The trials and tribulations of ships engineers.
(Or I would rather be on my Daddy’s yacht!!)

Anyway we had the coils, motor housing, and rotor cleaned, we put it on the board and no problems, until the next problem turned up with a vengeance, which I will call "black holes and discharge lines".

©Michael Mills 2007 

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Black holes and discharge lines.

We had just passed Gibraltar into the medi, the weather was great and I was back on day-work, there was plenty of deck work to do, a couple of jobs on the windlass, then the midships winch and the gargo steam heating valves and steam lines expansion joints, which meant that I would be on deck sometime, enjoying the sun getting the bronsie and getting paid for it, even the pool had been erected midships, life couldn’t get much better!!! But it was to become a case of "The best laid plans of mice and men".
Two days into day work, Vincent McEvitt the mate (RIP sadly Vincent passed away not too long ago, a good friend and shipmate) came down the catwalk, "Mick will you have a look in the pump room we have a leak "So off we went, Vincent saying, that it was one of the discharge lines leaking. I assumed it would be a gasket leak in one of the flanges, wrongly as it turned out. Down we went to the bottom of the pump room then into the wing compartment, where the cargo discharge lines went up to the deck manifold we opened the valves, and got the engine room to put on one of the cargo pumps, so we could the ballast. There was a leak alright. 

The welds around both the flanges on the elbow pipe had cracked, no need to worry, the out board pipe should be ok, we tested it but it was leaking badly too, tankers do wear out much faster than other vessels by the very nature of there cargos.
That meant we would have to remove one of the elbows from the starboard side, to fit in the port wing compartment, as the ship had to be able to discharge either port or starboard. These elbow pipes were no lightweights two men couldn’t lift them, and they had to be hand blocked across the pump room to prevent sparks on the deck plates. We should have been wearing rubber soled shoes also, and all the pump room tools were bronze also, which now as the ship was getting on in age were either missing or broken.

The pump man and I had to bale out the compartment which was half full of oily water, and then I started to loosen all the flange bolts. By teatime my boiler suit, shoes, hair, everything from top to bottom was black!!!
The next morning I went down to the pump room, dressed to kill, in tea shirt shorts and flip flops, to my surprise there was the 12 to 4 watch doing a field day to give me a hand. Then after lunch the 8 to 12 watch came down, and that’s the way it went until we had the job done. It was getting hotter by each day as we neared Suez .

Passing through Suez , I stood the daylight stand-by watches, and we resumed our pump room waltzes after we cleared the canal. Every day we had to leave at least half an hour cleaning time, so that we could have a Swarfega shower in the engine room, before we could even go into the change room. As we hadn’t been seen in the saloon for days everyone thought we had all gone ashore in Suez !!!!
Well we kept at it and got the job done, and took the broken elbow up to the pump room entrance, where it was lashed tight by the crew. The heat now was very bad in the wing compartment, so that we had just finished in time, the whole job was done with great humour by all, Bernard O`Geran kept us all going with his wit and humour.
So with the last bolt tightened and the last curse said, we all trundled down to the engine room, looking like the Black and White minstrel show, Bernard with his last witticism said "Anyone for tennis lads"

Well I still had a few days bronzy time left, with luck there would be no more unforeseen problems. When we arrived at Brunsbuttel in the Kiel Canal , what was waiting for us on the quay, only a spare elbow for the pump room, which was undrilled!!! I think it was Ken Galligan and Bernard came down to the engine room while I was on watch, ken said "do you think you could get those flanges drilled and the pipe fitted before we get to Finland " I blew my top, only to turn around and see them both laughing, as I was going on leave when we got to Finland I been on the Blackthorn 18 months by then, there were rumours she was being sold, and I didn’t want to be sold with her!!!!
By this time I had got the deadly disease Tankeritious, the symptoms being the inability to sail on any other vessels only tankers!!!

©Michael Mills 2007 

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Exploding Tankers!

When I first joined ISL I was always on the cargo ships and I often had to listen to those dire warnings about the tankers that they were smelly dirty and dangerous, it was almost as if they were ships of a rival company. They were certainly smelly, but you got used to that. But they were not as dirty as you might think, at least the engine room, being steam and turbine were cleaner than the diesel engine rooms. but the danger part was true, certainly in the 1950s and 1960s when a number of tankers exploded for unknown reasons. It all came to a head in the early 60s,as two of Standard Oil (Commonly known as ESSO) tankers exploded within a couple of months of each other, as their tankers were the bench mark for safety and maintenance. What was known that was common to the two disasters was that they were both tank cleaning at the time.

For anyone who hasn’t served aboard a tanker, maybe I should explain the procedure about tank cleaning, firstly (in those days) canvas draught chutes were fitted and hung from wires strung fore and aft over the ships deck the forward movement of the ship forcing the draught down into the tank to remove any gas remaining in the tank  after the last cargo. That was the theory, and most of the time it worked. Then the Butterworth System would be used, this consisted of a high pressure turbine driven sea water pump, forcing the water through a condenser heated with de-superheated steam. This water was then pumped to the tanks and down a flexible hose with a nozzle which spun around with the pressure of water, then lowered to the bottom of the tank and up again, washing all the sand and sludge to the bottom of the tank, where it was drained back to the last cargo tank then pumped ashore on arrival at the refinery.

After much trial and error testing ashore it was found that the spinning nozzle created its own static electricity, and if there was any gas left in the tank that would be it. Sadly many seamen died before this was found out.
To counteract the danger they eliminated oxygen from the tanks, by using the exhaust gases from steam plant or diesel exhaust flowing through various filters and spark arresters into the cargo tanks. This stopped the chance of explosions, but it didn’t come until near the end of the 60s and I don’t know if any older tankers were fitted with this system but certainly all newer tankers were. I sailed on white spirit tankers later on, carrying JP 5 jet fuel and aviation petrol after, but these ships had a different set of inherent dangers as there was no tank cleaning.

Another of our trips brought us once again to sunny Kharg Island off the coast of Iran, we had on board a retired chief engineer from Shell he was about 85 and I think just marking time with us, Eamonn Flannigan had just left to go on leave, why ISL never made him chief, as he had his chiefs ticket, I will never know. But anyway we arrived at the refinery in Kharg in the middle of August extremely hot also the sea temperature was very high. 

We started the cargo pumps to discharge the ballast and tank cleaning sludge ashore, and when the sea temperature was so high the salinity meter would do its nut for 3 to 4 minutes, then drop back to normal, after enough water had passed through, but the chief came storming down a lot the worse for wear,” we have to shut the condenser down and take the end covers off to check the tubes, one of them must be leaking” It would have been well above 60o c down on the pump flat to do this ridiculous job was downright crazy. Anyway he kept on we had a heavy shouting match, next thing the mate comes down, saying we had to go to anchor if we cant discharge sludge. So off to an anchor we go. We open up the condenser and test the tubes for leaks with the fluoroscope, no leaks as I thought; meanwhile the chief had turned in. We put the condenser back together everybody, engineers and crew, were by now exhausted, you would nearly have to put on the bilge pump on to pump out the sweat!!!

We got hold of the mate and said we could go in to discharge now, we put on the pumps cooled down the condenser everything was back to normal in about 5 minutes. We discharged loaded bunkers and cargo, sailed and were about 6 or 7 hours down the Gulf before the chief surfaced wanting to know if we were going in to load! He went on leave then back to Scotland .
Happily Chief Harry Mooney joined when we arrived in Europe so we had a full complement of engineer’s now.

Harry always sent down the new engine room log book at the end of the month, covered with old chart paper and to one member of the engine room staff it was like a red rag to a bull. Big Liam (the junior who maybe saved my life in the crews alley) he was a talented artist and cartoonist, everybody and every little occurrence got fitted onto the log cover (journalistic licence!!) It became essential to check the log book cover before checking the job! I remember after my struggle with the fire pump, the next morning there was a drawing of myself and the watch engineer on the control platform up to our necks in water with the caption "do you think there’s a leak somewhere?”. 

One day Harry called me in to say that we had to do something about the log book cover, "What would a board of enquiry say if we had an accident below, when they saw the log book cover” I said just tear the covers off if it bothers you, "Oh no "says Harry "They are too good to throw away, and anyway how would I really know what’s going on in the engine room"!! It was a big loss when Liam went on leave, as there was nobody to fill his shoes and the engine room newspaper closed down.

©Michael Mills 2007   

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Memories and nostalgia.

If I mention the name Pax I think everybody who worked for ISL will know who I am writing about. Pax was a good man to have aboard especially when there was a blackout, because he would have all the machinery running again before you could say blackout, anyway we were getting our act back together again and bringing the main engine up to full ahead again, when Pax flashed past the junior and me who were at the control board with a two wheel key one in each hand and I never did find out what they were for. I haven’t seen or heard from Pax for 30 years, so if you’re reading this Pax you can let me know when next we meet, if you can even remember.

The 12 to 4 watch always had breakfast at 02.45, it saved us getting up at 8 in the morning for breakfast. We had our own dining room between the boiler and engine room next to the steam to steam generator table and stools, so the 3 of us on watch could an eye on the job at the same time. The firemen used go up about 2am to make the breakfast, while the junior took over the boiler room. And what breakfasts they were, talk about Irish breakfasts, these were Irish breakfasts supreme a la carte, eggs bacon sausages black and white pudding tomatoes beans mushrooms (if available) toast marmalade tea or coffee. If you had nothing else all day it would keep you full!!!

It was at one of these breakfasts that I mentioned all the broken glass in the gash can in the engine room lab,(where we tested the boiler water etc) I used do all the boiler water testing as somebody thought that 3rd engineers had it easy on the tankers, no Gennies to overhaul!! But we had a new 2nd engineer joined from West Hartlepool, extremely nervous, not the best complaint to have on a tanker, I felt sorry for him but he was very obnoxious with it, and had got on the wrong side of some of the firemen (who were all long time seamen with ISL and all knew the job inside out). Getting back to the broken glass, he had started to test the boiler water, and the firemen always waited until he was testing to blow down the boiler water gauge glasses, which gave off a terrible screaming roar, being superheated steam high pressure boilers. Hence all the broken glass!

When I went back to boiler water testing all the pipets and glass measuring tubes and everything else made of glass was gone, I was left with an ear dropper and a glass tea mug!!! It was only the wry smile of the fireman at breakfast that gave the whole thing away!! Anyway by this time the 2nd engineer he had gone on leave.
I haven’t put all these tales in any order, just as they came to mind so the last part of this tale is from when I joined ISL, I was just out of apprenticeship but still had been working with the same firm after I had applied to ISL, I didn’t think that I had any chance as everybody and his brother who was in engineering wanted to join ISL, but when I got back to Dublin from Killybegs boatyard, there was a telegram from ISL to go for an interview with Mr Hamilton,  which I did and he sent me to the Irish Larch in Manchester.  

Arriving at the docks at Manchester about 9am, I went on board and met the chief engineer Charlie Devlin ,everyone was in the engine room at this time so I went to the cabin Benny Dorgan showed me to, changed and went below, and I can always remember the first smell in the change room, swarfega and diesel oil.
So I went below and got my first look at a cathederal engine as all those huge old diesels Doxfords etc were called, this was a 5 cylinder Doxford where when you did a crankcase inspection.You walked into the crankcase with a tapping hammer in one hand and the extension cord of the turning gear in the other, to check all the nuts bolts and split pins etc.
We were on charter to Cunard serving Liverpool Manchester London Le Havre, before crossing to the states, and doing maybe nine ports in 14 days. Anyway we sailed from Manchester and by the time we had got to Le Havre I had got the juniors job down alright, what with temperatures control etc everything being done by hand.
We left Le Havre and when we got full away, I never saw the 2nd engineer again on morning watches, (I was on the 4 to 8) until we were near the Yankee coast.
I wasn’t green when it came to ships but I thought this was maybe normal that the 2nd engineer’s junior got to do morning watches by himself!! Anyway I wasn’t bothered because it made you very self reliant. We were about 200 miles off the coast of Florida when we hit the tale end of a hurricane, we were rolling badly, the bridge asked to shut the engine down 10 revs, I was just shutting down the purifiers as they had started to dump, when Charlie turned up, it was about 3 in the morning, and the engine govenor was cutting in as the prop lifted out of the sea, with aloud clack as the Doxford govenors did, anyway Charlie asked where’s the 2nd, I said he is up on the engine tops somewhere, but he already knew he was still turned in.  

