by Jack Lynch
I kept taking weather reports on a regular basis and the weather forecasts looked to be improving. When we did get into the Bay it was smooth like glass. We made good time and were soon going through the Straits of Gibraltar. The North African coast was soon visible I could see that Gibraltar was very close. It was a beautiful sight. The weather was glorious and I spent every free moment I had out on deck watching the coastlines and the ships passing by. I saw flying fish as they flew and glided across the sea, often landing on the deck of the ship. The ship’s black cat had a feast when the fish landed at his paws. It was all strange, new and exciting to me and I enjoyed every second of each day. I had been communicating our position regularly with Alexandria radio (SUH) This radio station had a high squeaky tone. It seemed to go up, and down, as its signal was being transmitted. It was very distinctive and easily identified which made my job slightly easier. Eventually, the coast of Egypt came into view and we got our Pilot and docked in Port Said where we tied up to await final orders.
Not having our orders yet was great as it meant we had time off to go ashore and do some shopping. There were many bumboats around the ship and all kinds of things available from these people. Many of the Arabs came up to me and asked if I wanted any ‘Spanish Fly.’ They showed me a small bottle, alleging it contained Spanish fly, what they explained was a potent aphrodisiac. To me this meant nothing at the time as I had never heard of an aphrodisiac. They also tried to sell me ‘genuine jewels,’ as they put it -allegedly just stolen that day from a rich person’s house. These jewels always turned out to be glass imitations. Homosexual suggestions were also widely on offer but I don’t know if any crew member accepted these. Suitcases were a big sales item. Beautiful ‘genuine leather cases,’ which turned out to be compressed cardboard and disintegrated in wet weather, quite ridiculously unsuited to a life at sea!
I was certainly learning about the raw part of life, which I had never seen in Ireland. Cushion covers of very rich colours and materials, highly decorated with gold and other coloured threads sold like wildfire to the crew. Ashore, there was very good value in genuine leather suitcases, moccasins and various other items. Also on sale were shirts, and other clothes, as well as material for making suits. Perfumes were also to be bought easily, as well as all kinds of bric-a-brac. It was best to shop ashore as some of the local bumboat merchants were clearly conmen.
One the second day I went ashore to post a letter home. I was directed to a large enclosed square where Egyptian post office people were dispensing stamps, and other items, to queues of customers. The Post officials were behind grills, which had an opening about six inches clear from the worktop, and about one foot clearance at the top. When I approached to be served, I asked for stamps - which I had been advised to ask for by the Shipping agent. I had English and American coins with me and offered these. The fellow took them and made some calculations before giving me the stamps and some Egyptian money as change. What happened next is beyond my comprehension, even to this day.
I was lucky not to have been put in jail, or beaten up. I felt that the teller had somehow overcharged me and given me the wrong change. Why I thought this I have no idea, except that it was rumoured that these people could not be trusted. But I was not going to let him away with it. I argued with him and called him a cheat. He spoke good English and became furious with me for my accusations. All this time the people in the queue were watching in amazement. The teller eventually got so frustrated he picked up a handful of notes and threw them over the grill. They floated down around me but I did not touch the money. I was just considering my next move when I felt something hard in my back. It kept jabbing and as I slowly turned around I saw an Egyptian Policeman, in black uniform, complete with Red Fez and black tassel. He stood about six feet tall and had a black bushy moustache. Worse still was that he held a .303 Lee Enfield rifle, which was causing the discomfort in my back. There was not one sign of emotion on his face and his brown eyes stared through me. He nodded towards the gate and I thought, “I’ll be locked away in an Egyptian jail to rot and nobody will know I’m here.” Fortunately, when we got to the gate the Fez gave me one last hard jab with the gun, and pointed to the docks. Not a word was spoken by either of us. I tried to keep cool but thought, “He’ll shoot, and say I tried to escape.” Perspiration ran down my back as I walked back towards the ship, without stamps or change. I resisted the urge to look back, and prayed and prayed. At the first opportunity, when I got out of sight, I ran faster than I ever ran in my life and did not dare set foot off the ship again in Port Said. This terrifying incident should have taught me to be much more careful in foreign ports but unfortunately I was young and felt invincible and further scrapes and episodes reveal it took me a long time to learn my lesson.
Whilst on board there were numerous sexual approaches to crew members and to me by homosexuals. This happened again on later voyages and must be part of the culture in Egypt. On another occasion, whilst I was chatting to the third mate, Cyril Longhurst, I was overheard talking and one Egyptian jumped up, pointed at me, and shouted, “You deValera’s man.” I was dumbfounded and could only laugh. He wanted to shake my hand and seemed genuinely pleased to see, ‘deValera’s man.’
Another problem we encountered in Egypt was that some of the fellows used to come aboard to flog souvenirs but once aboard they tried to steal anything they could. They were experts at this and I soon learned to protect my belongings. Sometimes a hand would come in through portholes, to take anything visible on the bunk, or they used a long implement with a hook to reach other stuff visible to them. You could never really let your guard down.
Bargaining was a way of life here. I never paid top dollar for anything as I could usually get it much cheaper than the price asked. This bargaining experience came in very handy on later trips.
