurrection in her colonies.
After Fernando Po it was back to home, I was apprehensive of what awaited me on my return. I had made a promise and was bound to carry it out.. I wrestled with my conscience almost all the while. She was facing a terrible life ,a catholic girl ,pregnant: I felt responsible for her.
Homecoming seemed a joyful occasion, our families had become closer, there was to be a church wedding and all would be well.. But in one small corner of my mind there was a doubt, why was I doing this? I would quickly dismiss such thoughts and get on with the events that led to our marriage. It would be a white wedding in a catholic church, I would take instruction in the catholic faith and we would tie the knot at the first possible date. I spent every night of my leave at her house, her brothers seemed to like me and I was introduced to her relatives . Her brothers knew the expected child was?nt mine as did her parents, according to them I was a?hell of a guy?. My own parents tried to make me see sense, but I was 19 ,a man and I was not capable of seeing what they saw.
I did?nt have much leave, our wedding was set for December and I tried to get a ship which would get me back in time for that date.
Charley Repp got me a banana boat ,same class as the Chuscal and on the same run. Be home in plenty of time he said.. I joined her in Garston and was immediately put to work loading paint for the coming voyage. After carrying my 40th barrel of white paint aboard I asked myself the question, why would a journey of less than a month require so much paint. The shore captain answered that question quite easily,? She?ll be away for a year or more? I told him that I took the ship on the understanding that I would be home in time for my wedding. He then paid me off with all due courtesy and a discharge in my book which I believe is unique, it says ?Engagment Cancelled? this became a source of grief thereafter with a lot of company?s refusing me work because they thought I was a troublemaker. Looking back with hindsight ,it might have been best for all concerned that I stayed on the Chicanoa, but that would have changed the course of the rest of my life and I?m happy with the way things are now.
But I digress, I was accepted by Cunard for a job on the Carinthia. She was on the Montreal run and it was my introduction to a whole new experience.
I had to wear a fore and aft rig, just like a navy man, the day before we sailed we had a muster of the entire crew on the prom deck. We were sorted into ranks, Quartermasters, Watchmen, Daymen, Cooks, Stewards, Firemen and Greasers. We were told to stand to attention while we were addressed by the staff captain. He told us all the ?do?s and don?t?s? and ,when he had finished, told us to turn to the right and march past the ships? master and salute him in passing. I felt everyone of my Bolshevik genes rise in my gorge, this was bullcrap of the first order and it was part of the job!
There were some characters in that crowd but the one who stands out most was an AB called Charley Chin. He was a Liverpool Chinese and as Scouse as they come. He?d been on the ship for years and liked his ale ,he was also a movie buff and would regale the mess with stories of some of the stars he had sailed with. He was hot stuff when it came to cinematic knowledge and would throw out little gems about some of the great movies ?Not many people know this? he would begin, or ? Oo knows the name of Charlie Chaplins first wife? He would usually be greeted with ? I don?t know Charlie,what?s the answer? and then he would lurch into Charley Chins history of Hollywood?
One day he asked ?What was the name of the first talking picture? C?mon, oo can answer that? There was the usual silence and then I said ? The City Lights of Old New York? ? Yer wot ?? he said, ? the City wot?? The mess went quiet. ?The City Lights of Old New York ? I repeated. ? Look sunshine, y?know eff all !.It was the Jazz Singer with Al Jolson ,everyone knows that!? ?Then everyone is wrong I replied, it was The City??.?
?I?ll bet you 10 bucks it was the Jazz Singer, put yer money where yer mouth is?
I told him I would pass on that because there was no way I could prove otherwise. Charley looked around ? It would?ve been easy money on that one lads?
I kept my head down after that, Charley was a popular guy and I did?nt want to upset him. He used to get very Bolshie when he had a few Wrexham lagers in him. ? When the revolution comes ,we?ll ?ave them sods with the gold braid pullin? rickshaws,give ?em all the ****ty jobs.!!? Sentiments which rested easy upon our ears. As a watchkeeper I did mainly lookout or standby, Quartermasters took the helm on her.
During daylight hours we would be washing down ,soogying or painting.
It was a big ship and there was plenty to do on it, but it was mainly ?charring?
There was one incident that occurred which I found disturbing ; it happened when we were leaving Liverpool. I was in a party working under one of the bosuns? mates, there were a half dozen of us and we were squaring away. It was dark and there was one little guy who seemed to be a bit of an outsider. He was Scots but lived with his wife and kids in Liverpool. He seemed a pleasant enough guy, small and quiet, kept himself to himself. Some of the lads had had a skinful in the pub before sailing ,there was a bit of banter and some remarks about scabs ,it was all over my head being new. As we started down the river and we were sweeping the after end of the boat deck I heard piercing shriek come from beneath one of the lifeboats. I ran toward the sound and found two of the lads beating the Scotsman ,He was on the deck and they were kicking and punching him. I?m one of the great cowards of this century but I could?nt let the poor little guy get battered. I swung my broom at them ,yelling for them to stop.
Lucky for me ,they did; standing up , shamefaced ,they muttered he was a scab and had sailed during the strike. I walked away and never heard any more of it.
Nightlife on the Carinthia was different, there were proper bars ,Pig and Whistles, they could seat about 50 or 60 and there was a piano there too; if memory serves me right there were two bars,one for the deck crowd and one for the catering.. The stewards and cooks seemed to have a lot of talented lads among their number, there were drag artists and musicians. The entertainment was excellent, there were a couple of great piano players who could play anything from Bach to Basie.
When we were in Montreal I met up with the catering lads ashore and they had a combo which was second to none. They would ?raid? a bar and would regale the drinkers with a medley of blues and rock and roll. They were thrown out after a couple of numbers and then ?raided? another bar. It was?nt easy, they had a tea chest bass, and a couple of guitars and a washboard, a cook called Terry played the piano, and there was always a piano, the men knew which bars to ?raid?. It was all done in good fun and ,being regulars on the run, they were known by the barkeepers.
I came to understand why some men never sailed on ordinary cargo boats, apart from the ?bull?, you could have a good time .
When we were in Montreal and were sitting in the messroom having a nightcap when one of the deck crowd came in; old Charley was in his corner cracking a few jokes . ?Hey Charlie , I?ve just been the pictures to see that new Charlton Heston film and guess what? ? Charley blinked ,inscrutably ? Wot?? He asked. ?Well? the late arrival said? there was a short about the golden days of Hollywood and they showed a clip from the very first real talkie?..?The City Lights of Old New York? Charley winked at me,?Yer could?ve made a few bob if ye?d stuck to yer guns kid?

