So Long To Learn

Transcription

So Long To Learn

So Long To Learn
A Personal Memoir
Bill Trowbridge
The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne,
Th’assay so hard, so sharp the conquereynge,
The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne:
Al this mene I by Love,…
Geoffrey Chaucer: from The Parliament of Fowls
.
To Rita, Dinah and Simon with all my love
Published by D’Arcy Publications
Authors Note: This volume is the first part a projected biography and covers the years of
my youth and service in the Merchant Navy. The second part, at present work in
progress, will continue my personal story in science, engineering and business activities
with engineering design software.
I am most grateful to my wife Rita and my son Simon for their many suggestions and
help in preparing the manuscript. I am also indebted to the many relatives and friends
who have provided photographs from their private collections.
Copyright © 2000 by C.W. Trowbridge
bill@trowbridge.org.uk
ISBN 0951824813
Printed by Wessex Design Associates Ltd.
April 2001
September 2007 (Corrected)
Contents
1.
Family Roots ............................................................................................. 1
Background Genealogy ..................................................................................... 1
Trowbridges of Bowerchalke .......................................................................... 11
Life in Salisbury 1800-1920 ............................................................................ 17
Charles Trowbridge in Lymington ................................................................. 20
The Vincents 1800-1920 ................................................................................. 23
Maurice Trowbridge 1910-1925 ..................................................................... 27
The Sherrells of London & Dover .................................................................. 33
2.
Child Hood Memories ............................................................................45
Life at the Dairy 1930-1935 ............................................................................ 45
Church of England School .............................................................................. 50
Early musical memories .................................................................................. 56
3.
War Time in Lymington .........................................................................59
The Phoney War .............................................................................................. 60
Scouts and Camping ........................................................................................ 63
Brockenhurst School and Walhampton .......................................................... 69
Fordlands and the later war years ................................................................... 79
4.
HMS Conway 1946-1948........................................................................89
Life as a New Chum ........................................................................................ 89
The Snowdon Group and other activities ..................................................... 108
A Senior Hand and Final term ...................................................................... 117
5.
Brassbounder, 1948-1951 ...................................................................122
My First Voyage- SS Cerinthus .................................................................... 122
Tramping to Canada, USA and India ........................................................... 144
Buenos Aires and Malaria ............................................................................. 162
The Ovingdean Grange and the Argentine Run........................................... 179
6.
Deck Officer, 1951- 1956 .....................................................................199
School of Navigation – Warsash................................................................... 199
Third Mate and SS Malmesbury ................................................................... 205
Rita and the Argentine Transport.................................................................. 220
Second Mate and Courtship .......................................................................... 252
Marriage and Higher Education the Hard Way ........................................... 277
i
Appendix 1: List of Voyages .......................................................................316
Appendix 2: Genealogy ...............................................................................317
1. The Direct Descendants of Thomas Trowbridge..................................... 317
2. The Direct Descendants of John Trowbridge .......................................... 318
3. Descendants of James Trowbridge ........................................................... 319
Index ................................................................................................................320
Table of Plates
Plate 1: Wiltshire Chalkes and Cranbourne Chase............................................................................................... 5
Plate 2: Gaol Book for the Lent Assizes, 1813..................................................................................................... 8
Plate 3: Two Camera Studies of Elisha Trowbridge..........................................................................................13
Plate 4: The Family of Charles and Ellen Trowbridge, Maurice, Vera and Freda, 1911 ................................19
Plate 5: Vincent Family of Misselfore, Bowerchalke ........................................................................................24
Plate 6: Aunt Lila and Uncle Clem Vincent .......................................................................................................26
Plate 7: Certificate of Proficiency in Radiotelegraphy.......................................................................................29
Plate 8: Maurice Trowbridge in the Merchant Navy, 1918-1923 .....................................................................31
Plate 9:The Wedding of Percy Sherrell and Alice Maud Durman, Littlehampton 1895 ................................36
Plate 10: Percy, Alice, Boy and Con on Dover Pier, 1921 ................................................................................37
Plate 11: Dover Pier 1927 ....................................................................................................................................39
Plate 12: The Sherrell Family 1906 & 1923.......................................................................................................41
Plate 13: More Sherrell snaps from the 1930‘s ..................................................................................................42
Plate 14: Aldridge‘s Dairy 1919 ..........................................................................................................................45
Plate 15: St Thomas the Apostle, Lymington.....................................................................................................46
Plate 16: Connie, Peter & Bill .............................................................................................................................49
Plate 17: Lymington Church of England School ...............................................................................................52
Plate 18: Map of Lymington about 1970 ............................................................................................................59
Plate 19: Lymington High St and the tallest building in town ..........................................................................61
Plate 20: Parish Hall & Scout Hut behind the Parish hall..................................................................................65
Plate 21: New Forest Camp at Holidays Hill 1943 ............................................................................................66
Plate 22: Rev Basil Fletcher-Jones & Church Scouts (1943). ...........................................................................67
Plate 23: Leylands, Walhampton (1941-1944) ..................................................................................................75
Plate 24: Fordlands, Church Lane .......................................................................................................................79
Plate 25: The Badge and Motto of HMS Conway .............................................................................................88
Plate 26: HMS Conway in the Menai Straits viewed from Anglesey ..............................................................91
Plate 27: HM King George VI Inspecting Cadets of HMS Conway, Bangor, summer 1946 ........................94
Plate 28: Contrasting activities in the Menai Straits...........................................................................................96
Plate 29: Map of the Menai Straits and environs ...............................................................................................98
Plate 30: Shore Party on the Gazelle Slip ...........................................................................................................99
Plate 31: Our first expedition near Gyrn Wigau...............................................................................................102
Plate 32: Some members of the Snowdon group .............................................................................................111
Plate 33: The Ketch Garibaldi all at ‗sea‘ on the Cardigan Bay......................................................................112
Plate 34: HMS Conway Cadets on Parade in Liverpool, 1947 .......................................................................114
Plate 35: HMS Conway Cadets, 1946-1948.....................................................................................................118
Plate 36: Llanberis 1948 ....................................................................................................................................120
Plate 37: Bound to the Houlder Line for three years........................................................................................122
Plate 38: My first ship, SS Cerinthus ................................................................................................................124
Plate 39: Contract with Houlders, and flattering portrait, 1948.......................................................................125
Plate 40: First Voyage, Persian Gulf and Australia, 1948 ...............................................................................128
Plate 41: Passages in the Persian Gulf region ...................................................................................................132
Plate 42: Safaga, Egypt for a cargo of Phosphates ...........................................................................................135
ii
Plate 43: Melbourne to Port Lincoln .................................................................................................................139
Plate 44: Boston Bay, Port Lincoln ...................................................................................................................143
