大象传媒

Story written up by Karen Rouse-Deane for the 大象传媒 Open Centre Hull.

Almost six weeks at anchorage had now passed, so had Christmas, New Year鈥檚 Day and the entry of the Americans and Japanese into the war. We were forgotten and still starving, the future looked bleak so you can imagine the effect a couple of days later 鈥� 鈥極rders 鈥� Prepare to Sail!鈥�. To paraphrase our noble leader, 鈥淣ever had so much been done in so short a time by so few!鈥� Some ice and stores came aboard accompanied by a temporary deck-crew 鈥� about a dozen large and skimpily attired natives.
I was intrigued by the arrangements 鈥� a sailcloth awning was stretched forward with straw mats for sleeping on deck. Toilet facilities consisted of a heavy plank secured out from the stern, very tricky, I hoped the weather would continue calm. Their own cook prepared some exotic-looking dishes from straw baskets full of local supplies, consisting it seemed mainly of chicken heads and feet, some greens and fruit. Communication was mostly by sign language though the headman possessed a fair knowledge of seaman鈥檚 English.
So we heaved up a reluctant anchor and crept out to sea bound for the Gold Coast over a thousand miles away. Our first port-of-call was not really a port, at Sekondi we discharged cargo over the side into surf-boats.
This in itself was an education. Anchoring a mile or so offshore, the lines of breaking surf seemed impassable, until a bunch of craft came bursting through the spray. Soundly constructed and about the size of large life boats each propelled by a crew of eight or so paddlers, each boat had differently designed and coloured paddles. With enormous energy they thrust into the sea chanting some African melody 鈥� the boats fairly flew through the water. The paddlers were a huge well-built and very black men, barely clothed in loin-cloths, the unique feature common to them all was the umbilical bulge 鈥� must have been a tribal custom 鈥� as large as a baseball instead of a belly-button. They appeared to be straight from the jungle, the story being that recruited inland they made a score of trips through the surf and then burnt-out, were replaced and retired as wealthy men, - certainly the output of energy needed to propel the heavily-laden boats to the shore-line was phenomenal.
The temporary deck-men were worked relentlessly by the mates and were quite adept in handling the steam-winches and derricks though I noticed the donkey-man and the engineers keeping an eye on them.
Most of the cargo being discharged was in cases and crates brought up from the holds in nets and lowered over the side where the surfers jockeyed for favourable position, stacking them until the headman waved the boat away to shore. Next daywe moved on to Takoradi, close by, where a mixed cargo somewhat heavier was discharged into a barge. We received a visit from the local naval authorities advising us to stay close to shore. Many shallows made it difficult for navigation but also made U-boat intervention unlikely unless they attacked on the surface.
Accra was the next port-of-call 鈥� a similar bag of mixed cargo was lowered ashore and I remembered very much the same discharge at Freetown. Many of the cases were obviously drinkable supplies, Johnnie Walker, Gordon鈥檚 Gin and the like, it dawned on me that we were being used as a government supply depot for the various embassies and consulates along the coast.
Our final destination was Lagos, Nigeria, back then, a dusty little town bathed in oppressive, sweaty heat, though we were pretty much acclimatized by now. Along the main drag were small shops and tradespeople鈥檚 stores 鈥� one long marketplace bustling with activity and Beggars, tarts and what-have-you! Cries for 鈥楢lms鈥� mixed with propositions 鈥淗ey Joe, you meet my sister 鈥� sixteen- schoolteacher!鈥� Western civilization had made in roads on life in Lagos!
Fruit was not the main commodity for sale; beautifully carved ebony and ivory heads and artefacts of rare design, leather and snakeskin goods, spears and hunting knives, beaten out of hoop-steel, decorated with leopard skin vied with imported kimonos and fine silk pyjamas flaunting oriental dragons. On a wild shopping spree we drew as much as the 鈥極ld Man鈥� would allow from our wages. The main dish at local eateries was peas and chicken 鈥� the local hen houses were much depleted when we left.
