Beyond The Sea

by Jack Lynch

  As I trundled up 42nd Street I could feel the excitement rising. The noise was getting louder as more and more people chatted, laughed and generally enjoyed themselves. Fortunately, it was a beautiful sunny day. Everywhere was awash with green. I think I was the most conventionally dressed that day. Even Japanese, Chinese and African Americans were all Irish for the day. The New York Police were everywhere, controlling the thousands that stretched all along 5th Avenue. I picked a spot near St. Patrick’s Cathedral and took in the atmosphere and wondered if I would ever be back here again. In the distance I could hear the bands playing, and gradually they approached and my excitement grew. I started to fidget and look for a better position to view the marching groups. Marching up the centre of Fifth Avenue were various nationalities of people, and various bands - Pipe bands, Brass bands, Calypso bands and God only knows what else. Prominent were the New York Police, New York Firemen and various Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine personnel. It was strange to see these military people walking out of step, and casually waving to the people on the sidewalks. Of course there were lots of groups singing and dancing as they passed by. I was really fascinated and enjoying all of this. All I could hear most of the time were the strains of old Irish songs and music. Then along came what I was told were the ‘Black Irish.’ These were Black Americans, who were Irish for the day and wore Green outfits. They were a sight to behold, and credit to them they really entered into the spirit of the festival. The parade continued for hours, with no gaps between groups that were usually eight people wide across the Avenue.

  It was only after the parade finished, and I started to return to the ship, that I realised how tired I was from standing all day, and I now had to face the walk back to the ship amidst the throngs of people still celebrating. When I got back, late in the evening, I just sat down and thought of what a wonderful day it had been and how lucky I was to have been there. I suppose I have to thank the Cunard Line and their liner Parthia, not to mention the fog for all of this.

  A few days later I got a letter from home telling me that a friend was married and living somewhere in the Long Island area. I was given a phone number and told to give her a ring. I contacted Sheila, who hailed from Cobh and was a sister of my friend Dr. Chris Walsh. I went to see her and we had a great chat, and then she asked me out to the house the following Sunday, as the local townspeople were holding their St. Patrick’s Day Parade then. They had postponed it on the 17th so that they could march in the New York parade. I duly arrived there and at three p.m. that afternoon found myself leading the local St. Patrick’s Day parade. I felt like a twit, out in front, followed by a statue of St. Patrick borne by four men. Here I was in navy blue gabardine and kid gloves, leading a crowd of fervent Holy Communion children, priests, police, and people dressed in Green. It was not something I would like to have happen again but on the day, as I was told, “You’re a true Irishman living in Ireland - who better to lead us?” The parade was over after a short while, but memories of it burned in my mind for a long time after. Unfortunately, I never got a photo or kept the local press cuttings of it.

  Most of the time I spent on my own, moving around New York, and found it to be a very lovely place full of vitality. The stores were huge, and very well stocked, and I had not seen anything like this except in the movies. Alas, all good things come to an end, and with repairs completed we eventually set off back down the Ambrose Channel, without any more accidents or mishaps.

  Out into the Atlantic again, we headed south towards Miami, Florida, where we were bound for Corpus Christi in Texas. The weather was very hot around Miami. As we approached I had the binoculars out to see it all as we passed very close to the coast. Like in the movies, the beaches were white sand, crowded with all shades of humanity. The buildings stretched across the whole seafront and the cars were something else; open top limos with the most beautiful women driving around in them. They wore the skimpiest of bathing gear and most were beautifully suntanned. We were all mesmerised. Nowadays all can be seen on television or in the movies.

  We carried on through the Gulf of Mexico and watched the dolphins surfacing and swimming in front of the ship. The turtles were doing the usual. No wonder the poor female had so many eggs to lay when the time came and she swam back exhausted to the sea. Gulls and pelicans were everywhere, and many fishing boats criss-crossed in front of us. There were a lot of ships and some beautiful yachts cruising around. This was what life was all about.