Plate 45: In the garden at Leven Close, Dad, Mum, David and Monty..........................................................144
Plate 46: Second Voyage with the SS Cerinthus, 1949 ...................................................................................145
Plate 47: Manhattan Skyline 1949 ....................................................................................................................148
Plate 48: The Statue of Liberty with the RMS Queen Mary ...........................................................................150
Plate 49: Inoculation against Cholera, April 12, 1949 .....................................................................................153
Plate 50: The Chinese Fishing Nets Cochin .....................................................................................................154
Plate 51: Busy Street in Madras ........................................................................................................................156
Plate 52: Piazza S. Domenico, Palermo, 1949 .................................................................................................159
Plate 53: Mont Real: Taxi ..................................................................................................................................160
Plate 54: Dakar in Senegal .................................................................................................................................162
Plate 55: Buenos Aires, 1949.............................................................................................................................163
Plate 56: Argentine Passport, September 30, 1949 ..........................................................................................165
Plate 57: Two Snaps of Brian Greenhalgh, Buenos Aires, 1949 ....................................................................166
Plate 58:The British Hospital in Buenos Aires.................................................................................................168
Plate 59: Excerpt from the Ship‘s Articles........................................................................................................169
Plate 60: Cadet David Walton aboard SS Cerinthus, December 1949 ...........................................................170
Plate 61: Flying Angel House, Buenos Aires, 1950 ........................................................................................172
Plate 62: Christmas Greeting from the British Consul ....................................................................................175
Plate 63: MV Hornby Grange ...........................................................................................................................176
Plate 64: Buenos Aires & River Plate ...............................................................................................................177
Plate 65: The River Plate Run ...........................................................................................................................179
Plate 66: Ovingdean Grange ..............................................................................................................................180
Plate 67: Argentina, Patagonia & Tierro Fuego ...............................................................................................183
Plate 68: Calle Florida ........................................................................................................................................184
Plate 69: Avenue 9th July, The Widest Street in the World .............................................................................187
Plate 70: The Pampas Land ...............................................................................................................................188
Plate 71: Teatro Colon, Buenos Aires...............................................................................................................189
Plate 72: Programme for Teatro Colon 31 Oct 1950 .......................................................................................192
Plate 73: The Rat Guards in BA ........................................................................................................................196
Plate 74: Apprenticeship Complete—Letter from Houlder Brothers .............................................................198
Plate 75: The Rising Sun, Warsash ...................................................................................................................200
Plate 76: SS Malmesbury [A Duncan]..............................................................................................................205
Plate 77: Pay Slip for SS Malmesbury..............................................................................................................209
Plate 78: Farewell Flying Angel ........................................................................................................................210
Plate 79: Rita in 1946, 1950 & 1951 .................................................................................................................220
Plate 80: Twin Sisters.........................................................................................................................................222
Plate 81: SS Argentine Transport (Photo Collection of J & M Clarkson)......................................................226
Plate 82: A ‗Self Portrait, Boston 1952.............................................................................................................228
Plate 83: Voyage of the Argentine Transport: Eastern Seaboard of USA......................................................229
Plate 84: The Chesapeake River Suspension Bridge .......................................................................................232
Plate 85: The Cathedral and Jackson Square in New Orleans ........................................................................233
Plate 86: Argentine Transport visits several ports in Denmark .......................................................................235
Plate 87: Kronborg Castle at Elsinore ...............................................................................................................236
Plate 88: Entering Copenhagen Harbour ..........................................................................................................238
Plate 89: Barletta and Mt Vulture......................................................................................................................244
Plate 90: Monte Vulture from the North ...........................................................................................................247
Plate 91: Mosterton from Ridge Farm ..............................................................................................................252
Plate 92: Miss Hall and her team at Trowbridge Junior School......................................................................254
Plate 93: Bournemouth Square in 1953 ............................................................................................................257
Plate 94: Arial View of Ridge farm house is on the right with the farm buildings on the left. .....................259
Plate 95: Rita with her parents at Ridge Farm ..................................................................................................259
Plate 96: The House that Bert built on Ridge Farm .........................................................................................260
Plate 97: Rita & Eva at Beaulieu with the ‗Two Bills‘ ....................................................................................262
Plate 98: Two Views of 4 West End, Frome ....................................................................................................264
Plate 99: Appointment letter to SS Urmston Grange .......................................................................................268
Plate 100: Marconigram from Rita ...................................................................................................................274
Plate 101: Ship Letter to Rita .............................................................................................................................275
Plate 102: St Mary‘s Mosterton, June 19th, 1954 .............................................................................................278
iii
Plate 103: Bridport Times notice.......................................................................................................................279
Plate 104: Our Honeymoon Hotel (Booking Postcard) ...................................................................................280
Plate 105: Views from North Wales with the Conway Wreck and Rita ‗dressed‘ for Snowdon!................281
Plate 106: Furness Houlder meat carrier, Duquesa(1949; 11,007 GT) ..........................................................284
Plate 107: 31 Walsingham Rd, Bristol..............................................................................................................285
Plate 108: Houlder Line Vessel Thorpe Grange(1954, 8695 GT) ..................................................................287
Plate 109: MV Hornby Grange (See page 176) ...............................................................................................290
Plate 110: Letter from the ‗College of the Sea‘ ................................................................................................295
Plate 111: The Wedding of Dad and Brenda....................................................................................................297
Plate 112: MV Juno............................................................................................................................................299
Plate 113: James Joyce‘s Tower (1954)............................................................................................................300
Plate 114: SS Manchester Port (1935-1964), 7170 GT ...................................................................................302
Plate 115: First Voyage on SS Manchester Port, December 1955..................................................................304
Plate 116: Studying—Spring 1956 ...................................................................................................................306
Plate 117: Rita, Bill & Eva April, 1956 ............................................................................................................307
Plate 118: Letter from Mr Walters ....................................................................................................................309
Plate 119: Advert for Scientific Posts at Harwell .............................................................................................310
Plate 120: Letter of Appointment at AERE, Harwell ......................................................................................314
The majority of the plates reproduced are from the private collection of the
author acquired from members of his family or copied from contemporary
ephemera. Any exceptions are attributed within the plate captions.