We then took a couple of real bad rolls and it was no use looking for a way out as the ladders were nearly horizontal now, if I remember correctly it was the worst roll I can think of on any ship I had ever been on. The donkey man said that the inclinometer went to 40 degrees. When he could get up to the accommodation the chief went up to get the 2nd down on watch, of course I got the blame for grassing on him,!! But the chief told him later it wasn’t me, anyway apart from that he was an alright bloke, what he didn’t know about Doxfords wasn’t worth knowing.
After that I had the dubious honour, because I was the newest junior to sign on, to check all the accommodation fresh water taps for leaks, as either there was no carpenter that trip or they had stopped carrying them on board I’m not too sure. These were checked on Sunday just before captains inspection, Captain O`Shea being the skipper, who ran a tight and didn’t like any of his officers mixing with the crew not even junior ones.
I was in the crew alleyway, checking taps and having a chat with a few of the lads I knew from ashore, when I heard the captain, chief eng and chief steward  coming down the alley way, I made a dash for the door to keep ahead of the posse, but as I moved away from the wash hand basin that I was leaning against, it came away from the bulkhead, and was leaning towards the floor at a 45 degree angle, the bolts had been rusted away. I quickly pushed it back up, and stood leaning against it again, Capt O`Shea comes in, "Ah Mr Mills what are you doing down here?" "oh just on tap duty Captain" I said, "oh I see" says the captain "You look as if your holding that basin up" laughter all round, too much really, the captain goes out and the chief sticks his head in the door, he knows that there’s something wrong but cant put his finger on it. When they are all gone I make a quick dash down to the engine room for a couple of bolts and a drill and put the basin back in place again, somebody gives me a beer for quick thinking so alls well.

©Michael Mills 2007   

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From the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes .

We were on one more of our trips to the Mexican gulf, still on charter to Cunard and not far off the coast of France, when we were about to be overtaken by a three stacker in the distance on the horizon, just as dusk was falling, obviously the Queen Mary. So the sparks either through boredom or just for the craic, signalled the vessel, (although he already knew which ship it was) "What ship? The other vessel didn’t deign to answer but in reply lit up the spotlights on all three funnels. The sparks not to be put off replied "Nice display but what ship? After that he did get a reply to their call sign if nothing else!!! So we lit up our single Cunard funnel, still no reply, so with our ego deflated we carried on our slow voyage to Tampa Florida, the Queen Mary steamed past and was soon lost to sight in the darkness.

Tampa was a very quiet town in those days, quite unlike the west coast of Florida with the famous towns like Miami and Palm Beach on the east coast.
After Florida we would go on do nine or ten ports in the gulf in maybe two weeks, sometimes for only ten hours or so. One of these memorable ports was Mobile Alabama , some of us had taken a bus up town to have a meal and a few beers, but it was very unlike getting the number 50 from Walkinstown to College Green. It was segregation time in the states, we boarded the bus and we all went back to the rear of the bus, to the coloured section as it was called, this created stares and howls of protest, (we were still ignorant of the divided bus!!) but as the bus filled up one of the lads stood up to let an old lady sit down, this really drove the others at the front of the bus wild. 

Anyway we arrived in Mobile un-lynched. Then we went looking for a restaurant we found a place on one of the side streets, went in and asked for four beers, the huge barman leaned over the counter and said "White folks don’t come in here” Suddenly it dawned on us this was a coloured restaurant. But one of the lads at the back saved the day and said "Oh we are not white we are Irish” there was a deadly silence for a while, and then the barman started bursting out laughing and gave us all beers. I think what he meant to say was "we are not American we are Irish” But maybe it was the word Irish that did it, being the Kennedy era and all.

After that New Orleans , and this would probably be the biggest port we would visit in the gulf, and certainly if you were a jazz fan, on Bourbon street every bar seemed to have its own resident jazz group, the different melodies coming from each bar was amazing.
The electrician had a hard time in the gulf ports as all the discharge and loading of cargo was done with the electrical winches, which were working well into the night, so we used bring him a six pack back whenever we went ashore.
We were in Houston sometimes, and we always had a lot of visitors, we were taken up to barbecues, parties, dances, the people of Texas were very friendly, these parties were so good I remember one of the guys losing his false teeth getting sick out of the cab on the freeway!!!
We were losing a lot of lub oil from the main engine we couldn’t find the leak or why the engine could be using it. One morning after watch, the juniors did the port watches, I had just gone out on deck drinking a cup of tea when I glanced down into the river, at the overboard sea water discharges, and there on the forward outlet was a continuous oil discoloration on the water, I called Charlie Devlin the chief engineer out to have a look, he immediately rang down to the engine room to shut off the sea water circulation and open up the cooler, it was leaking badly with a number of tubes leaking. The faulty tubes were plugged with brass plugs so we now had no lub oil leaks. When I came on watch at 16.00 Charlie jokingly said "This is your entire fault Mills" A big grin on everyone’s face as they were putting the last bolts in.    

After Houston we would go on to do more ports right down to Corpus Christi and Brownsville on the Rio Grande just across the border from Matamoras in Mexico . Then back to Liverpool , where on one of our return trips there was a telex from the office that I was to go to South Shields to Redheads dockyard to join the Irish Pine who had just had her boilers and steam reciprocating engines removed, and new heavy oil 4 cylinder Doxford engines fitted. Everything was new generators, pumps compressors, new sewage system for the Great Lakes ; even most of the ballast and suction were chromium plated!! But this was the first heavy oiled diesel of Irish Shipping and I think one of the first built in the UK . Anyway the system for changing over from diesel, which we used for manoeuvring, was then changed to heavy oil after we got full away. This worked all right but when we changed back to diesel at end of passage, to manoeuvre again, we had lots of problems with the fuel pumps gassing up, because of the high temperature of the heavy oil. After a couple of times going around while trying to degas the pumps, the chef decided to forgo the diesel and manoeuvre on heavy oil, which worked very well.
We loaded steel in Middlesbrough for Montreal , what a grand old ship the Irish Pine was, the cabin on board was about twice the size of the one on the Larch, I believe she used to carry passengers many years before, at least that’s what I was told. If I remember correctly the engineers had there own smoking room!!! Luxury indeed!!
We had travelled up the St Lawrence after discharging at Montréal, passing through all the locks of the seaway, and the Lake of a Thousand Islands then onto Lake Superior, where I remember one Sunday, John Dunne always invited a couple of us in for quiet sippers, a couple of drinks before lunch, they were quiet because the cargo ships were supposed to be dry. 
Anyway after lunch I turned in as I was on again at 16.00, there was a clear blue sky and calm weather ,about an hour later I was awoken by this screaming wind and rough seas, we had been hit by what they call on the lakes, a whipper, or tornado which usually comes out of nowhere. There were plenty of small and not so small cabin cruisers about in real trouble now. 
There were about six or so in our vicinity, so Captain Poole slowed the ship down to barely steerage way to create a lee so that we could shelter as many boats as possible. We passed some fuel down to some of them, but a few small boats in the distance didn’t make it. We couldn’t leave the boats sheltering with us, but it ended as soon as it started, when it was over we searched for survivors but the Canadian and American coast guard and rescue vessels were soon on the scene, so we carried on but found no survivors.

We would spend a lot of time loading in either Duluth or the twin cities in Canada Port Arthur and Fort William . We had an English Chief engineer and an English 2nd engineer after the maiden voyage, (the quiet man being the chief for the maiden voyage, even though he was a superintendent), anyway the new chief was a heavy plonky, and now and again the 2nd would ask me in for a drink after watch, but one time he found the bottle empty. So he waited until we went on watch about 0500 then went back up to his cabin and there was the chief in his wardrobe drinking his whiskey!!!
This 2nd wouldn’t answer the engine room phone when the bridge rang and I always had to answer the phone, we were crossing the lakes one time when the mate rang down (and I had been waiting for this call for years) He said "Give us all you’ve got, we are in a hurry" I repeated this to the 2nd, he said "Tell him I got a pencil and a headache will that do?"    

One more incident which I should mention concerns the sewage system, this was put into operation on entering the St Lawrence river and the discharge closed until we had cleared the Great Lakes and river ,being blasted into the sea with compressed air  after a couple of days. This being the maiden voyage, for the engine room at least, there were a few teething problems!! The air used in the blowing down of the system was taken from the main engine air start bottles, the tank was filled with air to about 5 at, then the overboard valve was opened and the contents were blasted into the sea. The tank had to be inspected after to make sure it had emptied; this was done by pulling a fulcrum lever and lifting the inspection cover off its joint, and looking in with a torch.
What we didn’t know was that the air was leaking slowly past the tank valve, which had built up a slight pressure in the tank, of course when I went to inspect it on pulling the lever back it blasted the little remaining sewage into the engine room, up to the deck head and back down to the hot generator exhaust pipe, of course instant fried sewage, with the accompanying smell. Luckily I wasn’t standing over the inspection cover at the time!!!! For a few days the smell got everywhere, so you always looked twice before eating your mulligatawny soup!!!!

Well I’ve come to the end of all my ramblings for now, I just wanted to say I really enjoyed my time with Irish Shipping, some of the best years of my life, it was like working for a family company everybody knew everybody else, and you always met someone that you had sailed with before. It was sad how it ended for officers and crews alike. They were good ships really well looked after for the most part, great officers and crews and never a dull moment!! Ive been back to Ireland every year since Ive been living abroad luckily enough, but the last couple of years I’ve been hearing a lot of complaints when in Ireland about the crime drugs etc but one incident happened a couple of years back, which was contrary to all that, My wife myself and two of our grandchildren were crossing Clare heading for the Cliffs of Moher, when a bottle of water burst in the car, I stopped to dry out the car, outside a cottage, a woman drove into the yard obviously just in from mass, as it was Sunday and she had a prayer book, she became very concerned we had an accident, I explained what happened, but still she insisted to get towels for us. So the old Ireland is still there, people do care and are still warm and friendly, it reminded me of that old Irish saying "There are no strangers in Ireland only friends that haven’t met"

©Michael Mills 2007   

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RECOLLECTIONS OF AN IRISH SHIPPING APPRENTICE – PART 1

 By ©Tony Clements 2007

The dictionary defines to recollect as “to recall to memory” and this is what I have tried to do. Maybe you will have sailed with me and think: ‘I can’t remember that happening, where did he get that from?’ Maybe you are right and some facts may not be as you remember them but I am writing them down as I can recall them in my memory. And memory can at times err. As Mark Twain said: “When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it happened or not”! But the voyages I have listed are accurate as I kept a record in a pocket atlas and still have it with me. So I trust that these recollections will be of interest to you who surf this site.  

This was the telegram that started me on my four years career with Irish Shipping.

IRISH POPLAR -A Summary of Voyages  
1957

Light ship from London to the US, loaded grain in Albany and New York for the UK : Hull .
Light ship from Hull to Canada , via Leith . Loaded grain in Halifax for the UK : Cardiff and Manchester .
Light ship from Manchester to the US , broke down off the Bahamas , repairs in Fort Lauderdale , Florida , then to Houston and loaded grain for East Pakistan .
Stopped at Gibraltar for bunkers, transited the Suez Canal , and a call at Aden for bunkers before arriving at Chittagong .
From Chittagong light ship to Albany , Western Australia and loaded grain for the UK : London and Newcastle .
Bunkering stops on the way were at Cape Town and Dakar .