  We sailed on for Corpus Christi in Texas. Here, our visit was quite short. We went to collect a cargo of grain, which was done in extra quick time. Instead of the old crane and grab, we were loaded with a large pipe from a silo, and the grain flowed like water. I spent most of my time on the beautiful beach watching the speed boats and yachts. When loaded, we were guided out by the pilot and left Corpus Christi and headed into the Gulf of Mexico, through the Straits of Florida, past Cuba, and set off across the Atlantic. This time we were headed for Genoa, Italy.

  This was a long trip, as we still had to go through the Straits of Gibraltar and into the Mediterranean Sea. There was nothing exceptional about this trip across the Atlantic other than the beauty of the other ships lit up at night, passing us in the other direction, heading for the Caribbean or USA. We had been in the hurricane season but any warnings fortunately were further behind us so we avoided them. The ships passing going the other way may not have been so lucky.

  On arrival in Genoa everything was ready for immediate discharging. The dockers were not long hooking up, and they started discharging the grain almost immediately. While this was going on I went ashore and ate some lovely Italian food. This was my first taste of this cuisine but I had to have coffee as I still had not started drinking alcohol. Ashore, near the docks, it seemed like any other port, with dockers, guards and general noise. I was getting tired of this ship and we were now nearly eleven months away from home. A long spell like this was eventually catching up with me and, thankfully, we were ready to leave in a few days and sail for home waters.

  We steamed out of the Mediterranean, into the Atlantic, and towards the Bay of Biscay. We were to have another baptism as we entered the Bay. The weather was foul and we got hammered for two days. ‘Behind every cloud is a silver lining.’ Joy was sublime as the storm abated and only a few days were left before I could get off this ship and get home to Cobh. Local radio signals Landsend (GLD), Niton (GNI), Northforeland (GNF), Cullercoats (GCC) and Humber (GKZ) were all loud and clear, as we sailed up the English Channel, round Northforeland, and up the North Sea, where we docked in North Shields. It was over eleven months since we left West Hartlepool, not far from this port. I was glad to see the Chief Mate had finished building his clinker before the voyage finished. With a huge sigh of relief I signed off in North Shields, England. I was August 31st, 1953. I got my travel warrant to go by train to Fishguard, where I boarded the Innisfallen for Cork.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After a fortnight at home I was recalled to Liverpool, where I was assigned to my ninth ship, a passenger/cargo ship named m.v Goulistan. This time I had a Trainee Radio Officer named G. Robinson with me. The ship was owned by Stricks of London. Its Gross tonnage was 8430.35 and its Net tonnage was 5056.24. It carried general cargo but had a passenger quota of 12. Captain D.F.G. de Neumann was the Master in command. I signed on the Goulistan in Liverpool on October 15th, 1953. The voyage was to Mauritius, the Persian Gulf, North Africa, and back to the UK.

  This trip was a new experience for me as I felt responsibility for twelve passengers, plus crew. Also, I had to train in a new Radio Officer who was on his first voyage. Despite the extra responsibility I looked forward to being on such a lovely ship. As I expected, the ship was spotless and well manned. My quarters were lovely; comfortable, beautifully decorated and they adjoined the Radio Room. For this reason, if none other, it was necessary to keep my area clean and neat, as passengers could come up to me to send messages home. My Trainee Radio Officer had an adjoining cabin.
There were wooden decks and awnings for the passengers. None of my previous ships, with the exception of my first ship, the Isle of Guernsey, had wooden decks, which were scrubbed clean by the deckhands.

  Everything ready we set off and sailed out into the Irish Sea, heading south. I allocated watch periods to my Trainee Radio Officer, who soon got over his nervousness so I let him perform his duties on his own. It was easier than I thought getting him familiar with the routine of watch keeping. I did occasional audits to check his log entries and maintenance records. At the beginning, with a few minor exceptions, they were fine. After we passed through the Irish Sea we again headed back to the open Atlantic where we proceeded towards Gibraltar and the Mediterranean and the Suez Canal.