Soon we were on our way home again and somehow or other the ?queens? learned that I was getting married when we got back. They decided to have a stag night for me; I was on the 12 to 4 watch so I had to keep a little sober ???.I had no chance. The lads were pouring it down my neck, this was a stag night and they really went to town. The ?queens ? were dressed in evening gowns that were right out of Hollywood, I had them sitting on my knee singing love songs . I was well away, all thought of propriety had dissipated with every pint of lager. Some of them wanted to be bridesmaids and the thought of the priests? face made me laugh. Midnight came a lot sooner than I had expected, I was in lagerland an had lost all sense of time and space. Soon it was my turn to climb up to the crows nest and do my bit. Sitting up there , with the seas rising and the ship moving three ways at once, my stomach started to rebel. I could feel the acids coming up my throat and I could?nt keep them down. I wound the window of the crows nest down and stuck my head out into the gale. Uuupp she came .and Uuup it came, I felt as though I was having an out of body experience. I watch ,fascinated as the contents of my stomach started to turn and the spin, spreading out like a carpet and it spiralled down on to the port wing of the bridge. I closed the window and fell asleep . I was awakened by my relief and staggered down to the messroom. Next morning I was on the wash down party and we were scrubbing the port side of the bridge. The officer on watch said that the captain had said if found out which so and so had carpeted the bridge he would make sure he?d never sail again. Lucky for me nobody ?grassed?

We spent a freezing cold morning painting the forepart of the whitework on the prom deck . We felt so envious of the passengers sitting in the main bar ,a big open fireplace with a burning log fire and there we were, paint brushes near frozen , icicles hanging off the ends of our noses trying to smarten up the whitework. It was idiotic. As we sailed down the Mersey next day the paint started to peel off the fore part, like sheets of wallpaper.it slid to the deck.
Thank god I was leaving her. Next time I went to sea I would be a married man.
i

[Paddy]

I read the piece with interest one thing that struck me Brian was the bit about going in the crows nest I thought that only happend on sailing ships as look outs.

[brian daley]

Paddy, the crows nest was a little different from those ones you saw on sailing ships or the Titanic: the modern crows nest, whioch was equipped with a heater,telephone and electric clear screen, was up a mast which rose up from the deck behind the bridge. You were about 40 feet above the bridge deck ,and the bridge was about forty feet above water level, then you were forty foot taller than that. You had a terrific view of the horizon but the down side was if the ship had a slight roll ,then you moved in a wider arc being so high. You needed good sea legs in rough weather because you were swung all over the place.
BrianD

[Paddy]

And what would you be looking for icebergs other ships or land ?

[Billy D]

Great stories Brian,,

Great to hear about tintern street,,,

Bill

[brian daley]

Glasgow
We left Preston and sailed up to Glasgow, the sea was moderate and we stayed inshore for a good way. I had never been on anything as archaic as this ship,she had chain and rod steering .A series of rods went from the wheelhouse down to the engine room where there was a little donkey engine(motor, not steam). This engine drove the chains ,which ran along the deck in steel channels, and the chains were connected to a quadrant on the poop. It turned out to be very reliable, Victorian technology at its best. As the quadrant was above our quarters it created a hell of a racket in the cabin, but I ,like the rest of the crew ,got used to it.
We arrived in the Plantation Dock and all the deck and catering crowd paid off ; there were just the Arab engine room crew and myself left aboard. The generators were switched off and a power line was brought on board from a plant room on the quay. The ship was totally silent. The Arabs were away ashore leaving me all on my lonesome. You could hear every little wavelet slapping the ships side, sometimes a bit of flotsam would clang alongside the hull. It was like living inside a drum. I made myself a cup of cocoa and turned into my sack. It was going to be a lonely weekend.
I fell into a deep sleep when I was awakened by a racket overhead, chairs were being scraped across the deck above me. Was it the Arabs? I hoped so but it did?nt sound like them . I put on some dungarees and crept up stairs to have a look, they were Glaswegian voices I could hear ,drunken Glaswegian voices. I got to the top of the companionway and could see in to the messroom; there about 10 very drunk red biddy merchants ,they were pushing and shoving at each and it sounded very much like trouble. I could?nt get past the messroom without being seen so I made my way back to the cabin and locked myself in. A few minutes later there was a tapping on my door, I froze. I said nothing and the door was tapped again ? Ah Ken yer there Jimmy , open the door? I stayed silent. ? Ah?ll nae harm ye, jist open the door? My throat was almost choked with fear. ?What d?you want>? I croaked. ?To do ye a deal? he replied . ?Open the door an ah?lI telt ye? I cracked open the door and was faced with a thuggish looking ruffian,his face almost covered with a matted beard and the bit of skin that was visible was red and lined with broken veins. He had eyes that danced from side to side, sharp and ratlike. ?Y?see me ,ah?ll get rid o? they guys an? keep ?em aff yer boat if ye let me stay. Ah?ll be away when the crew gets back on board? he let the words drop before me, awaiting an answer. Up above the noise got louder and there was the sound of something smashing.
I nodded, ?Okay, until Monday? I said. His eyes flashed a look of triumph and he ascended the stairs to the mess. It sounded like carnage was happening, there was a roaring and a yelling and full throated screams. And then came the sound of feet scuffling away from over my head until all was silent. One pair of foot steps broke the silence, scampering along the deck and then down the companionway to my door. ?They?re awa Jimmy? said my ruffian ,? Ah?ll get my heid doon in the messroom?.. g?nicht.? I got back into my bunk and fell into a deep sleep.