Light ship from Newcastle to Norfolk , Virginia and loaded grain for India .
Called at Gibraltar for bunkers, transited the Suez Canal , a bunkering stop at Aden and finally India where discharged the grain at Madras and Calcutta . From India light ship to Geelong (south-east Australia ), where we loaded grain for Ireland .
Across the Great Australian Bight to Fremantle for bunkers, then across the southern Indian Ocean with a bunkering stop at Durban , up the South Atlantic and another bunkering stop at Dakar before reaching Ireland and discharging at Dublin and Waterford then to Cobh for dry-docking.

From Cobh light ship to the US : Mobile , Alabama , where we loaded grain for Japan .
From Mobile through the Panama Canal to Honolulu for bunkers then on to our Japanese discharge port, Shimizu .
On completion of discharge light ship to Australia with, on the way south, a bunkering stop at Balikpapan , Borneo . Loaded grain at Geraldton , Western Australia , for Ireland .
Across the Indian Ocean to Aden for bunkers before transiting the Suez Canal and finally arriving at Dublin where I paid off.

I and another junior apprentice, Jimmy Coady, joined the vessel in London . She was berthed at the Tate & Lyle berth at Silvertown (?), discharging a cargo of South African sugar. Part of the cargo was being discharged into barges – Thames barges with their brown sails. When full they would let go, loosen sail and if there was no wind they would drift with the tide until a breeze sprang up. Some days after we joined, one of the firemen came back with a few pints too many, slipped off the gangway and was drowned. The next day police with grapnels fished the body out. He was frozen in the act of trying to swim.    

London,1958.  
The four apprentices, (l to r): “Red” O’Carroll, Jimmy Coady, Wille Cummins, Tony “Clem” Clements.

My first Master was Capt. Woolfenden. He was everything I had imagined a ship’s captain to be – commanding and with a white beard. The story I was told about him was that he had previously been the Master of a crack Egyptian passenger liner but had been sacked, along with all the rest of the Brits, at the time of the Suez crisis. One grey, wet day in the North Atlantic , while I was holystoning the boat deck, he stopped and asked me “Have you got the time, Clements?” “Er, yes, sir.” I had a watch and was proud of it and while I fumbled with my oilskin sleeve to look at it he asked “And have you got a knife”. “Er, no, Sir.” “You useless object, no knife and you want to be a sailor…!” (or words to that effect). It was the last time I wore a watch at work.

At that time there existed in the States the famous “Short Arm Inspection”. It was meant to protect the women of America from hideous foreign diseases. The crew of foreign vessels arriving in the States had to line up, pull out their John Thomas, pull back the foreskin and have it inspected by a medical officer. So when we arrived in New York the ratings (I cannot remember if the officers were subject to this examination) were lined up for the inspection. “Do you want to see the apprentices” the Master asked. “No, they are too young” the medical officer replied “but one can give me a hand with the crew list.” So there I was holding the crew list and watching the medical officer carry out his inspection of Irish manhood. He stopped in front of one particularly dirty fireman, looked down, took his cigar out of his mouth and said “Goddam it, don’t you ever wash that thing!” I can never remember another such inspection so assume that 1957 was the last year.  

Once the entry formalities were completed, we steamed up the Hudson River to Albany . The scenery on the river was beautiful. Christmas in Albany and the Master invited myself and the other junior apprentice for a drink. “You need to learn to drink like gentlemen and this is the drink of gentlemen.” He handed us a gin and bitters. “Cheers and a Happy Christmas!” We had to drink it but that was the last time I ever touched the stuff – horrible taste! One evening we apprentices walked up town and the next day, mentioning this to a white docker he said “Why – you walked right through the negro part of town – that’s real dangerous for whites!” Well, they never bothered us. In Albany we loaded grain, but not a full cargo due to draft restrictions in the river. We topped up in New York where we junior apprentices were not allowed ashore as the Master said we were too young (we were seventeen).  

Mobile, Alabama, February 1959. (l to r): Andy Dunne (Apprentice), unknown, Tony “Clem” Clements, unknown.

Then back across the North Atlantic to our discharge port of Hull . While discharging in Hull, all Irish seamen went on strike and our crew paid off. Once discharge was completed, after some time at a lay-by berth, we went to anchor in the River Humber, only officers and apprentices left on board. I can’t remember who did the cooking. One foggy afternoon, as per the International Rules for the Prevention of Collisions at Sea, I was ringing the foc’sle bell when I heard the sound of an approaching engine from dead ahead. I rang the bell again then leaned over and had a look. Coming out of the fog was an Icelandic trawler, at full speed. The skipper was leaning out of the wheelhouse, chatting to a couple of hands on deck who were coiling ropes. “Oi!” I shouted. They all looked up in amazement. I took to my heels and ran towards the bridge. I heard and felt the trawler hitting our bows then it was scraping along our hull, keeping time with me as I ran down the fore deck. As it disappeared into the fog I could see it settling in the water. I ran up to the bridge and woke the 2^nd. Mate who was dozing in the bridge chair. We heard later that the trawler sank but that all the crew were rescued. There was hardly any damage to the Poplar. I just had to sign a statement for a lawyer.

We eventually sailed from Hull , still with only officers and apprentices, and anchored off Leith . There the Master went ashore that evening and late at night returned with a crowd of mostly very drunken Scotsmen. As soon as they were on board we weighed anchor and sailed. The next morning a crowd of very bedraggled and hung-over sailors complained about being shanghaied but they were soon brought to order by the Master and a very efficient Herbridiean Bosun. They settled down soon enough. The Master ordered the Bosun to break the tips on their knives. We sailed at extra full speed to Halifax as we had to make it by a certain date or lose the charter. We battered our way across the North Atlantic and made it in time to load our cargo of grain. It was very cold in Halifax . Then back across to discharge at Cardiff and Manchester.

The Manchester Canal was always an interesting transit as usually the top of the funnel and anything else tall, like topmasts or radar mast, had to be removed so as to pass under the bridges. On the berth where this operation was carried out one could see what ships had already passed up by the collection of funnel tops on the quayside. After this berth one steamed under a test wire; if you snagged it was back to the berth to remove the offending piece of equipment. We were in Manchester for the Grand National. In those days bookie shops were illegal but if you knew where to go, and the dockers told us, there were plenty of very scruffy illegal bookie shops in the back streets waiting to take our money

Fort Lauderdale daily news. 2nd. April 1958

Having left Manchester and on our way to the States, we broke down off the Bahamas . After drifting round a bit and indulging in some shark fishing, a tug appeared and we were towed into Fort Lauderdale . There we spent many weeks while the boilers were cleaned. Rumour had it that salt water had been let into them. We used to swim in the late evenings, just as it got dark, off the beach at the back of the hotels. This was mainly because there was a plentiful supply of hotel towels that had been left out to dry. One evening on the way back to the ship, a police car stopped us on, I assume, the assumption that anyone walking in the States is a suspicious character. “Where are you boys from?” “We’re from the Irish ship.” “OK, what have you been doing?” “Swimming at the beach” “Swimming at the beach at night time! Don’t you know that’s when the sharks come in to the shallows!” End of our evening swims.   

Drifting off the Bahamas, (bound Houston), and waiting for a tow into Fort Lauderdale, Florida for repairs (seawater in boilers?), April 1958.  
(back row, l to r): unknown, unknown, Willie Cummins (Apprentice), unknown. (front row, l to r): Tony “Clem” Clements (Apprentice), unknown, unknown, Jimmy Coady (Apprentice).

Were we the first Irish ship to visit Houston? It seemed so from our welcome. Irish-Americans came to visit the ship and invite us to their homes. Some even lent us a car. None of us apprentices knew how to drive, let alone have a licence, but we figured out the automatic gears and didn’t run anyone over. One evening we took the bus to go downtown. The bus was waiting at the docks, empty. We entered and settled down at the back. The driver came and when he saw us insisted we come and sit in the front. Why? We had been sitting in the “Coloureds Only” section.

When we bunkered in Gibraltar it was for fuel oil. But at this period there were still coal burners around and Gibraltar held stocks of coal for them. The coal was stocked in the hulls of old sailing ships, anchored in the bay. Most had been cut down but you could still see the fine lines of their hulls and the bows with the remains of bowsprit and figurehead. Some even had the remains of masts.

One Master’s favourite literature was the “Reader’s Digest”. Having read the latest copy from cover to cover, he would then pontificate on the articles he had read. One time we were transiting the Suez Canal , not long after it had reopened following the Suez crisis. The British pilots had all been sacked by Nasser and an international collection brought in to replace them. Our pilot was a German and the Master started discussing U-boats with him, this being no doubt the latest article he had read in the “Reader’s Digest”. “Well, of course, Pilot, that type of U-boat was never fitted with a snorkel.” “ Oh, yes captain it was”, replied the pilot. “Pilot”, said the Master, “ I am afraid you are wrong there – I know for a fact they were never fitted.” “And I, Captain, know that they were as I commanded one during the war!” Silence and exit the Master from the bridge until change of pilots!  

Chittagong, June 1958. Willie Cummins.

On arrival off Chittagong , which at that time was part of Eastern Pakistan , we had to anchor offshore to discharge half the cargo to reduce the draught so we could cross the river bar. We anchored in muddy water with no land in sight. Eventually the agent came and said the barges were on their way out. A few were towed out by ancient steam tugs, the rest came under sail. When the wind dropped they drifted to and fro with the currents and tides. But eventually they got alongside. The grain was shovelled into burlap sacks, sewn by hand, then heaved overside into the barges, which, when full, commenced their long and uncertain journey back to the port. After many weeks the draft had been sufficiently reduced and we were able to cross the bar and enter the port of Chittagong . There, one Sunday, Mass was celebrated on board by the Bishop of Chittagong (maybe he was Irish?). An altar, decorated with flags, was set up on the boat deck. Hardly any western type stores were available there. The only butter was cows’ ghee, a rancid yellow mixture made from I don’t know what. So when we sailed for Australia , there wasn’t much to eat on board.  

We eventually arrived at Albany , in Western Australia , and made fast to a lay-by berth at the end of a long wooden jetty, not in very good condition. The Master had radioed ahead for provisions to be ready on our arrival and, sure enough, a pickup from the chandler hove into sight and commenced slowly driving down the rickety jetty. But, having nearly reached us, he was stopped by loose or missing planks. When the crew saw he wasn’t advancing they ran out on the jetty and literally carried the pickup to the gangway! Notwithstanding stuffing ourselves on board, in the evenings we would go ashore to feast on huge steaks with fried eggs in the local cafés.

	Geraldton, Western Australia, April 1959.   (l to r): Steve Dallaghan (apprentice), Paddy Crane (AB).	At Sea, bound Suez Canal from Geraldton, Western Australia, April 1959.   The four apprentices (l to r): Andy Dunne, Tony “Clem” Clements (with ship’s cat), Steve Dallaghan and Jimmy Coady.

Cape Town was a short bunker stop but the Mate very kindly allowed the apprentices the time off so we could be taken on a tour of the Cape and surroundings by an Irish priest.

In Madras we were invited to tea at a convent run by Irish nuns. Tea was taken in a room with a high ceiling and open windows at the top. Through these open windows vegetation had come in and through this vegetation ran animals that looked like a cross between a monkey and a squirrel. We were fascinated and kept gaping upwards whereas the nuns, who had seen it all before, were trying to engage us in conversation. When the morning came to sail, some of the crew were found to be missing. The 2^nd Mate was assigned by the Master to search the local brothels for our missing seamen and I was taken along as assistant. In each brothel we visited we got permission to check each room (about the size of cupboards), much to the surprise of the occupants therein - an interesting introduction to the varieties of life (or should I say positions?) for a young apprentice!

