[Fairwinds]

Here is an article published earlier

Bank Line ' White Ships '
Memories of the M.V. Inchanga,1952

Andrew Weir, the great shipping entrepreneur, and his board ordered 3 passenger cargo vessels from Workman Clark in Belfast for delivery in 1934. It was a departure from the usual focus on their worldwide cargo services - Liner and Tramp trades, and these ships were destined for the Indian/African service, to replace the Gujarat class and ex Bucknell , Natal line ships that had been maintaining this service previously. The terminal ports were Calcutta at one end and Capetown at the other, but it was a flexible arrangement with interesting deviations as the need arose. Durban later became the regular turn round port. A significant improvement in fittings and comfort was planned for the 50 first class passengers, and the 20 second class. Up to 500 deck passengers were also catered for in the tween decks. Much was made at the time of the features for the first class which included en suite bathrooms and a glassed in tea room. Freshwater baths, not always available in pre war ship was also provided. Some sixteen years later when sailing on the Inchanga, the impression was distinctly Somerset Maugham - ish with much spacious polished wood, and a hushed and relaxed atmosphere, no doubt partly due to the relatively few passengers. The vital statistics were 7069 tons gross, length 403.5, Breadth 57ft, Draft 32.4ft. Twin screw 6 cylinder Workman Clark SD 60 diesels gave a speed of approx 15 knots. Before the passenger numbers were reduced many years later, these ships had 12 lifeboats with double stacking on the afterdeck. It was an awkward arrangement which called for the launching of the top boat and then the need to rewind the davits back to hook on the lower boat. The number of boats were slowly reduced over the years as the passenger capacity was changed downwards.



When the war started a few years later, there were interruptions to their intended route, and the Incomati was sadly torpedoed and sunk by gunfire off Lagos by U508 in 1943, having survived the first 4 years of hostilities. The radio officer died in the attack, but passengers, crew, and naval gunners, were eventually picked up by British destroyers. The Inchanga and the Isipingo went on to dodge the submarines and surface raiders, and had a successful 30 year career, largely running as intended between India and South Africa. The demands of war meant they occasionally deviated in those early years, joining Atlantic convoys with all the associated risks, and visiting New York and Liverpool.

I was to join one of these almost unique vessels, the twin screw M.V. Inchanga for a full year in 1951. Little did I realise at the time, but the sea school I attended had secured an apprenticeship for me in one of the most iconic British shipping companies. Not a household name like P&O or Cunard, but the relatively unknown Bank Line with a fleet of 50 ships covering the globe. It was to be a priceless experience.

Arriving at the ships gangway I was still 16, and very green, but writing this some 66 years later, the evocative spice laden smell that characterised the Inchanga is still easily conjured up. The wide wood sheathed alleyways on the main deck had very large and low ventilator cowls, and these gave out a heady perfume of cinnamon, nutmeg, and other spices in a rich aroma. As with all perfume the intensity varied, and when the hold spaces was filled by tea chests, for instance, the familiar and pungent smell of Broken Orange Pekoe and other blends would dominate. This feature, unseen, but omnipresent, is easily the most powerful recollection for me.

Joining a few days before Xmas 1951 in Calcutta, I had been plucked from a ship in Adelaide, and travelled north via Ceylon on a ship called the S.S Hazelbank. a coal burner, ex Empire Franklin. which took me to Colombo. Then it was onwards in a relatively new addition to the fleet - the M.V. Eastbank.

Although only a few months at sea, luck or maybe bad luck, made me the senior apprentice on board the Inchanga, as I was replacing an apprentice out of his time, and returning home to sit for second mate's. My cabin mate was a South African lad fresh from the highly regarded General Botha sea school. We were to become friends, and he went on to have a successful career before finally retiring as head of the South African ports organisation.

Within a few weeks, I was told that I would be acting third mate. Shock, horror! There was I still working out my ass from my elbow at 16, and I was catapulted up to the bridge deck to keep the 8 to 12 watch. In the event of course, all went reasonably well, especially as there were sympathetic fellow officers to lend a helping hand. The second mate at that time was a rare bird, who managed the Herculean task of sitting his tickets effortlessly without recourse to school. He was later to rise up to become the company superintendent for South African ports. To set the mood of life in 1952, there is nothing better than the pop tunes of the day, and I recall that Johny Ray was all the rage, singing about ' Just crying in the rain ' and ' The little white cloud that cried'. Other hits were Jim Reeves with ' I love you because' and Guy Mitchell with his ' Red Feathers' !

Hi us by sticking his fingers in the sockets to test for power. The Inchanga and her sister Isipingo were designed with 4 small reefer spaces in number 4 hatch tweendeck, and these were in regular use for a variety of produce in bags. I can recall freezing nights in these spaces tallying bags in and out, whilst outside it was the lovely balmy atmosphere of a tropical night . The temptation to step outside was countered in the knowledge that pilfering or irregularities could so easily occur. It was a relief when the heavy thick doors of these lockers, as they were called, were finally slammed shut.

Arriving and leaving port my role was assisting the Mate on the Foc'sle, and I had personal charge of the anchor buoy which served such a useful role in fast flowing muddy waters. This was simply a wooden float attached to an anchor fluke by thin wire, and coiled up and secured on the rail ready for use. When the anchor flew out, the twine lashing broke, and the buoy would usually give us a tell tale location of the anchor on the bottom. It was a rough and ready tool which often went wrong but it was useful in the main. I learned a lot in that year about anchoring, and the fascination for a youngster like me at that time was the variety of trash that came up on the flukes. Everything from other people's anchors, i.e. those from nearby ships, to ropes and wires, and debris of all sorts. When the windlass started straining loudly, I knew we had caught a big one! Washing tons of mud from the flukes with a hose was part of the fun. It also happened that we often needed to unshackle the anchor to attach the chain to river buoys in some of the ports served.


The author's book " Any Budding Sailors?" has a fuller account of this and other ships.