  During the voyage south a number of people handed me telegrams to transmit and I got to know a few of them. One lady passenger was from the North of Ireland and was going to the Persian Gulf to join her husband, who worked in Bahrain. She was quite a nice lady but I did not have much to do with her, or any of the passengers, as fraternising was not approved of for obvious reasons. When it suited this rule could be relaxed slightly, but under no circumstances would you be allowed to have a female passenger in your personal cabin. The Chief Mate explained that on a previous voyage a jealous husband came aboard to meet his wife, who was a passenger, and found her with another Chief Mate. The husband went bananas, took out a gun and fired a shot at the Mate. Fortunately he missed and the bullet lodged in the bulkhead in the cabin. The Captain, as a warning, purposely left that hole in the bulkhead to act as a deterrent to all crewmembers of the possible consequences of breaking the rules. This did not apply to the Radio Room however, where passengers frequently visited to telegraph messages home.

  Having had a good crossing of the Bay of Biscay our trip continued through the Straits of Gibraltar, where now we were entering fine sunny weather with calm seas. My Trainee Radio Officer was enjoying life at sea and had settled in well. Onwards towards the Suez Canal, we passed North Africa on the starboard (right) and European countries on the port side (left). We eventually entered Port Said, Egypt to get our searchlight fitted in preparation for our trip through the Suez Canal. By this time my Trainee was thrilled with sea life and continued to wonder at the sights he was seeing. We joined the rest of the convoy and headed south through the canal. As usual we approached where the British soldiers lined the canal and gave the usual ‘bird’ to rusty ships flying the British Flag. This time, when we passed, spick and span and flying the Red Duster, there was a great cheer from the soldiers. They were proud to see a British ship as clean and well painted as we were.

  At Suez the searchlight was removed and the pilot left us to proceed through the Red Sea for the Persian Gulf. Again, we had the usual pleasant trip, and the Trainee Radio Officer was agog with all the happenings, which to him were completely new experiences, whilst I had been through it all several times before, but was still enjoying it except for the thoughts I was having about the Persian Gulf. Whereas I had been trained on a Cross Channel passenger ship, on the same daily voyage, he was being trained on a deep-sea Passenger/Cargo ship going to various foreign places, and working various foreign Radio Stations, compared to my three British stations. He was enjoying himself and he didn’t make bones about it.

  Sometime during this part of the voyage, I noticed some unusual things begin to happen. Crewmembers began parading in similar new shoes, and I also noticed many of them were eating lots of chocolate. I was offered some bars, which I gratefully accepted, and soon got the shock of my life when the Chief Mate said that some of the cargo crates had been ‘accidentally’ broken and that the Captain was organising a cabin search for missing shoes, chocolate, and other materials. It was amazing to see how lots of this stuff started to appear floating in the sea, and very quickly the crew reverted to wearing their old gear again. Apparently this kind of thing went on lots of ships. It did not just stop with crew members. Dockers too were alleged to have been guilty.

  We arrived at Ummsaid in Bahrain and some of the passengers disembarked. Here we unloaded our cargo and spent Christmas day which was a glorious sunny day, enjoying a sumptuous Christmas dinner and everybody was in great form. For once the wine and beer was out for this day and were much enjoyed. From here we sailed through the Gulf, and out into the Indian Ocean, where we then headed for Mauritius, off the east coast of Africa. We arrived in Port Louis in early January 1954.

  While in port I played soccer for the ship’s crew against the local police. Everything was going well until some guy tried a clumsy tackle on me and damaged the ligament of my knee. The doctor strapped it up, gave me painkillers and told me use a walking stick. Boy, did I need the walking stick! My knee gave me hell for what appeared ages, as I ran out of painkillers; I had no further treatment on the ship. It was agony.

  On January 14th, 1954 a cyclone hit us while we were in the harbour and before we knew it the ship was up on the sandbank. Two tugs came to our assistance and got us off the bank and then we had to have divers go down to examine the hull of the ship for damage. It was exciting seeing all this happening and it took my knee trouble out of my mind for a while. Fortunately, the ship suffered no serious damage and was given the all clear. Some new passengers arrived prior to sailing and settled in for the trip back to the UK. I did not notice the passengers much as I was in my cabin resting my bruised knee, and ego. One day, while I was in the radio room, this beautiful dark-haired, tanned young girl appeared in the radio room, and smilingly asked me to send a message for her. As I turned in my chair I winced as I felt a stab of pain shoot through my knee. She immediately came towards me and asked what happened. I explained to her about the game and she offered to rub my knee. Decisions, decisions! Rules, regulations versus human nature! Fortunately the decision was not mine to make. A shadow appeared in the doorway and there appeared this tall lady looking perturbed.

