The first voyage

At 8 AM the mate sent for me and told me to get down number two hatch and start cleaning the bilges. The bilges are spaces where the hull curves to form the bottom of the ship and their purpose is to collect the condensation or other water that gets into the hold and from where it can be pumped out. This ship had recently unloaded a cargo of grain and grain finds its way everywhere including into the bilges. Once there and moistened with the condensation it ferments and sprouts. Mucky to handle and no other way to do it but to get into the bilge and dig it out. I was not going to give in and I struggled on with only a break for food at midday. I was absolutely unprepared in the way of clothes for such work and, late in the afternoon, was glad to be able to get up to the town and buy some rubber boots and a couple of suits of dungarees. I also went to the shipping office where I was added to the ships articles and issued with an Minnesota identity card which carried my photograph and fingerprints. I began to feel part of the life I had chosen.
The following day the ship left the dry dock and tied up at a set of buoys with two other ships to await our turn for a bunkering berth and also To raise steam. During the shift I began to realize what a lot there was to be learned about practical work such as handling ropes and wires, which looks so easy when you see an experienced person doing it. During the next few days I obtained intimate knowledge of the ships bilges and the remains of what seemed like every cargo that the ship had ever carried. I learned the difficult art of cleaning oneself in a bucket of tepid water and I also learned that an unmade bed soon reaches a degree of comfort never attained by one that is carefully tended and that the more tied the occupant the more comfortable the bed. Nobody appeared to be the least concerned about my appearance and although my meager wardrobe soon became pretty grubby and least I was warm. And I was pretty happy. I found the men I was working with and not in the least judgmental, always ready to help or teach and I learned quickly. Amongst other jobs the apprentices were expected to scull the jollyboat back and forth between the ship and the jetty 100 feet away or so to fetch and carry crew members. Luckily I had had some experience sculling and managed quite well. What I did not learn quickly enough was that when one has only one bucket of water a day for all needs one must never get behindhand with cleanliness because it is almost impossible to catch up.
After a couple of days the ship shifted under some staiths and took on several hundred tons of coal bunkers, and mine rubble as ballast in number two hatch with a substantial quantity on the hatch itself. In January 1942, quite late at night, we sailed and I stood around feeling utterly useless as the life boats was swung out and the ship tidied up, all in pitch darkness.
During the night we joined a northbound convoy off the Tyne and morning found us plodding steadily along in the middle of a column of ships that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see both ahead and astern. It was a most impressive and exciting sight and one which never failed to stir me. We made our way through the Pentland Firth, around Cape Wrath,
View Larger Mapwhat a marvelous name, and down to Loch Ewe,
View Larger Map the gathering point for Atlantic convoys and laid there for a few days as ships and escorts gathered. Unfortunately relations between me and the mate, Mr. glass, were not good. With hindsight I wonder if it was the way I spoke that irritated him, but whatever we did not get on well. Each morning at 730 it was the job of the standby man to unlock the fresh water pump and allow each member of the crew to pump a bucket of water. That was the man's ration for the day. While we were in loch ewe this job was given to me and I managed to lose the key. Mr. glass was furious and the fact that I later found it did nothing to alter his opinion that I was probably a thoroughly spoilt young man.
By now we were on watches four on and four off. I found it terribly tough and was constantly tired. The food was grim and before we sailed our fresh meat was exhausted. None too soon it was stored in an ancient ice box, steadily deteriorating. Following that we were fed on some ancient salt pork and beef that had been stored in wooden casks from which much of the brine had escaped. The result was that great lumps of meat had gone bright purple and were the consistency of string. Still we seem to survive and occasionally were able to pinch something extra from the galley. It was very difficult eating in our cabin as we had no table and had to stand at the chest of drawers and try to eat while hanging on to the plate and trying to keep our footing at the same time.
