I was experienced � or so I thought. The thought of leaving my comfortable family home in Bradford never bothered me.
It's hard to imagine, but all this happened in 1967 (I may ramble a bit now because it's just so long ago). We left Liverpool on the MV Shaftesbury. It must have been round about November time. A few days earlier I had left my mum with a kiss on the cheek and a cheery wave; �See you at teatime mum,� I called out. I jumped on the bus and went down to the Old Exchange Station in Bradford and jumped on a train to Liverpool. (My mum used to comment that I jumped on bus to go to foreign countries with no more thought than if I was going into town).
I had been going to Liverpool for a couple of weeks trying to get another ship. I didn't expect to get one this time either. I arrived at the pool (that is what we called the office we went to get work) and joined the queue of men wanting work. �Right,� said the man behind the counter, �I have got one for you going to Brazil. Iron ore carrier.� I�d already been on one before so I said no. �Okay,� he says, �What about this one, going to China?� �How long for?� I asked. �Oh, about 3 months,� was the reply. �Great, I'll take it.�
Phoned up mum. �Won�t be home for tea, mum,� I told her, �Going to China 3 months.�
�Okay son, take care love.�
�Sure mum, be in touch.�
That was it. A few days later we sailed for Dunkirk not knowing what was lying in store for us all.
The first port we called at was Dunkirk. Not far, but we had a wonderful week taking on our first load (steel and stuff). Knowing I was going down the coast of Africa and it was going to be warm, I went to a barbers to get a haircut. Well, I couldn�t speak French. The barber didn�t know what haircut I wanted, so I looked round the barber shop at the other people who were waiting, pointed to a man who was almost bald, and said, �Like that!� So he shaved my head!
Well that was different!
Then we went to Antwerp to get the second load on board � another week spent loading, another week of enjoying the bars of Antwerp. We did use one bar, and being na�ve and very young, it was the first time I ever saw a man dressed as a woman for real. I thought, you�d have to be really pissed not to notice, but then some men did get really pissed! Not me!
We then sailed for Dakar, Senegal, Portuguese West Africa. This is where things started to go wrong. We arrived to find the whole dockside filled with big bags of peanuts still in their shells. It took a week of loading by hand to fill our holds full to the very top with the stuff. Not a pretty place Dakar, and I had never witnessed poverty like that ever. People without any money, so to speak. In the galley we used to have a stock pot, bones from sides of beef, chickens, carcasses and the rest were put in here to make stock for soups etc. The chief cook, Colin, said to me, �Yorkie, that�s about ready for throwing, get rid of it.� That meant throwing it off the aft side of the ship into the dock. I picked the pot up, it must have weighed a bloody ctw, and on my way to the aft of the ship to dump it in the dock the African dockers saw what I was doing. Not being able to speak their language or them mine, they beckoned me to the open hatch. I understood that they wanted me to give it to them, and over lots of shouting between themselves urged me to pour it down the hatch. Large sheets of brown paper were spread out across the floor and whoosh! The whole lot hit that bloody paper and splattered everywhere. It had been in the stock pot for about a week, and they ate the lot.
After that, any scraps, any peelings, any waste from the galley, they duly ate.
Dakar itself was another eye opener for a young boy from Yorkshire. Never, ever in my life, having seen a shanty town put together with string, corrugated sheets and bits of wood. We didn�t go ashore for nights out every night. One, because it probably wasn�t safe and it was always best to go in two�s, three�s or fours. And two, because you were too knackered.
I remember the first occasion I went ashore with crew mates. We walked to the town and discovered bars of the type I had never seen before. Planks of wood on drums were seats, barrels with planks of wood on top was the bar, bottles of beer were served at ridiculously cheap prices. At one point we had to stop a crew mate taking off a young African girl who had been bartering with a man with for minutes, fearing for his life and safety. He was bloody annoyed we stopped him I�ll tell you.
