Sea Life 1951-1952. Tynebank bound New Orleans USA
First draft:
The morning after we left Middlesbrough and heading southerly down the coast of England I was wakened by the steward at 07.00 am with a cup of chai on his tray. I quickly drank it and then had a wash and a shave in the cabin sink. Getting dressed, I put on my nice warm doeskin uniform, not animal skin, doeskin was a fine, smooth, soft, woollen fabric. By the time I had done all this it was time for an early breakfast at 07.30z and then ready for my first watch of the day starting at 0800z.
During the first watch I again checked the traffic list but there was nothing for us. I then made myself familiar with the rest of the wireless room and signed myself in the log for the day required at 10 minute intervals. Also listening at the specified times of 15minutes and 45 minutes past the hour for the 3minutes silence period for any possible distress call. And so it was, the same day after day as we crossed the Atlantic.
During this time I got to know better the Captain and 3 deck officers or mates as they were known and also the Chief and 3 Engineers. We carried 2 apprentices sometimes known as Cadets. They were about the same age as me. Of them all I cannot remember any of their names now, but I can still see their faces lodged within my memory.
We had left Middlesbrough on a cold December 8 1951 and arrived in New Orleans, Louisiana USA January 14 1952, 36 days later. The Tynebank was a slow old tramp ship making only 6.5 knots.
As we slowly crossed the Atlantic Ocean the days grew slowly warmer and then we reached the coast of Florida. The temperature was now nice and warm, at around 22 degrees Centigrade. Christmas Day found us still in the Atlantic Ocean and New Years Day in the Gulf of Mexico enjoying a pleasant temperature. To celebrate these holidays we had a few extras with our meal, otherwise the day was just the same with watches be kept as we wished each other a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year.
We made our way down the Florida coast passing Miami, rounding the Florida Keys not far north of Cuba and into the Gulf of Mexico. Then we angled northerly across to the Mississippi Delta sticking out into the Gulf. A couple of days before we reached the Delta I made contact with the nearest coast station and sent our TR message. At the entrance of the Delta we picked up the pilot to guide us up the Mississippi. New Orleans was about 90 miles up river from were we picked up the pilot. Once in the delta and well up the Mississippi I closed down the ship's radio. As we passed up the river there was nothing but swamp to be seen during low tide, as we progressed up above the tidal line low levee's appeared. The first habitation was the small town of Venice, 25 miles up stream. Having a look on Google Earth the sloping levee measured 14 feet high and the buildings behind were at minus – 4 to 5 feet below the river water line. The land surrounding the town seemed to be mainly swamp or water with a road on the levee crest.
Going up the river each side was lined with a levee (same as a dyke or stop bank), there was not much to see except sometimes traffic. Roads were often placed on the crest of the levee.
The levee's of Louisiana averaged 24 feet in height and some were as much as 50 feet in height. There are over 3500 miles of levee's in Louisiana.
We eventually reached New Orleans The levee's here seemed to measure about 18 feet in height above the river, the city streets on the west side of the river between plus 3 feet and minus 3 feet, below or above the normal river level. On the east side of the river the city was much higher in places, reaching a maximum of 40 feet.
We did not stay long here. Probably 2-3 days to unload some of our cargo and pick up more for Australia. I only went ashore once with the 2 apprentices and I think the 4th engineer, more or less just to stretch our legs. Someway from where we were berthed was the famous Bourbon Street, the home of Dixieland jazz. I would have loved to have gone down Bourbon Street and the French Quarter with its many jazz clubs but it was just a little too far to go by foot.
I was a lover of Jazz and Swing music when I was young. Of Swing music today I am still a great fan. Today in New Orleans Dixieland jazz is still played and it is a great hit with tourists. I came across a saying which sums up New Orleans and its music.
“Whether it is a jazz brunch on Sunday, a jazz band in a street parade, or a jazz funeral on Friday, there is always jazz to be heard in New Orleans” .
Nearby is Canal Street and the French Quarter which are still famous today for their Jazz Blues and music clubs . Today many famous stars are often seen mingling with the crowds of music lovers.
New Orleans is also world famous for its Mardi Gras Parade (Fat Tuesday, in English) during late February and early March, everyone who can is on holiday. I see that even after the recent great storm and flooding from the breeched levee‘s the Mardi Gras for 2011 is going ahead.
Tomorrow we sail back down the Mississippi for Galveston and nearby Houston in Texas.
13 January 2011
12 January 2011
Sea Life 1951. Tynebank Middlesbrough 02
First draft:
We were to sail this evening. This lunchtime I met Captain J Betts for the first time, who introduced himself to me and also his wife. He was a large tubby fellow with a cheery smile, twinkling eyes and sandy hair, probably in his mid-fifties. His wife looked somewhat younger with blond hair and carried a fair bit of weight also. I had met most of the other officers yesterday evening at dinner. The captain kept the conversation flowing, with queries to the 1st mate and Chief Engineer mostly. Not much else was said, the Stewards served the meal and as each cleared his plate the next course was served. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry with jobs to do. I learnt that the The Captains wife would be leaving this afternoon for their home. She had been with the ship since it had arrived at its first port of call, as the Tynebank delivered its cargo to various ports around the British isles.
