Walking the quay
 

Just thinking back to the 50's and 60's when joining a ship for the first time and sighting our new home as we walked along the quay, we had a couple of thoughts, perhaps on some occasions the first was 'sh*t what have I done to deserve this' at another time 'looking good'


Then professional thoughts, looking at the bow, well she's kept out of trouble, or sh*t she's going to pound!, look at the beam, we're in for a bit of rolling here! at the flush deck - not another bloody submarine!, but all in all we had a limited design for what we joined, they were much of a muchness some more refined than others


Wonder what they think now-a-days as they walk (or taxi) to their vessel with so many variety of ship shapes, some of which look like they have come from a Dan Dare Comic, some with bows that look like sterns, some with accommodation perched on the bow, some I wouldn't know how to describe. Any modern sailors out there to give us feedback?

As an agent,then, I had to pick up two late replacements, from Darlington Station.and get them to Eston Jetty (South Bank Wharf)...I pulled up alongside the vessel which was getting ready for sea and one of the crew said " can you take me back to the Station please?"...I asked why and he said he just realised that a much hated brother in law was the Cook here!

He stayed but never heard what happened thereafter...it was a 'Dun' of Denholms I remember.

geoff

In July 1957, I was joining my first deep sea vessel the RFA Wave Knight, she was lying at the North Wall in Rosyth dockyard, as I neared the ship, I noticed about a dozen men, consisting of cadets and seamen, searching the quay, looking under every piece of kit shouting Joe Joe!! I went on board signed on as a cabin boy, once that was done I asked the Chief Steward, who the guys ashore were looking for, to be told the Joe was the ships cat, who seemingly had more rights than me, he was a big grey Tom, but liked him.

After 20 yeard at sea I can honestly say I never ever sailed on a ship with a cat we had a variety of animal purchases from ashore including at least one Lemur , and an old man who took his budgie to sea . But never a cat

On joining a Kuwaiti registered vessel in Liverpool with the name in Arabic on the stern the taxi driver said "Looks like somebody fell off the staging when painting the ships name". Best description of Arabic writing I have ever heard.

Can't deny that's funny. :sweat:

I free lanced long ago, and insisted only British Flag ships. So they sent me out to the Naess Endeavour in Curacao. As the taxi driver pulled onto the quay alongside a tanker called the Burmah Cameo registered in Monrovia I told him: "No, my ship is the Naess Endeavour."

"That was yesterday" he replied.

I got out and climbed the gangway with resignation. :huh:

I noticed that my post says 'moved' I hadn't realised that it was so emotional! then I relised what you'd done :balloon:

IJC38,

I only moved it to a more appropriate forum. No other reason.

Neville

In the mid 80's I was due to join HMS Plover out in Hong Kong, it being my 6th ship, I wasn't too worried - it should be straight forward - or so I thought!
When I arrived at the base on Hong Kong Island (HMS Tamar), the gate staff told me that Plover was over in Kowloon, in the shipyard, and I should report to the ferry office in the basin to get over there. To cut a long story short I ended up on a small ferry, which took me across the choppy harbour to Taikoo shipyard, on arrival at the shipyard, we rafted up alongside a large 'dead' merchant ship - secured at what I assumed was a waiting berth, after a nod from the Chinese Coxn, I jumped and clambered up the Jacobs ladder up her side, on reaching the upper deck, I was hoping to see the jetty, however I found that the ship I had boarded in the stifling humidity of a Hong Kong summer, was actually the outboard ship of 7 different sized merchant vessels - all waiting for docking, all 'dead ships' and none with a recognisable gangway, other than the odd plank or rickety old rope or Jacobs ladder hung over the side. It took me over 40 minutes to reach terrafirma, by which time I was filthy and lathered in sweat on top of being 2 hours late, I spotted my new ship, almost unrecognisable as a warship - in amongst the clutter of the busy yard, she was on the other side of the shipyard sitting on a Synchrolift cradle and covered in hundreds of Chinese labourers all armed with chipping hammers creating a stupefying level of noise!
First thoughts to cross my mind....clearly I wouldn't be getting any chart work done today!
So I then reported to the ships 'dock office' which consisted of 2 depressing looking converted Iso containers without aircon (essentially to accommodate the 2 man duty watch), so after speaking to the QM (greeted with "what the %*ck are you doing over here shipmate"), then waiting 2 hours for the next ferry back to the Island, I had to make the same torturous return journey - depressed, lathered, covered in oil back to the base, having wasted the best part of 6 hours on a trip I need not have made.
As it transpired, our ships offices were temporarily located in the HQ building, about 100 yards from HMS Tamar's ferry office, where my bad day had originally started at 0700 that morning!
I got so much ribbing for my wasted trip from everyone onboard for quite some time! Even the old man used to ask me "any ferry trips today?"

