Beyond The Sea

by Jack Lynch

  As we progressed on our voyage I was beginning to get quite annoyed with one ship that was out of sight but close enough to almost blow my brains out when the Radio Officer opened up his transmitter. This happened a few times daily, when he kept asking if anybody had anything for him. I got to know a Radio Officer’s “fist” (his style of sending Morse) and the tone of his radio. This fellow’s call sign indicated that it was a Greek registered ship. I was wearing headphones when this guy opened up and by now I was fed up of him blasting my ears and so I committed my second cardinal sin at sea. I waited for him to come on air as usual, and when he sent his first message; “CQ, CQ, CQ,” I immediately replied on full power; “No, F*** off and shut up.” Imagine my shock, and shame, when the guy came back in perfect English; “You are a perfect gentleman sir.”

  I had assumed the guy was Greek but there were plenty of freelance English speaking Radio Officers manning ships of all nations. The guy could even have been Irish! Never again did I use foul language on the air. I was lucky that nobody recognised my “fist” or I would have been in serious trouble. Anyway, despite that big mistake things went smoothly after that and the fellow didn’t use his transmitter very much - just once a day, and there was glorious sunshine and coastline to admire and enjoy until we arrived at our first port.

  In Port Said Since we were not berthed so no one could come aboard or go ashore. The Agents who represented the Owners and took care of the Captain’s requirements arrived and went to the Captain and soon after that we had searchlight fitted and joined the convoy, heading south to Suez. There was the usual mix of various types of ships in this convoy, including two American warships. The bumboats, of course, were in full swing, trailing alongside our convoy. Anything you wanted you could buy without having to go ashore. Eventually we passed through the Canal and the British troops as usual were shouting abuse at the British Flag ships, which did not come up to their decorative expectations. We waited at the Bitter Lakes for the other convoy going north to pass before we continued into the Red Sea. Here, we had Egypt, Sudan, Eritrea and Ethiopia on our starboard side whilst on our port we passed Saudi Arabia, and Aden in the Yemen. Now it was getting quite hot, and it was also humid. From Aden we went on into the Arabian Sea, hugging the coasts of Yemen and Oman. Next, we came to the Gulf of Oman, passed Dubai, the United Arab Emirates, and the coast of Saudi Arabia. On our starboard side all the way up stretched the coast of Iran. Qatar and Kuwait were left behind before we arrived at our destination Basra, in Iraq.

  During the trip into the Gulf the humidity was very high, and I felt muggy and clammy. There was also the smells from the water, which combined with the humidity was not very pleasant. One thing that stands out in my memory is the phosphorescence glow in the sea, as the ship sailed on through the night; it was like a magical sprinkling of lights across the water. Many a time I wondered how the marine life lived with the phosphorescence. To me it was awe inspiring, to see this glow at the bow of the ship. It was difficult to sleep at night, as there seemed to be no air and fans did not help. I longed to just be back in a warm dry atmosphere, where sleep was easy to come by.

  When I first heard of our destination was to be Iraq, my mind again returned to the movies I had watched at home. I thought of ‘Arabian Nights’, ‘The Thief of Baghdad’, and ‘Sinbad the Sailor’ but was very disappointed when we arrived. There were no bright coloured garments and nobody wearing swords. No magic carpets! In fact all I saw were ordinary peasants going about their business. There were quite a number of army fellows and their dress was very untidy. They looked ill kept and slovenly.

  We did not see too much as we loaded up our cargo of oil in a short time. However we did get to see the famous, or should I say infamous, ‘Bull Ring’ in Basra. This was a well-known place where many of the local men and visitors went for pleasure. At the time I went there; believe me I had no idea what the Bull Ring was. My idea of what it was similar to another American Captain’s I sailed with, who thought Piccadilly Circus in London was in fact a real circus with animals, and he bought a camera to take home photos of these animals! The Bull Ring, to me, must have something to do with Bull fighting, I presumed. How wrong I was! It was one huge brothel area as I soon discovered. As a number of us approached a walled area and were going through an opening, we were accosted by police, who wanted money before they would let us into the ‘Ring.’ Having tipped them we went towards three or four story blocks where men were entering. We followed, and the inside belied the dusty, sandy coloured outer walls. The floor was apparently made of marble. In the centre, sitting in a circle on the floor, were a group of men playing some sort of game. It looked like draughts, or something similar.