Eventually, three days later, we got our ship’s orders to go to Russia for a cargo of grain but later that day the orders were changed again, due to the outbreak of the Korean War, as it was deemed unsafe to go to Russia. We continued to await further orders and in the meantime the Captain decided, as labour was cheap, to have the ship’s rust chipped and then repainted in Port Said. Gangs of Egyptians started the chipping, and were seated on planks lowered or raised along the sides of the ship. As they moved from bow to stern they had to be careful, because the toilet and galley outflows were located along the sides. On one occasion the Chief Engineer went and had a crap in his toilet and released it on top of some unfortunate fellow who was directly in line with the outflow. I happened to be watching at the time and felt sorry for the fellow but some of the crew laughed, and shouted “Well done Chief.” These poor fellows were not allowed to use the ship’s toilets and so a makeshift exterior toilet was erected for them at the stern of the ship. A few planks were extended out from the stern and this makeshift platform was given privacy by a canvas lining wrapped around it. The workers had to go out, squat, and do their business into the water below. The boats below gave this area a wide berth.
Eventually, after a further 4 days the agent came aboard and brought orders for us to proceed to Freemantle, Melbourne, and Geelong, in Australia. We were to pick up a cargo of grain. Stocked up with provisions, bunkers, and other necessities, we prepared to join a convoy through the Suez Canal. Searchlights were placed on the bows of all ships proceeding through the Canal for safety’s sake. Each ship had to carry a licensed pilot. These were usually British but sometimes French or American pilots were also on duty.
As we set off with the convoy towards Suez we were aware that there was always another convoy leaving in the other direction from Suez for Port Said, and passing convoys would respect each other’s space as they went by in the Bitter Lakes. Due to scheduled timing one convoy arrived in the Lakes first and would stop and allow the other convoy through before they proceeded onwards, as the canal was not capable of taking two ships abreast at any one time.
The convoys could consist of a mixture of any, or all, types of liners
, cargo ships, tankers and sometimes warships. A ship could be placed anywhere in the convoy. Most Scandinavian ships were usually beautifully maintained, well painted, and clean, whilst some of the other ships from some countries looked rusty and weather beaten. There was a British Army barracks on the banks of the canal and the soldiers had plenty of spare time to watch the comings and goings of these convoys. The lads sat down on the banks and shouted abuse and foul language at any British ship which was in a poor condition. I was on one ship that was badly in need of a paint job and it was flying the Red Duster. She was sandwiched between two immaculately painted white ships as she moved in convoy. As we passed the British Soldiers they started their tirade of abuse.
“Paint that F***ing rusty heap of scrap. You’re a F***ing disgrace to the British flag.”
The Captain was livid, and shouted back “You scumbags” and other cordial greetings.
This happened to lots of British Flag ships. This time our ship had been repainted so we got a cheer of admiration from ashore!
Eventually we went past Ismailia and headed to Suez where we got rid of the searchlight and the pilot disembarked. We were now on our own and we headed through the Red sea bound for Freemantle, Australia. I carried out my normal radio duties and sent our departure and destination data to the local Coast Radio stations, and to the UK and Australian stations. Later, for the duration of the trip, I kept listening for messages, distress signals and weather reports.
However, there was to be a very rude awakening soon after we left. One morning, after the Mate on the midnight to four a.m. watch changed, the Mates exchanged pleasantries as one relieved the other from duty. All seemed well but it was still dark and we had no radar. The Mate looked at the compass and the course was correct. He looked at his charts and then came out on the wing of the bridge, into the open air just as dawn broke, to correlate the data with what he could see. As he squinted and stared into the horizon he could see something far in front of the ship. He couldn’t make it out though. It looked like a dark cloud but was very low down. He felt uneasy so got his binoculars out for a closer look. Two seconds after adjusting the lenses he nearly soiled his pants with fright. What he thought was a cloud was actually land, and the ship was heading straight for it. He immediately stopped all engines and called the Captain to the bridge. They could not understand what was happening. There was not supposed to be land on their course, the charts had nothing on them to indicate same but unless their eyes were deceiving them there was a land straight ahead which they should be passing well to starboard. They immediately took bearings and found the ship had somehow gone off course during the last watch. They immediately reset the course, said a quick prayer started off without grounding or damaging the ship. It appeared that the man on the wheel had dozed off and did not notice the change of compass setting before eventually waking up and readjusting the course. The Mate on watch had not noticed the error either. It taught me that there is no point fully relying on data, instruments and charts unless you make sure that all the information is supported by what you can actually see in front of you.
We were now going across the Equator and the normal routine was for any first tripper on board to be treated to a rough time by the crew as we passed this important milestone. This could include stripping the person naked and dousing him with slops from the galley, hosing him down, or any other number of unbecoming treatments. Thankfully, nobody knew that this was my first trip south of the Equator line but still I sweated until we finally cleared this obstacle.
