by Jack Lynch
Throughout this voyage I met Joe quite often and we chatted away, getting on well. Joe used to get himself into all kinds of harmless trouble. Being the bragger that he was many of the lads were out to get him. We had a Danish steward and Joe used to class him as being a bit ‘Queer’ and used to bend down in front of him to tease him. One day Joe was in the shower and along came the Dane, who spotted Joe and shouted; “Now I’ve got you.” He went in after Joe, who was covered in soap. Just in time Joe saw him and managed to squirm free, covered in soap and naked, he ran screaming down the corridor. Joe never got over this and did not tempt providence again.
When we were crossing the Equator, Joe was the target for the crewmembers to give him a dose of ‘Neptune’s welcome.’ This could be anything that was discomforting, like being tied up, stripped, and hosed down. Some more dangerous tortures were also carried out. As we approached the target area the crew lined up to get their hands on Joe. He must have had a sense of the imminent danger because he would not come out onto the deck. Patience was eventually rewarded. The sailors left the main deck and hid in the boat deck overlooking Joe’s exit point to the main deck. I stayed on the main deck to allay his suspicions and as he came out slowly, looking everywhere before venturing out. It took all my will power not to laugh. Joe stepped out onto the main deck and down came three buckets of rubbish, slops and sludge, which would normally be dumped overboard. Joe got the whole lot of leftovers, peelings, gravy, and whatever could and would not be eaten. He was a sorry sight, and took off quickly in case he got more. He gave out stink to me about our friendship, or lack of it. On my first trip to Australia on the Tower Hill I too had to cross the Equator for the first time I did not have the ignominy of suffering Neptune’s baptism. It’s just as well that he had not known this and I didn’t tell him.
Joe was a glutton for sweet things, and always wanted more deserts. One day, the steward challenged him that he could not eat a full tin of pears. Joe said he could so a crowd gathered to see if Joe could finish the tin of fruit. It was not a level playing pitch by any means and little was Joe to know he was being played himself. The ship was rolling in a moderate swell. Joe had already eaten his dinner when the steward came out with a very large catering size tin of pears in juice. He handed it to Joe and gave him a spoon. Joe complained that he meant a normal size tin of pears but this cut no ice. We all watched as Joe quickly got through about half the contents before he started struggling. Gradually, his face changed colour, as he pushed more and more pears into his mouth. Suddenly, Joe was hanging over the side of the ship, and up came pears, juice and a lot of dinner. Poor Joe was learning the hard way.
Eventually, we reached the River Plate, picked up the pilot and proceeded up to Buenos Aires. I closed down the Radio room and was technically free until we dropped the pilot when we were leaving. On the way upstream we had Argentina on one side and Uruguay on the other. The remains of the German pocket battleship ‘Graff Von Spee’, scuttled during WW2 was just at the mouth of Montevideo Harbour.
When we were tied up I went into the city. It was beautiful and there were lots of pictures of the Dictator Juan Peron and his lovely wife Eva. Everywhere I went these pictures were displayed. When I first saw these large posters outside the cinema I remarked to one of the ship’s officers;
“Is that the tyrant I’ve heard about?” Pandemonium ensued! A hand was quickly put over my mouth and a voice whispered;
“Do you want to end up in jail and probably never be seen or heard of again? This place is full of vigilantes.” After that I learned my lesson and kept my trap shut.
One evening, most of the crew and the Captain went to a bar that was owned by a well-known local tenor. We all sat around enjoying his singing and the attention of the rest of the male staff who could not do enough to please us. Most of them spoke very good English. I didn’t cop on at the time that there were no women serving drinks and on reflection I can’t remember any females in the bar.
I soon got an inkling of what was going on when one of the barmen asked me if I would like to go and see a movie. “Sure, I’d love to.” I replied, innocently.
