by Jack Lynch
So this was the ship with lots of war history I was to join on my first sea voyage to the Channel Islands.
On arrival at the ship a Steward took my suitcase to my cabin, which was located on the lower deck, close to other officers’ cabins. Here it was; my home for an unknown length of time. The cabin was reasonable, as I found out from comparison with other ships which I later joined, but it didn’t have a toilet with shower facilities. After settling in I returned to the Radio Room where the Chief Radio Officer, Pete Rosney, showed me the equipment and gave me a run down on the various procedures to be followed. Fortunately, most of the equipment was similar to the equipment I had trained on in the Radio Telegraph Institute, Cork so I found it fine and was comfortable using it.
I walked around the deck to get a feel for the ship and was surprised to find I was very relaxed, even though it was only about five hours before I was due to start sending my first messages to Niton Radio, as the ship left Southampton, bound for the Channel Islands. I soon got used to the routine of life on board and enjoyed meeting passengers, who came in for a chat and asked me to send their telegrams for them. During my entire time I only got sea-sick once and this was due to having eaten a salad and bending over quickly soon after. I never again got sea-sick on any of my ships.
Pete and I got on very well and each weekend, when he visited his friend in London, I used to occasionally help him get a plug or two of tobacco through customs for this friend. I remember the first occasion I was asked to ‘smuggle’ the tobacco for him. He went on ahead and boarded the London bound train and I put the two plugs of tobacco under my cap. After about five minutes I walked casually through the customs shed on the quayside. I was exiting the shed towards the train when a lovely young female customs officer came up to me and asked if I was going on the train. I said “No, I am just saying good bye to my chief.” She smiled, looked at my uniform, and asked me if I had any contraband, or anything to declare. Feeling jittery, and beginning to sweat, as she looked me in the eye, I said “No.”
Again, she smiled, and said, “Fine, go ahead.”
With relief I went to the train and found Pete waiting. He asked me for the plugs. I took off my cap and surprise, surprise, no tobacco. Pete was looking at me in a funny way and asked me if I was all right, as I acted flustered. I told him about the customs officer and he put his hand out and took the plug of tobacco from the breast pocket of my uniform. It was quite visible to him and must have been to the customs officer. I had forgotten to put them under my cap after I had put them in my pocket on the ship. Boy, did I feel stupid! As I walked back to the ship the same customs officer again came up to me and asked if I had met my friend.
I replied, “Yes, thank you.”
She was smiling, and looking at my pocket, as she said “good luck,” before moving on. I smiled to myself, feeling relieved, knowing that she had let me off the hook and realising I had just learnt a valuable lesson about being more careful in future.
I really enjoyed my trips off the boat as the uniform worked wonders. There were always plenty of young ladies who appreciated my ‘help’ with information etc. They were not shy coming up and asking the most stupid questions, just to get chatting. Who was I to question their motives?
As was customary, all Officers dined at the Captain’s table each evening. On my third trip I was sitting down to a meal in the saloon when a pair of arms encircled my neck and a soft girlish voice asked if I had made up my mind about what I was having. There was a giggle from the Captain, and from the other officers, as I realised I had been set up, and that the lovely female voice that had softly whispered in my ear – was the voice of the renowned ‘Bubbles’ and his cohort ‘Daisy’, two gay stewards from the Queen Mary, who were temporarily roistering for our regular stewards. They were very nice guys but I felt like an idiot being the innocent Irish boy not long away from Holy Ireland. It was on this ship that I soon learned the hazards of using a cutthroat razor on a rolling or shuddering ship. Up to this point I had always used one since I first started shaving, and soon found how awkward it was to keep shaving this way when the ship encountered heavy weather. Many a piece of paper decorated my bleeding face. Safety razors were my preferred choice from then on, until I purchased my first electric razor.