The smell of fried bacon brought me to consciousness, it smelled delicious. I went up to the mess room and found the ruffian working his way through a huge bacon sandwich. He smiled ? I hope ye dinna mind ,I was awfy hungry? Well it was morning, Sunday morning, and he had kept the mob away from me. ?Help yourelf? I told him .
I then went down to the galley to see if I rustle up some breakfast for myself..
There was a little electric cooking ring in the crews kitchen so I got some eggs and bacon and took myself down aft to our messroom.. I was cooking a couple of rashers when this young Arab greaser appeared in the kitchen doorway ?Pliss,you mek me bacon sandwich?? He begged.?You guys don?t eat bacon? I said . He nodded and put his fingers too his lips. ?Issa secret,I love bacon sandwich? I did him his butty and he slipped away happy. As I was doing my second lot of a bacon another Arab appeared. Pointing to the bacon rashers he said ?Pliss ,you do for me?? Good job there was?nt an Imam aboard that boat.

Sunday passed uneventfully, the ruffian kept out of sight of a daytime and came back aboard at nightfall. Come Monday morning he was gone and everything was shipshape. He must have been an old hand at that sort of thing. The Captain and Mste were aboard early and the rest of the catering staff and engine room crew were all aboard just after breakfast. All we needed was a deck crowd. Shortly after midday they made an appearance, there was a Highland man , Jim McInnes softly spoken with a lilt to his speech. There were four guys from Glasgow itself ,one was of Italian extraction, small set ,D.A. haircut and what passed for cool. A big blond guy whose dad was Norwegian ,he could have passed for a Norseman both in looks and dress. And there was Eck , he had a head on him like an angry cat ,his hair stood up in spikes and he had a mouthful of broken teeth. Then there was Tam from Stranraer, he was one who seemed people friendly, a ready smile and an apt quip came readily to his lips. Our deck boy was a first tripper, a big blonde kid from Paisley, he reminded me of a big shire horse ,he was about 6 foot 2 inches tall ,had a shock of blonde hair and an open, trusting face. As soon as the crew had signed articles we made the ship ready for leaving, we were off to Gothenburg .
Excepting for the four Glaswegians ,who were friends, we were strangers to each other and treated each with that wariness you have when joining a new crew. They were surprised to find a Scouser in their midst .When we had let go and were making passage down the Clyde the Glaswegians gave me the third degree in the mess. No niceties were observed, they would ask me a question and when I answered it the Italian guy would say ? E?s a feckin? liar ? At first I was quite bemused, was he for real? When I told them I was a newly wed the Italian said ? That?s anither feckin? lie!? He was sitting right opposite me and I got hold of him by the throat and was just delivering a blow to his face when someone grabbed my arm and the Norwegian laughed and said ? It?s O.K. , we wuz just sussin?ye?
I never had any bother from anyone of them after that.
Soon we were passing out of the Clyde and into the Irish Sea where a storm of nightmare proportions awaited us.

[brian daley]