iv
Family Roots
1
1. Family Roots
Background Genealogy
I will make no attempt to justify writing this memoir apart from
saying it gives me some pleasure, tempered with the occasional
embarrassment, to record, whilst memory allows, events in my life that
give me comfort and satisfaction.
I have been an amateur genealogist for many years and have tried to
piece together my family origins by examination of the rich documentary
evidence that is available to all. It is not my intention to cover that
ground in detail, as this information is available elsewhere1, though some
account of one‘s forebears is a crucial part of the story and to give some
family background is appropriate. I have been able to trace several
branches of the family back to the late seventeenth century (c.1690) with
good supporting documentary evidence.
The Trowbridge family is a West Country family with roots in
Wiltshire, Dorset, Somerset and Devon. There were once, quite literally,
thousands of persons bearing the name Trowbridge living in the downland and chalk valley villages between the Wiltshire Avon tributaries
Ebble and Nader (Don) for over three hundred years from the age of
Shakespeare to the beginning of the twentieth century. This region
remains relatively unspoilt and retains much of its character to this day
and it is always a moving experience to travel back in time and visit the
places where they lived and worked. Today there are virtually no
‗Trowbridge‘ families there.
The origin of the name is probably from a geographical location.
The bridge stem is obvious but the prefix Trow is interesting. Early
references to the name are TREWE meaning tree: Trewe is an AngloSaxon word. Other variants TROI, TROWE mean the same. The literal
meaning of the name is Tree bridge, and one can imagine a tree cut
down to span a river or stream. The records become sparse and
misleading at the time of the last decade of the seventeenth century,
which, for the moment at least, sets a limit of about 1690 for the end of
the ‗Trowbridge‘ family ancestor line. For most of this time the very
ordinary people who were our ancestors worked as agricultural labourers
and the ‗Trowbridge‘ folk of Wiltshire were no exception. There was a
strong tradition of dissenting religion among them but otherwise most of
1
See C. W. Trowbridge ‗The Trowbridge Family History 1690-1990‘, D‘Arcy Publications,
1991, 1993, 2000
2
them appear to have conformed to the order imposed by the local landowning classes.
In late Victorian times their aspirations, created by education and
the economic decline of farming, in tune with the spirit of the age, gave
way to action and led to a gradual exodus from the traditional villages to
towns and to a new life in trade and ultimately in the professions. This
period, of course, coincided with the archiving of exact records;
furthermore, because of an aural family tradition we are able to relate
some personal details not available in earlier times. Another family group
has also played a crucial part. On the distaff side, I am descended from
the Sherrell family who were not primarily agriculture workers in their
native villages but were variously engaged in a raft of occupations
including hairdressing, bird stuffing, and the manufacture of gunpowder.
Their religious tradition was also dissenting but took the form of
congregationalism.
In Appendix Two of this memoir you will find three family trees
showing the descendents of two collateral branches of the South
Wiltshire ‗Trowbridge Family‘. These two branches converge on George
and Ann Trowbridge who were married in the village of Ebbesbourne
Wake in 17992. They were perhaps first cousins, probably more distantly
related. In the parish register for the nearby village of Berwick St. John
we find, in 1775, George was the son of a George Trowbridge and Hester
Chown who were married in 1751. This George, who died in 1802 aged
79, was baptised in 1724 in the next village, Donhead St. Mary, the son
of a Thomas and Jane Trowbridge. Thus it can be surmised that Thomas
was born about 1695. Returning to Ann Trowbridge, the Ebbesbourne
register lists her baptism in 1777 as the daughter of James Trowbridge
and Mary Scamel, who were married in 1766. It appears that James was
the grandson of a John Trowbridge who married Grace Ford in the Parish
of Semley (a few miles to the north east of Donhead St. Mary) in 1714.
John was probably born about 1690 but there is no further documentary
evidence as the church records for these villages have not survived in full
for the Commonwealth period. However, it is likely that the family
slowly migrated eastwards from Somerset and Dorset as there are
numerous entries in many villages scattered throughout these counties,
particularly in the Taunton area in the first half of the seventeenth
century. There is in fact a body of evidence that allows the families
bearing the ‗Trowbridge‘ name to be traced back to the area near
Crediton in Devon in the sixteenth century.