Across from our mooring, up a gentle slope was a large banana plantation, now I don鈥檛 know which criminal mind came up with the suggestion but around the third night it was decided to liberate a few stalks of bananas. Lowering the jolly-boat our 鈥榞ang鈥� quietly rowed across to the far shore. All hell was suddenly let loose as a bright light came on, drums started beating, two small yapping and snapping dogs catapulted down the slope and a white-haired, little Blackman followed them, waving the most enormous curved sword and emitting a most blood-curdling war-cry.
One look at that huge gleaming blade and panic was the order of the day. Stumbling, tripping we fell into the boat, already under way 鈥� the third mate wasn鈥檛 waiting for us. The next day we sucked oranges, cheaper and easier!
The cargo was almost all discharged, but the deck crew was behaving in the most irrational manner. The Mate was the first to figure it out! As the net load of cases was winched out of the hold then swung over to the side, the winch carefully slipped a foot or so, crashing the load into the bulwark. Hoisted back up over the deck 鈥� a flood of golden liquid streamed from the damaged cases. Two or three buckets had miraculously appeared to catch this elixir, to be snatched away as the Mate came on the scene. The ripe smell of twenty-year old whisky now pervaded the deck. All work ceased as the deck crew was herded forward 鈥� all undoubtedly drunk as skunks. Fired on the spot, the shore police had to be called to evacuate them. A few locals completed the final discharge of cargo and we were 鈥榣ight ship鈥� when the news broke. We were to return to Freetown, upriver to Pepel and load iron ore!
I was ignorant of the implications of this news but soon learned that it was not good. Bulk iron ore was not a welcome cargo amongst seamen in wartime for several reasons. Apart from a tendency to shift it鈥檚 position in the holds during heavy weather, iron ore because of its weight only occupies a comparatively small area of the available space even when weight is distributed between decks. Should a rupture occur in the ship鈥檚 鈥榮kin鈥� i.e. pierced by a torpedo, inrushing sea-water fills the hull literally in seconds. Not good! Also unless very expertly dispersed through the holds and decks, the vessel becomes a giant pendulum, rather like the toy soldier which cannot be knocked down. It seemed we would roll our way home!
Of course Jeremiah the Mate helped a lot with his prediction, mathematically proven to his satisfaction, that if a roll developed lasting over thirteen seconds, the ship wasn鈥檛 coining back and the thought of going 鈥榖elly-up鈥� in winter, in the North Atlantic was not reassuring. I think the greener ones amongst us took to silently counting up to thirteen seconds by the clock just to get the idea.
Meanwhile we first had to get back to Freetown, light ship and without appreciable ballast. In the first week of February escorted by an armed trawler we headed West. Visibility was poor due to a heavy, humid haze but the sea surface was millpond calm except for a long slow swell as we headed into the Guinea Current. Maybe because our draught was much less than usual or because of the U-boat warnings in deeper water, our vessel hugged the coast, though it was rarely visible. The deck-crew had been 鈥榙umped鈥� in Lagos, which suited the Old Man just fine 鈥� saved money! And we didn鈥檛 need them.
As dawn broke on the fourth day out, I wakened with a sudden feeling of unease 鈥� something wrong. Through the porthole I could see our faithful trawler escort in position about three hundred yards directly to port, but no foam at the bow and funnel smoke curled lazily straight up. Then the silence impacted, all-prevading quiet 鈥� no throbbing heartbeat from below; no movement, not even from the swell, we were obviously hard aground and sitting ducks! The Captain immediately became a living dynamo and my nautical knowledge rapidly expanded. Doubled lookouts, gun crews in position, the whole crew reacted in such a positive manner that it was not unlike a well-rehearsed drill, I wondered if the old 鈥楨gyptian鈥� had been through this before. Charts and tide-times were consulted and a consensus emerged from the bridge and chart-room 鈥� about five hours before conditions would be favourable for us to back off. This was confirmed by Aldis lamp signals from the escort, despite her shallow draught she was as securely aground as we were!