Winter, North Sea

After passing Paddys? Milestone ,or ,to give it its proper name, Ailsa Craig, we ran straight into a force ten gale. We were head on into it and were making no headway. The old steam engine rattled and strained but it was no match for the fury of this Northern tempest. We were actually being forced backwards, massive wave after wave crunched into her bows and shook us like a terrier shakes a rat. The steel plates groaned and shrieked as she was twisted by the mighty seas. The skies were coal black for days and soon we saw the lights of Dublin Bay. This was madness, engines going flat out to go north and we were being pushed south like a toy boat in the hands of the sea gods. Three days we spent battling against that baleful storm before the winds began to abate and then we gained headway and began our journey north. Considering what we had been through the lads were in fine spirit, Jum,the deck boy was enjoying it ,he felt it was like the storms he had seen in some movies ?excitin? he said. The Glaswegian deckhands had been giving Jum a hard time; instead of teaching him the ropes, they continuously misled him ,or played pranks on him. Sending him for a bucket of steam or for a long weight/wait, were tame with what they were doing. They would show him a wrong way of doing thing and then laugh at him when he made a hash of it. It pained Jum, you could see he was upset at having the Mickey taken out of him when all he wanted to do was to learn how to splice and do his bends and hitches.. I tried to undo some of the harm they were doing to him without setting myself against those dock rats.
We sailed up through the Minches and the sea was calm and though the skies were slate grey the land on either side of us looked very nice. I was on the helm on the evening four to eight watch and I had told Jum to come up and I would give him a spell at the wheel. He was excited as he entered the wheel house, the old Scots mate pointed out the wheelhouse windows and said to Jum ?Ye?re lookin? at the hills of Gods ain country McGregor?
? Och ,no sir, Palestine is where God lives ? said Jum ,making the Mate and I smile. He was such an innocent!
He picked up things very quickly ,but would?nt volunteer to take the helm when the dock rats wanted him to give them a break.
Apart from that little group of malcontents, I was beginning to like most of the crew. We used to spend our spare time in the mess room talking about the world we knew and any other old rubbish that finds its way into a sailors mind. The Highland Man Jim , usually had a tale to tell, and he told them in a way that you had to strain to listen to them. One night he told us of the time he took his wife to a Chinese restaurant in his home town. He said it was a splendid meal that they had there but half way through it his wife began to choke and pulled his handkerchief out of his top pocket and coughed something into it. She then pushed the handkerchief back into his top pocket.. Whenever he joined a ship ,Jims wife would put his suit into the cleaners so that it would be nice and fresh when they got home.
When he got back from his voyage she told him that she had put his suit into the cleaners ,as usual, but had forgotten about the handkerchief. Two days later, the police came knocking at his door and informed his wife the half a finger had been found .wrapped .in a handkerchief that was in the top pocket of the jacket. She was sick for a couple of days afterwards. Turned out that one of the cooks had sliced the offending digit off his hand and could?nt find it. He told a good tale did Jim,wether they true ,who knows..
We Passed Cape Wrath and one could see why the headland had earned its name, the seas were up again and the skies were full of ragged storm clouds. It was so bad that the captain decided to run into Scapa Flow to escape the worst of the storm. I had never been to Scapa before, it was a huge anchorage and the captain told me the German Grand Fleet came there after Armistice in 1918 and promptly scuttled itself rather than let the British have them. It seemed eerie knowing that. We did?nt get ashore ,we sat waiting for a respite in the storm and then started on our way again.
We cleared the Pentland Firth and sailed straight into the worst storm it has ever been my luck to be in. If the Irish Sea had been bad this was far worse, the sea seemed determined to have us. Daylight seemed to have gone forever , the sea was only distinguishable from the sky by the white topped waves. There was a Swedish ship ahead of us and a German abaft our beam. We could sea the waves crashing against the Germans forepart, reaching almost up to her bridge, the Swede soon became lost to our sight as the seas grew higher. This was really serious stuff and there was no rest to be had because of the shaking and banging that occurred with every rise and fall. The mate called all hands to the boatdeck, we had to turn out the life boats as our situation seemed perilous. I don?t when they were last inspected, but those boats seemed set fast; we had to work for hours to get them up and the davits swung out. Looking at those seas ,our boats would have no chance against them. But she was a solid old ship. We received news that both the Swede and the German had been sunk with the loss of all hands. A gloom hung over the crew after we heard that. In our bunks that night , storm tossed and shaken ,I could hear some of the men praying and saying hail Mary?s. It was a bad night.
Next morning we were hit with the news that we were running out of food and would be rationed with what was available. The cook took a hell of a shellacking off the dock rats, most of us were just resigned to the fact that we were still alive when a lot of good men were now lying at the bottom of the North Sea.
Later, that same day , the Royal Navy came to our rescue with some stores. I had never seen the operation that the Navy undertook ; they fired a rocket line and we then had food pulleyed over to us . It did?nt take long ,and there was?nt a great deal, just enough to get us to our next port. If we ever arrived there. This was the winter when Germany and Holland suffered great flood and there we were ,in the heart of it.

[pablo42]

Nice one Brian, enjoyed that.

[brian daley]