2
Loc cit, page 31, see this book for further details of these two branches and for the origins of
‗Trowbridge‘ family name in Somerset and Devon with some connection in New England
USA.
2
Family Roots
3
It seems that the two branches were extremely poor and subsisted on
the fringes of agriculture by labouring. George Trowbridge appears in the
parish wardens‘ accounts many times in the early years of his marriage,
paid for hauling stones and other jobs about the parish3. The two families
were also closely involved in two other contrasting and marginal
activities—they were members of a nonconformist church in the village
and, the young men at least, poached deer. Dissident religious observance
was still regarded as an anti establishment practice and whenever
meetings were held a license from the local authorities, i.e. the quarter
sessions, had to be obtained. The following is an excerpt from a license
granted in 17814:
370: 30 Dec. 1781 (18 Jan 1782) Ebbesbourne Wake. We have repaired a house
now in the possession of John West to set aside as a meetinghouse. Independent.
The mark of John West, William Gould, John Adams, the mark of John Trobridg,
housekeepers in Ebbesbourne Wake (WRO D1/2/22) .
The village was situated on the boundary of the Wiltshire and Dorset
regions of the ancient Cranbourne Chase and though the fallow deer of
the Chase were protected and could only be hunted at the whim of the
landowner, which in this case was Lord George Rivers of Rushmore
House, the villagers had enjoyed limited poaching ‗rights‘ with often
only slight penalties if they were caught. There seems to have been an
understanding between the gamekeepers and the villagers; although the
limits were an anomaly, overstepped with dire consequences, the activity
was not regarded as a felony5. However, in 1803 this changed as new
political and business interests arose which threatened the ancient rights.
Farmers regarded the deer as a pest and were demanding, supported by
powerful allies, an end to the rights of the Landowners. The Chase
owners opposed this and a new gaming act was passed in 1803, which
made deer killing a felony.
George Trowbridge in the first decade of the nineteenth century had
three encounters with the law. His first encounter concerned an alleged
case of theft as the indictment surviving from the Lent Assizes at New
Sarum in 1807 reads:
The Jurors of our lord the King upon their Oath that George Trowbridge late of
Ebbesbourne Wake in the County of Wilts labourer on the 19th Jan in 47 year of our
3
Church Wardens Accounts, Ebbesbourne Wake, 1788 onwards, CRO Trowbridge, Wil,
940/3
4
Reproduced in Wiltshire Dissenters‘ Meeting House Certificates and Reistrations 1689-1852,
Ed J H Chandler, Wiltshire Record Society, No 40, 1984,
5
William Chaffin, Anecdotes and the History of Cranborne Chase, 1818, reprinted with a new
introduction by Desmond Hawkins, Dovecote Press, 1991
4
Sovereign Lord George Third (1807) by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom
of Great Britain and Ireland King Defender of the Faith with force and arms at the
Parish aforesaid Two sacks of the value Six shillings and Eight Bushels of Wheat of
the value of Two pounds of the Goods and Chattels of John Rebbeck then and there
being found feloniously did steal take away against the peace of our said Lord the
King his Crown and Dignity.
On the reverse side was listed the following names, possibly
witnesses for or against: John Rebbeck, Stephen Moxham6, William
Moxham, Henry Thorne, Henry Rebbeck, Thomas Parnham7, Richard
Mills, Thomas Trowbridge8, John Trowbridge9. All were sworn in court
and the parchment was labelled a ‗True Bill‘ (a case to answer). The case
was heard before Sir Alexander Chambre Knight, one of the Justices of
HM Court of Common Pleas and the Hon Sir Thomas Manners Sutton
Knight, one of the Barons of HM Court of Exchequer. The Calendar for
the Lent Assizes10 reads:
George Trowbridge committed by T Grove Esq. on suspicion of feloniously stealing
two sacks of Wheat value two pounds the property of John Rebbeck of
Ebbesbourne: Warrant dated 1 Feb 1807.
Sign Thomas Culley Esq. Sheriff.
The case was tried Tuesday 10th March 1807 before Jury and George
was found not guilty and acquitted and ‗free to return to his family‘, though
he was clearly a marked man. His next encounter occurred later that year in
November when he was caught killing and removing a fallow deer. He was
arrested and tried at the Easter Quarter Sessions Salisbury11 and the
calendar gives the outcome:
George Trowbridge, 33, Committed by J H Jacob, Clerk, for six months, having
been convicted of a offence on the Game Laws. Warrant dated April 25, 1808.
It is not clear if he actually went to prison or, as his next encounter
suggests, as this was his first offence against the game laws he was
merely bound over. Indeed when he committed the offence again in 1813
evidence from the first was used against him. He was indicted at the
Summer Assize in Salisbury12, which after a lengthy preamble begins by
recounting the first offence of 1807.