Yes I know Neville, and I am eternally grateful, as I know I post in the wrong places, but still finding my way around and sometimes cannot find the right place, guess my humour was lost in translation :flowers:

I joined my first ship, RFA Cherryleaf in 1963. There was a cat called Susie who lived onboard. Susie would go ashore as soon as the brow touched the quay wall. She always made it back before sailing. Her previous ship had been the RRS Discovery where she was known as Matilda. She was very much cared for by the Chief Steward Mr Yim Ah Ko.

Best of luck to England this afternoon. I am away for a swift pint. Pub will be heaving with square eyed fans.

Went aboard Bank Line m.v.Luxmi in Calcutta back in the 60's. She was a real old lady then, but going strong. She had three cats on board: Memvee, Luxlux and Mimi. When I was visiting, Memvee was missing, presumed jumped ship. 'twas 1961, I can't remember the date.

The first deep sea ship that I sailed on in 68 M/V Tintagel Castle had a ships cat, it had been given to the ship by a children's primary school in South Africa from either Port Elizabeth or East London( I forget which) When ever the ship was in port there a lot of the children would do a ships visit. The cat seemed to prefer being at sea as to in port I think he hated the disruption and general mayhem of dockers and cargo handling which curtailed his daily tours of the open main deck.

I always wondered if the cat kept the number of rats down , but having once carried fish meal . the rats were cat sized there

After breakfast at Cardiff Missions to Seafarers, I dial for a taxi to bear me and my gear to the Cardiff shipping office to sign aboard the new ship. I lug my bags outside and wait on the pavement for the taxi. The rough crowd of boozers from last night is also on the pavement, with their motley array of bags. Their taxi pulls into the gutter. They load up and drive off.
My taxi is next in line – but my bags have vanished! The rough crowd has taken them. I jump into the taxi and shout, 'Follow that cab!'
We pursue it into Cardiff dockland, past coal wharves and warehouses. We lose them once when a long coal train trundles through and we must halt at a level-crossing. But my driver does an intuitive three-point turn over more railway lines, dodges between some sheds, and spots our quarry in the distance. It's pulling away from a filthy old ship.
Her white superstructure is yellowed and chipped. The plates of her black hull carry vertical streaks of rust. She sports a buff funnel, with black top and a red Neptune's crown just below. She has a list and leans against the dock like an old whore at a bar.
I run up the gangway to discover a pile of bags stacked on the empty deck. I rummage among them until I retrieve my own.
There are footfalls on the rust-flaked steel plates. 'Now then! What are you up to?'
It's a huge man. He reminds me of the mate of the Dunera. A sense of grievance and injustice hits me. 'You clowns went off with my gear back at the Mission. I've had to chase you all the way through Cardiff bloody docks.' My protest becomes louder. 'I don't suppose you buggers will pay the extra taxi fare!'
He says nothing, but steps forward with menace. I grab my bags and scurry down the gangway.

We weave our way to Cardiff Shipping Office, where I put my signature to ship's articles for a berth on the motor vessel Hughli, presently in Cardiff. We return through the cobbled streets of Cardiff's famous Tiger Bay area – me watching the taxi meter – and onto the docks. We dodge more coal trains and wind our way between sheds and cranes until we draw up alongside the MV Hughli. Horror fills me when I realise it's the same noxious tramp on which I'd recently had that altercation.
The big man is on deck again. He glowers down at me as I creep up the gangway. He looks even bigger than before. 'You again! What the bloody hell do you want this time?'
'I'm your new radio officer,' I mutter.
'And I'm first mate,' he growls. 'I can see we're in for an interesting trip!'
I shrink back, but catch a twinkle in the man's blue eyes and note how his lips fight back a touch of mirth.

Fairy Godmother in heavy Disguise?

Brilliant story - Well written!