Twenty Years Before the Antenna Mast

Trip: One

Call Sign: GUFY

Company: Ben Line

Specs: 9952 GRT, 6800 SHP

Rank: 2nd R/O

Joined: Victoria Docks in London 26/7/67

Departed: London 21/11/67

London, Rotterdam, then via the Cape to Port Kelang (Malaysia), Singapore, Medan (Indonesia), Bangkok, Singapore, Port Kelang (Malaysia), then back to London again. The Suez Canal was closed at that time, being blocked after the war between Israel and Egypt. During this war, Israel had sunk a couple of ships in the canal to block it. A few ships had been trapped inside whilst in transit and a few were kept manned and operational the whole time. Eventually, after several years, they sailed out again when the canal re-opened. Some of their cargo had been used as stores during the enforced stay, but some was still in good condition, and reached its rightful owners only a few years late. There was no air conditioning on the Benhope, and it was a rather old ship with riveted construction (Built in 1945). It carried general cargo in four holds (2 forward, two aft) and could carry latex rubber in the double bottom tanks. The main hatch covers were made of thick wooden planks (almost as thick as railway sleepers) covered over with heavy canvas when closed to stop the sea getting in.

The ship used 8 and 10 ton derricks to work cargo, with one 20-ton "heavy lift" forward. Every hatch had 4 winches with lots of wire ropes and metal pulley blocks for working the derricks. It boasted a 220v DC mains supply (even for the winches and anchor windlass!). Luckily my electric razor was run off batteries, so I did not have to resort to a cutthroat and shaving soap. Officers and Cadets lived amidships, together with the maximum of 12 passengers. The Chinese seamen, stewards and Engine Room crew lived aft. The accommodation was small, the seamen having to share cabins. Junior officers (like me) had to share shower and toilet arrangements, though we did have our own cabins. The cadets however were 4 to a cabin, albeit a big one.

The radio room (which had a comfortable, lived in, sort of atmosphere) had a rather old Oceanspan transmitter. A crystal controlled with 100 watts output from 3 parallel 807's and an Atalanta receiver (a 15KHz to 25MHz double superhet installed). Together with the standard Autokey (an electric motor driving cams and relays to automatically send a distress message). An Alert 500KHz auto alarm receiver (with mechanical decoding of the alarm signal using a motor driven ratchet and pawl, relays and cams). The timing was done electronically with a valve multivibrator derived motor clock, integrators and timers. A Salvor 500KHz emergency transmitter and an emergency receiver rounded off the installation. The radio room did however have 50 cycles AC mains for the radio equipment, obtained from a motor alternator in the engine room. We were therefore able to use standard equipment and dispense with vibrator power packs, rotary transformers and huge resistance mats for charging the batteries from the DC mains. This was equipment I had trained with, and as such was no problem.

One thing which did take a little getting used to however, was that when the ship was underway, the engine vibration caused all CW notes on the higher bands to become very warbly. To my inexperienced ear, they were somewhat difficult to read. The receiver had a free running local oscillator, so on the higher bands (18 and 22 MHz) it became a bit microphonic. A large heavy brass Marconi (type 361) Morse key was screwed to the operating table, and, as stipulated by the radio regulations, the chair had a large bottle screw enabling it to be securely fixed to the deck. In rough weather you could fall out of the chair, but at least THAT would stay in place!

The radar was an old Marconi MK IV all valve unit, produced in the 50's, which produced an evil blue flickering glow from the ignitron modulator valve. The ignitron was a high voltage, high-pressure hydrogen switch used to discharge the radar pulse-forming network and fire the magnetron. It looked a bit like a bomb really, with its securing net tightly stretched over a thick yellowish glass envelope. I was always rather careful when near it in case it exploded! The radar transmitter and receiver rack, together with the huge motor generator for supplying the 400Hz AC power for it, were set in an outside locker. This made it fun to try to service, as it was impossible to observe the radar screen and the transceiver electronics at the same time! There was a small oscilloscope and metering on the transceiver rack, but it was still often better to see the display itself.