This afternoon I twiddled my thumbs for a while, I felt I had to do something so I went next door to the radio room, I switched on and ran up the alternator power... , tried the transmitter..., did it transmit?, I was nervous, I was now on my own for the first time. What was the radio coast station for Middlesbrough?, I quickly looked it up and saw it was Cullercoats Radio, call-sign GCC. I wrote it down ready for when we left port and I was ready to send the TR message. I tried the communications receiver and tuned to the general calling frequency, 500khz... usually a busy place and sure enough it was. I became immersed listening in to the traffic, especially when I went up on to the HF bands, picking out the various stations of the worldwide network.
The afternoon rolled along slowly, I remember the steward came with chai and sandwiches. After that I wandered round the deck and into the saloon, no one here to talk to, I suddenly thought, the aerial slung between the masts, had it been slung correctly and the down-lead dressed down correctly. As I checked the aerial a figure appeared and I saw from his dress he was the serang (boatswain, or foreman) of the deck crew. He was just checking too, he introduced himself and we talked for a little while.
Not long after this there was a rumble and pulsating below my feet, I knew that sound, the ship's engines were starting up for testing. Once the pilot was on board it would not be long before the tugs pulled us away from the wharf and turned us round in the river, if necessary and we would be ready to slowly steam down stream with the pilot in charge to the mouth of the river Tees. Once clear of the river mouth the pilot would be dropped off to the pilot boat. That could have been roughly 3 to 5 miles or more away. By this time in December darkness would have set in. I decided to leave sending the TR message to just before dinner time. To “celebrate” my first in charge ship I decided to write the TR in full into the log. Usually the date and time followed by the words “TR sent” was entered.
The TR said the name of the ship, port left, to where bound with some extra information in shortened words and coded letters in between.
I had a final watch to do after dinner... 2000z to 2200z. Towards the end of the watch I monitored GCC local traffic list and the HF list just in case there was late traffic for us. After closing down and setting the Auto Alarm to pick up any SOS messages calls I went to bed feeling pleased with myself.
First draft:
We were to sail this evening. This lunchtime I met Captain J Betts for the first time, who introduced himself to me and also his wife. He was a large tubby fellow with a cheery smile, twinkling eyes and sandy hair, probably in his mid-fifties. His wife looked somewhat younger with blond hair and carried a fair bit of weight also. I had met most of the other officers yesterday evening at dinner. The captain kept the conversation flowing, with queries to the 1st mate and Chief Engineer mostly. Not much else was said, the Stewards served the meal and as each cleared his plate the next course was served. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry with jobs to do. I learnt that the The Captains wife would be leaving this afternoon for their home. She had been with the ship since it had arrived at its first port of call, as the Tynebank delivered its cargo to various ports around the British isles.
This afternoon I twiddled my thumbs for a while, I felt I had to do something so I went next door to the radio room, I switched on and ran up the alternator power... , tried the transmitter..., did it transmit?, I was nervous, I was now on my own for the first time. What was the radio coast station for Middlesbrough?, I quickly looked it up and saw it was Cullercoats Radio, call-sign GCC. I wrote it down ready for when we left port and I was ready to send the TR message. I tried the communications receiver and tuned to the general calling frequency, 500khz... usually a busy place and sure enough it was. I became immersed listening in to the traffic, especially when I went up on to the HF bands, picking out the various stations of the worldwide network.
The afternoon rolled along slowly, I remember the steward came with chai and sandwiches. After that I wandered round the deck and into the saloon, no one here to talk to, I suddenly thought, the aerial slung between the masts, had it been slung correctly and the down-lead dressed down correctly. As I checked the aerial a figure appeared and I saw from his dress he was the serang (boatswain, or foreman) of the deck crew. He was just checking too, he introduced himself and we talked for a little while.
Not long after this there was a rumble and pulsating below my feet, I knew that sound, the ship's engines were starting up for testing. Once the pilot was on board it would not be long before the tugs pulled us away from the wharf and turned us round in the river, if necessary and we would be ready to slowly steam down stream with the pilot in charge to the mouth of the river Tees. Once clear of the river mouth the pilot would be dropped off to the pilot boat. That could have been roughly 3 to 5 miles or more away. By this time in December darkness would have set in. I decided to leave sending the TR message to just before dinner time. To “celebrate” my first in charge ship I decided to write the TR in full into the log. Usually the date and time followed by the words “TR sent” was entered.
The TR said the name of the ship, port left, to where bound with some extra information in shortened words and coded letters in between.
I had a final watch to do after dinner... 2000z to 2200z. Towards the end of the watch I monitored GCC local traffic list and the HF list just in case there was late traffic for us. After closing down and setting the Auto Alarm to pick up any SOS messages calls I went to bed feeling pleased with myself.
Sea Life 1951. Tynebank Joining Middlesbrough 01
First draft:
I did not manage to get my full 10 days leave. Just over a week after I arrived home an urgent telegram arrived from the Marconi Co. asking me to cut my leave short and sign on as 1st Radio Officer on the SS Tynebank at the port of Middlesbrough on December the 6th 1951.