We eventually found a proper bar with Portuguese speaking owners. I was with an 18 year old Liverpudlian. The woman behind the bar must have been at least 40. She was large, black hair, and very Spanish looking. He said to me, �Watch this.� He says to her, in Spanish, �Quanta costa paranocha, seniorita.� She giggled, and obviously made a reply which said, �Later.� I said to him, �What did you just say to her?� He said, �How much for all night, love?� I said, �Oh, you�re stopping then!� That left me to walk home, by myself, 17 years old, in Dakar, West Africa, through shanty towns, in the dark, no street lighting, with my arsehole nipping together with the fear of God in me.
I made it back safely.
Fully loaded we set sail south for the Cape and we arrived in CAPE TOWN on Christmas Eve. No shore leave, just took on bunkers (oil) and fresh provisions. Sailed the same day out to the massive swell you encounter just off the Cape of Good Hope where the Indian Ocean and Atlantic ocean meet.
Next day was Christmas Day. Oh yummy, but not if your a cook doing it for 40 men, travelling in a north easterly direction. We had such a time in the galley that we couldn�t keep anything on the stoves even though all the pans had been barred in with special rods to keep them in one place. Every massive pan we had half full, and still boiling water spilling out all over sides and all over the galley. It was hard just to stay on your feet never mind cook.
The chief cook by this time had had enough ( a big bloke, a Londoner with a short fuse Colin they called him, but not me, I had to call him Chief - I was to find out later what a truly nice bloke he was). �Fuck it, Yorkie,� he said , �Go up to the bridge, give the Captain my compliments, tell him if they don't alter fucking course its fucking sandwiches for fucking Christmas dinner.�
I had never been on a bridge so I made my way to the very top of the ship and lightly tapped at the door leading to the wheel house. �Errmm, excuse me Sir,� I said, �But the chief cook sends his compliments and said if you don't alter course you won't be getting any fucking Christmas dinner and it�ll be fucking sandwiches.� �That bad down there is it?� he asked. �Erm yes Sir.�
By the time I had reached the galley the ship had already started to alter course and was hitting the waves bow on (much easier) and a wonderful Christmas dinner was had by all.
--------------------------------
Sailing up past Madagascar and out into the Indian Ocean things settled down for a few days, until one day, silence. Yes the engine had stopped, the big one which turns the propeller. So now we were drifting in no danger, and the engineers work night and day to get us underway again. It didn't seem to take long and what could have only been a couple of days we were off.
There is something about being at sea where you can see no land, every where you look just water. I personally used to love it.
Our next stop was Singapore, once again to replenish supplies of oil and fresh provisions. We sailed down the Mallaca Strait and I got excited about going to this new place. The old hands dished out good advice to us young ones about entering a port like Singapore. Firstly, keep your cabin door locked at all time cos them thieving bastards will have your stuff away. Secondly, the bum boats will come along side, board the ship and set up little market stalls on the deck. I believe this was common practice, but what a wonderful change from the humdrum life on board ship.
I got my first super-duper pick-up-the-world long wave radio from that market, bloody big thing with a massive aerial. It was a TOSHIBA - I had never heard of that brand before but look nowadays they are everywhere. I also got a great wrist watch, a SEIKO. So now I was set, I could listen to the world service from the BBC and pick up all the various signals from decent radio stations.
Now the bad news.
The cargo of peanuts which had took a week to load in Dakar were infested with cockroaches, big ones, so the holds remained sealed. There was no way through from hold to living quarters so it did not effect us. However, the news was not good as we still had to go to China through the Yellow Sea in winter with a cargo of peanuts nobody wanted.
Sailing north from Singapore past south East Asia in 1967, I was to become fully aware that there was a war being raged in Vietnam. We had to drape massive Union Jacks on the ship, to make aware to the US Air Force aware of who we were. Quite a few times US low flying jets came so close and so low you could see the pilots very easily.
LIFE IN THE YELLOW SEA AT WINTER TIME IS NOT GOOD.
We continued north. It got colder, the weather got worse. Orders were given by the captain to close and keep closed all sea doors, these being the ones which actually seal the ship and keep it water tight. I had a wonderful view of the sea from my forward facing porthole. The ship heaved from side to side, and the bow went completely underneath the water, stayed there a few seconds before slowly rising up until it faced the sky whilst the aft end went under, completely submerged. Ice formed on the decks and railings and it was fucking cold. I think I wore every piece of clothing I owned at night just to keep warm.