Leaving the grain berth at Geelong (a rather rickety old pier), the bridge forgot to tell the 2^nd Mate to let go the last stern line. Consequently when “Ahead” was rung on the telegraph we took a portion of the rotten wooden quay with us.

	At Sea, bound from Geelong to Dublin, Christmas Day 1958.   (from l to r): R/O?, unknown, the Master, Capt. J. Poole, 3rd Mate?, Chief Officer?, unknown, unknown. Kneeling (l to r) three apprentices: Tony “Clem” Clements, Andy Dunne, Jimmy Coady.	At Sea, bound from Geelong to Dublin, Christmas Day 1958.   The four apprentices (l to r): Andy Dunne, unknown, Jimmy Coady, Tony “Clem” Clements.

Honolulu was only a one day bunkering stop on our long trip across the Pacific, but a very welcome one. We had chipped decks all the way across so the Mate, in the kindness of his heart, let us apprentices ashore so it was off to Waikiki beach for a swim!

Shimizu , our port of discharge, was a small port with the town consisting mainly of wooden houses and the women still in their traditional dress. Japan was so cheap in those days that even we apprentices could afford to go ashore and enjoy ourselves!

In those days radar was still something of a novelty and to be approached and used with awe. On the Poplar, with one Master, it could not be used without his permission and had to be switched on and tuned up by the Radio Officer. The Poplar was not fitted with an autopilot but was fitted with a course recorder which, on a sheet of paper like a barograph, traced the course steered. So when you finished your trick at the wheel, first thing you did was have a quick look at what kind of course you had steered. The officer of the watch also checked it and quickly let you know if you were wandering all over the ocean!

 ©Tony Clements 2007

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RECOLLECTIONS OF AN IRISH SHIPPING APPRENTICE – PART 2

 By ©Tony Clements 2007

Irish Blackthorn 1960

 A Summary of Voyages

• From Greenock in ballast to Magnisi, Sicily, and loaded crude for the Rotterdam.
• From Rotterdam in ballast to Magnisi and loaded  crude for Rotterdam.
• From Rotterdam in ballast to Magnisi and loaded  crude for Rotterdam.
• From Rotterdam in ballast to Magnisi and loaded  crude for Rotterdam.
• From Rotterdam in ballast to Curacao, Netherlands Antilles, and loaded diesel for Sweden:  Gothenburg, Halsingborg and Malmo. Then returned via the Kiel Canal in ballast to Rotterdam.
• Loaded diesel in Rotterdam for Denmark: Copenhagen and Aarhus.
• From Aarhus, in ballast to Magnisi and loaded  crude for Rotterdam.
• From Rotterdam sailed in ballast to the Persian Gulf via the Suez Canal. Port of loading was Bandar Mashur, Iran.  I can’t remember what we loaded –crude? Then back via the Suez and Kiel Canals to Tupavouri in Finland.
• From Tupavouri in ballast, through the Kiel Canal, with a stop at Holtenau, through the Suez Canal and once more loaded at Bandar Mashur. Then via the Suez and Kiel Canals to Tupavouri once again.
• From Tupavouri in ballast via the Kiel Canal to Rotterdam where I paid off.

Jimmy Coady and I, together again, joined shortly after she had been handed over by the builders on the Clyde. She was very luxurious – air conditioning and a separate cabin for each apprentice (only two of us) – what opulence! For a month or so we were at anchor on the Tail of the Bank, off Greenock. A television was hired to watch the Wimbledon tennis championships. At the turn of each tide it was the apprentices’ job to slowly turn the aerial to keep the station tuned until the vessel had settled down on her new heading.

	March 1960, At Sea, bound Finland. (l to r): Tony (“Clem”) Clements (Apprentice),  Captain (“Gerra”) Blaney (Master), Jimmy Coady (Apprentice).	(l to r): Tony (“Clem”) Clements, unknown (an engineer?), Jimmy Gorman,  unknown, unknown. August 1959, Magnisi, Sicily.	(l to r): John Bird (Bosun), Peter Hynes (Pumpman), Fennely (Electrician) October 1959, At Sea, North Atlantic, bound Curacao.

Magnisi was situated on the east coast of Sicily, between Syracuse and Catania. There was just a loading berth for tankers. The Sicilian crude we used to load was very thick and had to be constantly heated to remain liquid for pumping. We would sail for Rotterdam with enough bunkers for the main engine, auxiliaries and heating coils. On one voyage we ran into a very strong westerly gale with the typical Mediterranean short, very steep, swell. This cut down our speed considerably with the consequence that we ended up not having enough steam for the heating coils. The cargo became like tar and on arrival at Rotterdam a special steam barge had to be brought alongside to pump steam into us to help in heating up the cargo. It was several days before the cargo was liquid enough for pumping ashore. During the same gale the foc’sle store flooded, the paint drums were all smashed and we were left with all the gear (mooring ropes, etc) covered in a greyish paint.

 Curacao was then, and maybe still is, a vast refining complex. The crude came from Lake Maracaibo, transported on Eagle Oil tankers. The good Dutch burghers of Curacao, to ensure that their wives and daughters were not contaminated by the riff-raff of common seamen, only allowed officers to visit Willemstad. However the riff-raff was looked after with typical Dutch efficiency. In the middle of the island was what had all the appearances of a concentration camp – a central bar area surrounded by hundreds of little wooden huts, the lot enclosed behind barbed wire and patrolled by Dutch police. This was the famous “Happy Valley”.  

Transport there and back was provided by a free bus service, after that you had to pay! Though not much variety in drink at the bar (it was rum or beer), there certainly was a variety of girls, from everywhere in South America and all, again thanks to Dutch efficiency, regularly examined by a doctor. You could get drunk but no fighting was tolerated and the police, with their truncheons, were very quick to enforce this, as some of our crew found out when the Irish fighting spirit got inflamed by rum. 
At Curacao I met an old Irish seaman employed on the Eagle Oil tankers. He had not been back to Ireland since the civil war when he and his brother fought on opposite sides. Could I get a message back to his brother to find out if it was ok for him to return? I could and I did and his brother replied he would shoot him if he ever set foot in the country. Very sad and I often wondered what eventually happened to him.

 We loaded diesel at Curacao. On the return voyage to Sweden, we swabbed the main decks with the cargo – it was very handy for lifting the rust off the decks. It would not be thought very ecological nowadays! Tank cleaning was done with the Butterworth system. But it was not, like nowadays, a fixed system. Then we had to manhandle the hoses and rotating nozzles down through the tank hatches. Did the Blackthorn have slop tanks for the residue or was it over the side? I can’t remember.

 On winter trips to Finland we would wait in the Baltic at the edge of the ice sheet until there were sufficient vessels to form a convoy, with an icebreaker in front. One of the icebreakers was a coal burner, dating from the late 1800s. On one of our trips, it got so cold that this icebreaker, which was leading, got frozen itself in the ice and we had to wait several days before the arrival of a modern, more powerful Russian icebreaker came to extract us and the Finnish icebreaker. Once alongside, the water would quickly freeze over again and before departure an icebreaking tug would range up and down to break enough ice so that we could get off the berth.

Walport films – remember them? The Blackthorn was the first ship I sailed in with them. There were three films (each of 3 or 4 reels packed in cardboard boxes), the lot stowed in a metal box. Most British flag and quite a few Greek owned vessels were Walport ships. In port they could be exchanged via the agent but in other circumstances, such as at an anchorage, it was a case of getting the Aldis lamp out and calling a ship up ( if I remember correctly we had a booklet with the list of Walport ships) to know if a) they wanted to swap their box and b) had we already seen the contents or not. Then either of the ships would lower its jolly boat and the boxes would be swapped and signed for. The films were 16mm and each ship was provided by Walport with a projector and film splicer. Film night was a big event – would the projector work ok, would the splices hold together, etc..? 
On the Blackthorn the cinema was held (if I remember well) in a mess room aft. Everyone would bring their cans of beer and let the show begin. The electrician was the projectionist. One night the Master said too much noise was being made opening beer cans and in future they could only be opened at intermissions, i.e., changing of reels. But at the next performance, while the film was running, a “Pschttt” was heard. The electrician immediately switched on the lights and there was the culprit – the Master! On our voyage to Curacao we got caught in a hurricane but with no cargo were able to ballast ship until she was just nicely balanced for the bad weather. And the hurricane was not allowed to interfere with our film night – the show went on with the electrician and another hanging on to the projector!

16 February 1960, Port Said, Egypt, bound Bandar Ma’Shur
back row: Jimmy Coady, Tony (“Clem”) Clements, Inge Cohen, Paddy Pidgeon, Tom Finnin, Peter Hynes, George Elliot, Phil Doyle-front row: Alfie L’Estrange, Jimmy (“Bags of Brass”) Griffith, Valentino (“Teddy”) Bär, Paddy Foley.

 For reasons unknown (maybe we had been very thirsty), we were a bit short on the drinks when Christmas loomed over the horizon. So to alleviate the shortage, Jimmy Coady and I brewed a batch of “poteen” from raisins and prunes. Well, it was nothing to write home about, even when diluted with fruit juice but it had a kick and went down very well on Christmas day. But the next morning……! 

©Tony Clements 2007

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RECOLLECTIONS OF AN IRISH SHIPPING APPRENTICE – PART 3

©Tony Clements 2007

IRISH MAPLE 

• I joined in Dublin in the spring of 1960 and from there we sailed to Quebec to load grain for the UK : Hull and Newcastle-upon-Tyne . Then to London .
• At London and then Le Havre we loaded general cargo for the US Gulf ports: New Orleans, Houston, Galveston and Brownsville before sailing back to the UK with a mixture of grain and general cargo, part of the latter consisting of military equipment for the US Army in Europe. Our discharge ports in the UK were Liverpool , Manchester , and Glasgow . Then back to Liverpool where I paid off.

In Quebec I went to the dentist to have a tooth pulled and walking back to the ship was in time to join the crowd and have a close-up of General Charles de Gaulle, the French president, who was visiting the town hall. Before the arrival of the general, the principle attraction for the crowd was watching a man laying the red carpet which stretched from the pavement to the town hall steps. The pavement end kept curling up, no matter what he tried. Eventually, to cheers from the spectators, he returned with a tin of glue – problem solved!

In Newcastle we discharged the remaining grain at Ranks flour mill. It took ages, I don’t know why but it gave us the opportunity to find out and appreciate Newcastle Brown (great stuff!) and Newcastle girls (I suppose you are a grandmother now Judy..?). At that time Newcastle-upon-Tyne was one of the most seaman-friendly cities I can remember with great pubs and dance halls.

  In Le Havre we loaded Opel cars (Why load German cars in a French port? Don’t ask me!). The cars were loaded with slings and stowed in the tween decks. Once stowed by the dockers, they had to be minutely examined by the apprentices for any scratches or dents which had to be recorded and the list given to the Chief Mate. On arrival in the States the cars were in turn minutely examined by the receivers and the idea was that no scratches or dents could be blamed on the ship.

	Quebec , April 1960.   (l to r): Apprentices Tony “Clem” Clements, Tom Byrne, Vincent Kenny.	At Sea, June 1960.   The four apprentices, (l to r): Tony “Clem” Clements, Jack.?, Tom Byrne, Vincent Kenny	New Orleans , June 1960.   (l to r): Jack ……..? (apprentice), Vincent Kenny (apprentice), Nick …….? (rank unknown),  Tom Byrne (apprentice). We were on our way for a swim at Lake Pontchartrain , hence the towels.	Liverpool , July 1960.