We met the following day and headed into the cinema. We took our seats and while the cartoon was still showing I felt a hand touch my knee. I got a funny feeling things were not quite right. While I was wondering about this Johnny, my friend from the bar, then put his hand on my knee, and left it there for about three seconds, before I pushed it away. I was feeling really uncomfortable by now and was considering whether I should get up and go, when his hand made a grab at my ‘Jewels.’ I grabbed his wrist, twisted it and whispered; “Johnny, stop. Get up and go or I will clobber you”
He got up without a word and left the cinema. I sat there, not seeing anything on the screen or even hearing a word. I just thought, ‘this is Argentina, a dictatorship, and if Johnny accuses me of anything, who will believe me?’ I waited for what seemed hours and vigilantes did not arrive so I got up and headed back to the ship. All the way back I was uneasy and uncomfortable. No more going ashore in Buenos Aires for me.
Back on the ship there were various stories coming out about this bar. They were all Gay in there, even the owner. Joe told me that one of the attendants asked him to go to bed with him, and promised him all kinds of presents. Joe, being the teaser that he was, promised this guy a great time but like me and many more, he too stayed on board. The Captain was propositioned as well as others who went to the bar. One seaman told me that he got drunk and woke up in a strange bed with two fellows next him stark naked. He could not remember what he did or what happened.
We weren’t sorry to leave Buenos Aires and head down the coast to Bahia Blanca, in Argentina. It did not take too long to get there and suffice to say I was not taking any more chances in Argentina, and was glad when we dropped the pilot and headed out to sea.
We had orders to proceed to Hamburg, Germany. The trip, from what I remember, was OK. We progressed up through the English Channel and into the North Sea, and came to the river Elbe, where we picked up the pilot. The river was extremely busy with lots of ships tied up at the docks, and others moving in and out of the Port. Eventually we berthed alongside a jetty near the centre of Hamburg so it was a nice walk into the main part of the city. There was not too much war damage visible from where we were but I did see some later whilst ashore.
As we had returned to ‘Home waters’ the Captain decided to get rid of the trouble making crew, who caused so much havoc. This had been pre-planned by the company, as there was a replacement German crew waiting in Hamburg. I was not privy to this decision as I had not sent any messages from the Captain pertaining to the crew’s behaviour. I presume that the Captain had phoned Head Office from Buenos Aires and advised them of the situation onboard. This crew change was to cause more problems later. Most of the English crew were sent home, as were a few deck officers who signed off by choice.
We were all anxious to get ashore and sample the life there. We were not disappointed. St. Pauli was soon discovered. This is where life was taking place. The neon lights were ablaze, and there was music from all the pubs and clubs. Beautiful girls were mingling with sailors of all nationalities, and drink was flowing like the river Elbe. American servicemen were there in abundance, as were the American Military police who occasionally raided a building to check if the prostitutes were carrying their medical certificates to show they had been recently checked for VD.
As I sat with the lads drinking my soft drink and they were getting jolly on lager, I was watching couples going out or upstairs, only to return sometime later looking the worse for wear. My friends were themselves getting restless and decided they were going to get partners for the night. All this time there were girls coming up to our table, asking if we needed company but so far none had been invited to sit down. One by one the lads surrendered and selected a girl to bed with them until I was left alone without company. The sweat was beginning to roll down my back as the lads encouraged me to ‘go for it.’ I
n my mind I could see the Jesuits and Redemptorists pointing fingers at me, thumping the pulpit in St. Colman’s, warning me of the ‘Fires of Hell’ if I as much as thought about it. Well I had, and was halfway to Hell now. But if I fought the temptation I could still be saved, and also avoid a possible infection, which was a dread I could not contemplate.
“Come on Sparks, what are you going to do?” A voice asked.
Peer pressure! The girls were lovely and my spirit was weakening as the clock ticked. A girl slipped in at my side and took my hand in hers, whilst she smiled up at me. This made up my mind for me. My knees started to wobble, and I had no resistance left.