As trainee, I was not responsible for the radar, but looked on with interest when my chief had to service it. I was used for interpreting the radar display when any tuning or repairs were done and shouting the results to him in the locker outside! I had to shout really loud as the motor generator made ear cracking noises! If all else failed, I had to run around the corner and gesticulate wildly until he noticed! Our main radio antenna was a big wire T strung between the forward and after masts, and fed virtually in the middle. It had to be lowered in every port so the cargo operations would not break it. One of my jobs was to check it was not kinked or knotted, and that the insulators were clean and undamaged. I had also to ensure that all joints were tight and that halyards and safety links were in good condition. On a cluttered deck, with lots of other wires and ropes, it was by no means easy and never particularly clean.

Seeing as there was no AC mains supply to the radio room for general use, only DC, I had to build a battery supply system for my "bug" key relays. The standard Marconi Morse key (type 365 - a real heavy duty solid brass job screwed to the operating desk) had two sets of contacts, one to key the transmitter, the other to mute the receiver. My bug key would only do this by using external relays. Although I could work the hand Morse key quite well, it was much easier with a semi-automatic "bug" key. The only drawback being that when the ship rolled heavily, I could end up with the vibrating reed used for sending the dots not working properly. It was designed to be horizontal, and not inclined at 45 degrees on a rolling ship! My "Chief" was also not all that happy about it. He made me wait until I had demonstrated I could use the "normal" Morse key to his satisfaction. In the end though he had to admit, it made things a lot easier, and I often got the job of sending any long messages because of it.

The ship had a Doxford diesel engine (with two opposed pistons for each "unit" and lots of moving high-pressure flexible hoses, valves and cross heads). Walking along the engine catwalk above the engine when it was running was quite an alarming experience for the uninitiated. There was no air-conditioned control room for the engineers. They had to stand right next to the engine, under some big blowers, answering the engine telegraph and controlling the engine directly with big levers and valves. It was loud, hot and relatively primitive, but had the great advantage of being reliable. Ships of that vintage did not have much in the way of automation, so it was all "handamatic".

We had riveted deck-heads without insulation in our cabins, so one could see the bare painted steel, rivets and beams. We had several layers of muslin tied over the cabin air blowers to try to stop mosquitoes and soot coming through. The air intakes and trunking were old and had not been cleaned in years. Soot from the funnel gases built up and tended to come inside when the blowers were turned on full in the tropics. I used to sweat like a pig, and my cabin was situated directly under the open deck above, exposed to the sun. The steel and wood used to store up the heat of the day and seemed to radiate it out again after sundown. At night, I used to lay on the bed naked with the blowers directed full onto my body. On waking up I often found myself and the bunk spotted with black specks of soot, and drenched with sweat. The deck around the accommodation consisted of wooden planks laid over steel, carefully scrubbed every day and they were kept immaculate. It was marked out for deck tennis and deck quoits for the passengers. It looked good, but somewhat lacked in its insulation properties. Heavy clumping shoes and hot tropical sun were most unwelcome by those (like myself) living below.

The crews were Hong Kong Chinese who spoke relatively good English. I even had my own steward (a novel experience!), who woke me up in the mornings with a cup of tea and brought me tea and biscuits mid morning and afternoons. He cleaned my cabin, made my bed and for a very nominal fee washed and ironed my "dohbi" or washing. As a first trip experience, it was really great!

It was on this ship that I had my very first experience of the Cape Rollers around the Southern tip of South Africa, caused by the almost unceasing belts of prevailing winds and storms in those latitudes. The so-called "Roaring Forties" lie only just South of Cape Town, and their effects can be felt. Unstopped by any land, they can blow completely around the globe, building up mountainous seas almost unrivalled in their ferocity. Huge, slowly moving mountains of water topped with white foam and blowing spray, getting closer and closer, then sliding under the ship causing it to roll and pound in agony. The apparent slow motion seen only being due to the tremendous magnitude of the scene. Many of these moving mountains were travelling at 20 or 30 knots, with heights of 10 to 15 meters and the distance between crests of nearly a quarter of a mile. At night, only the black silhouette could be seen against the slightly lighter sky. Occasionally, one would rear up faster than the ship moved, then crash heavily onto the deck in a welter of foam and spray. The noise and sheer pressure of wind, the feeling of energy, and the tremendous power of the sea and weather, is one that still stays with me, and has made weather study and observation an interest that continues to this day.