6
Married Jane Trowbridge in 1811, widower
Witness in the marriage of George and Ann, 1799
8
George‘s brother
9
Possibly baptised Donhead St Mary, 1767, a cousin of George
10
PRO ASSI 23/9
11
1808, CRO Trowbridge, A1/125/46BB
12
1813, Summer Assizes New Sarum, Indictment and Verdict, PRO ASSI 25/10/6
7
4
Family Roots
5
It is presented in manner and form following (that is to say) ― Wilts to wit the Jurors
for our Lord the King upon their Oath present that hereto for ―to wit on 25 April in
the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and eight one George Trowbridge
was duly convicted before John Henry Jacob Clerk then being one of His Majesties
Justices of the peace in and for the said County of Wilts upon information and
complaint of Bernard Harrington of Pentridge in the county of Dorset Yeoman who
prosecuted as well for our Sovereign Lord the King as for himself in that behalf and
upon the oath of Joseph Gulliver late of Bower Chalke in the said county of Wilts
labourer a credible witness in pursuance of an Act of Parliament passed in the 42nd
year13 of the reign of his present majesty King George III entitled ―An act more
effectively to prevent the stealing of deer‖ For that he the said George Trowbridge
on the sixth day of November then last past14 at the parish of Bower Chalke in the
county of Wilts aforesaid within a certain ancient walk called Cobley Walk [See
page 5, Plate 1 ] in Cranbourne Chase in the unenclosed part of the said walk and
chase did wilfully kill one fallow deer without the consent of the Right Honourable
Lord Rivers the owner of the said Deer and without being otherwise duly authorised
so to do where upon the said Justice adjudged that the said George Trowbridge had
forfeited the penalty of Fifty Pounds and the sum of Ten Shillings and Sixpence for
the charges incident to that conviction to be levied and distributed as the statute in
that behalf directed as by the said conviction duly filed and kept amongst the
Records of the quarter sessions of the said county of Wilts more fully appears which
said conviction still remains in full force in no wise reversed set aside quashed or
Discharged.
Plate 1: Wiltshire Chalkes and Cranbourne Chase15
13
1802
i.e. 6th November 1807
15
See Printed maps of Wiltshire 1787-1844, Wiltshire record Society, Vol 52, Ed. John
Chandler
14
6
The local villages and sites of the deer poaching are shown on the map in
Plate 1. The indictment then continues to relate the second offence
committed in 1813 as follows:
And the Jurors16 aforesaid upon their oath aforesaid further present that the said
George Trowbridge late of Ebbesbourne Wake in the said county of Wilts labourer
after he was so convicted of the said offence as aforesaid, to wit on the first day of
June, in 53rd year 17of the reign of our Sovereign Lord George the Third by the
Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, King Defender
of Faith, with force and arms at Alvediston in the county of Wilts aforesaid in the
unenclosed part of a certain Chase called Cranbourne Chase did wilfully and
feloniously kill a certain Fallow Deer of the said George Lord Rivers of the price of
Twenty Shillings then and there being in the right unenclosed part of the said Chase
without the consent of the said George Lord Rivers the owner of the said last
mentioned Deer and without being otherwise duly authorised against the form of the
Statute in such case made and provided and against the peace of our said Lord the
King his Crown and Dignity And the Jurors aforesaid upon their oath aforesaid
further present that the said George Trowbridge after he was so convicted as
aforesaid, to wit, on the said first day of June in the 53rd year aforesaid with force
and arms at Alvediston aforesaid in the county of Wilts aforesaid in the unenclosed
part of the said Chase called Cranbourne Chase one other fallow Deer of the said
George Lord Rivers of the price of 20 Shillings then and there being in the
unenclosed part of the said Chase without the consent of the said George Lord
Rivers the owner …
After details of George‘s arrest he is charged with the felony and the
account continues:
…being brought to the Bar here in his proper person by the said Sheriff to whom he
is here also committed and forthwith being demanded concerning the felony in the
indictment above specified and charged on him how he will acquit himself thereof
the said George Trowbridge Saith he is not Guilty thereof and thereof for good and
ill he puts himself upon the Country and Thomas Chambre Esquire clerk of the
Assizes and clerk of the Crown for the said County of Wilts who prosecuteth for our
said Lord the King in his behalf doth the like Therefore Let a Jury thereupon
immediately come before the said Justices of our said Lord the King….
The actual trial transcript appears to be lost but the Indictment continues
with a summary of the swearing in of the Jury, the verdict and sentence.
After listing each juror‘s name the proceedings continue with:
… who being chosen tried and sworn to speak the truth of and concerning the
premises in the said Indictment contained say upon their Oath that the said George
Trowbridge is Guilty of the Felony aforesaid in the said Indictment charged on him
in manner and form as by the said indictments is alleged and that the said George
16
17
We are now back in 1813
1813
6
Family Roots
7
Trowbridge at the time of committing the said Felony or at any time since to this
time had not any Goods or Chattels Lands or Tenements in the said County of Wilts
or elsewhere to the knowledge of the said Jurors and hereupon it is forthwith
demanded of the said George Trowbridge if he hath or knoweth anything to say for
himself why the Court now here ought not upon the Verdict aforesaid to proceed to
Judgement and Execution against him Upon which the said George Trowbridge
prays the benefit of the Statute in such Case made and provided to be allowed to him
in his behalf and it is granted to him .Whereupon all and singular the premises being
seen and by the said Justices and Court now fully understood It is Ordered and
Adjudged by the said Court now here that the said George Trowbridge be
Transported beyond the Seas for and during the Term of Seven Years persuant to
the Statute in that case made and provided.
After his conviction George was ordered for transportation. His
name in the Gaol Transportation book18 (see Plate 2) was bracketed with
a John Rose who had also been sentenced to seven years. John was 25
and came from the town of ‗Trowbridge‘ where he had been accused of
stealing clothes. The local paper, The Salisbury and Winchester Journal
gives a brief report of the Assizes, the crime and sentence only19. The
Sheriff‘s Accounts for 1813 states that they were held in Fisherton Anger
Jail from August 3 to October 15 at a cost of £1 5s 7d each20. Their
names appear adjacent on the list of convicts sent to the prison Hulk
Portland where they spent the next eight months21. According to the
victualing accounts of the Master (Captain Mears) they arrived on
October 15 1813 and remained on board until March 31, 181422. During
this period George spent 5 days in the hospital (beginning January 1,
1814), not from excessive New Year‘s Eve celebration one suspects.