Middlesbrough was about 50 miles south of Newcastle on Tyne. The shortest train route was from Kendal (Oxenholme) to Carlisle, change for Newcastle-on-Tyne then change for Middlesbrough.
I remember leaving on the slow early morning train from Oxenholme stopping at all the small stations on the way north to Carlisle to catch the fast express across country to Newcastle-on-Tyne. Then just a short wait to catch the connection to Middlesbrough. Yes, I made the connections OK. Then I caught a taxi to the docks and I was quickly deposited at the bottom of the gang-plank of the Tynebank. The taxi driver unloaded my bags and I gave the him my supplied voucher. An Indian crewman on duty at top of the gang-plank came quickly down and enquired “Marconi,sahib?”. I was evidently expected and I said “Yes”. He duly pulled out a whistle on a lanyard from his tunic and gave 2 short blasts. Two crewmen came down the gangplank quickly and when instructed, grabbed my bags and headed up the gangplank with them. I then went aboard to find my bags gone… somewhere. Standing before me was a smiling Indian steward who greeted me, and smilingly lead me to my cabin and my bags deposited by the cabin door. The steward heaved the bags into the cabin. He then asked me to follow him outside where he then opened the adjoining cabin door and there it was, the radio room. I went across to the chair and sat down looking all around me, noting the equipment. As I slowly spun the chair round the steward said a magic word, would I like chai, a word I knew well from my time on the Modasa… tea.
I returned to my cabin and started to unpack my bags, particularly my uniform to hang up in case it was creased. Another thing had been gnawing in the back of my mind on the train journey. I needed to get and change the braid on my sleeves of my uniform. Meantime the steward arrived back with a tray on which was a cup of chai and a covered plate with sandwiches, suddenly I felt hungry. He also had a message for me from the 1st mate. Would I go up to the chartroom when I had finished my chai to sign on the ships articles. Whilst the steward was there I thought it a good idea to ask if he knew of a shop or ships chandler’s nearby which sold uniform braid. I pointed to my uniform sleeves, his eyes lit up and he said that he would attend to it, get the braid and sew it on for me. He would call for the uniform later. I was a bit hesitant about that.
Finishing my chai I then made my way towards the bridge and chartroom. After signing on I found the 1st mate talkative, he told me we would be sailing tomorrow for the southern states of the USA, namely Louisiana and Texas ports then through the Panama Canal and across the Pacific Ocean to Sydney, Australia and then for goodness knows where. We could be away for as long as 2 years, he told me. My heart jumped, I remember. In my excitement I almost forgot my question. I then explained my problem with the uniform and he asked which boy the steward was. I described him which was easy enough and he immediately recognised him. Yes, he is good and reliable boy said the mate. That set my mind at ease.As I made a move to the chartroom door he said that there was no need for uniform for dinner whilst in port, just after we sail.
I made my way back towards my cabin. The cabin, and wireless room were to the aft of the funnel and sitting on the top of the aft end of the mid-ships superstructure, and the door facing aft. I was up here alone. This was a common location for the radio room on older cargo ships. The reason was the lead-in of the aerial slung between the 2 main masts had to be completely in the clear of all objects. The down lead was an effective part of the aerial which was often known as a “T” type aerial. The down- lead was in fact, the main effective radiating element.
I unpacked the rest of my gear, putting it into the drawers’ under my bunk and in the wardrobe, odd and ends went into the small drawers in the unit below the mirror. I had a blue case and a dull orange coloured small trunk. Where I kept those I cannot remember. The trunk was old and came from Sharrow Bay and the case was presented to me by the Nelson’s of Kidside House as a going away present. I had them both with us when we came to NZ and they were still with us until recently.
The steward came by and picked up my uniform for alteration, the following morning it was with me again to wear when we sailed. I enquired the cost and thought it very reasonable. That night I remember, I slept well, it had been a busy, and exiting day.
Sea Life 1951. The Modasa. Homeward Bound
First draft:
We left Tilbury Dock in London, down the Thames, into the English Channel and headed in a northerly direction up to the River Tyne. I remember little of the short voyage. The weather, no doubt would be at the best, chilly and more probably cold. It was now late November and not the best time to be leaning over the ships rail in the cold.
Strange to say I remember little or nothing of this part of the voyage and its end. My memory was a complete blank. When I made the rough notes of the voyage in 2004 and now continuing 6 years later I still cannot remember anything.
We would pass through the 2 sea walls guarding the entrance to the river Tyne, pass the groyne inside the sea walls, here was South Shields and we would slow as we turned into the river. I must have looked up onto the hill and noted 47 Lawe Rd were I had boarded so long. Cold day or not, I would have noted the familiar architecture of the boarding house. Passing up the river I must have looked at the familiar places I knew so well.
Where we berthed I do not know. I did not remember signing off the ships articles, or receiving my first salary cheque, travel warrant to home or the train journey home.
Our voyage lasted from August 8 1951 to November 27 1951. The ships master was Captain Busby
Arriving home I found I had 14 days leave which included Sunday’s at sea days.