Writers note: I have got to put at this point that if you have never been on a ship in this kind of weather I will endeavour to explain
Try and imagine your self on a roller coaster for 24 hours a day for four days. Also try to imagine that every surface you are standing on is moving, down, up sideways. Now try and imagine cooking a meal for your family. Now try and imagine cooking for 40 men with boiling water everywhere, deep pan chip fat fires raging and being put out, and people thowing up everything you just fed them. You try to walk down a passage way and the only way you can keep upright is by putting one foot on the wall and the other on the floor and vice versa till you get to the end and fall into your cabin. Try and sleep with all that going on! My way was to get my life jacket, not to wear (because if you had to go in the water you would be dead in seconds anyway because it was that cold). I stuffed it under my mattress so that I was laid prone to the bulkhead and didn't fall out of the bunk.
Oh it was fun, believe me. You should know at this point that porthole glass is about 1�" thick,
and one evening one of the forward facing portholes in the mess next door to my cabin smashed with the force of the water hitting it and flooded the mess. I fastened my sea door over mine after that, bugger the view.
It was at this point I made a life time choice which could have really altered my life. The slops had really backed up. Having the sea doors shut meant all of the slops from the galley and the mess were in the small space between the inner door and the outer sea door. The smell was getting quite horrific. So one afternoon after we had finished lunch, I decided (without telling anyone) that I would get rid of it. I had to time this just right. As the ship ditched bow into the sea I had a few seconds where I thought I could get rid of some or all of the slops. We had already used all the empty containers we could find, these being about the size of 50 ltr drums.
So I timed it, waited for the right moment, opened the sea door (which was against all rules) ditched the foul smelling waste over the side and came back shut the sea door. Bingo, that was one. Four or five times I did this. I thought, �Great, this is working.� But the sea doesn�t work like clockwork, does it. I went out on deck into this foul, cold, windy wet weather, and a wave got me. I clung to the railing which was attached to the outer bulkhead of the galley with one arm, not having the sense to let go of the bucket until it felt like a ton weight. Finally letting go, I grabbed with both arms. I was at this point completely submerged in freezing cold sea water. It seemed like eternity before I could eventually breath fresh air again. The ship lurched forward, moving the water away from me. I dived back into the comfort of the ship, slamming the sea door firmly shut behind me.
�Shit!� I thought, �That was close, I could have been a gonner there!� I was frozen wet through. The chief cook saw me. �What the fuck have you been doing?� he asked. I told him. �You fucking stupid fucking Yorkshire fucking twat!� This went on for some time. I have never heard so many expletives in one continuous sentence.
After he had calmed down he saw I was shivering. �Go and get them fucking wet clothes off, Yorkie, and don't do anything so fucking stupid like that again.� I learned my lesson. I didn�t ever do it again..
The storm recedes. We get fresher weather and proceed almost to the very top almost of the Yellow sea. Our destination is Tsingtao, pronounced ching-dow, very famous for its beer. We enter the bay and drop anchor.
We wait. And wait. And wait. They are not fast here. We swung on that anchor for a month with the tide, still nothing about what they were going to do with the cargo. The same time this is happening a spy ship belonging to the US is caught off the North Korean coast and taken prisoner. We fear the worst. War in Vietnam, hostilities in Korea, and us stuck between both of them.
Do you know how boring it is to have nothing to do and see the same old thing for that long, running out of provisions, cigarettes and beer, everyone bored out of their tits?
Then a result. A skeleton crew is to be left on board, the rest of us are to be put up in a hotel ashore whilst the Chinese fumigate the ship.
So we pack a few things, jump on the launch and are taken to our new home.
It was grim!
�Well, this is an experience,� I said to myself, putting my arse down on the hardest bed I have ever had to sleep on in my entire life, �But at least I didn't have to share, and put up with anyone else's farting and their smelly feet.�
Our Chinese hosts could not have been better.
To be continued ........ here
Back to Home Page