There were plenty of hazards for passengers on the ships too. There were many occasions when I saw passengers hanging over the sides of the ship, throwing up everything they had eaten. Seasickness was common amongst the passengers. The decks were a mess, and dangerous to walk on when people did not reach the side of the ship in time.
Once, while I was ‘off watch,’ I was strolling on deck and I noticed two men sitting side by side on a seat. There was a coat on the armrest between them. One of the two asked me if I could get him a drink of water and I asked him why he could not go and get it himself. He smiled and pulled the coat up, exposing handcuffs binding him to the other man. He was a policeman bringing a criminal back from Jersey. Life on board was certainly never dull. Indeed, one of the most exciting parts of life on the ship was the girls. There were lots of temptations with the ladies onboard. The uniform seemed to attract them like bees to honey. One particular girl I met was a nurse who was going home to England. She told me she had to take tablets to stay awake while working, and was now taking sleeping tablets to get to sleep. On this trip I let her have my cabin, as she could not get a cabin on board. Since I was on watch for the whole trip, she had the cabin to herself until morning. I was not aware of any regulations forbidding loaning the cabin and since it was a gesture made out of compassion and not for any reward I was comfortable with my decision. The steward did not know the situation and opened the cabin door to tidy up. I used to keep the door locked while on watch so he used a broken door vent to get into the cabin. She was fast asleep and woke with a start, screaming when she saw him. He beat a hasty retreat and was annoyed with me because I had not alerted him of the situation.
Another girl from Bournemouth came to Southampton twice looking for me. She had developed a crush on me after I had met her on deck for a little while before the ship docked. She said she wanted me to marry her. She was a peculiar girl, good looking but very possessive. I made sure I was ‘away’ when she arrived. On her first visit she caught me off guard and scared the life out of me with her persistent advances. I think she had a serious sexual problem, and I was not the guy she needed. Oh. It was a tough life!
Whilst ashore in Southampton I went to see Southampton F.C. playing in the old First Division league. Other times I wandered around Southampton, looking at the liners and large passenger ships tied up at the docks. Destiny is strange. I could so easily have been sent for training on one of these large ocean liners instead of my present passenger ship destined to ply the ‘Home Trade’, which meant ships operated within approximately 1000 miles of the UK. I had no regrets though because I continued to enjoy this experience and looked forward to many more variations in the types of ships I would later sign on, whilst pursuing a seagoing career. From the ship I worked Radio Stations at Jersey (GUD) and Guernsey (GUC) on 425 KCB’s during voyages. On the mainland, I communicated with Niton Radio (GNI) on 464/480 KCB’s.
I was sorry to leave after I completed my two months training on board the Isle of Guernsey. It was my first time then packing my clothes and books which was to increase fivefold before I ended up going to sea. I was quite excited, because I now had sea experience, even though it was only on a coastal run. Deep sea was to follow, with all its good and bad points as I was soon to discover.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
So, once again I was left waiting. This time I had to standby in the Marconi office in Southampton until a ship became available for me. After a few days I was given a travel warrant and told to report to the Hull office, where I was assigned to the Tramp steamer, s.s. Winkleigh. I signed on to the ship in Hull, England on the 17th October 1949. The Master of ship was Captain Jones. Captain T. D. Jones was a small Welshman with whom I got on very well. T
he ship was destined to go to Africa to load Cocoa beans and take this cargo to Holland. I remember the trip as it was my first trip deep sea and my first time on my own in the Radio Room. What a responsibility! The fate of the crew, and the ship, could depend on me being able to perform competently if disaster struck.
Once signed on I settled in, got to know my equipment, and made sure that I had the necessary spare parts and paperwork etc. The morning we set out on the voyage I was on the bridge of the ship with Captain Jones and the Pilot. The First Officer was also there, and so was the able bodied seaman (A.B) steering the ship. We proceeded out to the North Sea, via a long channel bordered by mud flats on both sides. From what I remember, the channel seemed to be quite narrow, but on reflection so was Harbour Row, which I thought was very wide, when I was a child growing up. There were lots of wading birds on the mud and they made quite a lot of different noises. Eventually, the pilot disembarked and I took up station in the radio room. I contacted Cullercoats radio (GCC) and informed them of the ship’s name and that we were leaving (QTO) Hull and proceeding to (QRB) Lagos, West Africa.