First draft:
We left Tilbury Dock in London, down the Thames, into the English Channel and headed in a northerly direction up to the River Tyne. I remember little of the short voyage. The weather, no doubt would be at the best, chilly and more probably cold. It was now late November and not the best time to be leaning over the ships rail in the cold.
Strange to say I remember little or nothing of this part of the voyage and its end. My memory was a complete blank. When I made the rough notes of the voyage in 2004 and now continuing 6 years later I still cannot remember anything.
We would pass through the 2 sea walls guarding the entrance to the river Tyne, pass the groyne inside the sea walls, here was South Shields and we would slow as we turned into the river. I must have looked up onto the hill and noted 47 Lawe Rd were I had boarded so long. Cold day or not, I would have noted the familiar architecture of the boarding house. Passing up the river I must have looked at the familiar places I knew so well.
Where we berthed I do not know. I did not remember signing off the ships articles, or receiving my first salary cheque, travel warrant to home or the train journey home.
Our voyage lasted from August 8 1951 to November 27 1951. The ships master was Captain Busby
Arriving home I found I had 14 days leave which included Sunday’s at sea days.
Sea Life 1952. Modasa Potted History
The "Modasa" was one of a class of six near-sister ships owned by British India Steam Navigation Co. Built by Swan Hunter & Wigham Richardson, Wallsend-on-Tyne, she was a 9,070 gross ton ship, length 465.2ft x beam 58.3ft x depth 32.6ft, one funnel, two masts, twin screw and a speed of 13.5 knots.
There was accommodation for 127-1st and 41-2nd class passengers. Launched on 24th December 1920, she entered service in December 1921 on the UK to India or East Africa service and in 1927 carried the first large export cargo of maize from East Africa to London.
In 1933 she arrived at Middlesborough to discharge her cargo before proceeding to London for repairs. She had 450 tons of oil in her tanks and Customs ruled that, as this constituted a coastal voyage, this oil was liable to customs duty. The row was only settled by taking the ship to Antwerp for repairs, this being classed as a non-coastal voyage.
Between 1939 and 1945 she was employed on both commercial and government service and was refurbished in 1946 to carry 183 single class passengers. She then resumed the East Africa service until being sold for scrap in December 1953. On January 23rd 1954, after unloading her cargo at the Tyne, she proceeded to Blyth where she was scrapped.
The voyage I sailed on the Modasa in 1951 was somewhat different to the typical 1953 voyage listed below.
A typical 4-month voyage for 1953 was –
3rd June Sail.......... ...........London,
15-16 June call .................Port Said,
19-20th June call... ...........Port Sudan,
23rd June call ...................Aden,
30th June - 6th July call..... Mombasa,
7th July call....................... Tanga,
8th July call....................... Zanzibar,
9th - 12th July call............. Dar-es-Salaam,
14th - 16th July call........... Lindi,
20th - 23rd July call........... Beira,
Return Voyage
28th - 30th July call........... Dar-es-Salaam,
31st July call..................... Zanzibar,
1st - 2nd August call......... Tanga,
3rd - 8th Aug. call............. Mombasa,
14th Aug. call....................Aden,
17th - 18th Aug. call......... Port Sudan,
21st - 22nd Aug. call........ Port Said,
28th - 30th Aug. call......... Marseilles,
1st Sept. call.................... Gibraltar,
7th Sept. Arrive............... London
[Sea Safari, British India S.N.Co African Ships and Services by Peter C. Kohler] - [Posted to The ShipsList by Ted Finch - 27 July 1998]
The "Modasa" was one of a class of six near-sister ships owned by British India Steam Navigation Co. Built by Swan Hunter & Wigham Richardson, Wallsend-on-Tyne, she was a 9,070 gross ton ship, length 465.2ft x beam 58.3ft x depth 32.6ft, one funnel, two masts, twin screw and a speed of 13.5 knots.
There was accommodation for 127-1st and 41-2nd class passengers. Launched on 24th December 1920, she entered service in December 1921 on the UK to India or East Africa service and in 1927 carried the first large export cargo of maize from East Africa to London.
In 1933 she arrived at Middlesborough to discharge her cargo before proceeding to London for repairs. She had 450 tons of oil in her tanks and Customs ruled that, as this constituted a coastal voyage, this oil was liable to customs duty. The row was only settled by taking the ship to Antwerp for repairs, this being classed as a non-coastal voyage.
Between 1939 and 1945 she was employed on both commercial and government service and was refurbished in 1946 to carry 183 single class passengers. She then resumed the East Africa service until being sold for scrap in December 1953. On January 23rd 1954, after unloading her cargo at the Tyne, she proceeded to Blyth where she was scrapped.
The voyage I sailed on the Modasa in 1951 was somewhat different to the typical 1953 voyage listed below.