We were sailing late at night from New Orleans, late because we had waited for a missing crewmember but he still hadn’t shown up. The pilot was on board, the headlines were being slipped and the ship starting to swing out, when the missing man comes running along the quayside and, the bulwark top being level with the dock, makes for the stern to jump on board. “Second Mate” hollers the Master, “Don’t let that man on board!” Then, seeing the stern line still fast and the man getting ready to jump, the Master comes storming off the bridge and down aft “Don’t any of you help him on board – let go that stern line!” and turning to the latecomer tells him “You can join us by bus in Houston!” But he managed to scramble on board and, acknowledging the inevitable and seeing as the ship was now broadside to the river, the Master decided it was time to return to the bridge. And the next day, as was usual in those times, the offender was hauled in front of the Master and logged X number of days pay for the offence.

On the second voyage there was, for reasons I cannot remember, no Chippy signed on so the Mate nominated me as acting Chippy. This suited me fine  – I was on day-work. One dark, misty and wet evening we were feeling our way up the Mersey to Liverpool . As Chippy, I was on standby at the windlass. Over to port I noticed, through the mist, a dredger with anchor chains running out in various directions. Then someone came to the foc’sle to relieve me for a smoko. As I reached the main deck I felt a jar as the ship seemed to lurch. I immediately thought that we had run over one of the dredger’s anchor chains. But then I heard a scraping sound and looking over the port side was just in time to see the stern of a sinking vessel sticking up in the air with rudder and propeller already visible. On the stern was its name and port of registration: Denby Coast , Liverpool . Next there were shouts to man one of our lifeboats to search for survivors and I found myself one of the lifeboat crew. We rowed, or rather levered (as the boat had Flemming propulsion gear) our way round in the darkness and rain until eventually we lost sight of the Maple and everything else and were lost. We could hear foghorns all around us but could see nothing until we bumped into a channel buoy and tied up to it. Just when we were wondering if we should break out the lifeboat rations, lights came through the dark and it was the pilot cutter come to our rescue. We were hauled aboard (I cannot remember what happened to the lifeboat, I suppose they towed it in) and there in the saloon we found the crew of the Denby Coast , rescued by the cutter. The Master, with a scowl on his face when he found out who we were, was sitting barefooted with, around one big toe, the remains of a duckboard. Apparently, on seeing that his ship was sinking, he took off his shoes and rang out on the bridge wing to jump overboard – and on the way got a big toe stuck in a duckboard and had to jump overboard with the whole duckboard. On the pilot cutter they could not free his toe, it would have to be done ashore, so had cut away as much as they could. He was not a happy man. From what I heard later there was no blame attached to the Maple, the Denby Coast had cut across the main channel.

IRISH LARCH

A Summary of Voyages  

• I joined in London in the late summer of 1960. From London to Hamburg and Le Havre to load general cargo (including French wine and champagne) for the US . Our discharge/loading ports in the US were New Orleans , Houston , Galveston , Corpus Christi and Panama City . We sailed for the UK with a mixture of grain and general cargo. Our discharge ports in the UK were Liverpool and Manchester , then back to Liverpool .
• At Liverpool and then Glasgow we loaded general cargo for the US . Our discharge/loading ports were Houston , Galveston , New Orleans , Mobile and Tampa , in which last port we loaded thousands of cases of orange juice. In the UK we visited Liverpool , Manchester , back to Liverpool then north to Glasgow where I paid off.

  When I joined the vessel in London , she was berthed at Surrey docks. She was on charter to Cunard (the funnel was painted in Cunard colours). We were loading general cargo for the States. Among the cargo were shoes. As an idea to prevent pilfering by the dockers, we loaded only the left-footed shoes. But this did not stop the dockers because, as one said to me: “My brother is working on the ship that is loading the right-footed ones.” But the loading didn’t last long as the dockers went on strike. And there we stayed in Surrey docks for nearly six weeks. Of course we quickly ran out of money and had to rely on the generosity of the Irish nurses at the nearby hospital to buy us a pint now and again.  

The ship had just returned from the States and everyone had brought US one cent coins with them. They were for use in the public phones as they were the same size as a sixpenny coin. One day the police visited the ship and all the crew were called to the saloon. There a solemn faced policeman told us he had received a complaint from the Post Office as to how all the public phones nearby, when emptied, had been found to contain mainly US one cent pieces. And we were the only ship in Surrey docks recently returned from the States. Though knowing it was the Larch crew responsible, he had no proof so ended by saying that he hoped there would be no more of this. Which the Master repeated to us afterwards but with, it seemed, a slight smile on his face as I am sure he also had his supply of one cent coins.

	New Orleans , October 1960.   (l to r): Tony “Clem” Clements apprentice, Bob Lawlor (electrician?).			Heavy weather in the North Atlantic , bound UK , November 1960.   (l to r): “Scouser”, John Ryan, Bosun (name unknown) and Jimmy Tallon (outside the entrance to the apprentices’ accommodation).	Heavy weather in the North Atlantic , bound UK , November 1960.  Checking the lashings on a deck cargo of empty bourbon barrels. They were for use by the  Scottish whisky industry.

Eventually Cunard ordered us to sail to Hamburg . The day after we left, the strike ended but we continued to Hamburg . In Hamburg at that time (maybe still now?) on a Sunday morning at the docks would be held a banana auction. All bananas recently unloaded and that were not fit for the shops were auctioned in public. For very little one could buy a huge bunch of bananas. As they were mostly the overripe bunches they sold, you had to eat them pretty quickly so for the next day or so it was a banana diet.

  In Glasgow we loaded Scotch whisky for the States. This being in pre-container days, the cases (cardboard cartons) were loaded direct into the holds – thousands upon thousands of cases of all different makes of whisky. The temptation was too much, of course, for the Glasgow dockers, and by the end of the day they would just be able to stagger down the gangway. We apprentices were in the holds supposedly to check that no cases were broken into but who were we to argue with big, beefy, drunken Glasgow dockers…

  One of our favourite haunts in Liverpool at that time was the Cavern. There was a band for late-night dancing when the pubs closed and we could meet Irish nurses. Many years later someone who had been with me at that time asked:

“Do you remember the members of bands that played in the Cavern at that time?”

“No - because I was looking at the nurses and not the band. Why do you ask?”

“Because some of them were the future Beatles.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What a surprise to see the photos of the trip around the world on this vessel. I was 4th. eng. for 13 months and remember "Noreen Bawn" Eddie Duffy, Cadet Peter and many others. Sorry to read Jimmy was lost at sea as I remember his face quite well. The Doxford ran the 27 days without a problem from Panama to Japan, and I recall the heat aboard a ship built for the Atlantic and serving in the tropics. How ever it was a good training for my future at sea as an engineer. Where have all the crew gone? as the song goes"  

Larry Flood.-- March 2008

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IRISH POPLAR  

A Summary of Voyages  

• For my second period in this vessel, I joined at Rushbrooke in the spring of 1961. We sailed for Dublin then across the North Atlantic to Canada . Our first port was Sorel , then Montreal . Continuing upriver we entered the St. Lawrence Seaway and across the Great Lakes to load grain at Port Alfred. Back through the St. Lawrence Seaway and across the pond to our discharge ports in Ireland : Dublin,Waterford and Cork .

• From Cork it was back across the North Atlantic to Canada, through the St. Lawrence Seaway again, across the Great Lakes to load grain at Port Arthur and Fort William . Having loaded grain in both ports, back across the Great Lakes , through the St. Lawrence Seaway and a stop at Montreal . From Montreal we sailed to Cork where I left the vessel.

I returned to the Poplar for two trips to the Great Lakes . Concerning the St. Lawrence Seaway I  don’t know if they still do it now (maybe it is considered an “unsafe practice”) but at that time there were no shoreside mooring gangs when one tied up for the night or while waiting one’s turn in a lock. Instead each vessel had a long-armed davit for’d with a block though which a rope passed attached to a bosun’s chair. On approaching the berth whoever was designated to take the lines ashore was swung out over the side and lowered to the quay. Great fun!

	The grain berth, Lakehead, Thunder Bay ,  Lake Superior , May 1961. At the berth on the other side of the elevator, the “Irish Oak” was loading!		Welland Canal St.Lawrence Seaway, May 1961 A study in baggy trousers! The Master Capt. Simms  (on the right) with the two pilots.

On return to Cork after the second voyage myself and another apprentice jumped ship. We didn’t jump because we were not happy on board or fed up with the sea, no, it was just one of those impulsive actions of youth. My fellow jumper didn’t go back to sea but ended up joining the Rhodesian police. Last I heard from him was when I received a photo, showing him on horseback somewhere in the African bush! I often wonder where he is now – Greg White from Carricktoole (actually he was from Cobh , Carricktoole being part of his nickname), where are you? His father was a commander in the Irish Naval Services. I still have a book on seamanship he gave me.

©Tony Clements 2007

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

IRISH PINE  1961

A Summary of Voyages  

• I joined in Liverpool in the autumn of 1961, from where we sailed to Glasgow before crossing the North Atlantic to Montreal. From Montreal we passed through the St. Lawrence Seaway and across the Great Lakes to Port Arthur and Fort William to load grain. On the way back a stop at Toronto before entering the St. Lawrence Seaway then a call at Montreal and Three Rivers before sailing for Ireland. Our discharge ports were Dublin and Limerick.
• Having discharged the last of our grain at Limerick it was back across the North Atlantic to  Newport News, Virginia where we loaded grain and tobacco for Dublin and Cork. And at Cork I paid off.

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!  

						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 2nd. Mates and thereafter sailed under foreign flags.
	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

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!  

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.

© A. Clements 2007

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Reflections on my time in Irish Shipping Ltd.

© A. Clements 2007

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.

I could see nothing. “Er, excuse me sir, but I can’t see anything.”

“All right, we shall try again” and with that he activates the lever again.

I still couldn’t see anything “Sir, I still can’t see anything.”

“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.  

© A. Clements 2007

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The Last Trip of the S.T.S Irish Hawthorn
©Edward Griffin 2007

 We signed on in Nyborg on 13 August 1965 in the north of Denmark and signed off on 27 November 1965 in Hamburg . The Captain was H.Onion a pleasant man with an easy character. The name of the Consul General of Ireland was Aiden Molloy as per his signature. The flight out was something to remember, fog covered the western coast of Europe preventing commercial flights from Dublin, we being on a chartered flight had to leave, the crew of the tanker had to be relieved and she had to sail to her new charter. The plane was not able to land in the scheduled airport and was diverted to a disused military airport some distance away, memory of exact location evades me. The pilot was a New Zealander, winding his way around to the location of landing actually looking for the runway I can still see in my mind's eye a farmer and his wife running out of their house to look up at us as we flew over their house looking for the runway, because we were flying so low. Anyway, we found it, not with out a few scares and a lot of cheering while still airborne, on landing the pilot came out of the cockpit and asked us "did that scare you fellows" to a retort in a Dublin accent "no sir, did it scare you". 

Two Danish emigration officials had been brought to the airport to meet us and to stamp our passports. A bus waited for us to take us to the Hawthorn and to take away the crew we were relieving, one of the junior engineers did not have a replacement, as far as I can recall he took it upon himself to leave anyway, not on the bus, but soon after. There I was, my second ship, after three months on the Maple second to Paddy Coffey (leckie). I took over the electricians workshop on the Hawthorn from Tony Richards from Waterford , I knew Tony well being a Waterford man myself. The Hawthorn was due to be sold to the Greeks to carry grain when the charter was finished, she was not in a good condition, the fresh water pump flat had flooded, John Dunn (leckie) came out to me to help get her right, thanks to John he was a great help to me, extra engineers were brought out to assist. Harry Dowdoll was the C/E, Jim Lyons 2/E, Tony Hall 3/E Sammy McGarry 4/E John Lee, J.P Ward, and Paudie Byrne from Wexford, others I cannot recall were Juniors. John lee spent a few days in hospital in Ventspils due to a slip in the engine room, he also fitted a set of shell bearings to the windlass, I can still recall him measuring with his micrometer shaping the bearings. A steam driven windlass and warping winch. There is a 2/E called Louis (Christian name) also known as the 'milk bottle' because he never went bronzie not a bit of sun on him, he left her in the Kiel canal to get married?. Donal Burke was 2/E at a later stage. Peter Otter was aboard for a short period.