  The inner area was a quadrangle built around the square floor. As we climbed the stairs and walked along each balcony overlooking the floor, there were lots of small rooms with all kinds and shapes of females inside, who tried to entice us to go with them. They wore the scantiest of clothing and many were nude and we saw lots who had tattoos also. Gradually we got through the gauntlet, and proceeded to the top floor to see what was different. Nothing changed, except we could hear grunting, and groaning from behind closed doors.

  We were now on the top floor, where we found a loo, which was used by some of the lads. My mind was elsewhere. Discreetly, I unscrewed the light bulb above me. I looked over the balcony, and could see that the men were still playing their game. “Here goes, get ready to move” I said to the lads.

  Then I dropped the bulb over the balcony, and it landed very close to the men with a bang as it exploded, shattering into pieces beside them. The men immediately jumped up and scattered. We did not wait to see what else happened. When we got to the gate we sauntered back to the ship, hoping we would not be picked up for disturbing the peace.

  When we left Basra, we proceeded down the Gulf and called into Ras Tanura, in Saudi Arabia where we loaded some more oil. Then it was onto to the Suez Canal where the pilot came aboard and we had the usual searchlight fitted. When the convoy started to move north we took our place between a passenger ship and another tanker, which was behind us. All was well but there was a following wind, which was quite strong. We reached the Bitter Lakes and proceeded to move north, towards Port Said. After about a half hour our ship suddenly started to belch smoke from the funnel, and the pilot shouted to the Captain to get the situation under control. Sparks from the funnel lit up the night sky, and the following wind blew these sparks right across the tanks containing the oil. The pilot kept screaming at the Captain and he looked as if he was ready to jump overboard. The ship behind us signalled she was slowing down to get out of the way. The ship in front could do nothing, as it had no room to manoeuvre due to the narrow canal. I prayed, and I’m sure I was not alone, as the Chief Engineer did all he could do to control the problem. Being night-time, the sparks looked ominous and frightening. There could have been a deadly explosion if it continued much longer. After about twenty minutes the smoke died down and there were no more sparks. Everybody sighed with relief. We hoped to continue as normal but the pilot had to report the incident. We discarded the searchlights, avoided the bumboats, and set off back to the UK with our oil.

  During this particular voyage I’d found that the food onboard was terrible. There were weevils in the corn flakes and cockroaches all around the place. When I complained about the weevils and cockroaches the boys laughed and said “it’s all good fresh protein.”

  Generally, the weather was good and did not create any problems. We eventually arrived back in Heysham, Lancashire where I signed off and reported to the Liverpool office. It was December 1950 and I was given some leave to return home for Christmas. We had a wonderful Christmas and for the first time at home I tasted turkey. Though I enjoyed it I longed for the goose like we had when we were growing up. The days brought a lot of childhood memories back to me and we all watched TV in black and white. It was wonderful, it was home and it was just like the old days and I enjoyed every minute of it. The one
thing that I missed was my pals that I grew up with. They were all now gone from the town and there were very few that I could claim to be real friends. On my previous visits I was quite content to spend time with Molly and my family but this time it was different. Maybe I had seen so much abroad that I just wanted to return to the old days! In Cork I met Molly on a number of occasions and we had a lovely time walking out the Mardyke to Fitzgerald Park or going to the cinema. Strangely, we never went dancing as I used to go to the Arcadia in the earlier days with the lads but Molly did not like this hall and she usually went to Glenbrook, which she thought was more sophisticated!