Ice

We were now in our eleventh day since leaving Glasgow,the skies were still leaden and storm rent and the seas were still boiling with fury. There was now an added peril , ice !
The fore well deck was sheathed in ice and the foc?sle head was becoming solidly encased As the spray came over the bows it was immediately frozen into spears of ice. The foremast stays were hung with icicles and she was definitely getting lower in the water. The captain ordered steam on deck in the hope that the steam pipes would start to melt the ,now,solid ice. As dawn broke it became clear that we would have to take drastic action if we were not to be overcome by the mass of ice. We were ordered out on deck for ?safety of the ship? We were given pawls and sledgehammers to break the ice up,one man stuck the pawl into the ice and another hammered it into the ice. It was back breaking worth and all the time the spears of ice came crashing around us as the ship ploughed on through the stormy sea. It took us a day and a half before we got the ship out of danger; we were still clearing the foc?sle head as we sailed into Gothenburg. It had taken us 13 days to make the crossing, 13 days of hard toil, of man against the elements. The lights of a town had never been more welcoming, here was peace .
Our Captain had aged visibly , the toll taken by the storms was awesome. This man had had a shock of thick black hair ,when I was on the helm going into Gothenburg ,I could see that his was now white and his face was drawn and lined. He had been responsible for all our lives and the worry had put years on him. I volunteered to do the night watch in Gothenburg. Sweden was an almost dry country then, the beer was weak and insipid and spirits cost a fortune, besides I was a newly married man and my wenching days were over. I did pop ashore for a quick gander round the town before it was time to go on duty. It was covered in snow and there was very little traffic about, we saw cars towing people on skis and the windows of the bars and cafes were covered in condensation giving the appearnce of frosted glass. I was brought up sharp by the magazines that were on display at the newsstands. I had never seen such a mass of pornographic images so openly displayed , they were not hidden on the top shelf, but on the counter alongside the newspapers. Mrs Whitehouse and Lord Longford would have had fits. Although I was a seaman , the openness of it shocked me.
I got back aboard for my night watch and found the foc?sle empty, they had all gone off to get a few pints in ,there was little else to do in wintertime Gothenburg..
I was standing at the head of the gangway when the first of the deck crowd came stumbling back aboard ; it was the Italian and his face and nose were bloody. I asked what had happened and he hurried off muttering so that I never understood. A while later Eck came aboard , face on him like a raw steak, I got nothing out of him either. Gothenburg had?nt seemed a rowdy place. What was going on ? The Norwegian came aboard with a badly battered face and he too made his way quickly to the foc?sle. And then came young Jum ,his face glowing with pride, ?Ah got ?em Brian ? he announced as he rubbed his bruised knuckles. ?Ah followed ?em round fra bar to bar ,I kept out o? they sight an? when one a ?em went fur a pish I got ?em ? he said brandishing his fists. None of them went back to rejoin their mates , they came back to the Thelma to hide their shame. Needless to say ,but Jums' hazing stopped from then onwards. He never took advantage of his mastery over them ,just reverted to being a deck boy.
Because we were so far behind schedule it was decided to cut out Stockholm and go straight to Oslo. I can?t recall our stay in Oslo, it was like Gothenburg but with weaker beer. I can remember an incident in our mess room though and the was one that concerned me. A vicar from the Oslo Flying Angel came aboard at lunch time and he came aft to see us sinners. I engaged him in an ecumenical debate and I could see that I had engaged the crews attention ,they sat opened mouthed as I waxed eloquently , we spoke of sailing ships, sealing wax and he gave as good as he got. As he rose to say good bye, he shook my hand and waved himself away. Suddenly the dam of silence broke and an incredulous Jimmy said ? D?ya realise that you were effin? an? blinding away there. I must have looked a picture because everyone broke out laughing. The old padre had?nt said a word ,I wander what his next sermon was like.?
All too soon it was time for our return, we had taken on stores so there was no danger of running out again and the sea was like a mill pond on our return.
We made it to Belfast without any incidents and while there we took on coal.
I have never seen a more hazardous way of coaling than the Belfast way. Two long planks of wood were placed just a few feet apart from each other, they bridged the gap between our ship and a coal wagon ,doughty little dockers toted the bags of coke up from the rail wagon running up to the fiddley where the emptied their sacks into the coal hole. These guys moved at such a lick that it was treat to watch, but I thought it was demeaning, they were treated very harshly by the shore boss and I heard that theyn considered themselves lucky to have that job. It is hard to reflect on the amount of poverty that I saw in Ireland back then. North and South ,it seemed the same, and outside the dock gates there were little boys tugging at your sleeves asking ? Have yer got a ponny mistor ?? Much in the same way that we used to ask the American servicemen if they had ?Any gum chum??
I never saw much of Belfast or Dublin ,we were in out and no messing about. We did?nt go back to Preston , the company wanted her back on schedule so we legged it back to Glasgow where I signed off. The baby had?nt been born yet I might just get home for it ,unless Charley Repp had other plans for me !

[kevin]

I remember being on a bulk carrier in the north Atlantic. It was rough so a handline had been strung along the deck - the rope being tensioned so that it was as taut as a handrail. It was brilliant for me as I had to go forward each day to dip the fuel tanks.
After about three days, the rope was so encased in frozen spray that the weight of the ice brought it down to the deck between the supporting stanchions. The entire ship looked like an ice palace, but not to the extent that the weight of ice threatened stability.

[brian daley]

The Crosbian

M was looking plump and rosy with her pregnancy, she positively bloomed
She had bought a little dog upon which lavished motherly affection,it was a nice little mutt but she did rather overdo it ; about its neck he sported a big multicoloured silk ribbon. She was treating him like a baby and I told her that when her baby arrived the mutt would not like it and might harm it. I was told not to be silly and so left well alone.
I spent a lot of time down at the Pool looking for a ship that was on fairly short runs and had good overtime, it looked Ellermans market boats were the ones to get, I?d been on the Catanian ( another one of Ellermans) and head been carried off on a stretcher in Lisbon, I?d also been on the Patrician and had a Voyage Not Completed in my book because I left her in the strike in 1960. I mught have difficulty in getting an Ellerman boat. While I was down at Mann Island I met Eddy Clark who I had sailed with on the Swan River . We struck lucky and both got a job on the Crosbian. She was an Ellermans ?Med? boat calling at Malta and Cyprus . I had?nt been to either place and so it would prove to be interesting as well as lucrative. She was smallish, about 1500 tons, and had a small deck crew. When we joined I found that amongst her existing crew was a youth who had been at the training school in Sharpness when I got there . He was a bully then, what would he be like now? Some of the older hands had been at sea during the war and a lot of us were mere striplings. B was still a bully and he seemed to be cock o? the walk. He would tell the older men what it had been like in the war, he would have been in pram for most of it,but they sat and said nothing.
I did?nt have the wisdom to realise that they thought he was a prat but did?nt want to provoke violence by saying so. Eddy and I used to rage inwardly,we knew he would marmalise us and we could only grit our teeth when he started. He did?nt mention the incident at the Vindicatrix when that little West Countryman took him to task for bullying us newcomers. I kept off the subject of the sea school in case it reminded him of his humiliation.