  “Yolanda” she called. “We must go now.”

  So this was the girl’s name. Was this lady her mother? They certainly did not look anything alike. Hopefully, I would see her again. As it happened the lady was Yolanda’s chaperone, and was to take good care of her during the voyage as she was apparently the only child of a wealthy family, and was going to England for educational purposes. We used to see each other on deck, and chat a lot under the watchful eye of the chaperone who was never far away. The chaperone mellowed too and eventually all three of us became good friends.

  As we continued our voyage back we called in at Aden in the Yemen, at the entry to the Red Sea. Many ships call here to get bunkers on their journeys as the cost may be lower than elsewhere. It is a great port for bargains. Bargaining and bartering is part of the fun. Cigarettes were always a good bartering item and we got them cheap onboard. They were tax-free and usually could be used in any lesser-developed country as cash. In exchange for a lovely silk shirt, I handed over a carton of Lucky Strikes and was delighted with my bargain, which I thought was very cheap. These guys will bargain but this time I got the worse end of the deal because after we left port and I opened the shirt, I found a large mark on the front of it. However, I decided that I was not to be the fall guy. I repacked the shirt neatly, to barter it at our next port of call.

  We kept on moving and the ship went through the Canal for the umpteenth time as we headed east towards Ceuta, in North Africa. We tied up there for cargo and this is where I saw shocking sights of girls at their lowest. We were only tying up the ship when local prostitutes started to board. These prostitutes are not welcome onboard but they sneaked aboard before they were spotted. The Mate did not even have time to put watch-keepers on the gangway before one passed me. I nearly got sick just at the sight of her. Her eyes were streaming and were blood red. Her nose was running and there was a smell from her that would turn your stomach. How fellows go with girls like this, I asked myself, was a mystery. I don’t know how many got aboard but they vanished aft into cabins and eventually started to come amidships. When they were found by the s
ecurity they were bundled off the ship. I happened to spot my Trainee Radio Officer being chatted up outside his cabin and was embarrassed at this sight. I advised him to get rid of her and warned him of the dangers. I also told this woman to get away from the Radio room area.

  As well as these poor girls some of the usual ‘salesmen’ came aboard to barter. Lots of tapestries and brightly coloured cushion covers and lengths of suit material were readily available. I saw one guy who had perfumes for sale and I bartered the stained shirt for a bottle of Chanel No 5. This to me was a good bargain, and I went away happy in the knowledge that I had not lost out on the deal as the perfume was genuine.

  I was glad when we cast off again and headed back home. However, we had one more call to make, and that was to Casablanca. Ashore here it was fun to see the girls behind their veils, a new sight for us all. Some dropped the veil slightly and peeked out and gave us a big smile. It was so different from Ceuta. Our stay here was very short and soon we were off again to take on the pilot and head out to sea.

  On our way to the UK we proceeded back through the Bay of Biscay, up the English Channel, up the North Sea, and back to Hull, where we arrived on 18th February, 1954. I reported to the Marconi office, gave my Trainee Radio Officer a good reference, and said goodbye to him. I also bid farewell to Yolanda and her chaperone. Unfortunately, none of these people ever crossed my path again.

  I signed off on February 19th, 1954 and again I got leave for about 10 days. I gave the bottle of Chanel No. 5 to Molly and she loved it. We did the usual visits to the cinema and drove around to various places, including Blarney Castle where we both kissed the Blarney Stone. At home mammy and daddy and my sisters asked lots of questions about the trip and I think daddy envied me the experiences of travel that I was having. The ten days flew by and I returned to Hull where I was reassigned back to the same ship on my birthday; March 5th, 1954. I stayed onboard until we set out for Liverpool, where we arrived on the March 11th, 1954. I signed off and left the ship. There was no Trainee Radio Officer for this short trip to Liverpool and we did not have passengers. I was sorry leaving this ship as it was one of the best ships I had been on to date but I was looking forward to the next adventure.