A typical 4-month voyage for 1953 was –
3rd June Sail.......... ...........London,
15-16 June call .................Port Said,
19-20th June call... ...........Port Sudan,
23rd June call ...................Aden,
30th June - 6th July call..... Mombasa,
7th July call....................... Tanga,
8th July call....................... Zanzibar,
9th - 12th July call............. Dar-es-Salaam,
14th - 16th July call........... Lindi,
20th - 23rd July call........... Beira,
Return Voyage
28th - 30th July call........... Dar-es-Salaam,
31st July call..................... Zanzibar,
1st - 2nd August call......... Tanga,
3rd - 8th Aug. call............. Mombasa,
14th Aug. call....................Aden,
17th - 18th Aug. call......... Port Sudan,
21st - 22nd Aug. call........ Port Said,
28th - 30th Aug. call......... Marseilles,
1st Sept. call.................... Gibraltar,
7th Sept. Arrive............... London
[Sea Safari, British India S.N.Co African Ships and Services by Peter C. Kohler] - [Posted to The ShipsList by Ted Finch - 27 July 1998]
14 November 2010
Sea Life 1951. The Modasa. London.
First draft:
Leaving Malta our next call was Tilbury Dock in London. Our passengers disembarked here and some of the cargo also, I think.
During our few days stay at Tilbury, over the weekend, I made the opportunity to visit my Aunt Florrie (Florence), she was my father's sister, who lived in nearby Rochester about 5 miles distant. She and her husband had moved from Cumberland to Rochester in Kent just after the end of WW2. I made the journey by early morning bus and they were more than surprised to see me. She had 2 children, my cousins, Valerie and Carl who were younger than I. I was made most welcome by the family and I finally caught the bus back to Tilbury in the late afternoon.
My aunt's husband, John Ritson was a close friend of my father's and he was also my godfather. He was said to be a very clever man who worked on seaplanes during WW2 based in the English Lake District . His son Carl Ritson following his father's footsteps, becoming an aircraft engineer. Eventually he went to Florida, USA to follow his profession.
We were now due to leave Tilbury and sail to Newcastle-on-Tyne, the Modasa's home port to discharge the remaining cargo.
Note: To be amended. My visit to my Aunt Florrie above may have been with another ship (British Piper), an oil tanker sometime later. Maybe not.
First draft:
Leaving Malta our next call was Tilbury Dock in London. Our passengers disembarked here and some of the cargo also, I think.
During our few days stay at Tilbury, over the weekend, I made the opportunity to visit my Aunt Florrie (Florence), she was my father's sister, who lived in nearby Rochester about 5 miles distant. She and her husband had moved from Cumberland to Rochester in Kent just after the end of WW2. I made the journey by early morning bus and they were more than surprised to see me. She had 2 children, my cousins, Valerie and Carl who were younger than I. I was made most welcome by the family and I finally caught the bus back to Tilbury in the late afternoon.
My aunt's husband, John Ritson was a close friend of my father's and he was also my godfather. He was said to be a very clever man who worked on seaplanes during WW2 based in the English Lake District . His son Carl Ritson following his father's footsteps, becoming an aircraft engineer. Eventually he went to Florida, USA to follow his profession.
We were now due to leave Tilbury and sail to Newcastle-on-Tyne, the Modasa's home port to discharge the remaining cargo.
Note: To be amended. My visit to my Aunt Florrie above may have been with another ship (British Piper), an oil tanker sometime later. Maybe not.
Sea Life 1951. The Modasa. Homeward Bound.
First draft:
We left Lourenco Marques heading for Dar es Salaam and Zanzibar where we were to pick up our first passengers. We would also picked up more cargo, what it was I can no longer remember. Then onwards to Mombasa where we picked up the majority of our passengers and more cargo. Our ports of call were more or less the same as on our outward voyage with the exception of Marseilles, in southern France.
We then passed through the Suez Canal again and back into the Mediterranean. Following the north African Coast we made our way to to the island of Malta an additional port of call to pick up even more cargo and maybe an extra passenger or two.
Malta
. We stayed here only 12 hours. We were berthed close to the old town so, to stretch our legs, a few of us had a short exploratory walk through the old town with its narrow cobbled streets, small shops and cafes. I remember the buildings were high in these narrow streets but the light coloured stone of the buildings seemed to reflect the daylight down into the streets making them quite bright. Leaving Malta our next call was Tilbury docks in London.
Notes and thoughts.
Now, remembering Malta I wish we could have stayed longer. There is much history here, going back to ancient times. As a school boy and later I did not care for History much at all, although I did enjoy Geography very much. As a boy, I would often dream of those faraway countries.
During my early 50s I became interested in genealogy and then the history of the county of Cumberland which is now Cumbria were I was born. This lead to the history of its peoples through the ages. My fathers people were yeoman farmers in the Wigton and Carlisle areas and I was able to get back to the late 1700s before I started to be unsure who was who. My mothers line was much easier to trace. They had not moved far going back to about the mid 1600s. They were in the main yeoman farmers and stonemasons.
First draft:
We left Lourenco Marques heading for Dar es Salaam and Zanzibar where we were to pick up our first passengers. We would also picked up more cargo, what it was I can no longer remember. Then onwards to Mombasa where we picked up the majority of our passengers and more cargo. Our ports of call were more or less the same as on our outward voyage with the exception of Marseilles, in southern France.
We then passed through the Suez Canal again and back into the Mediterranean. Following the north African Coast we made our way to to the island of Malta an additional port of call to pick up even more cargo and maybe an extra passenger or two.