We had one old timer who was grizzled and weatherbeaten, the sea had shaped his features,he used to sit in the messroom and take the chaffing that some of the younger lads threw at him;he?d heard it all before. One smoko we were sitting there and the talk got round to French letters, were they a good thing or a bad thing. The talk was very salty and the lads used it as an excuse to boast about their conquests. , one of them ,seeing the old timer sitting on his own ,called to him ?D?ya ever use rubber johnnies George?? and he retorted quick as a flash ?Yerse , an? ya should smell the burnin? rubber!? We cackled with laughter.

The bosun was a quiet man who had a slight turn in his eye, he was always well turned out and never raised his voice, he knew his stuff to. He used to let B?s comments go unremarked ,me and Eddy could?nt understand why ,we later learned why.


The Crosbian was not a good sea boat,as one of the lads said,the bugger would roll on wet grass. She was top heavy and carried a permanent ballast of pig iron to counteract her top heaviness. Crossing the Bay of Biscay was a real test of our sea legs. The weather moderated as we passed Finisterre and it was plain sailing down to Malta. I was excited about our stop there because I had read about Jean De Vallette, one the defenders of Malta during the Turkish siege in the 16th century. The battle was of epic proportions and stemmed the rise of Islam in Europe. Most of the buildings and fortifications were supposed to be still in existence. And,in my lifetime ,Malta had also stood bravely against the Axis and had been awarded the George Cross by our own King George the 6th.
So I had a lot to look forward to.

Entering the Grand Harbour at Malta is awe inspiring, the buildings are mainly of honey coloured limestone and topped with red pantiles. In the first harbour you have the naval dockyards built around the Five Cities,an area not much bigger than Walton. This is overlooked by the Baraka Gardens high on the promonotory of Valetta. From there you can view Ismailia, the Grand Harbour and parts of Valetta. It is breathtaking. The whole island reeks with history,from that point alone you can see how fortified the place was. During the siege ,less than 7000 knights of the various orders stood defiant against the Ottoman forces who numbered 30,000. It gave me a thrill to stand where such a battle was fought.

The weather in Malta was bright and chilly, a cold wind was blowing from Europe and the Maltese were well wrapped up against the elements. Nothing like England but cold for them. We did?nt tie up alongside in Ismailia but were moored stern on to the quay and tied up to buoys astern of us. Our cargos was discharged into lighter that were made fast along our sides and trips ashore were made in Dghajsas ( pronounced diesoes ) little wooden boats with huge bow and stern posts and colourful paintwork at the bow and stern . The quay was only about 5 foot above the waterline and climbing in and out was no problem.

When we had made the Crosbian ready for discharging there was a dash for the showers so that we could get cleaned and shaved to go ashore.
Eddy and I went for a look around the town while it was still light, we had a laborious climb up the ancient stone steps and came out into a wonderful square ,it was lined with imposing palazzos and had lime trees growing on the pavements which would provide shade from the sun. There was a paseo going on when we arrived there. Young ladies and their chaperones were walking sedately aroung the square in a clockwise direction whilst groups of young men walked in an anti clockwise direction. This was where the young men sought out sweethearts. Everything seemed so demure. It was a rare place was Malta, a mixture of Arab, Spanish,Italian and lots of other races. The language was heavily influenced by Arabic ,with a touch of latin but it was scripted in European letters. The scene we saw before us showed the mixture of the cultures. We stayed only a little while and then we wandered into King Street which was lined with shops cafes and Tombola Houses. The Royal Navy was responsible for the proliferation of these, Tombola being the only form of gambling they would allow.
We met up with Georgie Almond in King Street and went into one of the Tombola Halls ,we got a couple of sheets each and commenced to play ,in vain alas ,for the caller was like a bloodstock auctioneer, spraying the numbers out of his mouth with a machine gun rapidity. The natives had no trouble but we three sailors could not keep up.
Around the corner from King Street is a thoroughfare that is known to sailors everywhere?..The Gut. This is a long street that runs downhill and then uphill and is lined with dance halls and cat houses. The place was heaving with humanity, some to buy love and others to sell it. Not a pretty sight, we opted for a dance hall where the music was loud and latino. The ladies were,without exception ,middle aged ;but we three were not out for nookey just for a dance. We stayed there for some time and then made our way to the dock. The wind had strengthened and was biting a bit. We got a shock when we got to the quay, the ferrymen had all gone home,too windy for rowing. The Crosbian was only yards away and we could?nt get aboard. I asked a passing policeman if they had any spare beds at the station. He nodded and told us to go with him .When we got there we were shown into a cell that was so lousy that you could the bed lice scurrying across the filthy mattress. We thanked him for his kind offer of a bed and said no thanks. He laughed and then took us back down to the quay. He went up to a door that was sandwiched between the roller shutters of two go downs and hammered on the door. A little Malt in longjohns and a cap on his head,opened up and let us inside. It was a genuine flophouse,he took us into a large room that was full of single beds, we paid him the equivalent of half a crown and dossed down for the night. It was a good bed and I was soon in the land of Nod. What surprises would tomorrow bring.

Below are some pictures which show King Street in the early 60's, the bow of a dghajsa, and a view of the Grand Harbour.