There is a Chinese curse: "may you have interesting times". We had our moments of interest too. During dinner one evening the ship rolled so heavily that everyone started to slide down the slope. One by one they slid downwards until they all ended up heaped on the leeward bulkhead of the saloon (on top of the cadets and I) together with sundry items of food, eating utensils, chairs and plates. There was a great clatter of breaking crockery, yells and shouts of protest and thuds and grunts as people slid onto the bulkhead - or someone else already on it! Afterwards all chairs were firmly chained to the deck and the heavy-weather boards put into place on the table. As my place was at the apprentices and Junior Officers table, nearest the bulkhead, I still occasionally got the plates and contents showered on to me, but at least the seats and their occupants stayed put.

This was actually my first introduction to eating in a rough sea. The place mat (or tablecloth) is wetted with water. The plates and cups then stick to it and don't slide very much. Of course, if the ship rolls too far the cup or glass tips over, the cutlery slides off the table and mayhem reigns again. And unless a swift strategic tilting of the plate is carried out your soup makes an ugly stain on the table cloth or trousers (your own or if you are unlucky, possibly someone else's).

One allows this to happen only once, as the ire of the Chief Steward descends heavily on a lowly junior R/O! The table had ledges around the sides of which could be raised to help prevent things leaping off it, the so-called heavy weather boards. It then became very awkward to eat however, as leaning ones arm on the table caused a sore spot where it rested on the ledge, and the plate was often sitting in a sort of well requiring elbows to be kept high, and the arms clear of the ledge. A very strenuous and strange position for eating. The cooks in the galley of course had an even worse time. They had metal "fiddleys" on the galley range, which clamped the saucepans in place, but the contents could still slop over if filled too full. Working in a rolling and tossing kitchen in constant danger of being burned or scalded requires very dedicated people indeed. I was always amazed at how well they coped in bad weather. Only very occasionally indeed are hot meals cancelled, and sandwiches offered instead. When conditions get that bad, it's almost time to break out the lifejackets!

The ship was able to carry up to 12 Passengers. This was the maximum number allowed without requiring a doctor on board. Also three Radio Officers would have been needed, as 24-hour radio watches are a requirement when more than 12 passengers sail on any vessel. The passengers had their own cabins and two Stewards were employed to serve them, clean the cabins and generally make their stay pleasant.

One of those passengers called Isobel, became my first real girlfriend. I was only 19 at the time and she made a big impression on me. She and her family were on route to Singapore (her father had a civil service posting). She was blond, blue eyed, petite and 16 years old. We remained in touch for some years, but like nearly all sea born romances, distance and time take their toll. Later in Bangkok, I nearly fell in love again when we went ashore to visit a few of the bars. Some of the girls working there were very attractive indeed to a young single lad like me. My education was advancing in leaps and bounds, but that is another story!

This was the only ship I have ever been on where several Officers kept pet fish. It all started with the Malaysian Second Officer having some Japanese fighting fish in a small aquarium in his cabin. Then others became interested until we had about 3 or 4 Tanks in various Officers cabins. A valve inverter was "borrowed" from another officer, (this was before the time of transistor voltage converters) which supplied 220v AC (from our 220v DC Mains) to the single large air pump. Lots of plastic air tubing was draped around the alleyways to the various setups in the cabins. We found out that fish actually get seasick. In heavy weather we had to hang the fish tanks from the deck-head to prevent the water sloshing about too much. The fish used to look very unhappy until the storm was over. They couldn't keep their depth as the ship pitched and rolled. They also probably didn't much enjoy swinging about from their deck-head sky-hook either but we had no other option. For entertainment, we used to show films on deck when in the tropics. A large white tarpaulin was rigged between two derricks aft of the amidships accommodation as a screen, then the projector was placed on a table just aft of the passenger bar. It was a great social occasion, looked forward to, and enjoyed by everyone. We all sat outside (officers, crew and passengers) in the warm tropical night, drinking beer, eating sandwiches and watching the movies under the stars. At sea it was great, but at anchor in Malaysia and Indonesia, we were eaten alive by mosquitoes! I still have the marks left by one persistent beast! Occasionally one would get trapped inside the projector, so we were sometimes treated to the monstrous black shadow of an insect crawling over the screen.