	Paudie Byrne, engineer apprentice on the port side aft deck of the Hawthorn  outside the electricians and 4thengineers accommodation	The Hawthorn tied up alongside a Niarkas tanker at Emden.

The charter was from Ventspils in Latvia to Brunsbuttlekoog in Germany . The Hawthorn had a monotonous habit of losing the vacuum and that she done in a magnificent manner going through the Kiel canal one Sunday afternoon while the Germans were sitting in their deck chairs `watching the ships go by' we lost vacuum and went aground in the canal, we didn't do any damage to her we were going too slow. The first trip to Ventspils was not through the Kiel, I think we may have been a bit early for the charter to begin so we went north of Denmark and out into the Baltic. Jim Corrigan, who I met last Voyage of Memories brought back of few facts to me, he and I took it in hand to move the port side vacuum pump motor across to the starboard pump and get things going right again, now the reason being is the port side vacuum pump impellor was out of order and now the starboard motor had gone down hence the pulling and lumping on the manoeuwing flat of motors and men, those D.C. motors were heavy and bulky, full of copper and laminated electrical rated steel. Jim had to do an extra watch after that, much to his annoyance, we were all very tired and doing long hours, Jim was prescribed a set of contact lenses by an optician in Germany , they were new to us then and we did not really understand what they were.

The donkey boiler had not worked for a long time, getting it into shape was an experience. Eddie Fricker was the Chief Stewart on signing on, Tom Ford came aboard at a later date and saw the charter through. The galley stove wiring started to break down on us one day, John and myself tackled the problem over a period of nights, the wiring had short circuited due to water getting in to the cable duct over the years, talk about porcelain connectors and insulating tape, I hope it lasted for the Greeks. We had a super heater fire going out into the North Sea one night, just as well we were clear of the canal, as far as I can recall Harry Dowdoll shut in the fires for a while and that done the trick. Tom Wren was aboard as 3/E for a while. Loading and sailing from Ventspills was as follows

 The Kiel canal was always a stand-by situation and caused a lot of sleepless nights for every body. Michael waters, a 3rd engineer from Wexford done the whole charter with us.

The Super of cargo was a German fellow who never really made friends with any body, all he done was eat and drink both to excess. The Cape Verde Islands made up a lot of the engine room and deck crew one of their names stays in my mind, it was Jesus Lopez, also known as snake hips. Going ashore in Ventspils was not easy, being the time of the Soviet occupation of the Baltic States and not too long after the Cuban crisis and the Berlin wall did not help, however we devised our ways of discovering when the Soviet soldiers guarding the gang way were in searching mode or not, our seaman's book was taken from us on going ashore and returned to us on boarding, a curfew was put on us at one stage because some of our fellows would leave it very late to return, hence the curfew.

Tanker man on the deck of the Hawthorn, he is a Dublin man; can anybody name him.

Howard Fiddler was the Mate, a no nonsense type of man, preferred the smaller ships he said to me, less people to deal with.

The seaman’s mission in Ventspils was the `Star of the Baltic', not a long way from the tanker terminal, the terminal itself was closely guarded, going through a military guard hut to get out of the terminal with your recent pass in your possession to be produced on demand exiting and entering or at any time required. Sammy McGarry 4th Engineer had a habit of mislaying his pass, one night he fell into a flower garden much to the annoyance of the owner. The bridge to engine room telephone system had broken down to the extent that we could take a call from the bridge but they could not hear us, we developed a system of communication that we would give two rings on the telephone bell to say we had picked it up and three rings to say that we got the message. The telephone cable had gone down and there was no point in trying to repair it or replace it under the circumstances, there was far too many pressing jobs to complete. The generators were turbine driven and generated 200 and 110 volts D.C. in tandem. The laundry was in a state of non existence, this was situated aft of the engineers accommodation on the port side there were two indication lights wired to outside the leckies door on the bulkhead opposite to indicate if the laundry was left running. There were two photographs of the damage done to the super heaters following a fire at a previous time hanging on the bulkhead of the alleyway under those two laundry lights. The engineer apprentice accommodation was the most aft of all. Just inside the engine room door the two forced draught fans were situated, the soot blowers were a source of annoyance to keep going. I wound up rigging up a circuit to keep them operational. A port and starboard boiler with four fires to each unit ( heat exchangers) to generate 4501bs sq" super heated steam, a steam/steam generator centre of the engine room and above the manoeuvring flat. The diesel generator sat out on it's own, I cannot recall the exact location.

There was a 3rd engineer by the name of Eddie Moore aboard he later died at sea with a U.K. company, his death was recorded on the Signal.

Every time Eddie Moore blew the tubes on his watch we would begin to lose the head of steam much to Harry Dowdall's annoyance. Carbontetrochloride was deemed a banned substance for fighting fire in or around that time, due to the deadly gas given off when it hit a flame, a very effective way of putting out a fire mind you. The engine room had them hanging in relevant areas, they were a small copper unit hanging upside down as it were with a pump handle on them.

J.P.Ward and myself were coming aboard one night with hats we had bought on the black market in the town when the gangway watch searched us, now J.P. being built like a bean pole and I with a bit of weight on me the watch on the gangway saw that he was concealing some thing under his coat and was duly taken away, they didn't bother me and I ran like hell into the accommodation to tell every body that J.P, was taken away, a while later in he comes less his hat and feeling very relieved, there was a piano and a tape deck in the smoke room, J.P. played the piano at his leisure. The tape deck had seen better days and was just a mass of broken tapes.

Photographs were out of the question, there is something running through my mind that some of the crew brought their cameras ashore towards the end of the charter and were made empty the films out at the end of the gangway. Brunsbuttlekoog was not always the port of discharge there was Bremen and Emden too. Faddy Byrne 2nd mate played a mandolin to his enjoyment, many an off watch hour we spent listening to him. He told me the mandolin belonged to his father.

The Radio Officer (sparks) was from Drumcondra, Walsh was his name he insisted on being addressed as Breathnach, a good singer and balladeer.

Smoking was absolutely prohibited forward of the funnel, with stories going round that even if you had a cigarette or lighter or match in your possession forward of the funnel a stiff penalty was the result. Three superintendents were aboard from time to time getting her into shape, Charlie Devlin, Murphy (the quiet man" and one other I cannot name. The senior superintendent ( Hamilton) came aboard towards dry dock time. 'the engine room emergency lighting batteries were leaking, badly corroded through with acid, I made an attempt to get them into some kind of working order to pass a visual test by the Greeks, that worked, how it did so boils down to the fact that the test was not thorough, just a minute or two for the new owners to see that the emergency lighting came on.

Getting earth faults off the board for loading and discharging was always a problem, earth faults every day; the galley was always a favourite and the engine room.

Looking for vacuum leaks in the engine room was an ongoing thing with the engineers. The stewards and cooks I cannot recall, there was an electric water boiler bolted to the deck in the galley that had run dry of water and had burned the elements outright causing the copper to warp. The element was situated directly under the cylinder, John Dunn looked at it when came aboard, he said to me that there was no point in trying to repair it as I was doing, that a repair would be too uncertain so we got a new base and element and successfully fitted it. The cook and second cook and baker were getting a bit annoyed over the state of the galley. The cook was a temperamental fellow, always a good idea to give him a wide berth. The galley was his domain and he let you know that.

The Hawthorn was a `H Class' Tanker, the meaning of the classification is unclear to me, the ship builders number was CJ.N. 400193, G.T. 12168.05, N.T. 7024.54, S.H.P. 7500, registered in Dublin . Can anybody recall the radio call ( E.LS.Q./ E.L5.X.)? please. There was an engine room access to the forward of the engine room at deck level on the starboard side, the story runs that a sea had come through there at one stage and caused damage in the engine room, keeping this access closed at all times was a must. I still have the note book that John and myself kept our records of motors, bearing sizes, condition of this or that motor or that such and such was put on order. Sometimes the hawthorn looked big tied up at Brunsbuttlekoog, taken in the context of the super tankers that were coming on stream she was like a bunkering barge when tied up next to one of them. Onassis and Niarkas had their fleet of tankers then. There was a collision with a Canal Boat while going through the Kiel, you know the type of boat with low accommodation to get under bridges and a family on board, there was no damage to us or them for that matter but it did make a small column on the Irish Press as was the news when I got home in December.

We met the Stafford 's of Wexford’s “Manapia” in the canal, much to the delight of the Wexford men aboard shouting and waving at each other saying ``say hallo to that fellow or this fellow". The stories went on about the light house men and the light ship men from the Wexford area, questioning their state of sanity after their term on a 'rock'. There was always a good humor aboard to a lesser or greater extent depending on what was going on.

The starboard generator required to be started at ore stage, the pedestal bearing on the extreme end of the 110 volt set ran dry of oil causing the bearing to seize much to annoyance of Charlie Devlin. One night after coming back on board in Ventspiis Charlie Devlin got the notion that we should `turn to' and do a little before we turned in, Harry Dowdoll made a case against it and we all got a nights sleep.

A bit of German was picked up by all, it fell in handy as time went on. Looking back on it, going into the dry dock was like going to a wake, the fleet was made up of 21 ships then, a lot of good learning and life skills were picked up, it taught you to stand on your own two feet and how to get on with people in a confined condition for a long period of time.

A steam turbine engine room was a pleasure to work in, steam has a character all of it's own, becoming economically not viable, it bowed out to motor engines. The last time we sailed from Ventspils the diaphragm on the ships air horn stuck and there we were leaving the tanker berth and this thing sounding away, we had to shut off the air supply to it listening to it dying away ever so slowly. The ship went straight to dry dock then and the job of releasing the stuck diaphragm had to be tackled.

The port side life boat on the aft accommodation was almost directly over the sea water circulating discharge, the C/E had us warned that if we had to get out of her in a hurry that it was imperative that the circulating pump was shut down using the emergency stop that was provided for that purpose otherwise that life boat would swamp.

The German army had been reinstated circa 1960, to those who are not familiar with that, after W.W.2 the German army was stood down,. The Allied powers were in Germany then with the Russians in East Germany . Berlin was divided into a number of sectors, American, British and French. Anyway, enough of that stuff, the reason I bring up the German army is to recall the regular military manoeuvres being carried out on the canal, an ideal place for them, we took every opportunity to watch them, The German army had been reinstated because of the threat, real or imaginary, from the Soviet Union, by the Allied powers.  

Those were the days when Irish Shipping carried full crews of 40 or so men of all ranks, when good seamanship and good engineering were the practice of the day, maybe we saw the last years of real seagoing when the sextant and the stars were the only means of navigation, when GM.T., sent out by Morse code, was set by the radio officer an the ship's chronometer tucked away in the wheel house or chart room cradled in cotton wool to prevent damage, when the fourth engineer done the chiefs' watch and the chief himself done his tour of duty on that watch. The leckie stood by the telegraph and recorded the movements so that if he was required in any other part of the ship it was known where to find him. The stewards rattled the gong for meal times, the telegraph and horn were checked at midday , the hours were rang out on the bridge bell. The electrician paid attention to the main board every Saturday afternoon keeping it clear of conductive material that might be picked up. The Captain and Chief Engineer done their Sunday morning inspection. The order of rank was recognised.