[brian daley]

The Med

When I awoke in my ?flop? morning had broken and there was a queue of matelots and merchant Navy men waiting for a brew up. I looked at my watch ,it was breakfast time aboard ship and I hastened out to see if the boatmen were working. Luckily for us they were. After eating the bosun put us to work painting the ships side. The wind had slackened and the sun was out and the harbour was so busy that Eddy and I sat and took a good look around us to see what Malta was like in the daytime. In a word ?busy. The Navy dockyards were full of all manner of warships and there were launches and tugs pootling about ,cargo liners filled the mooring spaces and it was a delight to the eye. The navy had some old paddle wheel tugs and one of them was bustling across the Harbour from the dockyard to Valetta when ,unbelievably ,her whistle started shrieking and she seemed to ?waddle? and then she sank. It took about two minutes for this to happen and we two sat and stared, were we still drunk? As she went down there was a flurry of launches come around her and they were picking men out of the water and then, as her funnel disappeared there was a great gush of steam come aboiling from her innards. We never did get the full story of what happened because shortly after lunch we squared up and steamed out to sea.
Cyprus was our next destination and we would be calling at Limassol , Famagusta and Morphou. . Beautiful looking places but we had hardly any time in them to explore. There was still a fair bit of anti British feeling and the regular lads advised us not to stray too far from the docks. This was before Independence and there were lots of British Army lads to be seen on the streets. I was to go back years later and saw more of the places that I went to that time. Back home there was a shortage of potatoes and we picked up a special cargo of them in Cyprus and the captain said that we could each have a sack to take home. They were really appreciated by our families when we got home , but we are not there yet.

It was now April and the Spring weather made for a good run home; we were calling at Newport in South Wales to unload some copper pyrates, and some spuds and we would only be there for a day. It was Good Friday and so after getting the derricks ready the bosun said we could have a few hours ashore. Eddy and I took off double quick to have a few beers and a bite to eat. I?d never been to Newport before and I learned that some of the dockers used to like drinking ?scrumpy? ,a rough but strong apple cider. The scrumpy drinkers were noticeable by their voices, they were very husky, apparently the acid in the drink eroded the larynxes. Whether that was true or not I don?t know ,but I do know that there were an awful lot of hoarse voiced men down there.
We called at a pub a bit away from the dock road ,it seemed quiet so we went in and were just about to order a few drinks when we saw B in the backroom. We were standing in the front bar and could see through a big arch at the back of the bar. B was stripped to the waist and was smashing a guy in the face with his bare fists. His chest and arms were smeared with blood and he was roaring mad. We slunk out of the bar hoping he had?nt seen us. I was shaken to the core, he looked as though he was enjoying it!

We stopped at a bar on the dock road and had a short to settle our nerves and then made our way back on board. The sight that greeted us was even worse than that we saw in the bar. B was back on board ,fully dressed and roaring drunk. The crew were squaring away at N0 4 hatch and there were derrick guys and preventer wires to be put away, everyone was looking very industrious, everyone one except B and the bosun. B was standing facing the bosun, his knife dimpling the flesh about the bosuns Adams apple. He was mouthing the greatest obscenities at the bosun ,the knife held delicately against his throat. Nobody was taking any notice, Eddy and I got up on top of the hatch and were tidying up and we noticed B turn his attention to the Carpenter. Would?nt anyone do anything? We were cowards all ,just hoping that we would get by unscathed. And then ,of a sudden , B was standing below me, his arm held upward,brandishing that blade at my throat.
?Ya think I ?ave forgotten oo you are, doncha?? My stomach turned to liquid.
?Yer that feckin kid oo was at the Vindi ? There was a terrible scream rent the air. Mine , all the rage that I had felt toward this guy propelled me forward and I dropped my knees to his shoulders and slammed him into the deck. There ,astride him, I grabbed his ears and drummed his head onto the steel deck. Hands grabbed me from behind and dragged me away, the bosun grabbed him by the throat and delivered the most crushing blows to his face, other men kicked and thumped him and his body sagged and went limp.
He recovered sufficiently to join in the after gang as we let go . The bow of the ship astern was overlooking our poop ,a group of B?s mates called down to him and said they would see him in Liverpool. B then turned to me and said ? I?ll get you for this? pointing at his battered face. I flipped and shouted ?D?ya want yer mates to see yer get more?? He went white and fled amidships.. When we were clear and heading to the Irish Sea ,B said to me from across the hatchway ? Yer?ve got to sleep Daley.. I ?ll feckin do you then? Luckily the lads heard him and they kept watch on my door while I got some sleep.
We got into the Liverpool in the early hours of the morning, we would be signing off in the morning so it was?nt worth going home yet. B did though, at 2.30 in the morning he slipped away. Next day there was no sign of him at the pay off , I fully expected to get some kind of back lash. But I never saw him for quite a few years. I did learn that when he was walking along the Dock road that night ,he was challenged by a young constable about his appearance and an altercation then took place ,which ended with said constable adding a few more lumps to B?s physog with his truncheon.

When I got home I found that M had delivered a beautiful little baby girl, she also had a very attentive young man who was a friend of the family.
I realised that if I was to make a go of things then perhaps a job ashore would be more fitting. The times were changing.

[brian daley]