Malta
. We stayed here only 12 hours. We were berthed close to the old town so, to stretch our legs, a few of us had a short exploratory walk through the old town with its narrow cobbled streets, small shops and cafes. I remember the buildings were high in these narrow streets but the light coloured stone of the buildings seemed to reflect the daylight down into the streets making them quite bright. Leaving Malta our next call was Tilbury docks in London.
Notes and thoughts.
Now, remembering Malta I wish we could have stayed longer. There is much history here, going back to ancient times. As a school boy and later I did not care for History much at all, although I did enjoy Geography very much. As a boy, I would often dream of those faraway countries.
During my early 50s I became interested in genealogy and then the history of the county of Cumberland which is now Cumbria were I was born. This lead to the history of its peoples through the ages. My fathers people were yeoman farmers in the Wigton and Carlisle areas and I was able to get back to the late 1700s before I started to be unsure who was who. My mothers line was much easier to trace. They had not moved far going back to about the mid 1600s. They were in the main yeoman farmers and stonemasons.
4 November 2010
:Sea Life 1951. Lourenco Marques, Mozambique.
First draft
We left Dar es Salaam, heading south to Lourenco Marques now renamed Maputo. When we visited, Mozambique was still a colony of Portugal. The name change took place shortly after Mozambique became a republic. The old name has always seemed to me, since a small boy to have had a grand ring to it. From my eight birthday I have been a keen stamp collector with a few temporary periodic lapses. First stamps of the world, then British Colonies, then in my later years, theme related. The older stamps of Mozambique had only the name Beira wrote across the bottom. There was no country of Beira and it took sometime to deduce where the stamp came from. I found it eventually from a large school wall map, the word Beira jumped out then the name Mozambique. Looking further on the map lower down was the name Lourenco Marques, that name stuck in my brain, it now seems for ever!
Lourenco Marques was a long way from Dar es Salaam about 1500 miles or a little more, a few days steaming. If we still had a passenger or two on board I am now unable to remember or whether we still had cargo on board. I do remember we had cargo to load mainly large bales of hides, mostly cattle hides. I seem to remember wild cattle mentioned during loading, added to that we were not far from the South African border and the railway ran into Lourenco Marques from South Africa and down from the north also.
We, or I did, got quite a surprise when we got an invite to a cricket match... could we raise a team? The word spread though the ship. I don't think we quite made a team, we made up the eleven from spare British locals. In 1951 Lourenco Marques was a thriving port and railway junction. Then, British officials of kinds seemed to abound in all kinds of unlikely places. Oh, and the cricket match, I think we did managed to lose.
We were here 3 days, we all enjoyed the hospitality of the local expatriates and the stories swapped.
First draft
We left Dar es Salaam, heading south to Lourenco Marques now renamed Maputo. When we visited, Mozambique was still a colony of Portugal. The name change took place shortly after Mozambique became a republic. The old name has always seemed to me, since a small boy to have had a grand ring to it. From my eight birthday I have been a keen stamp collector with a few temporary periodic lapses. First stamps of the world, then British Colonies, then in my later years, theme related. The older stamps of Mozambique had only the name Beira wrote across the bottom. There was no country of Beira and it took sometime to deduce where the stamp came from. I found it eventually from a large school wall map, the word Beira jumped out then the name Mozambique. Looking further on the map lower down was the name Lourenco Marques, that name stuck in my brain, it now seems for ever!
Lourenco Marques was a long way from Dar es Salaam about 1500 miles or a little more, a few days steaming. If we still had a passenger or two on board I am now unable to remember or whether we still had cargo on board. I do remember we had cargo to load mainly large bales of hides, mostly cattle hides. I seem to remember wild cattle mentioned during loading, added to that we were not far from the South African border and the railway ran into Lourenco Marques from South Africa and down from the north also.
We, or I did, got quite a surprise when we got an invite to a cricket match... could we raise a team? The word spread though the ship. I don't think we quite made a team, we made up the eleven from spare British locals. In 1951 Lourenco Marques was a thriving port and railway junction. Then, British officials of kinds seemed to abound in all kinds of unlikely places. Oh, and the cricket match, I think we did managed to lose.
We were here 3 days, we all enjoyed the hospitality of the local expatriates and the stories swapped.
30 October 2010
Sea Life 1951. The Modasa.
First draft:
Dar es Salaam means "Haven of Peace". Tanzania in the 1950s was called Tanganyika, and like Kenya and Zanzibar, British ruled.
We were in port here for about 3 days; most of the remaining passengers would disembark here.The majority of our remaining cargo was unloaded here, too. The town had a more Arabic feel in comparison to Mombasa. Of the population of Tanganyika, 33% were estimated to be Muslim.
Whilst we waited anchored in the harbour for a berth a lone bum boat came out from the wharf loaded with goods and being a lone boat was allowed up on deck. He laid a large sheet out on the deck. Then from the boat below, with the aid of helpers, hoisted up a number of baskets with selections of his wares. Our remaining passengers crowded round buying and bartering for various things; asking for this or that and he, instructing his helpers to heave this or that item up to him.
I noticed a few seashells on show. The elderly Arabic man noticed my interest and he picked one or two up for me to have a closer look. I asked him if he had any bigger ones, He indicated no but he could get some for me, if I wished. I described the shape and size I required and he said he would return tomorrow. Walking away, I thought well he was just being polite. I probably would not see him again.