The railways in Latvia were steam driven, huge engines, oil burners, built for long Continental journeys., always a sight to see. There was a bus from the tanker berth to the town at regular intervals we used the bus to get us there and back, no fare required mind you. Engine room wise the hawthorn was a very interesting ship, several levels of plating and the bottom plating housed the discharge pumps, always 'Jumping off the board" on the engineers, listening to Sammy McGarry and Harry Dowdoll getting on about them was a penance. The donkey boiler was situated astern of the two main boilers, it had not been used for a long time, there really was not a reason to do so because the tanker never spent that much time in dry dock for it to be used hence the condition of the engine room. Harry Dowdoll wanted it going, the boiler fuel oil pump motor was in a bad state the brush gear had been taken out at a previous date, I found it under the leckies work bench and got it up and running. The Gyro Compass packed up early into the charter, the R/O made his arrangements to have it repaired.  

Jim Corrigan came aboard one night on the Kiel Canal after flying out from Dublin accompanied by Michael Kennedy, a lock operator gave them shelter in his operating station and young men being young men they were having a bit of good humored banter between them, the lock operator thought they were laughing at him and he threw them out into the cold, they were absolutely frozen with cold coming aboard. I Think they were waiting hours for us to arrive. Salaries had not yet been set, Sunday at sea was an extra, weekends in dry dock were also extra; coming to think of it set salaries were not a good idea, think of the amount of time worked going through the Welland canal and up into the lakes. The fire pumps had a problem building a head of water, in fact the head of water did not reach the forced draught flat, if there was a fire above that level well, it was all over and done for. The sanitary pumps also had a problem with head pressure managing to reach the wash basins and toilets, after much coaxing and bleeding of air we would last for a day or two more.

The dry dock was misery in itself, the conditions were less than scarce, no heating was the main problem and it just got to you as the days went by. The usual skeleton crew were left on board for the dry docking period, the German customs were on board haunting us, peeping and enquiring, you would think we were going to run away with half of Germany on them. Tom Ford gave me a lecture during that period, I had stashed away a few packets of cigarettes and the customs found them, Tom called me to the find to meet these two customs men and he began to read the riot act to me in front of the two custom fellows. Eventually they being satisfied that the haul was not significant enough ( four packets) and that I had been well told off and having to say sorry to them and forfeit the cigarettes they went away, Tom saying to me " you were lucky there boy, you don't fool with these fellows, and don't ever do that on me again". Tom Ford was a heavily built man, always ready with a bit of advice or direction for you, never a bum steer .

The last "hurrah". The break up farewell of the Hawthorn. 
L to R Deck apprentice (probably 4^h mate), Harry Dowdoll, Eddie Griffin, Donal Burke, 
Deck Apprentice, 3`^d mate, Paddy Byrne, Howard Fiddler. Breathnach. (sparks)

John Dunn left some time in September to continue the shore leave he had interrupted to come to the Hawthorn, later on John and myself met again while changing places between the Poplar and the Spruce on the east coast of America . 

The people I met with Irish Shipping were in general good humoured, there will always be the odd one out, after all was not Lucifer thrown out of heaven, or so the testaments tell us. Life is not always a bed of roses. 

The demise of LS.L. was indeed disgusting, an Island Nation without a shipping line is something you would expect to read about in Hans Christian Andersons fairy tales, this fairy, tale had no good ending. The moulding of young men into good careers, the competent seamen all gone into history, the likes will not be seen again, to cause the men of the line to march along O'Connell Street dressed in their uniforms and stand outside the G P.O. to make their case was an insult, certainly to the men who braved the German U-Boats to feed the Country, and to build up the line, as we know their neutrality was not always recognised.

©Edward Griffin 2007,  electrician, ex- Irish Maple, Hawthorn, Alder, Spruce, Poplar, larch, Plane, Cedar, Sycamore.

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Eddie Duffy 2007

Irish Pine / Irish Larch / Irish Poplar 1950's 

I joined the company in 1953 after a stint in the Kinsale Hd SS Guinness,  F. T. Everard, B.T. Tanker, and the Pacific Steam Navigation Co. While on leave I was asked to join the Irish Seaman's and port workers union and a week later I was signing on the Irish Pine. I got a berth and signed on as E.D.H. signing on the same day (19\11\53) with my father and my brother, which lasted for over 3 years or 48 trips across the pond in all weathers and never a Christmas at home. 

But the good people of St John's New Brunswick or Halifax always looked after us. The deck crew remained much the same for those years and now at 74 the memories are great to look back on, we are all about the same age those of us that are left and we haven’t forgotten those that are gone.
I guess I could have done another 3 years in her had the Captain not made a silly remark about our homes having found nothing to complain about on Sunday inspection. It been a beautiful sunny Atlantic morning with all the deck hands making the best of the sunshine, our Captain found one cigarette butt in the deck scuppers and he lost it completely. All the deck hands gave notice that they wouldn't be signing on next trip- that was on the 20/7/56 .

	Eddie Duffy 1956	Irish Pine 1956

I stayed ashore and got engaged to my girl friend with a promise to give up the sea when we married and saying good bye to her on 9/10/56 to join the Irish Larch at West Hartlepool for her maiden voyage little did I know that I would not see her again till a year later on the 3/10/57.  Things did not work out as we had planed and I rejoined the Larch on the 15/10/57 on charter to Cunard carrying cars and Scotch Whiskey for the States, returning to Liverpool on the 24/12/57in time to catch the B+ I to Dublin even got midnight mass onboard.

I was to rejoin her after Christmas but could not go back because of the inter union dispute. I was paid off on the 3/1/58 , battened down for a couple of months and I wondered if I was ever going to get married but the dispute collapsed. I joined the Irish Poplar on the 13/3/58 at Manchester bound for Houston but she developed engine trouble with damaged turbine fins we were adrift for a few days which was reported in the Irish Press of that time.

		Tommy Byrne (Bosun) from Wicklow about to take a plunge in the Pool on the Irish Larch	Some crew at Beach Candy (Included are-Sainte Byrne, Sunny Byrne and Chippy Purdy)	Irish larch

We were towed to Port Everglades till repairs could be carried out , during our time there we were able to welcome aboard our gold medal winner from the Melbourne Olympics Ronny Delaney.

After repairs we carried on to Houston and loaded grain for Chittagong, we called into Gibraltar but very little grub came on board and by the time we got to the canal and into the red sea things were getting lean and so were the crew. There were weevils in the cereals and in the flour. We did get oranges but these were always as dry as the Sahara till it was found that the 2nd steward was using a syringe and needle to extract the juices for the captain's breakfast table. I might add that he had his wife and two small children onboard and the poor children were eating nothing anyway.

Discharged cargo Chittagong sailed and for Albany Western Australia where we truly stored up and we dined on the best. We had onboard a second cook and baker whose bread and cakes were a joy to eat. Just before we sailed there was a fire in the galley, thankfully no one was hurt only smoke damage, so we loaded grain for London and Newcastle calling at Cape town and Dakar then homeward bound.

All things being equal it was a good trip with a sing song most nights at sea and on two bottles of beer at that, and a great and happy bunch of lads, sadly it ended tragically when we lost a man when he fell into dock in London, he had only gone ashore to make a phone call home .

After discharging part cargo we sailed for Newcastle where we paid off on 22/8/58 not much time to prepare for a wedding that was to take place on the 3/9/58 and one of my shipmates married on the same day. We tied the knot on the same day; I haven't seen Johnny in years. I gave up deep sea and joined the Irish Lights Granuaile on the 18/10/58 . I served till 23/8/83 .

Irish Lights vessel Geanuaile 1960s

M. Kelly (Bosun), E. Duffy (AB), E. Ferry (chippy)

The trip on the Irish Poplar is identical to that which Tony Clements writes about.

Photo from Tony Clements

Her master for the trip when I sailed in her was Captain E.C Horne and as the picture shows her been towed into Port Everglades, I am sure Tony and I were shipmates.

Eddie Duffy the guy who caught the shark while we were drifting.

©Eddie Duffy April 2007

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Irish Elm Maiden Voyage 1968 
By ©J. Kennedy  

On the clear sunny winter's morning of January 8th, we boarded a Viscount at Dublin Airport and flew to Rotterdam to join the new addition to the fleet—the "Irish Elm". How­ever there was snow on the ground as we disembarked from the coach that had taken us from the Airport to Verolme Dockyard, Botlek. The leviathan "Elm" towered over us as we first beheld her floating majestically in the dock, her deck seemed to stretch inter­minably forward bereft of derricks or rigging. She had arrived that morning after her three day passage and sea trials from Cobh . She was to spend about two weeks in the dockyard being completed, cranes being fitted on deck and various improvements and modifications carried out.

Botlek is a £3 taxi ride from Rotterdam and so we had a relatively quiet time. Ashore one fateful Saturday night, it rained and com­pletely froze over, bringing traffic to a stand­still—result : —£5 in a taxi back ! However, by the end of the fortnight all hands had be­come somewhat more accustomed to their surroundings and began to settle in.

We sailed on the cold bleak foggy morning of January 20th, a grey-black pall of smoke hung over the refinery where a disastrous ex­plosion had occurred in the early hours. We made our way downriver on the first leg of our maiden voyage (for those of us that had joined in Rotterdam , it was our first experience of the "Elm" under way) but only to anchor two miles off the Maas entrance, fogbound ! There we remained for three more days sur­rounded by countless other vessels—so bad was the fog that the Pilot and Tug services were suspended for the duration.

However, it so came to pass that on the 23rd, the haze lifted somewhat and we quietly slipped away and down the Channel. Off Dover it was completely cleared away and so we proceeded onwards at a fair speed, south­ward bound to warmer climates ! Our des­tination was Pepel in Sierra Leone , where we were to load our first cargo, iron ore, for Rotterdam .  

ALL MOD. CON.

The "Irish Elm", call sign EIWT, port of registry Cork , is a bulk carrier. She has an overall length of 632' and a molded breadth of 92', she is 22,186 tons gross and 14,157 tons nett, the largest vessel constructed in the Irish Republic and the largest of Irish Shipp­ing's Fleet. The accommodation is all aft and on her lengthy foredeck are seven hatches, also four cranes (8 ton S.W.L.) and self-ten­sioning winches—two forward, two aft, and one amidships.

The bridge displays a formidable array of navigational equipment — Arkas Automatic Steering, Decca Navigator, Sal Log, Course recorder, Marconi Raymarc True-Motion Radar, Automatic D/F., Echo Sounder, 28 Channel V.H.F., Bridge Control for the Main Engine, Automatic Telegraph Printer, Auto- phone for Foc'stle and Poop, push button Crew-call system, Sound-Powered Telephone system throughout the ship and switchboard for all navigation and deck lights.

In the engine room, the air-conditioned, sound-proof, insulated, centralized Control Room, with it's Main Control Console, Data Logger Printer and Remote-Control Panel with multitudinous multi-colored flashing lights and buttons, is like something one en­counters in a science-fiction novel!

On deck we no longer have AB's, in the engine room we no longer have DG's, what we now have are GP’s! The correct title is GPR, General Purpose Rating, a new form of manning causing both departments to work in closer harmony.

Conditions for personnel aboard are first class—the accommodation is very comfortable and the cuisine, sorry—grub, is good! When off duty, one's leisure hours can be quite pleasantly spent—we have facilities for showing films, a library, to which we are gradually adding by imposing a levy on all hands in each port for the purchasing of more literature and two bars which are a great success. Var­ious individuals take turns behind the bar un­til such time as we can acquire barmaids! Of course the ultimate is the sky-blue swimming pool on the boat deck.