Kirkby

Leaving the sea seemed such a massive step, I had 19 discharges in my book and had done 18 trips; I had?nt seen half the things I wanted to but I could see that marriage and the sea was a pretty bad mix for me.
My Granddad Hengler and some of my Dads brothers offered to get me on the docks working with them. Although I had been around the docks for nearly 4 years the prospect of working there did not appeal to me. I wanted a job with a future, I was 20 years old and quite fit ,what had I to offer an employer ? My Uncle Bill seemed happy in his job as a lorry driver ,that appealed to me but there was a snag, I could?nt drive ! I gave the buses some consideration, I went down to the Bus H.Q. and was given an application form which I filled in there and then. A short interview followed and then I was given a test paper to complete. It was all about fares with a mixture of maths. To my utter shame I failed. I dreaded facing the family and telling them that I was considered unfit to man a ticket punch. When I came out of the transport office I sauntered up to the Police H.Q., which was by the Philharmonic. I was given an interview and an I.Q. test ,which I passed with flying colours. I was then given an appointment to have an in depth interview the following week. I had enough funds to see me through
until then and went home excited by the opportunity that awaited me.
We were living in the front room of M?s house, her mum , dad and three of her brothers had the rest of the house.
When I gave them the news about my chance of a job with the police it was not very well received. The police were scuffers,no marks etc.,etc.,.
My own parents were pleased for me and I was on pins until the interview.
There were two officers on the interview board ,they had a folder in front of them and had obviously been checking me out . I passed the interview and was told that I would be sent to the training school in Broosh (I think that is how it was spelled) I would have to get a job ashore and they had sorted that out for me too. I was to go to Fisher Ludlows in Kirkby where I would be employed on a temporary basis until the next training class in Autumn..
I was given a letter from the officer which was signed by the Chief Constable, this was to be my bona fides for Fisher Ludlows and, because I was to work a week in hand , I was to present it at the National Assistance Board to claim a weeks pay. They had everything sorted!
I was?nt too popular with the in laws, the local police would often call and have a cup of tea and when I went to the pub by Bolton Avenue on Whitehouse Drive ,they would often call in there just to see how I was getting on.

Fisher Ludlows had not been open very long and there was a great buzz there ,the management were all from Birmingham and they were like Babes in the Wood. I was like a Babe in the Wood too!! I had never worked in a factory before and it seemed very claustrophobic, especially on the afternoon shift when you could see the blue skies out of the window and you were stuck inside like a caged bird. I was put in the vitreous enamel shop and had to give the drums of the Bendix washing machines a mottled enamel finish.
It was?nt hard work, just boring,our work flow was determined by the amount of hooks free on the furnace conveyor. I used to close down my conscious mind and relive some of the moments that I had spent at sea,it was the only way I kept sane.
At the end of the first week I went down to the NAB in Southdene and took my place in the very long queue of claimants. The guy who was in front of me had a leg and an arm in plaster. He told me that his benefit was not covering the family needs and that his union had awarded him a place at their convalescent home which was in Ely. If he went there it would mean one less mouth to feed at home and the family could just about get by. All he needed was a couple of pound for the train fare. He was very anxious and when his name was called he hobbled to the counter where he was treated abominably. He hobbled past me with tears streaming down his cheeks. My name was called and I presented myself at the window vacated by that poor unfortunate man. I proffered the letter from the police to the clerk ,he studied it for a little while and then said ?Very well Mr Daley?. How much money would you like?? I felt like screaming at the injustice of it, me with a wallet full of pound notes and that poor guy who could?nt rub two ha?pennies together.
In my second week at Fishers ,the works manager,a real flash Brummie (he looked like Alan Whicker) came to my spray booth and asked me if I had ever sailed on tankers .I told him yes and then he said I could, perhaps, help
him with a problem. I told him I would if I could. He led me outside to the ?backyard ?, a huge area ,and then showed me what looked like an Olympic swimming pool. It was the tank where all the vitreous enamel spray drained into and it was nearly full. He asked me if I could drain it for him?..ahh such ignorance is bliss. He asked me what I would require and I said abot 5 good strong men, about fifty 40 gallon oil drums ,buckets ,shovels and brooms. He told me to pick my own men and he would get the equipment organised. We could work the Saturday and Sunday at the regulation overtime rates. I was the most popular guy in the factory and I had no problem getting the five men.
On Saturday morning we decided to work in pairs and to take a side of the tank for each pair , it was a glorious summers day and we set to with a will. We were like an extremely well oiled machine ,we had a nylon rope on the bucket handle and we would drop it into the sludge and the haul it up and empty it into the 40 gallon drum. Come 5 o?clock we had half the drums filled; I picked up a piece of 2 by 2 and sunk it into the sludge ,it was about 8 foot deep and we had barely skimmed the surface.. I was stricken by my Methodist conscience. There was no way we were going to have any effect on this tank, but if we left it there we would lose a whole day at double time tomorrow. My conscience lost out to our united avarice. We pretended ignorance of the depth and spent the whole of Sunday filling the rest of the drums.
I was supposed to collect all the tools and return them to the stores, but I had reckoned without the cunning of those wily reprobates,they had thrown their shovels over the fence so that they could collect them later. And, if that was?nt bad enough, two of the villains had clocked their mates on for the two days making 10 of us instead of six.
I need?nt have worried though ,the works manager came to me on Monday morning and asked me how we got on, I told him the bad news and he never turned a hair.
There were so many bad working practises went on in that place that it was a wonder it lasted as long as it did. On the night shift some of the lads would get their heads down on the sacks in the Vit. Store. One West Indian ,called Henry went the whole hog and got his head down in the first aid room, he was found by the nurse next morning,shoes under the bed ,next to a full bed pan, trousers hanging on the back of a chair, as snug as he would be at home.

Things at home were not developing as I had expected, I was being enmeshed into M?s family and wanted us to look for a place of our own. It was not an idea that went down well with the in laws. As the weeks became months the frustrations began to mount and I realised that I was not going to make it like this. Life was becoming colourless,the joy and laughter that had been ever present was fast disappearing..
On the last day of July I presented myself back at the Pool , I went back to sea ;we would be able to save quicker that way and we could ,perhaps ,put a deposit down for a place of our own.
Saying goodbye was easy ,I could sense the relief in that house as I set off to join my new ship. When I said goodbye to my folks there was an understanding of what I was doing ,even though I did'nt realise it myself??I was escaping!