- Contributed by听
- FrankMackegg
- People in story:听
- Frank Mackegg
- Location of story:听
- At sea
- Background to story:听
- Royal Navy
- Article ID:听
- A2458019
- Contributed on:听
- 24 March 2004
This story began on the 4th April 1944, when I was sent to go on a trip as a telegraphist, due to the fact that the crew were all Merchant Seamen conscripted to do a specific job laying cable for the telephones. When the ship was at sea for more fourteen days, it had to carry an Royal Navy telegraphist - me. On this particular day it was in the middle of monsoon aboard a fourteen foot cutter that I left the jetty in Colombo to join the ship. When I arrived, I was told that the ship was shut down due to boiler problems and I had to return to shore. By now, I and all my possessions were completely soaked through and still the rain came down. I was not very happy at all! The trip was cancelled but later that year, both myself and my friend Albert were drafted back to the ship to journey back to the UK.
This time, the trip to the ship was totally different but when we saw the ship, we were very curious about it and what we were told has never been confirmed, though it seems quite feasible and amazing. As the ship's name implies, it does sound a bit like a rich person's yacht, and the story goes that it was moored in Dunkirk Harbour and had not been to sea for over five years, when the evacuation of Dunkirk took place. A dozen or more Scottish fishermen who had lost their fishing boats trying to save some of the men on the beach then found themselves stuck on the same beach. They ventured into the harbour, seeking some way of getting out of their situation. On seeing the Emile Baudot, they boarded it and set about firing the boilers and getting the ship sea-borne. They succeeded and also saved many others in the process. The ship was eventually converted into a cable layer as she was when we joined her, with her cabin deck and its square portholes used as Officer's quarters and the bridge-deck cabin converted into a radio office. All very smart but no mast and two huge cast-iron rollers built into the bow, giving a very unusual appearance to the ship.
The Emile Baudot was an unusual ship - she was coal-fired ship, which had given over four years service until her boilers were almost beyond use.
We felt a little hard done by after the time they had spent abroad to have to travel on such a rust-bucket at speeds of less than seven knots for some four thousand miles. But at least they were homeward bound and what a journey it was, with little or no journeys at all. First of all, before the ship left Colombo, we had our first experience of this strange crew of almost illiterate Scottish fishermen who were built like houses and all had Highland accents. Four of them were going ashore to get some supplies and I had to report to the Port Wireless Office, so I went with them. As they left the jetty to return to the ship, the Admirals barge approached us with the Admirals flag on display from the flagship HMS Anson. John McCabe, who was Coxswain of our cutter refused to give way to the barge and it had to swerve round us, only to return before we got back to our ship and with the use of boat-hooks, towed us to the Anson, secured the boat to the gangway and ordered the crew members to go aboard. John was the first to go and was met by a Royal Marine in full dress uniform, whom John pushed out of his way. The Marine charged after him, using his rifle butt to get John to do as he was told, only to find himself flat on his back with John's foot hovering over his head. At this point, Albert and I, the only properly-dressed men with the crew, managed to persuade the duty officer that these men were what is known as T124x ratings and after asking for permission to signal the Emile Baudot with the portable auldice lamp. This eventually brought the Captain of the Emile Baudot threating the Marine with all sorts of abuse until the Captain ordered the crew back to the boat where they went like meek children, to everybody's surprise.
We were told by the skipper never to upset the crew at any cost and it was a true lesson. The fact was that an incoming boat always allows the out-going boat access in a harbour - no matter who is in the other boat - according to the rules of the sea.
Full steam ahead with Bombay the next port of call which proved to be quite a place. The only thing to say about the journey to Bombay was the trip itself. On checking the radio office and its equipment, we discovered that the batteries for emergency on board were all not only flat, but the acid content was either too low or non-existent, which did not matter too much except for an emergency in which case, the emergency transmitter would not work without battery power ad there was none at all. This got us into hot water as the only source of acid aboard was in the urinal. So we filled the large batteries up with some cans of urine obtained from the toilets and put the batteries on charge after checking that it would be strong enough to work. The only snag was that smell boiling urine from the charger unit was not very welcome with the crew! Still, it got us out of trouble even though there was never any cause to use them. Other than that, we had three two-day stops at sea to do repairs to the boilers before we reached Bombay to Port Aden as the description we were told from previous vists describes it very well. It is the place that God started to make and never finished, and the town of Aden was out of bounds to us. Port Aden is just one block of brown sandstone with about twenty small laurel trees the only green in the place.
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