George and John Rose were probably chained together as they appear,
also bracketed, in the Ship‘s Indent23. They were finally put on the
Convict transport ship Somersetshire24 and sailed from Spithead on the
10th of May. This vessel was probably well managed by its Master (Alex
Scott). Only one convict was lost out of the two hundred on board (all
male) during a voyage of 159 days. The Indent of convicts arriving in
Port Jackson (Sydney) states that George was 38 years old, his height
was 5ft. 9½ in., complexion fair-pale, hair colour dark brown, and his
eyes hazel. It is very interesting to learn about the physical characteristics
18
Summer Circuit 1813: Transportation Order Book, PRO ASSI 24/28
Salisbury Journal, August 7th, 1813
20
Sheriff‘s Accounts, PRO T90/169
21
PRO HO 9/8 List of convicts held on the Hulk ‗Portland‘ 1813-1814
22
Masters Victualing Accounts, PRO, PRO T38/327
23
Indent of the Somersetshire, State records Office, NSW, Fiche 635, Vol 4./4005, p24
24
The Transport Vessel ‗Somersetshire‘ was launched in London in 1810, 450 tons, her
voyage to Australia in 1814 went via Madiera and Rio. She made a second voyage in 1841
when there was a mutiny on board, see ‗Convict Ships‘, Charles Bateson, Brown & son, 1967
19
8
of a remote ancestor such information being lost for most of his
descendants.
Plate 2: Gaol Book for the Lent Assizes, 1813
John and George were now separated. John Rose was one of a group
of 99 convicts sent to Windsor, Liverpool and Parramatta. He later
prospered and founded an Australian dynasty with many descendants
alive today25. George appears to have been kept in Port Jackson (Sydney)
for a year before being sent as one of a group of mechanics and labourers
to Port Dalrymple on the north coast of Van Diemans Land (VDL,
modern Tasmania). In the index of the papers for New South Wales
(NSW) Colonial Secretary26 the following entry appears:
Trowbridge,
George.
Per
―Somersetshire‖,
1814,
harness
maker
1815, Oct 30. On list of mechanics and labourers to be embarked on the ―Emu‖ for
the service of the Government at Port Dalrymple.
25
I am grateful to his ggg-granddaughter Mrs Coralie Hird, NSW, Australia, for this
information.
26
Colonial Sec. Papers, 1815, page 4951
8
Family Roots
9
The trade of ‗Harness Maker‘ is interesting as there is no mention of that
earlier; did he ‗invent‘ this in order to secure a more congenial job as a
convict? The surviving records also include a covering letter from the
Secretary to the Commander of the ―Emu‖ confirming the above
information. He next appears on the New South Wales Convict Muster
for 181727 and again on the muster for 182028 where it states that he is
still residing in VDL. Our next view of him is in the 182129 muster which
is the ‗nominal and alphabetical return of Male convicts and those that
have been such but now free who were in NSW in 1821‘. This muster
states that George‘s sentence had expired and that he had been disposed
of as a ‗Landholder‘. Thus we conclude that George successfully served
his time and was allocated a small land grant (possibly ~30 acres, the
custom for emancipated convicts in the early years of the transportation
era). At this point the extensive colonial records held by the Tasmanian
Archive Office were consulted and a letter was found referring to the sale
of George‘s landholding, revealing that the land was at Patterson Plains30
a few miles from Launceston. This letter is dated 1837 but the event (the
sale) it refers to probably took place several years earlier. Of greater
interest is that the archive office contains a survey of children whose
parents or guardians had requested places in an orphan school. In this
survey George Trowbridge appears as the father of two children Mary
and John living in 1828 at Breadalbane, a district some seven miles to the
south of Launceston31. It is difficult to avoid the depressing conclusion
that George‘s parlous condition in Wiltshire had repeated itself in
Tasmania. However, later records suggest that his Australian family
survived until recent times32.
At the time of writing the search continues. Finding a ‗skeleton
in the family cupboard‘ can be exciting since, the diligent and
painstaking sifting through the records, only rarely reveal something
other than the bare facts of life, i.e. birth, baptism, marriage and death.
George‘s convict career has only recently come to light and for many
years we knew only that he had vanished from the records in 1812,
shortly after the birth of his youngest son Lot. His wife died in 1817 and
we don‘t know if he ever received news from home. It is most likely that
he did not return to England and it is known that he started a new family
in the colony. There are ‗Trowbridge‘ names listed in the later
27
1817 Muster PRO HO/8/9
29
30
Now St Leonard‘s a suburb of Launceston
31
See ‗Trowbridge Family History‘, second edition, 2001
32
Ibid
28
10
Tasmanian records from the 1850‘s onwards, and so a connection can be
tentatively established. Was George a criminal or a victim? In these
matters one must avoid the temptation to use present day values in
judging the past but one thing is clear he must have suffered untold
privations and mental anguish. His life on the prison Hulk must have
been sheer hell and the long voyage out, shut below decks in a foetid
atmosphere, unbearable. But he lived, at least until to 1828. He survived
the initial trauma, just as many of the 160,000 men and women did, of
transportation beyond the seas for the good of his soul!
Come all you gallant poachers that ramble void of care,
While walking out one moonlight night with gun and dog and snare,
With hares and lofty pheasants in your pocket and your hand,
Not thinking of your last career upon Van Diemen‘s Land
The very day we landed upon the fatal shore,
The planters they stood around us full twenty score or more,
They ranked us up like horses and sold us out of hand,
They roped us to the plough, brave boys, to plough Van Diemen‘s Land
10
Family Roots
11
Trowbridges of Bowerchalke
We know far fewer personal details about George‘s eldest son James
except to note that, despite all the odds against, he managed to survive
the trauma of losing his father; he was only thirteen when he must have
taken on much of the responsibility of looking after the young family.
