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
Last edited by brian daley; 05-05-2008 at 08:37 PM. Reason: Correction
'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
Yes - same Kevin.Originally Posted by brian daley
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!
"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!
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!!
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