The Winkleigh steamed down the east coast of Britain, through the North Sea, rounded North Foreland, and came into the English Channel. Again I notified the requisite Radio stations of our position and where we were bound. The weather was dull, misty and quite cold. The grey sky made the water look dark green and uninviting. As we came out of the channel, I again sent the same message to French stations and I asked each station if there were any messages for our ship. I took all weather reports being broadcast.
When we approached the Bay of Biscay I got my first bad weather report. A strong storm was brewing and we were heading right smack into the middle of it. The Bay is bad at the best of times, but I had one of the worst experiences of my life to date when we entered into the storm. Forty-foot waves pounded our ship, which was only loaded with ballast, and we were riding high in the sea. It was very difficult to maintain my balance and composure in the Radio Room and to stop my chair from skidding. Transmitting was almost impossible, as my fingers on the Morse Key were unsteady and sometimes slipped off the key. There was no way to tie down the chair, so I had to make the best of it. In the saloon it was no better. Plates, cups, saucers, and cutlery flew in all directions as the ship lunged pitched and shuddered in the high seas. The Captain called for more water ballast to help stabilise the ship. I picked up and answered three SOS messages from other vessels whilst we were going through the Bay. There was nothing the Captain could do as our ship was light and would have been of no real assistance. There were larger ships and tugs attending the distress calls. Some very heavy waves pounded our ship, and one lifeboat and the bridge door on the starboard side were badly damaged. It took us almost two days to get through the Bay of Biscay and we were all relieved and thankful that we had not suffered any really serious damage or causalities onboard. I had survived my first taste of really bad weather but was safely out the other side of it.
Gradually, the weather improved and got warmer as we approached the coast of Portugal. During a ‘Silence period’ I broke a cardinal rule at sea. Due to a time error on my radio room clock, I sent a CQ message out on the distress frequency asking if anybody had a message for me. This is quite normal practice but NOT between the fifteenth and eighteenth minute, or between the forty fifth and forty eighth minutes of each hour. These times are classed as ‘Silence periods’ and are strictly taboo for normal traffic duties and especially on this frequency, which is open for Distress calls only at these times. At the end of the ‘Silence period’ I immediately got a call from Lisbon Radio Coast (CUL,) station admonishing me for my violation and requesting me to adhere to the ‘Silence period’. I felt embarrassed and stupid, and knew then that I would be called to answer for this error at a later time. Sure enough, when we got back to the London, I had to give an explanation and was cautioned not to let it happen again. It did not for the rest of my time at sea.
Anyway, our trip proceeded without further mishaps or problems, and we steamed down the African coast. We passed quite close to Morocco, Rio de Oro, French West Africa, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ivory Coast, Gold Coast, and onto Nigeria. Here we approached the pilot pick-up point at the mouth of the River and waited for a Pilot to assist the Captain navigate the ship up river. Pilots are required in most ports for this purpose and are specially trained for local navigation. Eventually, a small canoe came alongside amid a lot of noise and shouting. I could not believe my eyes. The Pilot was stark naked! He shouted that he was a Pilot and wanted to come aboard. Eventually, the Captain was convinced but gave the man a raincoat to put on him whilst he was aboard. As the tide changed the Pilot gave instructions in Pidgin English and I thought the Captain would have a fit as he watched his ship being guided up the river. There were all sorts of obstructions on the river; bends, logs, canoes, and the pilot merrily steered the ship through the murky brown waters without killing, drowning or maiming anybody. All the way up the river, the people stood on the banks of the river. They were mainly naked, or semi naked, and did not seem embarrassed as we gawked over the side of the ship. A lot of the men appeared tall, and quite a number of them held spears at their sides. Women and children waved and we waved back. Some of the women had terrific figures. Now I was getting my first education in what life was about. It was like human geometry; all shapes, and sizes, and this went for men as well as women.