James Trowbridge was born in Ebbesbourne Wake, Wiltshire in 1800.
His wife, Mary Burton, whom he married in 1824 in Bowerchalke parish
church, also belonged to a very numerous Wiltshire family group. Both
families had been employed as agricultural labourers for many
generations. There is an early parish census for Bowerchalke 1834183633 made by the parish incumbent in whom he records the family of
James and Mary. A variety of family information can be found in this
local census, far more was recorded in the later national censuses;
records of dates and places of births, baptisms and marriages were made
so that the clergyman could remind his parishioners to bring their
children for baptism, confirmation and marriage. He also made notes on
the reading material available in the home and whether the family had
joined a benefit club. His inclination to preach on the doorstep on these
and other duties could bring forth caustic comments particularly from
nonconformists duly noted, so his census record would remind him not to
visit those houses again. The entry for James is as follows:
Name
Born
Baptised
Confirmed
Communicant
Can read
Bible, Testament and Prayer Book
Religion
Public Worship
Married
Children
Occupation
Employer
Benefit Club
Penny Club
TROWBRIDGE James
Esbborn (sic)34, 1800
1 June 180035
Yes
No
Yes
All
Church
Yes
Jul 1823 Bowerchalke
6
Labourer
Mr Large36
Yes
Yes
Mary nee BURTEN
May 1803
Bowerchalke
Yes
Yes
Yes
Church
Yes
According to this it appears that James and Mary were regular
churchgoers who by subscribing to the benefit clubs available in the
33
Bowerchalke Parish Incumbents‘s visiting book (1834-1836), WRO 1280/17
Ebbesbourne Wake
35
From the Bowerchalke baptism register
36
A Bowerchalke farmer who employed six other villagers. The response written by the vicar
to the question on religious reading material in Mr Large‘s home was, ‗ i.e. you believe so‘
34
12
village attempted to husband their meagre resources to bring up their
growing family. There are six children listed in the census. The eldest
Lot was clearly named after James younger brother, who died on 1818 a
year after his mother Anne. Both Lot and John, the second child, were
listed as attending Sunday school. The third son, George, aged 6, was
most likely named for his convict grandfather who at this time may still
have been alive in Tasmania. According to the 1851 census the family
lived at Woodminton, a small hamlet to the west of Bowerchalke (Plate
1), for at least twenty years and his occupation was that of a woodcutter.
The family of James and Mary was a very large one even by the standard
of those days, with nine children out of twelve reaching maturity. The
tenth child was baptised Elisha in 1839, and was the second son to be
christened with that name. The Bowerchalke parish register shows that a
baby born in 1837 was also christened Elisha, but this child appears to
have lived for less than a year. James died in Bowerchalke in 1864 on
December 28 after a heart attack.
Elisha, my great-grandfather, married Eliza Shergold who was born
in nearby Broadchalke in 1844. Father-in-law James Shergold must have
moved to Bowerchalke some time after his marriage to Elizabeth Hewitt
in 1842. Elizabeth was born in 1822. The certificate gives the date of this
marriage as 31 October and the place as Broadchalke parish church.
Elizabeth's father is named as George Hewitt, a local miller. All three of
Elisha's sons were married and produced descendants who live today.
The eldest, Harry, remained in Bowerchalke and in fact outlived his two
brothers by many years. He once said to my father, Maurice Trowbridge ,
‗I'd outlived them all, I always said I would‘. Elisha's second son Morgan
left his native village as a young man firstly to work near Mere where he
met the lady who became his wife, Tilly Kellaway, in 1892, then shortly
after the birth of their daughter, Bessie Gertrude, the family moved to
Streat in Sussex and founded a branch of the family there with many
descendants. Morgan's son Reginald Trowbridge, who was born in
Sussex in 1908, became a builder, a departure from the traditional
occupation of agriculture followed by the Trowbridge family for
generations. Elisha's third son Charles worked at Mere for a while also,
initially as a labourer but later concentrating on horticulture. His escape
from the family mould was in the direction of trade; he was variously a
gardener, purveyor of ice cream, soft drinks and fish and chips, and for a
number of years he was in charge of constructing the stalls at the Bath
and West agriculture shows. He was known in Bowerchalke as ‗A
Hundred Pound Man‘, a young person, who by his enterprise managed to
save £100. He moved to Salisbury, which offered him more scope for his
business activities. Here he took a leading part in the Milford Street
Methodist chapel. He courted a girl from his home village and they were
12
Family Roots
13
married in the chapel on 4 February 1899. His wife was Nellie Vincent
who was born in Bowerwood near Fordingbridge, Hants, in 1876. Her
father Frank Isaac Vincent had been an agriculture worker but on moving
to Bowerchalke had managed to secure a smallholding at Misselfore near
Woodminton and was therefore a near neighbour to Elisha Trowbridge.
The eldest child of Charles and Nellie was christened Maurice Cecil
Trowbridge and he was the author‘s father.
(a) Elisha & Eliza c.1885
(b) Elisha 1910
Plate 3: Two Camera Studies of Elisha Trowbridge37
Our information about the Bowerchalke family is sketchy. Maurice
Trowbridge remembered his grandfather, Elisha, mostly by one or two
isolated instances. As a small boy he was taken to see him when he had
fallen off a hayrick, and was in bed with bandages and a broken arm.
