An Unlucky Ship

I posted an article a few weeks ago regarding an experience I had in the Merchant Navy where where our ship almost became a 'mystery' disappearance.

In this, I referred to 'another story' regarding a Chief Officer. I hope that this offering will explain that reference.

In the early 1970's I was summoned to join a ship, as Second Mate, in Glasgow. This was very different for me because the ship was brand new and coming to the end of its fitting out at Upper Clyde Shipbuilders.

So, a dozen or so of us officers were billeted in a hotel in Sauchiehall Street for six weeks to 'help' with the preparations for handing the ship over to our Shipping Company. The hotel was a bit tired but quite comfortable although we saw more of the bar than our rooms.

Among the many characters was an older Glaswegian guy who drank there each night with his girlfriend and her sister. It amused us that whenever he went to the toilet he would take his half-full pint to the bar and ask the barman to look after it!

At work it was really interesting to see all of the various shore trades working together although when Rangers played Celtic the yard was deserted. In saying that the men that we worked with were great and each day was an adventure.

The fitting out berth was at right angles to the River Clyde and on the other side of the river was the berth where the cattle boats from Ireland discharged their four-legged cargo.

One day I went down to the stern of our ship where a crowd had gathered to watch a rather unusual pantomime being acted out. One of the bullocks from across the water had made a bid for freedom by jumping the gangway and diving into the river. The Port of Clyde Authority dispatched a motor boat to catch the escapee.

As the beast swam in circles the boat followed it with an old gentleman dressed in a very long greatcoat and a peaked cap standing on the foredeck trying to lasso it. Each failed attempt drew a large cheer from a couple of hundred workers on our ship. Eventually the animal came ashore onto a small beach near to us.

The motor boat grounded behind it and Hopalong Cassidy jumped ashore to make the arrest. The bull turned and charged and the would-be cowboy scuttled back to the safety of the boat which was now high and dry due to the falling tide. The stand-off lasted for quite a while until all three were rescued.

Towards the end of our time the ship went out on trials prior to handover. This was an exciting day steaming around the Clyde estuary at full speed with emergency stops, circling at full astern and changing direction from hard-a-port to hard-a-starboard.

As we came back up the river to our berth we had an accident that seemed to us superstitious sailors to pigeon-hole this vessel as an unlucky ship. We were being turned into our berth when one of the tugs, called the Flying Duck (can't forget that name!) pulled when it shouldn't have. The stern of the ship which was very high in the water swung over the wharf on the other side of the river, demolished 100 feet of wooden fence, and a lamppost, and badly damaged our rudder and propeller. Actually, this was the only ship that I ever served on that knocked a lamppost over!.

The outcome was a week in dry-dock to repair a brand new ship. Eventually the ship was handed over and we set sail on our maiden voyage. We left Glasgow with whistle blaring and flags flying with hundreds of workmen waving us off. It was rather sad because shortly afterwards the yard closed (after a famous work-in campaign led by Jimmy Reid).

Our first port of call was Rotterdam where we were due to load steel for the West coast of the USA and Canada. We nearly didn't make it as when crossing the Scheldt Estuary near Antwerp we got lost! It was pre-GPS days and the sea around that estuary has a number of shallow areas and is devoid of landmarks.

Add to that a malfunctioning radar and a Captain who 'kind of' took over my afternoon watch and the resultant confusion saw us having to U-turn as the depth finder showed only 6 foot of water beneath us.We survived that but to me this was 'unlucky incident number two'.

Number three was to be much, much worse. We set sail from Rotterdam and headed towards the Panama Canal. All was fine until we got to the Caribbean. It was morning and I had just returned to my cabin when the door burst open and the Captain came in shouting that the Mate had had an accident.

I followed him down to the Steering Flat at the back of the ship....this is where the motors that turn the rudder are situated. The sight was terrible and I won't go into detail but the Chief Officer and an Apprentice had been electrocuted. This was the same Chief Officer from my previous tale who almost lost his job when we flooded a hold.

We did what we could and eventually stopped a passenger ship who sent over a Doctor. (Merchant Ships only carried doctors if the crew exceeded 99 souls), but it was too late. The apprentice was OK but the Mate didn't survive. We left him in Puerto Rico and for the next few weeks I took over his responsibilities but the vessel was now officially an unlucky ship!

A postscript to that horrible day was that, over forty years later and through the power of the internet, I met up with two of his sons in a cafe in Dorset. I think that this meeting provided some closure for them and certainly for me.

Looking back over the above you may be forgiven for thinking that I was a bit of a Jonah or perhaps like Uncle Albert from 'Fools and Horses', but my experiences at sea were not totally unusual.

I would think that other villagers, I know of at least three, such as Paddy Kenshole, who sailed the seven seas who would probably agree with that. Life in the Merchant Navy is inevitably full of action and occurrences, highs and lows and I, for one, wouldn't have had it any other way.

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