Later, we berthed and next morning Jock called me, he decided to do a few maintenance checks to the ships radio equipment. He showed me how to check over the transmitter motor alternator, a bit of grease here and there, tightening this or that. Then along to a large bank of batteries outside in a waterproof box used to drive the radio transmitter, whilst stressing the importance of regular maintenance and topping up the battery acid with distilled water. I then made the mistake of saying to Jock that I knew all this from the Radio College tuition. Jock looked at me for a few moments, then he growled that he knew that, he was just empathizing the importance of the fact that when at sea our power had to generated completely independent of the ships power supply. He went on to say that if the batteries failed or the motor alternator failed we were in serious trouble. If the main transmitter failed we had a standby, the same applied to the communications receiver. We could send out an advise message advising of our problem and get shore help when we reached our destination port. (The above is only a simple explanation). He told me later that he applied the above to each new 2nd Radio Officer to come aboard. Jock knew the consequences; maintenance usually, was quickly passed over at the Marine Radio College. Years later when I worked for British Civil Aviation and transfered to the Maintainance Unit Jock's remarks stood me in good stead.
In the afternoon I stood by the rail watching passengers disembarking, officials coming on board, cargo slings bringing goods slowly out of the holds together with the general wharf activity. It was hot standing in the tropical sun. Jock would be asleep as he usually was in the afternoons, so I retired and propped myself up upon my cabin day bed and read a book which I had from the ship's library. Sometime later there was a small knock and the cabin door opened, it was my cabin steward. He said with raised eyebrows of surprise, a man was here to see me. As I got up I saw the elderly Arabic man of yesterday standing behind him. I grinned at the steward and said OK, my visitor said he had some shells to look at. He unwound a cloth and put it on the deck outside my cabin door and proceeded to lay a number of large shells on the cloth. Two caught my eye immediately, both pink and white in a twisted cone form, blunt at one end and pointed at the other, about 9 inches long and 4 inches across the base, just what I wanted. He had, I think 5 shells in all. I took the two cone shells,the others were too small or wrong shape.
I asked him the "how much" and the price he named seemed to me quite cheap, I said OK without trying to bargain. My purpose for the shells was to drill a hole in the middle blunt end and carefully hollow out the centre to make a lamp. I had once seen this done in a book with instructions how to proceed. I did this with the Radio Room tools and then procured the necessary parts from the ships Electrician. When the inner shell was hollowed out enough and the bulb inserted the whole shell glowed with a varying soft pink glow all over. To complete the job I needed some glue to glue the bulb socket base into place. this lead me to the ships engineers who came up with just the thing.
There is a postscript to this story. After buying the shells from the Arabic gentleman I found to my dismay the shells were live. The question was what to do? I had plenty of suggestions, mostly dunk them in salt water and the fleshy part would come out seeking food. Dunk them in fresh water and it would kill them. I selected the salt water way. To get it to come out fully I found I needed to pin the shell upside down with a weight and quickly with a knife severe the fleshy part. Borrowing a sharp knife from one of the deck officers I quickly managed to cut the majority of the tongue out. As a boy who spent many hours fishing I was an expert at this operation. I then with a bent piece of wire managed to hook out a good part of the remaining flesh and left the 2 shells to dry in the sun for a few days.
I was able to do most of the above messy and noisy drilling away from the accommodation. Aft of our accommodation was a block of cabins part empty, and a few used by the Engineers at the aft end of the block. At the end of the block nearest me was a washroom of sorts with brushes, both scrubbing and sweeping and a sink and with, of all things... a salt water tap. During our voyage I had noticed the washroom didn't seem to be used. I moved my bits and pieces in. No one queried me.
One evening someone mentioned to me would I like to make up a six to hire a taxi for the evening and go down the coastal road (South) to a nice place for a drink...I said yes. Off we trooped. When we reached our destination we found the place closed, but lights on at the house. We were told that they were normally closed, off-season. If we were staying a while, they would be glad to open up the bar. A few minutes later a house-boy came out and led us a short way down towards the beach and opened up a circular bar and arranged a table for us. Sometime later the owner and his wife joined us with a few locals. We had an excellent time. Midnight saw us returning.
Many years later, as I write this in 2010 I looked on Google Earth and spotted the resort we had gone to. It now looked absolutely different. Where we had sat near the beach was now 2 large concrete multi-storey apartment blocks. I thought at first I must have been wrong. Checking the area again there was not another place it could have been. The lovely simple resort of long ago had been wiped out. I sat quietly in my chair and felt sad and not wanting to write anymore today.
First draft:
Dar es Salaam means "Haven of Peace". Tanzania in the 1950s was called Tanganyika, and like Kenya and Zanzibar, British ruled.
We were in port here for about 3 days; most of the remaining passengers would disembark here.The majority of our remaining cargo was unloaded here, too. The town had a more Arabic feel in comparison to Mombasa. Of the population of Tanganyika, 33% were estimated to be Muslim.
