isl_recollections4

RECOLLECTIONS OF AN IRISH SHIPPING APPRENTICE – PART 4
© A. Clements 2007

Having jumped the Poplar, and after various adventures with Greg in Killarney and Limerick, I returned home and passed my EDH and lifeboat exams. Then Irish Shipping, in the goodness of their heart (and I doubt any other company would have done likewise) took me back, this time as an AB on the Irish Pine. The first trip was up the Great Lakes and when we left Toronto we were one of the last group of ships before the seaway shut down for the winter. The weather was bitterly cold. The Pine had been converted some years previously from steam to motor but they had left the steam winches. And very glad we were to have them. You just had to open the drain cock to be enveloped in a cloud of hot steam. And another plus to warm us was that the Pine had in the crew quarters aft, two salt water baths which you could fill full of hot sea water and relax in – but only in calm weather!

When we sailed from Limerick on the second voyage, we ran into a strong storm and not long afterwards the main engine stopped. Quickly we were beam on to a huge swell, rolling our guts out. It was night-time and around us we could see the lights of French trawlers, bobbing up and down like corks on the swell. As we were still close to land the order was given to don lifejackets and then we waited. Luckily we did not have to wait too long nor make use of our lifejackets as the engineers got the main engine started again – and that must not have been easy work with the way the ship was rolling. It was the end of November and we had day after day of bad weather right across the Atlantic. The seamen were berthed aft and being light ship one moment the screw was in the water, the next out and the whole stern shook and vibrated before the engine slowed down. Sleep was very difficult in those conditions as you were either being thrown up in the air from your bunk or being shaken from side to side by the vibration.

One job that had to be done, no matter what the weather, was preparing the holds for the grain cargo. Holds and bilges had to be swept clean and burlap placed over the bilges. Then, in the tweendecks, the feeders had to be erected. With the ship rolling and pitching all over the place, it was not an easy job getting the planks into place. And a dangerous one as well, as one slip and you fell into the hold. But we managed it with no worse accidents than splinters in our hands. This job was inevitably done by Jimmy Gorman and myself as we were the youngest and had a good head for heights. Carrying cargoes of grain there were always rats on board and the holds and bilges could be full of rats’ nests. Sometimes we would literally throw buckets of baby rats over the side (sorry about that if there are any rat lovers reading this!).

Eventually we made Newport News and anchored in calm waters while waiting for a berth. One day an American aircraft carrier came and anchored quite close to us. During the night it snowed and the next morning we heard the tannoy on the carrier calling out “Sweepers – man your brooms fore and aft!” And, lo and behold, fore and aft on the flight deck a line of men with brooms formed up and marched, meeting in the middle and then turning to sweep the snow overboard. We thought no more of this until later when we were alongside. One evening some of the crew, visiting the various bars in Newport News, happened on one full of sailors. When they saw they were from the carrier, our crew called out “Sweepers – man your brooms fore and aft!” They were brought back to the Pine by the police in a rather battered condition!

At Sea, North Atlantic , December 1961.
All unknown except for third from right, Tony “Clem” Clements (AB).

Norfolk , Virginia , December 1961.
(l to r): Chippy?, Jimmy Gorman (AB), Bosun?

Norfolk , Virginia , December 1961.
(l to r): Chippy?, Tony “Clem” Clements (AB), Bosun?

Norfolk , Virginia , January 1962.

Loading hogsheads of tobacco leaf for Dublin and Cork .

Norfolk , Virginia , January 1962

Funnel colours that have, alas, joined the long list of extinct shipping companies. Little did I know then that it was the last photo I would take with Irish Shipping.
I paid off on our return to Ireland , went to study for my 2^nd. Mates and thereafter sailed under foreign flags.

Having loaded grain and tobacco, we sailed for Dublin after Christmas and had the usual North Atlantic winter weather all the way home, though at least this time we were going with it. Mountainous waves coming up astern, looking as if they would poop the ship but at the last minute she would stick her stern up in the air like a duck and the wave would pass alongside, flooding the decks fore and aft. It was good to reach Dublin and there a camera crew from Telefis Eireann (RTE) joined us for the trip to Cork, to make a documentary film. But even from Dublin to Cork the weather was so atrocious that the camera crew were seasick and the only shots I eventually saw had been taken in port. I paid off in Cork to go and study for my 2^nd. Mate’s ticket. And so finished my career with Irish Shipping.

The vast majority of British shipping companies did not pay their apprentices overtime. They were paid a bigger set wages than Irish Shipping apprentices but Irish Shipping paid their apprentices overtime so we were the winners. Especially, as on the Poplar (I cannot remember for the other vessels) the overtime book was kept by the senior apprentice! I can remember the first time I drew a sub in the UK, getting paid in big black and white English fivers – now that was real money!

Remember “Hungry Hogarth’s” and Harrison’s (“two of fat and one of lean” - from their funnel colours)? I can never recollect the ISL ships being hungry ships In those I sailed in, feeding was always adequate though being growing lads we were always on the lookout for something extra to eat and any food left lying around was considered fair game.