The Captain and the ship survived and we eventually got to our destination, Warri, which looked like a village in the middle of nowhere, one hundred and seventy miles southwest of Lagos. Where we anchored might have been called Warri but there was no town visible. Soon we anchored in the middle of the river. Small huts and structures like wigwams dotted the surrounding area. There was a lot of activity as children played, and adults moved around the banks of the river. Small canoes soon started to arrive with cocoa beans. The beans were in large bags and the little boats were low in the water as the men paddled like hell to deliver them to the ship. They were paid for any bags delivered in good and dry condition. The bags were hoisted into the holds of the ship by derricks, and were neatly stowed away by natives who were hired by the Agents ashore. Fortunately, for these natives, the weather was good and there was no loss of beans due to poor sea conditions or rain. Later, in other ports I witnessed many loads of beans being discarded, when the beans were damaged by wet and windy weather conditions. When this happened the poor men did not get paid for their hard work. A lot of them were muscle bound for most of the year, and they had only a limited working life. On top of that they only got a pittance for their labour, so they could ill afford to waste their precious time, rowing the beans to the ship, only for the weather to destroy their efforts.
Canoes used to come alongside the ship at this port and I remember a woman named Mary who sold or exchanged bunches of bananas for a couple of pence or for food. Mary was small, and her skin was tight and dry from age and sun damage. The few teeth that she had, peeped out from leathery lips as she smiled. She came every day while the ship was at anchor. It was a common sight on the ship to see large bunches of bananas hanging outside the cabins, and everybody took one as they pleased. The bananas were quite small; about four or five inches long, but they were very tasty. I enjoyed a few every day.
One day, I decided to take a trip in a canoe with a young African boy, who for a shilling, said I could use the canoe for a day and he would guide me through the streams of the river. At first I was a bit concerned, because the Natives did not look too friendly as my canoe moved through various inlets and past their huts. To see these big men, partly naked, some with spears, others with bows and arrows, so close to me and in the jungle filled me with apprehension. I think I had seen too many Tarzan films! I kept thinking to myself, ‘Did anybody see me leaving the ship in the canoe?’ ‘Will I end up in a stew pot?’ ‘Will I be missed?’ I thought of my family and home. My skin was clammy and I said an act of contrition, just in case. The further away we went th
e more I began to worry and so I asked the boy to return to the ship. It was frightening for me, especially with the trees overhanging the river and all kinds of weird jungle sounds of monkey screams and other animals and birds making their own noises. There was not another white man nearby and my mind started to get the better of me. I thought, ‘No more, I’ve had enough.’ We got back to the ship and the boy said he would come again tomorrow for me, when he would show me some more places and get me a woman. Needless to say, I did not take him up on his offer.
At night, I really worried because I could hear drums beating and weird incantations from the shoreline. I felt uneasiness at the sounds, and remembered all the head hunting movies I had seen, whilst growing up in Cobh. I wished I was back there now, safe and sound. The local shipping agent told me that there was Voodoo being practiced on land. That idea terrified me and if anything was to make my mind up about venturing out alone this put the final nail in the idea. One of the nicer parts of night was watching the fireflies. I did go ashore in the daylight, accompanied by other crewmembers, where we met two Irish Priests who were administering out there. They seemed to enjoy it and were delighted to meet a fellow Irishman. They tried to reassure me that the natives were harmless but this was my first contact with this world and it was so different to what I was used to.
During our stay here in Warri, the natives used ropes to climb up the side of ship and board it. The Captain spent time photographing the ‘big boys,’ as he referred to them while they climbed up the ship’s sides, stark naked. He said, “Sparks, they won’t believe me when I get home, so I have to have evidence.”