  When the inevitable telegram arrived again I reported back to Liverpool on the 16th January, 1951 to wait for my next ship. I checked in at Atlantic House and got ready for my next assignment.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I signed on to my sixth ship, the s.s. Orford on January 1st, 1951 in Manchester. This was a Canadian Type Liberty (or Park) ship, registered in London, and Owned by Ship’s Finance & Management Board. The Master of ship was Captain Pinkney and Mr. Bond was the Chief Engineer. Mr. Contaratos was our Second Engineer and the Chief Steward was Mr. Moxon. The remainder of the crew were British and German. Most of the Radio equipment on this ship was Canadian built.

  This was to be my fifth deep sea voyage and was to Argentina, Uruguay, Germany, France and back to the UK. From the Liverpool office I was told to join my next ship in Manchester and was given a travel warrant to go by train. At the station in Manchester I hailed a taxi and requested the driver to take me to the ship. I arrived safely and lugged my baggage up the gangway to my cabin on the bridge. My first call was to the Captain’s cabin where I introduced myself and signed articles. The Captain appeared to be quite a nice person and I also met the Chief Engineer. I returned to my cabin, which had the usual bunk, toilet facilities and lounging chair, and unpacked and connected my personal radio; a lovely shortwave Philips radio. This was to be a great investment during my many voyages. It was great company, even for a Radio Officer who had no shortage of radios! The rest of my clothes, books and writing materials were now put away for the trip and I settled in for a few days to await departure.

  The ship was not ready to sail due to a crew shortage. The Chief Engineer needed a fourth Engineer and asked me if I knew anybody who would take the job, as the company were not having any success trying to recruit a suitable candidate. I immediately thought of Joe Murphy and felt he could do it. I rang the Guards’ Barracks in Cobh and gave them my number in Manchester. I then asked them to contact Joe and get him to call me back, which he did. I spoke to Joe who jumped at the chance. Then I told the Chief and gave him Joe’s home address. Joe was sent for by the company and told to report to Bevis Mark House, London, for a test. I had no idea what was going on for a few days until the Chief Engineer came and thanked me because Joe was on his way up from London having been accepted for the job.

  I kept an eye out for Joe and eventually a taxi arrived at the jetty where we were berthed and out popped Joe with his bag. For the hell of it I watched him struggle with the bag and eventually he came aboard puffing and panting, as I had done on a number of occasions. He came round after a short while and I asked him what kept him. He gave out a mouthful and said that when he got to Bevis Mark House nobody seemed sure who he was or why he was there. He explained he was told to report there for interview to check his suitability as a Marine Engineer. He was then taken to a room and was given a paper with questions to be answered. He nearly choked. The questions were way above his head and he could not do any of them. His mind went blank and he thought that his trip was a failure. Once he told them he was applying for a fourth engineer’s position and not that of a Chief Marine Engineer however, things changed. They had given poor Joe a Chief Engineer’s examination paper by mistake. The new paper presented no problems and it was with deep relief that poor Joe got his train to Manchester. We chatted for a long time and Joe was over the moon to be starting a life at sea. His brother Tim, who had been in my class at school, was also at sea as a Marine Engineer with Irish Shipping. Both of these boys rose to Chief Engineer rank. In fact, Joe was promoted to Second Engineer on this ship before the voyage finished.

  After a few days many incidences had occurred amongst the crew and I felt this voyage was going to be too long, even though at the time I was not aware it was going to be such a long voyage. When I signed on in Manchester in January of 1951 most of the crew were already on board. One of the crewmen consisted of an ex-Irish guardsman from the north of Ireland, and there was an ex-Scottish Black Watch soldier from Glasgow. He was not the full shilling and suffered from shell shock. The ex-Guardsman stood six feet two inches tall and had all his teeth filed into points. During the voyage he told me that he had this done so that he could better protect himself from the Germans during the war. If an arm came round his neck he could just chew the arm to pieces. He frightened and intrigued us in equal measure. Some of the crew came from Wales (Taffies) and some from the northeast of the country (Geordies) and I think there were two from Liverpool (Scousers). Anyway, it was a right mix and most were hard drinkers. Nothing unusual with the crew so far but later things would change for the worse.