The main preoccupation of most crewmembers before arrival in port was where to hide your extra cartons of duty free fags. Many were the ingenious hiding places used but getting the best of the British Customs was not easy - they were past masters at rooting out the best hiding places. On the Poplar one of the apprentices had stuffed a carton down the ventilation trunking in the apprentices accommodation. But for some reason it slipped and could not be recovered. And for some other unknown reason the packing disintegrated with the result that unexpectedly, every now and then, a dried up cigarette would shoot out of a vent nozzle. In those days everyone smoked liked a chimney, quite happily lighting up with no sense of guilt. You light one nowadays and everyone looks at you as if you were indecently exposing yourself! Still, I suppose that’s just due to the hypocritical times we live in.

Sunday Inspections - remember them? At sea, on Sunday mornings the Master, accompanied by the Chief Officer, Chief Engineer and Chief Steward would inspect all accommodation, stores rooms and galley. Though we apprentices were considered the lowest form of life on board, basically only good for cleaning bilges and chipping, our accommodation was expected to be the cleanest. Some Masters even wore white gloves to run their finger along some half hidden shelf to check that no dust had been forgotten. For the junior apprentice there was always the delight of cleaning the toilet bowl so you could shave in it! Though maybe not appreciated at the time, it was great training and ensured that the majority of us would not grow up to be slobs.

No names (person or ship) mentioned but just to show how things have changed over the years: we were due to sail early in the morning from a northern European port. I met the pilot when he boarded at 0600 and we went up to the Master’s cabin. Knock, knock, no answer. Knock, knock again but still no answer. So we opened the door and looked in. There on the deck was the Master, stretched out and snoring, an empty whiskey bottle beside him. “Captain” says I, shaking him, “the pilot is here.” No sign of life. “Ah, no bother”, said the pilot, “I’ll come back at noon.” You can imagine what would happen today what with Port State Control, etc….!

As an apprentice I cannot ever remember getting instructed in the finer points of navigation and other learned subjects useful to becoming a merchant marine officer. Basically apprentices were a form of cheap labour to be used in manual tasks and not there to have their heads stuffed full of nonsense which they would not particularly appreciate learning anyway (that came later when we had to study for our first ticket). But that is not to decry the system, on the contrary, what we learnt in those four years was far more important, the hands-on stuff: seamanship and experience so that when in the future, as officers, we ordered someone to do a job, we knew what we were talking about as we had done it ourselves previously.

And talking of studying allows me to transgress a little. It seems that the majority of Irish Shipping apprentices and officers went to Liverpool to do their tickets - bigger college, more teachers, etc. But I went to the Irish Nautical College, West Pier, Dun Laoghaire, for my 2^nd. Mate’s and Master’s (I took my Mate’s in Hong Kong but that is another story) and had no regrets. Small classes, ably instructed by Capt. Walshe (God bless him – what he had to put up with!) and his assistant. In addition there was a factotum, who, for 2/6 a week, made you tea and coffee for smokos. The coffee was made with “Irel” (remember the black liquid from a bottle, – great stuff, now that put a lining on your stomach! I wonder does it still exist in this modern age of expresso machines?) One morning (this was in 1967) we heard a clatter on the waste ground outside and there lands an Irish Army helicopter. The two pilots came in and asked to use the phone as they had an engine problem. Once the call was completed they told us a car was coming to fetch them, they’d be back in the afternoon with a mechanic and would we mind keeping an eye on their machine so the kids didn’t climb all over it……!

A slight further transgression. The examiner in 1962 at the Aston Quay shipping offices, where exams were held, was a very elderly Master Mariner who had been in sail. I can’t remember his name but he was a character. In those days (and maybe still today?) you had to pass an eyesight examination before being allowed to sit for your ticket. It was basically a colour test and for this a very ancient lantern, looking like something from a magic lantern show, was used. It projected a red, green or white dot on the wall. So one day all we candidates were waiting outside the room where it took place. Being at the head of the list alphabetically, I was the first called in. The room was in darkness and I could just make out the lantern and examiner.

“Look at the wall in front of you and tell me what colour you see” he says and with that pulls the lever on the lantern.

“Clements, what do you mean coming here with eyesight like that to sit a ticket – out you go and send in the next candidate!”

In the room the other candidates looked at me and just at that moment in comes the shipping office secretary and seeing my face asks what was the matter. I explained the situation to him.

“Oh, he has forgotten to take the lens cover off again.” And in he goes to see the examiner.

A minute later the examiner sticks his head out and says “Come in, Clements, I’ll give you one last chance!”

CONCLUSION

Even though the ships and company have disappeared and the crews I sailed with died or scattered around the globe, I have great memories of those days and especially what a great crowd of lads were the seamen who manned the ships in those times. They were seamen in the proper sense of the word; seamen like Mick Murphy who had sailed in the Arklow schooners and there was nothing worth knowing that he couldn’t teach you on knots, splices and seamanship. Such seaman had no need for any fancy safety gear or volumes of safety manuals and other rubbish that clogs ships nowadays. They knew what they were doing and I can recall very few accidents. And if there was an accident it was dealt with on the ship by the Master such as the time one of the Masters of the Poplar reset a dislocated shoulder with no fuss or bother and a drop of the hard stuff. Well, those days are gone, forever, but at least we can keep our memories. Meanwhile the modern maritime world continues its way where a man is judged by the thickness of certificates he can produce and not by his seamanship.