The rest of the trip was beautiful. We did not have any bad gales or storms that I can remember. I had my first sighting of an Albatross. It was huge and graceful as it glided through the air. The flying fish too were a sight to behold and the sunsets on the horizon across the wide ocean were breathtaking. I loved to watch the crimson ball of fire slowly sinking into the line between sea and sky. The ball would gradually take the form of a semicircle, and grow smaller as it dipped lower and lower. At the last moment, when it just started to disappear, all I could see was a greenish blue glow as the ball of fire reflected through the sea. There were colours ranging from scarlet, to gold, and blue and green. It was truly awe-inspiring.
Eventually, the time had come. We arrived at the Pilot pick up point in Australia. I had already transmitted our ETA (estimated time of arrival) by radio so the pilot was ready to board. I now sent my signal to all stations, letting them know that we were entering port and asking for any messages before I closed down. Signals were acknowledged and I was now free to do as I wanted until we left again and dropped the pilot off.
Freemantle was a nice port but we did not have much time there. I did however have time to visit Perth to have a look around but only after the ship was cleared of all inspections on arrival where all had to go through customs, immigration, and undergo a medical for VD. The medical entailed what was termed a ‘short arm inspection’ - in reality a visual sexual inspection - that strangely only applied to ordinary sailors, able-bodied sailors and crew members but not officers. I could never, in all my time at sea, understand why just the crew members should be subjected to this examination, as some of the officers also went with women and could easily have contacted a sexual disease.
We all got a clean bill of health but first immigration wanted to check any animals on board. The chief steward was responsible for the cat, which was a full-grown black Tom. The Immigration Officer told the steward that he would be held responsible for presenting the cat before departure. All was fine until we were ready to depart and calamity, there was no cat. He was ashore doing whatever Tom’s do ashore. Panic ensued in the Steward’s department. There was still no sign of Tom even after exhaustive searches so the decision was made to go ashore with the crew and endeavour to capture a big black cat. Any black cat would do. Unfortunately, for some reason, there appeared to be a shortage of older black tom cats. The only black cat available was one that was only half the size of the original cat and this was a ‘she’ and not a ‘Tom.’ Still it was the best that could be done at such short notice so the crewman grabbed it, returned to the boat and hoped for the best. Enter the Immigration Officer, who unluckily for the Steward, happened to be the same one who came onboard when we docked. Everything was going fine until he asked to see the cat again. The shanghaied cat was brought into the saloon. The Immigration Officer looked closely and said he thought the cat he saw initially was bigger than this one. The Chief Steward looked him straight in the face and without blinking said, “I told these fellows not to wash the cat in Persil, look what happens.” He got away with it, as the Immigration Officer could not prove one way or the other if it was the same animal he had previously seen. He just laughed and stamped the papers. I wonder if he knew the original sex of the cat.
The Pilot boarded again to steer us out and we headed for Melbourne. When we dropped the Pilot off I took up station. Once again I notified all local Radio stations, and UK radio stations that we were leaving Freemantle, bound for Melbourne. All of this was routine with me by now. Two hours on watch, two hours off watch, for a total of eight hours watch keeping. The Auto Alarm was set for the remainder of the voyage. On arrival in Melbourne I did the usual close down duties and prepared to enjoy myself ashore.
I went ashore with the Third Mate and as we walked up Flinders Street we were invited into a live radio broadcast show. It was exciting for us to go as it was a new experience. There were singers and comedians at the show and we really enjoyed it. However, we had more important things to take care of when the show finished. We wanted to find girls. As we came to the top of Flinders Street and were about to cross the road at the traffic lights, Cyril was talking with a pronounced English accent. A Policeman who was standing at the lights turned and said, “Bloody Pommies” I immediately turned and said, “What do you mean? I’m Irish.” The change was dramatic. “Gee, Pat I’m sorry. No offence. It’s great to hear someone from home.” He escorted us across the road waving and wishing us well. This w
as not the only occasion when the Irish accent got a very good reception while I was abroad. Cyril said he’d let me do all the talking from now on.
Whilst we had been walking up Flinders Street we had not noticed two pretty girls right behind us. After some time they walked in front of us but quite close so that we nearly tripped over them. Shades of my days in Cork came to mind, when we chased girls! Eventually, we smiled at them and they responded. We chatted to them and they told us they were fascinated with our accents, so different from the Australian accent. We stayed with these two girls whilst in Melbourne and they offered to help us jump ship. In fact, besides liking the girl, I very nearly did so because I liked Melbourne so much after a week there. We spent great days swimming on the beach and in St. Kilda where there was a big amusement park. It was summer when we were there and it was very hot. This really made our stay wonderful.
Again, the day of departure came and after all the fond farewells and promises of writing and keeping in touch, the ship left. One fellow tried to jump ship but was caught and returned before we sailed on to Geelong, just a short trip from Melbourne, where we loaded the balance of our cargo of grain.
We started the long voyage home after we dropped the Pilot off and we set course for the Suez Canal. I carried out the usual Radio duties and sent messages to the Company Head Office, giving our position and any other relevant information. I sent and received messages for the crew, and often these included flowers from Interflora. I spent my off duty hours on the bridge with the Captain and Mates on duty, or in some one’s cabin.