Whilst we waited anchored in the harbour for a berth a lone bum boat came out from the wharf loaded with goods and being a lone boat was allowed up on deck. He laid a large sheet out on the deck. Then from the boat below, with the aid of helpers, hoisted up a number of baskets with selections of his wares. Our remaining passengers crowded round buying and bartering for various things; asking for this or that and he, instructing his helpers to heave this or that item up to him.
I noticed a few seashells on show. The elderly Arabic man noticed my interest and he picked one or two up for me to have a closer look. I asked him if he had any bigger ones, He indicated no but he could get some for me, if I wished. I described the shape and size I required and he said he would return tomorrow. Walking away, I thought well he was just being polite. I probably would not see him again.
Later, we berthed and next morning Jock called me, he decided to do a few maintenance checks to the ships radio equipment. He showed me how to check over the transmitter motor alternator, a bit of grease here and there, tightening this or that. Then along to a large bank of batteries outside in a waterproof box used to drive the radio transmitter, whilst stressing the importance of regular maintenance and topping up the battery acid with distilled water. I then made the mistake of saying to Jock that I knew all this from the Radio College tuition. Jock looked at me for a few moments, then he growled that he knew that, he was just empathizing the importance of the fact that when at sea our power had to generated completely independent of the ships power supply. He went on to say that if the batteries failed or the motor alternator failed we were in serious trouble. If the main transmitter failed we had a standby, the same applied to the communications receiver. We could send out an advise message advising of our problem and get shore help when we reached our destination port. (The above is only a simple explanation). He told me later that he applied the above to each new 2nd Radio Officer to come aboard. Jock knew the consequences; maintenance usually, was quickly passed over at the Marine Radio College. Years later when I worked for British Civil Aviation and transfered to the Maintainance Unit Jock's remarks stood me in good stead.
In the afternoon I stood by the rail watching passengers disembarking, officials coming on board, cargo slings bringing goods slowly out of the holds together with the general wharf activity. It was hot standing in the tropical sun. Jock would be asleep as he usually was in the afternoons, so I retired and propped myself up upon my cabin day bed and read a book which I had from the ship's library. Sometime later there was a small knock and the cabin door opened, it was my cabin steward. He said with raised eyebrows of surprise, a man was here to see me. As I got up I saw the elderly Arabic man of yesterday standing behind him. I grinned at the steward and said OK, my visitor said he had some shells to look at. He unwound a cloth and put it on the deck outside my cabin door and proceeded to lay a number of large shells on the cloth. Two caught my eye immediately, both pink and white in a twisted cone form, blunt at one end and pointed at the other, about 9 inches long and 4 inches across the base, just what I wanted. He had, I think 5 shells in all. I took the two cone shells,the others were too small or wrong shape.
I asked him the "how much" and the price he named seemed to me quite cheap, I said OK without trying to bargain. My purpose for the shells was to drill a hole in the middle blunt end and carefully hollow out the centre to make a lamp. I had once seen this done in a book with instructions how to proceed. I did this with the Radio Room tools and then procured the necessary parts from the ships Electrician. When the inner shell was hollowed out enough and the bulb inserted the whole shell glowed with a varying soft pink glow all over. To complete the job I needed some glue to glue the bulb socket base into place. this lead me to the ships engineers who came up with just the thing.
There is a postscript to this story. After buying the shells from the Arabic gentleman I found to my dismay the shells were live. The question was what to do? I had plenty of suggestions, mostly dunk them in salt water and the fleshy part would come out seeking food. Dunk them in fresh water and it would kill them. I selected the salt water way. To get it to come out fully I found I needed to pin the shell upside down with a weight and quickly with a knife severe the fleshy part. Borrowing a sharp knife from one of the deck officers I quickly managed to cut the majority of the tongue out. As a boy who spent many hours fishing I was an expert at this operation. I then with a bent piece of wire managed to hook out a good part of the remaining flesh and left the 2 shells to dry in the sun for a few days.
I was able to do most of the above messy and noisy drilling away from the accommodation. Aft of our accommodation was a block of cabins part empty, and a few used by the Engineers at the aft end of the block. At the end of the block nearest me was a washroom of sorts with brushes, both scrubbing and sweeping and a sink and with, of all things... a salt water tap. During our voyage I had noticed the washroom didn't seem to be used. I moved my bits and pieces in. No one queried me.
One evening someone mentioned to me would I like to make up a six to hire a taxi for the evening and go down the coastal road (South) to a nice place for a drink...I said yes. Off we trooped. When we reached our destination we found the place closed, but lights on at the house. We were told that they were normally closed, off-season. If we were staying a while, they would be glad to open up the bar. A few minutes later a house-boy came out and led us a short way down towards the beach and opened up a circular bar and arranged a table for us. Sometime later the owner and his wife joined us with a few locals. We had an excellent time. Midnight saw us returning.
Many years later, as I write this in 2010 I looked on Google Earth and spotted the resort we had gone to. It now looked absolutely different. Where we had sat near the beach was now 2 large concrete multi-storey apartment blocks. I thought at first I must have been wrong. Checking the area again there was not another place it could have been. The lovely simple resort of long ago had been wiped out. I sat quietly in my chair and felt sad and not wanting to write anymore today.