All the sermons I had heard during the missions were forgotten. I followed the three lads, with their partners, and this girl through the bar and up the stairs where we met more fellows and girls on their way down. My mind was in turmoil. Should I run and get the hell out of here or should I be a man and face up to the challenge? If I backed out now the whole crew would know and I would be the laughing stock on board. There was nothing for it but to go through with it, if I could. Doubt began creeping in again. What if I could not perform due to tension? Why did I get myself into a fix like this? Whilst these thoughts were flowing in my mind we arrived at a door on the second floor? I did not know where I was, by now some of the lads had already gone to their rooms. When I saw the door to her room I got a shock. The building must have suffered war damage because for the first time I noticed all the doors were unpainted planks of wood roughly nailed to cross pieces to hold them together. They were hung on rough wooden frames, nailed to the wall with plenty of unplanned ventilation and light holes. To crown it all the only lock was a padlock and bolt in the center of the door. I mulled over this as I entered the room, and immediately noticed the view from the window was beautiful, overlooking the river and city. Lights twinkled on the river below and the streets were aglow with coloured lighting. I was to have plenty of time to admire this scenery as the night passed.
The girl asked me for her money before she became ‘friendly’. After I paid up she smiled sweetly, and said she had to go down to the bar to tell her friend she would be occupied for the night. She told me to make myself comfortable. I noticed that the bed was large and clean. There was an armchair and various other pieces of old but good furniture. Whilst I was absorbing this, the door closed and I heard the bolt being drawn and the lock clicked into place. Why was I being locked in? I called her but she ignored my call. Thoughts of all descriptions were flowing in my head and I can assure you they were not of the Jesuits or Redemptorists.
“The bitch, who did she think she was? She was going out to spend my money without earning it. Was I set up for a mugging?” Thoughts flooded my mind. Gradually, as the hours passed, I kept looking out the window trying to get a glimpse of her but with no luck. I had tried the strength of the door, and felt I could knock it down if I had to. Instead, I shouted, hoping that one of the lads would hear me. After some time they came to the door and asked what was wrong. I told them and asked if they could open the lock. One got a knife and tried to unscrew the bolt screws without success. I told them to stand back, that I was going to knock the door down. They asked me to hold on, as they wanted to get dressed to get out when the commotion started. By this time there were a lot of girls and fellows on the stairs watching, and waiting, to see what was happening. The lads came back fully dressed, and I stood back and kicked the door and frame very hard. It started to give and on the second kick the entire door and frame came away from the wall, tumbling flat on the landing. There were screams from the girls as I emerged in a flaming temper. I told them to tell the “who**’ that I would be back for my money, and that she could pay for the damage to the door.” If I’m honest I was glad to have an out and I was very nervous.
The lads and I left and went back to the ship and I vowed to go back and get my money the following day. It was five a.m. By this time I was more tired than if I had spent the entire night with ‘yer one.’ Thankfully, my virginity was intact!”
As promised, the following day I went back to the bar with some of the lads and asked where the girl was. Nobody wanted to spill on her so I went to the guy behind the bar and relayed the story to him and asked him to pay me and get the money from her. He shook his head and just then I saw an American patrol passing by and told the barman I was going to report the incident to them. He immediately panicked and gave me my money. I now felt much better as I told him she charged more than she did, and so I got a few bob more and hopefully she had to pay for the door too!
I spent many happy days ashore admiring the city and it was great to see people enjoying the beer gardens. I was to return to Hamburg again on two more of my ships; the Albert G. Brown and the Esso Birmingham but nothing as exciting or embarrassing as this happened again.
From Hamburg we called to Antwerp, in Belgium. I can only remember going ashore once with some of the lads. We went to a bar on the docks and there were the usual call girls. They were looking the worse for wear. The smell of the place was foul and I got out very fast, never to return. Good riddance!
Next we went to Bordeaux, in the Bay of Biscay. I enjoyed this city and spent a few days looking around. It was fortunate that the Bay was in a tranquil mood for us and we had lovely weather and calm seas. From Bordeaux we again headed into the Bay of Biscay for the USA.
Eventually, we arrived in Philadelphia and loaded our cargo, coal, on board. Loading coal is slow, as the usual cranes and grabs were used and the cranes had to be manipulated carefully. We had some damage done to the ladders in the holds by the grabs smashing into them. There was also the coal dust flying around the place. However, the time taken to load the ship gave us ample chance to go ashore and see the city. I felt at home there and it was full of life. As usual the low lives were around, touting for business. They seemed to sniff naval men from a mile off.