The Old Man wasn鈥檛 about to rely solely on the engines to free us. A huge 鈥榢edge鈥� anchor, rather similar to old sailing ships anchors, was winched from near the bow, the starboard lifeboat was lowered and moved up alongside and a six foot plank attached across the bow. About noon the 鈥榢edge鈥� was lowered into the water, hooked over the bow of the lifeboat and lashed with heavy rope. The four seaman and Second Mate crew were crowded as far back in the stern as possible to keep the bow above water, even so freeboard was measured in inches.
As the boat was gently rowed past the 鈥楨gyptian鈥檚鈥� stern, a rope was lowered, taken up and paid out as it proceeded astern for a hundred feet or so. A small anchor was lowered from aft to hold position. Aboard ship, the rope was attached to a heavy cable, paid out by the winch and hauled in by the boat crew 鈥� eventually lifting the cable eye aboard where it was U-bolted to the kedge. A couple of sharp blows with an axe, the rope parted and down she went. Time having overtaken us, the crew rapidly returned, hoisted the lifeboat a couple of feet clear and the winch took up the slack on the cable. I was somewhat perturbed by all the activity around the depth charges and what a broken cable might do 鈥� no one else seemed worried!
All was set, a short blast on the whistle alerted our escort, already afloat, and the engines shuddered into 鈥楬alf鈥� then 鈥楩ull Astern鈥�. The winch growled into life amidst clouds of steam and began to retrieve the straining cable. Bottom sand and mud churned dirty-brown, we moved slowly at first 鈥� then faster. Abruptly the engines were rung down as the kedge surfaced, was hoisted and secured.
Within the hour, again ship-shape, we proceeded South then West in deeper water with our latest mishap behind us 鈥� a spreading stain of ochre in that clear, tropical turquoise ocean.
Only the Chief and Second Engineer seemed depressed and 鈥榦ut of sorts鈥�. Every time the ship 鈥榮pasmed鈥� as the swell lifted her, the screw raced, the shaft vibrated and the engineers changed underwear with unusual frequency. As for me, 鈥榠gnorance was truly bliss鈥�. At night-time, luminescence surrounded our barnacle-encrusted and algae-overgrown bottom. Flights of flying fish skimmed ahead, the skies stippled with stars were other-worldly, and the war was thousands of miles away 鈥� or so it seemed!
All too soon, the familiar panorama of Freetown anchorage embraced us. However a certain urgency seemed to have overtaken events, the war was not going well for the Allies. The Japanese expansion seemed unstoppable, the Russian front under great pressure, Britain was still being pounded from the air; at sea the U-boats attacking in 鈥榳olf-packs鈥� were decimating shipping in the North Atlantic and off the American East Coast. The bulk of Allied sea power in the Far East, lay at the bottom of the Pacific and we were again facing curry and rice three times a day!
We moved upstream from Freetown around mid-February, St. Valentine鈥檚 Day if I remember correctly, and proceeded past the scene of our abortive fresh-meat quest, eventually coming upon a large mine site, a wharf with cranes and loading grabs, and a mountain of iron-ore and bauxite extending to the river edge, threatened by the encroaching jungle. By the next day we were fully loaded, the Old Man and the Mates sweating blood over the charts with the Pilot as they waited for the tide.
St. Valentine must have opened his heart to us that day as we crept, twisted and turned to follow the treacherous invisible channel.
鈥淲e鈥檒l no make it, bearings are near gone!鈥� opined the Chief Engineer as the ship鈥檚 telegraph rang up and down in a devil鈥檚 dance, 鈥楬alf ahead鈥�, 鈥楽low ahead鈥�, 鈥楽top鈥�, 鈥楽low Astern鈥�, 鈥楽low Ahead鈥�! Gratefully we slid into the anchorage amidst a mixed group of weary-looking merchant ships and a couple of tankers.

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