  We left Manchester for Buenos Aires in Argentina, proceeding down the Irish Sea and out into the Atlantic Ocean. I followed all the usual Radio routines and tried to pick up EJC (Cork Harbour Radio) as we passed the south Irish coast. They may have heard me calling but there was no response so I gave up and sent my last departing message to Valencia Radio in Co. Kerry, advising them of our destination and where we had come from.

  About a week into the trip the crew complained that they were not getting their full rations of food. It was common practice on ships, when the sailors signed on articles, that an agreed amount of each type of food was the right of all who sailed on the ship. It was called ‘the whack.’ The crew got very frustrated and eventually each asked for his ‘whack,’ which meant that the Chief Steward had to individually weigh each and every bit or allocation that was due to each seaman. This had to be done in the presence of each seaman involved, and they would carefully watch the scales so that not a hint of overweight, or underweight, took place. This nearly drove the Chief Steward mad. Imagine trying to weigh butter and other foods precisely. Not only that but the Steward had his son on board as a cabin boy and the sailors took it out on him too. They used to urinate over him in his bunk and this was really disgusting. The Captain intervened and cautioned all the crew involved, threatening them with imprisonment for mutiny. The conflict stopped but the damage had been done and there was an uneasy peace onboard. Some of the crew were dismissed when we returned to Europe for this. You could never be sure how a group of strangers, sometimes with different cultures, would react when closely confined on a ship for a period of weeks. When drink was involved the chances were very high that things could go very wrong and I think this is what caused most of our problems on this ship. In all my time at sea I cannot remember any drugs being used except alcohol and tobacco. Amidst all the fighting and arguments there was always the occasional funny and joyous occasion to keep you sane.

  The man who keeps the deck crew in order and the ship in good condition has similar responsibilities to a foreman and is called the Bosun. His wife was expecting a baby. He kept talking about it and asking me if any message was sent for him to confirm that the baby had been born. I kept telling him that there was no message for him, and that I would tell him when the happy event took place. Eventually, the telegram arrived and I gave it to him. He was over the moon, and confided that he had been sitting on the loo when the event took place and that he suffered ‘Symphony pains’ at the time. I nearly burst a gasket laughing! He kept telling everyone later about these ‘Symphony pains’ and I did not have the courage to tell him that the pains were supposed to be ‘Sympathy pains.’ Nobody else did either. He was the same fellow who one night tied a piece of string to a young boy’s penis while he was asleep and then shouted,
“Fire, Fire.” The poor lad jumped out of his bunk and nearly did a serious injury to himself. The Bosun and some of the crew found it hilarious. The poor lad was the Chief Steward’s son and it was his first voyage, and as I said the crew had a vendetta against the Chief Steward.

  The voyage continued to South America and we hit some mountainous seas on the way. The ship was tossed and pounded as we proceeded. During this period I nearly went crazy with the short-wave receiver. It had plug in coils, as distinct from fixed coils. To change frequency it was necessary to plug in the respective coil and then use two dials to tune the set to the required frequency. This was a cumbersome and touchy operation at the best of times in calm seas but during swells and pounding seas it was an outright bitch. The coils kept jumping out of their holders, and I had to find them and retune the set all over again. This was a nightmare when I tried to send or receive messages on short wave. I had to resend and ask for repeat transmissions a couple of times during the trip. Fortunately, the storms were not too frequent on this voyage and I coped without going bonkers, as this was a very long trip and it was my luck to get this damn receiver. Never again did I have the misfortune to meet up with such obsolete junk radio.

  After a few days we got back into clear weather and gradually approached the coast of Brazil. As we passed we could see some of the coast quite clearly. I will never forget the sight of horses’ heads floating in the water, just off shore. The Captain said that the horses were slaughtered for food, and the heads were put to sea for sharks or other predators to eat them.

  Down this coast it was almost impossible to read Morse messages, due to the loud and constant atmospherics. The automatic alarm was activated by these atmospherics, and I had to get up every night for false alarms. Eventually, I left the alarm off and reported this in my logbook. About two days later the radio signals got back to normal and I reset the alarm during off watch periods.