It was here that the Chief Stewart Moxon and I went ashore to visit the local Radio station, WJMJ (Jesus, Mary, Joseph) that we regularly listened to on the ship. I got quite a shock when I was waiting to meet the disc jockey. When the song was finished he announced;
“Now friends, we have a full blooded Irishman here today, and I am going to have a chat with him about the ‘old country.’ My stomach churned and I waited for the call not realising that another Irishman had just returned to Philadelphia, after a holiday in Ireland. Thank God! We got a tour later without meeting the DJ.
The crewmembers were invited to a get together by some ex Pats. These were people who ran the Flying Angel hostel for seamen, and after prayers, hymns and something to eat we were given navy blue hand knitted woollen sweaters as gifts. It was most enjoyable. This was my first of many trips to the States and the scale of everything was enormous. The traffic, drug stores and clothes shops were something to behold.
It was here that I was to come across the American style of Customs, Immigration and medical checks, which were carried out on all crewmen. The officers were generally courteous and could be quite humorous at times. The medical checks were generally for vaccination and venereal disease.
We left port and returned back across the Atlantic towards Europe, with a load of coal bound for Rouen, France. Crewmembers were generally carrying out their duties well but there were some underlying tensions that were coming to the top. Some crew members had vendettas against each other, and drink brought these to a head in port. I witnessed some serious episodes later on but with no drink being available onboard the ship a relative calm prevailed.
Personally, I never had the inclination to become involved in fisticuffs. However, I almost had to become involved with the Second Mate on one occasion in Port. He was drunk and bust into my cabin at one a.m. I awoke to find him standing, or rather leaning, against the cabin door with a large dagger in his hand. He was calling me all kinds of names and addressed me as Finch. I can tell you I stayed perfectly still, sitting up in my bunk, but was ready to throw bedclothes over him if he came towards me.
“I’ll kill you Finch, for getting me caught by immigration in Australia,” he shouted.
By this time the commotion had alerted the Captain and Chief Mate, who promptly calmed him down and handcuffed him. He apparently mistook me for another Radio Officer whom he sailed with and he said that this fellow had informed immigration in Australia that he had jumped ship. He had been arrested and deported, and had a personal grudge against this Radio Officer. I was very relieved that he had been stopped before he could do any damage or cause injury, but in his condition I think I could have coped.
Later on during the trip, whilst I was asleep, my Auto Alarm went off to alert me of a possible distress message. I immediately went to the Bridge and into the radio room, only to find out it was a false alarm. The man at the wheel looked at me, winked and laughed, whilst my dagger wielding Second Mate was on watch, apparently not taking any notice. Later, I spoke to the crewman, who was on the wheel and he said he never saw anything so funny as what happened that night. The Mate apparently went into the Radio room to borrow a screwdriver, and as he opened the drawer the alarm bells went off. He got the fright of his life and rushed back to the bridge in a panic, thinking I had set a trap for him. I laughed till my sides ached. When the story got out most of the crew thought it was hilarious. To say I was happy to see the end of this Mate would be an understatement. He was one to go at our next port of call.
Eventually, we picked up our pilot at the mouth of the Seine and proceeded upriver to Rouen, where we tied up alongside the wharf. Again, I now had a first experience with a ‘Boal’ which is a tidal wave which runs up and down a river each day. When this occurred the ship’s tie ropes, both fore and aft, were loosened twice daily as the wave lifted the ship a considerable amount and the ropes could have snapped under the strain. Whenever a ship was tied up the dock people used to stand by, and their warnings were shouted along the river, advising that the Boal was approaching. Dockers immediately sprang into action to release, and retie the ropes. The ship lifted as the Boal passed and it was similar to being in dry-dock as it flooded. I went ashore a number of times and stood at the memorial to Joan of Arc, where she was burned at the stake. For some strange reason I felt at peace there.