大象传媒

As a schoolboy it was always my wish to join the Royal Navy, my late step-mother did her level best to discourage me from doing this and it was not until many years later that I found out why she had persisted with this discouraging approach. Her first husband was lost at sea whilst serving on, I think, a Norwegian sailing ship.

However, as soon as I was old enough to join the Royal Navy without my parents consent I went to the recruiting office in Aberdeen, only to fail the medical because my teeth were imperfect, such was the standard required to join the Royal Navy before World War Two! Incidentally at 85 years of age I still have my own teeth, not many of them I admit, but those, which I still have, are the originals.

At the tender age of 14 years and 2 months I left school in 1928, the employment figure at that time was very high and for most youngsters like myself it was a case of taking what ever employment was available. This was usually as a messenger boy and in my case it was working for a local gunsmith. I frequently changed jobs over the next few years; normally it was because I had found a job, which offered me a shilling (5 pence) more per week.

Finally, in 1933 I was offered work at a bakery at 17 shillings and 6 pence per week with a 2 shillings and 6 pence rise annually for four years. After four years they paid me off and took on another youngster. After several weeks of making daily visits to the Labour Exchange I decided to leave home and make for London where we mistakenly thought that jobs were 鈥渢en a penny鈥�. After wearing through my shoes looking for work whilst staying in the Empire Memorial Hostel for Seamen in Commercial Road, London. I started wandering around the West India Docks, that turned out to be the start of my brief, but quite eventful sea service!

My first trip was on the SS Jamaica Progress, owned by the Jamaica Banana Producing Company but for various reasons I did not enjoy working on that vessel so I left her and signed on as a fireman aboard SS Camito, one of the Elder and Fyffes fleet. This was in April 1937 and I completed eight trips to Jamaica, before giving up sea service in January 1938. This decision was taken at the request of a young lady whom I had met in Bristol (incidentally the young lady concerned was not destined to become my wife). Eventually I obtained work in a Bristol bakery and whilst working there met my wife for the first time.

The next exciting event was the outbreak of war and for a brief spell I thought that my long cherished ambition would be realised, and I would be able to join the Royal Navy at last! However fate decreed otherwise and I received a mild rebuke for wasting people鈥檚 time by volunteering when I was working as a baker, a reserved occupation at that time. After this I became thoroughly disgruntled with my job and in September, 1941 came my chance to return to the sea, having already volunteered in both 1939 and 1940 and been rejected on both occasions, I was delighted to hear on the radio that anyone who had sea going experience since January 1st, 1938 was being invited to visit their local shipping office and volunteer to sail with the Merchant Navy again. I hastily looked up my Discharge Book and found that I was just able to qualify, having last being discharged on January 3rd, 1938. This step was being taken because not enough seamen with previous experience were available to replace the vast numbers who were being lost at sea.

My application was accepted and I was immediately placed in the shipping pool, not for long, for within a week I was at sea again, as a Fireman on board the SS Telesfora de Larrinaga bound for the United States. My first wartime voyage was not a very inspiring one, for soon after leaving the United Kingdom we hit heavy fog and lost the convoy for about a week. In the States we bunkered for the return voyage, unfortunately we were given 鈥淵ankee Slack鈥� for fuel and it was more like sand than coal. Preventing the coal from dropping between the fire bars into the ashpit was quite a job and I am sure that we were the slowest ship in the convoy and were no doubt being cursed by the others.

We sailed on or about the 23rd September and arrived back in the United Kingdom on 8th December. Next I served on the SS Eclipse for three months and then on the MV Inverilen; a wonderful tanker built in Hamburg in 1937, I saw her name on the Merchant Navy Memorial in London and I think that all hands must have gone with her.

Then in July 1942 I joined the SS Sheafmount. I think that she belonged to Andrew Souter of Newcastle, but I joined her in Southampton. I was designated the 12-4 watch and on August 24th came off watch in the afternoon, had a wash, a meal and then settled down to a game of cards with the lads. With the change of watch at eight o`clock I decided to lie on my bunk and read whilst the lads who had just been relieved were having a meal. Eventually they started to play cards again and I dropped off to sleep. I woke up with a start to the thunderous clanging of the alarm bell, and looking down from my top bunk saw the lads on their way out while putting on their life jackets. Nobody spoke as everyone was intent on getting out on deck as soon as possible, there was a brief eerie silence when I was alone and donning my life jacket whilst walking along the alleyway to the deck. Suddenly, the alarm started to ring again and within seconds there was a huge explosion and a terrific flash from abaft the bridge, In the flash I could see what I assumed to be hatch boards being hurled into the sky, together with other debris.

Again there was an eerie silence and I went out on deck to hear the Captain shouting, 鈥淎bandon ship, Abandon ship鈥�, the off watch firemen and the Bosun were trying to release a liferaft, which had become jammed. It was then decided to lower one of the lifeboats, we managed that with no problem and scrambled into our seats. Unfortunately the Sheafmount up-ended and started to plunge to the bottom taking the lifeboat with her, I also went down and after quite a struggle, rose to the surface just as I thought my lungs would burst and in time to see the Sheafmounts bows disappear, only a few of us survived the ordeal. The convoy had sailed on and we were treading water and hanging on to whatever debris we could, the idea being to try to make a raft when daylight arrived.

Within an hour or so a rescue ship the SS Stockport came back from the convoy to pick up survivors from both our ship and another which had been torpedoed whilst we were in the water. I think that the worst part was hearing cries for help in the darkness and being unable to see or help anyone. I subsequently heard that the Stockport was herself attacked and sunk in a later convoy with the loss of all of her crew and survivors. I know of three Bristolians who were lost on that fateful night, Harry Webb and 鈥淛agger鈥� Wolffe who were both on watch and Joe Andow who was dead when picked up and was buried at sea, with all hands mustered on deck for the service.

We finally arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on September 5th and were immediately signed on as firemen aboard the SS Fort Babine, arriving back in the United Kingdom on September 21st.

By Tom Scotland MN
From: Norman Date / Hon Secretary/ Merchant Navy Association, Bristol, UK

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