The Electrician looked after the projector but quite often the Radio Officers got called in if the sound didn't work properly. One of its main problems was the speed governor. Being a DC motor, the speed regulation was done by opening and closing spring loaded contacts on a centrifugal switch. Sometimes these would jam closed, so the projector would run fast - with some hilarious results.

Whilst at the port of Swettenham in Malaysia, I found out that even quite ordinary cargo operations could be fraught with danger. One day, we were unloading a brand new, shiny red, fire engine. I was looking on with interest from the bridge. We had a heavy lift derrick which could cope with the load, but one of the Sampson posts stays broke, and I thought we would lose the entire lot, derrick, mast (and fire engine) over the side. The derrick and mast gave a lurch as the wire broke with a crack. The broken stay flew through the air and hit a seaman on the head. He was very lucky, and it only gave him a nasty cut. It could easily have killed him. Luckily the other stays held, and the fire engine was safely landed on the quay. Subsequent inspection showed that one of the bottle screws, used for tensioning the stays, was corroded, and had snapped. All other stays were checked, but they were all ok. Maybe poor quality steel or not enough grease was to blame. Wise after the fact, all rigging was carefully inspected afterwards to ensure it didn't happen again.

This ship had a large crew of Officers, Seamen, and Deck and Engineer Cadets. We were I think around 45 people on board, not counting passengers. It was a young lively crowd, and I well remember some of the games we used to play (especially after a few beers!) One was to play "Doxfords"! Seven of the engineers (We had lots of them) would stand in a line, representing the pistons of a Doxford diesel engine. Then the Chief Engineer (or the 2nd) would call out the firing order of the engine. (E.g. 1,3,2,5,4,7,6). The engineers had to bob up and down in that order, first at slow ahead, then faster and faster. If he felt really mean, the commanding engineer would then put his "engine" astern, which could sometimes be hilarious ... especially when the "alcoholic oil" had been flowing!

Another game we used to play was done in a totally blacked out cabin (usually that of the cadets, as it was bigger - having room for 4 cadets). Each participant had a large stack of beer mats (usually square ones as they flew better). Then after everyone had separated into different spots around the cabin periphery, the lights would be turned off. The object of the game was to pelt your opponent(s) (it was generally deck cadets/officers against engine cadets/officers) with beer mats as weapons. (Thrown at high speed, they can HURT!) It usually degenerated however into a free for all! Everyone tried to move around as quietly as possible, and to find out where the others were. Glowing watches and/or cigarettes were a dead giveaway! If our "ammo" ran out, we would of course try to pick up any off the deck, but it was not always easy to find. Even with the noise of the engine, fans and blowers, it was surprising with what accuracy the ear could pick up the direction and identity of quiet breathing or the furtive sliding of a hand on the deck carpeting. The loud "ouch!" as one scored a direct hit was most satisfying!

On arrival back at London, we had to go through the locks, which kept the dock water in during low tide. One of the crew or dockers was not fast enough, and we started moving whilst a rope was still attached. It became bar taught, started to thrum like a bass guitar string. Then despite its size (a mooring rope was often thicker than a man's thigh) it started to smoke, then snapped with a crack like a gun. Luckily it was a hemp rope. These do not stretch much and so don't fly back like wire, nylon or poly ropes. It did no damage. Its quite usual for a broken synthetic or wire rope to fly back like an elastic band, bending iron railings and spars, well capable of killing anyone in the way. Ships ropes under stress should be (and are) given a wide berth.