What luxury, in the lower latitudes, when feeling a little "clammy" after four hours on watch, to just plunge into the 65 degrees Fahrenheit pool salt water and soak for half an hour—the 2nd Mate was first in, of course.

We have a Welfare Committee, with repre­sentatives chosen from each department on the board, which meets regularly to discuss matters pertaining to social and sporting activities, complaints and suggestions and any other matters relating to the general welfare of the ship or crew. There is a darts competition constantly in progress, in which a great interest is taken, the 2nd Mate; he again, reached the final only to be ignominiously beaten by a Junior Engineer who carried off the thirst- quenching spoils of victory! Preparations are being made for the organization and training of a football team, unfortunately the "pool" is not spacious enough for water-polo.

PEPEL

And so after a passage of nine days we arrived off Freetown , entered the Harbor, picked up the Pilot and proceeded upriver to Pepel. Pepel consists of a loading gantry around the base of which is clustered one village. For the duration of our stay we had several small craft in attendance in the form of dug-out canoes laden with fruits and other objects and manned by sinister, half-clad, dark salesmen! Some rather odd souvenirs were purchased on a "changey for changey" basis by various individuals aboard.

If one removed the ship and gantry, the scene would probably be exactly as it was when Livingstone, or whoever the good gentle­man was, first set his eyes on the place. A broad deep-flowing, mud-coloured, turgid river bordered on both sides by dense tropical jungle that suffered but an occasional clearance where stood a native village with leaf-huts and canoes drawn up on the alluvial bank.

And so, having loaded our cargo-35,400 tons—in roughly 24 hours, all hands aboard and the ship ready for sea, we sailed from Pepel, heading north once again to the cold. Off Cape St. Vincent the " Alder " and " Cedar " were quite close, the former heading down around the Cape for East African ports, the latter on her way to Dublin . As we ventured farther north the weather grew pro­gressively colder, thereby curtailing our enjoy­ment of the delight of the " pool."

We arrived and berthed with the assistance of five tugs at Vlaardingen Ore Berth on Tuesday, February 13th, and no sooner had we tied up than discharging had begun with the overhead grabs plunging into the depths of the holds and emerging with their massive jaws full to their 16 ton capacity which they yielded to the barges alongside offshore. We discharged the complete cargo in under 30 hours and began to realize the difference be­tween general cargo " jobs " and the bulk carriers.  

TO NEW ORLEANS

We left Rotterdam on Thursday, February 15th, in the very early hours of the morning bound for the Gulf of Mexico , port un­specified. From the English Channel we steered a great circle course to the Azores and from thence towards the Bahamas . The weather during the latter state was " rough " which made us appreciate the calm after the storm all the more—the ship did not behave too badly considering it was her baptism of fire.

Passing through the Bahamas, long de­serted stretches of yellow sandy beaches could be clearly seen from the bridge, but try as we might, not a single comely inhabitant could we discern—must be " off-season." We then made our way down round the coast of the sunshine state and across the Gulf to the mouth of that mighty, also deep-flowing, mud-coloured, etc., river—the Mississippi .

We dropped " the hook " in the quarantine anchorage just below New Orleans and having been cleared shifted back to the general anchorage to await our turn to proceed to the berth. We are to load a cargo of grain for —once again— Rotterdam .

At present we are lying quietly to both anchors with the weather fine and sunny, the river bustling with the usual noisy traffic scurrying up and down. To-day, half the Canadian fleet passed up (well, a carrier and six frigates!). The captain was made a citizen of and received the keys of the city. Two television sets arrived on board and all hands are re-reading their mail, those who received none complaining of inefficient agents, etc. There is a lunch ashore to-morrow and top of the list of items to be tended to are: a change of films, purchase $30 worth of paperbacks and two rubber footballs for playing in one of the spacious lower holds.

And so we leave the “Irish Elm “as she patiently bides her time resting after her longest passage yet. There is an air of dignity about her, as there should be of a vessel of her class, and she seems to appear slightly disdain­ful at having to consort with such company as a rather scruffy looking Greek tramp anchored ahead and a puny sized 15,000 tons Liberian tanker astern—a "proper lady" is she!

©J. Kennedy

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Manchester memories and men of great character

©John Kelly 2009

My name is John Kelly , I sailed on board the Irish Poplar  1967 -68 as Electrical.Engineer,  and on board the Irish Cedar 1969 - 1970.

Some times I look back at those few years that I spent at sea ,and I think they may have been the best years of my life.

Perhaps it was the spirit of youth , but I think there was something more than just the enthusiasm and vigour of youth. There seemed to prevail amoungst those who sailed the seas at that time –an adventurous nature, but mostly I found a great spirit of  camaraderie . I think it was the last years of real adventure, before the world changed. Travel became so easy – the world opened up and TV became reality. Before that we could only  read in books or heard about far flung places on radio or film.

I joined the Irish Poplar in Dublin about November of 1967, as a junior Electrical Engineer. A chap called Mick O’Regan was the Senior Electrical Engineer, and his remit was to bring me up to speed on what was expected of me as a seafarer and ship’s engineer.  We sailed from Dublin to Manchester, where we picked up cargo for the East coast of America.   I cant remember exactly how long we were in Manchester – I suspect one or two weeks, loading dry cargo and from there we sailed  for the United States of America. It was my first time away from home, I do not remember my first crossing of the Atlantic,  but I do remember that we docked in Brooklyn New York just before Christmas of that year, and I spent my first Christmas away from home in NewYork  -- I loved it.

During my time on the Poplar, I remember sailing with  Sammy McGarry , Jim Fahey ,  Paudy Cullen, Tony Bolster, Derry O Rourke and Billy Matthews,  and many others , all men of great character and integrity.     

I think Johnny Poole was master on my first voyage, rumoured to be an Irish Quaker, and certainly a gentleman.    Jack Johnson was Chief Engineer -- a Manchester man  who had sailed as an engineer on the Atlantic Convoy ships during the war, during one of these voyages his ship was sunk , and it was rumoured that Jack had been held prisoner of War for some years,  during these latter years of the war.

Jack had a ferocious temper - if upset, and would sometimes retreat to his quarters to play the music of Wagner loudly until he had calmed down. This, Jack’s love of Wagner, we always attributed to his time spent as prisoner of war in Germany.  Jack had a wild streak in him, and under normal circumstances was the finest of company, regaling us with tales of his exploits during years spend at sea. He also had a generious side and I remember when we engineers (including the Lecky) had completed  a job of work which sometimes meant working -- flat out – in difficult circumstances and conditions for long hours. No air-conditioning at that time -- just forced draft fans pumping air down to the engine room, which was always warm by virtue of the fact that the engine inevitability created heat in itself.  

This could at times, in warmer climates, be difficult to bear.    Jack at times like that, when the task was complete, would slip a couple of cases of beer down to the “Smoko“  for the lads. The :Smoko“ being the little cabin just on top of the stairs as you came out of the engine room, where we had our breaks for coffee and and a smoke . Almost everyone in those days smoked, fags were cheap on board, and no one knew or cared that they might be (as we know today) so bad for you.

 These were the times when we all pulled together, everyone, whether on shift or off shift, juniors ,donkeymen, seniors, the lot ,we would all muck in to get the job finished, so that the ship was ready to sail and continue on its allocated journey on time.

Yet another chief engineer I remember was one Peter Otter from Cork. Peter was a bit of an exccentric, one of the youngest engineers with Irish Shipping to gain a Chief’s ticket .     Peter as the saying goes ,could turn his hand to anything and master it, from stripping Doxford engines to playing the clarinet.  

Another Chief engineer I sailed with, Johnny Moynihan, hailed from Dalysford Rd. in Galway. Being from Galway myself , Johnny Moyniham was the only other Galway man that I was to sail with., during my time at sea. 

Others that I sailed with, who’s names escape me now,  but all contributed in their way to make sailing the seas a wonderful and character building experience.

Most of my time on the Irish Poplar was spend on the Atlantic run,  sailing up and down the East Coast of America, and if time and censorship permitted some lofty tales of onshore exploits could be told about.  However we all survived them and apart from some broken hearts, nobody got hurt.

During this time most of our cargo was picked up in Manchester docks, we were in fact chartered by the then Manchester Liners company .  Manchester a place we all became familiar with.   The “Salisbury Arms“ was a great big Victorian pub just across the road from the main gates of Manchester Docks , and I remember looking anxiously at my watch as we sailed up the Mersey canel towards Manchester, wondering if we would get docked on time to make a pint in the Salisbury Arms before closing time.    I was not alone in looking at my watch at time’s like these.

At that time also, I somehow became responsible for organizing a few of the “Officer’s Parties“  held on board the Poplar whilst in dock loading cargo at Manchester.

Somehow we got to know some student nurses who worked in the Hope Hospital in Eccles, Manchester, and it was my duty to get in touch with these nurses whenever we hit the English channel and  started our journey up the river Mersey from Liverpool to Manchester , a journey at that time of approx 13 hours. I would phone up my contact at the hospital and get them to spread the word – an  “Officer and Gentleman's party“  to be held on board the Irish Poplar in Manchester Docks. Loads of free food and booze, and a bunch of strapping single  young Irish lads(Gentlemen to a man)) ,all ready to party.

Taxies would be laid on, to and from the ship for these nurses.

These parties were a great success indeed , so much so that we had to limit the amount of invitations to 12 or 13 persons.  The student nurses from Hope Hospital were young and a bit wild -- same as ourselves,  and afterwards we would get letters requesting advance invitations  to make sure we let them know , when we were next due back in Manchester.  All would be ready and looking forward to the next party.   I must also pay due respects to the catering and galley staff and chief steward on board at that time for their help in making a great  success of these parties , great food and beverages available, for these occasions.

Little did I know at the time , that such would be my own love for the city of Manchester that I was to spend the greater part of my adult life living there.  Even today although I now live in Ireland , I still keep a place in Manchester and still visit the place frequently, and still feel the same love for the place.

On the Irish Cedar I sailed with a  chief engineer called Gorden Rowe, originally from St Ives in Cornwall but married to a Dublin girl.  Gorden I remember was always waiting for the gang plank to be lowered when we came alongside, and always seemed to be first man ashore when we came into port.

I met Gorden about 12 or perhaps 14 years ago,  I was catching a flight from Dubai where I was working at the time ,  Gorden was on his way back to Ireland from someplace in the far east, where he was still sailing chief on some vessel out there. We did not have enough time between flights at the airport to chat and cover all the lost time in between , but it was good to see him again. Apart from age which comes to us all,  he had not changed.

 On board the Irish Cedar , Timmy Sullivan for Mallow Co Cork, was always masterful at his job ,and game for a session afterwards ,  Tony Maxwell from Dublin, and so many others whom I called mates and friends at that time – I have often wondered where life’s path might have taken them and indeed, where they are today.

Harry Bond was Chief Steward at the time , and occasionally tried to restrict our bonded rations, but somehow we always seemed to find enough to enjoy a few cans and a sing song. It seemed to me at the time that wherever we seemed to go ,we always seemed to manage to enjoy the life at sea.  Hard work and a sense of responsibility came with the job, and I think this helped a man form a character that would equip him to deal with any situation which he might encounter later in life.

We worked hard and played hard in those halcyon days of youth.

For myself , when I left Irish Shipping , I spent a year or two working back in Ireland until the restlessness caught up with me again. Spent about a year working in New York, came back home for a few months, them went to Manchester, where I later married and became a resident of that city.  Based in Manchester,  still the lure of travel stayed with me and  I have subsequently spent the past 35 years travelling and working in the oil industry , mostly in the Middle East and North Africa, where I am presently even as I write this.

Those who might remember having sailed with me , who would like to say hello , I would be delighted to hear from , my e-mail address being John Kelly (jkly05@hotmail.com)

©John Kelly 2009

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