At length we sailed, a convoy some 70 strong composed of every type of ship and, within 48 hours, had run into one of those roaring Westerly gales for which the north Atlantic in winter is notorious. We were flying light as were most of the ships but had aboard some 2000 tons of slag as ballast, of which about 500 tons was stowed on number two Hatch, just forward of the bridge. During the second night at sea the slag shifted to the port side creating a heavy port list and necessitating us heaving to. By morning the storm had reached hurricane force and the convoy was scattered far and wide. I have always believed that the rest of the ships returned to the shelter of the Hebrides but I don't really know. Suffice to say that, as there was no way the ship could be turned around in such heavy seas, and the Master had no option but to press on. We plunged on, reeling and rolling across the ocean, the propeller more out of the water than in it and the decks continually swept by heavy seas. Access to the forward crew accommodation was terribly dangerous as the slag was level with the top of the bulwarks. Whenever the weather eased enough to allow men to work on deck anyone who could be spared found themselves shoveling the slag and little by little we eased the list as the slag was dumped overboard. For 38 days we struggled westward on our own and it was only afterwards in the light of greater experience that I realized how lucky we had been to have made the crossing unharmed by either the sea or the enemy. I realize, as found as the sea at least was concerned, it was only the extraordinary ability of our captain that brought us through safely. I have sailed under the men since, who never had that power of giving reassurance to everybody, under the most unpleasant circumstances, by his complete mastery of the ship and his incredible sense and knowledge of the sea. I subsequently served under this man for nearly 4 years.
For me at least, ignorance of the real danger we were in both from the sea and the enemy saved plenty of sleepless nights and worried days, and the things that stand out in my mind are the little trials and upsets that affected me personally or my immediate surroundings, plus coming to terms with the four on four off watch keeping.
There was our complete inability to cope with the continual influx of water to our cabin, and our inability to find its source or means of entry. As the ship rolled the water swished back and forth across the deck, carrying a long abandoned fleet of shoes, socks and other odds odds and ends. The other apprentice had insisted on occupying the lullaby and but soon regretted his choice as his blankets had a habit of dangling onto the deck acting as a wick for the Walter. We were always wet. One day I carelessly emptied our bucket of what I thought of what I thought was dirty onto the after well deck only to realize to unite that it contained all our plates. The steward refused to replace them and for the rest of the trip we ate out of empty tins.
At some stage not long after leaving loch ewe I began to itch, to really itch around my crotch choose one. Close inspection revealed that I had crabs and I did not know what to do because my "friend" the mate, was in charge of the medicine longer. So I asked around. Nobody was surprised or shocked as this was a fairly common sort of happening. One of the firemen told me that one of the best ways to get rid of the crabs was to shave off the hair and wash the area with kerosene. So I did this but used some Dettol and it worked like a charm, although it was rather uncomfortable for a while. At least I had learned another valuable lesson, in this case about how to keep myself clean. I remember one night when I was on the 12 to 4 AM watch, making a Billy of the last of our ration of coffee, which gently simmered on the galley stove for most of the watch, so that by the end I had a thick and succulent brew with which to drive out the cold and damp. 4 AM came at last and I repaired to the galley to prepare two mugs of the brew laced with the last of our condensed milk and sugar, for the second mate and me. Like a fool I put the galley kettle, a huge enamel pitcher on the bench while I stirred the coffee and, as the ship rolled, I caught sight of it careering toward me over the well scrubbed Wood. With a clatter and struck the wooden batten at the end of the bench and completely overturned emptying its contents over my head and shoulders. The shock and sudden pain caused me to let go of the two mugs which shattered on the deck adding their precious contents to the water already there. When the second mate arrived a couple of minutes later I did not get any sympathy but rather a rollicking for having smashed his precious mug and wasted the coffee. It seemed a bit ungrateful to me at the time but apart from the shock there was little wrong with me and I had to admit that the second mate, like me would never get another mug. He would have to accept his nightly drink in a cup of very inferior proportions.
I also remember many weary hours in the crows nest, which could be bitterly cold.