Later, on one of the few times he spent a holiday in Bowerchalke, he
used to go out to the road to see him come down from the downs twice a
day to water the sheep looking every inch a shepherd  black cloak,
wide-brimmed hat and complete with the shepherd's crook. Maurice said
to me on more than one occasion, ‗...with his beard and rather piercing
blue eyes he looked as I had always imagined an old testament prophet
would look‘. Indeed Elisha was a very devout man and by all accounts
his only reading was the Bible; there is a photograph that has survived, a
studio portrait in the manner of the day (c.1890) showing Elisha wearing
his Sunday suit, sitting on an upright chair, his left hand resting on an
37
Photographs from the collection of Mrs Kathleen Colman Elisha‘s great granddaughter
14
open book (perhaps the Bible), see Plate 3(b). There is only one other
photograph, Plate 3(a), known to the writer, a portrait of Elisha and his
wife Eliza, probably taken a few years earlier. Maurice recalls an
occasion when his grandfather stayed with them in Salisbury. By this
time (c.1910) Elisha had given up work, and although unable to go to
chapel with his son and daughter-in-law he nevertheless read from the
Bible aloud and sang hymns in an unsteady voice to Maurice who for
some reason had also remained at home. When later his parents were told
of this Maurice was ticked off for not playing the hymns for him on the
piano. Grandfather Trowbridge spoke the local dialect, and also used
words that were probably going out of use even in his day. When
children were playing together and getting very excited he would say,
‗There's gwain to be a gangreen in a minit‘. My father also told me it
was strange when Elisha visited them to hear his father being spoken to
as though he was not in absolute authority as he had always thought he
was. He said no doubt his own sons noticed a certain diffidence in his
manner to his father so the wheel of life turns.
Another source of material is the Bowerchalke Parish Papers38
produced and printed by the vicar, the Revd. Edward Collett for over
forty years from 1878, the year that Charles Trowbridge was admitted to
the village school. A vivid account of this period and virtually a social
history of Bowerchalke, its vicar, its people and the impact of events
have been related in the book by Rex Sawyer39. In this book, on page 77,
a photograph of the boys from the National School in 1884 is reproduced.
Charles would have been ten years of age and is likely to be in the picture
probably in the back row. In the Parish Papers (there is a partial set of
this weekly series in the Bodleian Library, Oxford) we learn that Elisha
Trowbridge won several prizes for gardening in 1890, and that his son
Morgan was one of four pupils who passed in all three subjects (the three
R's) on February 17, 1883. We also see the notice of Elisha's death and
burial in 1919. Elisha was a simple man of the country who could read
the Bible but, apparently, was unable to write his name. He was a
chapelgoer for many years as the Baptist Church list of membership
records shows. He left a will in which his effects were bequeathed
equally to his four children and at probate his estate was valued at £155.
The school log book does not record the date that Charles left school
but it was usual at that time to leave at about twelve years old and to start
work at that age. According to Maurice his father's first job was rook
scaring and this left one memory in his mind concerning the monotony of
the long day, without a soul to see or speak to all day long. On his first
38
39
Bowerchalke Parish Papers, 1878-1924, Bodleian Library, Oxford
Rex Sawyer, The Bowerchalke Parish Papers, Allan Sutton, Gloucester, 1989
14
Family Roots
15
day he took lunch, dinner and tea with him but he had no watch and
when he had eaten all his meals he began to anticipate that someone
would come to tell him it was time to go home. No one came, and when
at last he saw a worker across the fields and ran up to him to inquire the
time, he found it was only twelve o'clock! After that he learned to judge
his time by the sun40. Charles worked for several of the local farmers,
sometimes at a farm where one of his brothers was also working. There
was the occasion when Morgan got buried under a load of mangos
following some larking about with one of the old tip-up carts used before
tractors were invented. Some of the farmers he worked for were Elliot,
Bracher, and Target. One of the stories relates to Mr Target who is
supposed to have originated the saying, ‗One boy is a good boy, two boys
only half a boy, and three boys no boy at all‘. On one occasion Mr Target
told Charles to pick up sticks in the rick-yard. Charles said, ‗Which sticks
do you want picked up?‘ and Target said, ‗Pick up every stick with two
ends, and if you find one with only one end leave it where it is‘. The
day's work was not done when they got home. There was a large garden
to see to, pigs to feed, wood to chop, and various jobs like that. The
wages were so small that it was necessary to produce nearly all their own
food themselves, and bacon was a common diet. Beef and mutton were
referred to as butcher's meat, and were only seen on very rare occasions.
A new pair of boots was bought once a year fitted with iron heels and toe
pieces by the local Blacksmith.
His first job away from home was at Mere. He was very homesick
and often spoke about being given beer for breakfast. After a while he
found the necessary courage to ask for tea; this was granted but a great
concession (at other meals, apparently beer was OK). An interesting
sidelight into his character; he became a teetotaller when his son Maurice
was born, and never drank again, as he thought it would be a bad
example. At the time of his marriage to Nellie Vincent he was working as
a gardener in Salisbury living in lodgings at No. 20 Milford Hill, he was
then 24 years old. For a while before the birth of their son he worked for
Hardy's the mineral water people as a Carman, i.e. he drove a horse and
van. This van was loaded with minerals etc, and he was away sometimes
two or three days delivering through the countryside to shops and public
houses.
He took his wife with him occasionally, and an incident occurred at
Ringwood, which could have been serious for them. The main road in
those days ran through the town and over a small bridge by the Fish Inn.
At the side of the bridge there was a sloping run-in to the river so that
horses and cattle could be taken down to the water. Now this particular
40
This story is similar to W H Hudson's encounter with the boy bird-scarer in the first chapter
of A Shepherds Life.
16
horse was subject to fits sometimes lasting several minutes, and would
fall down. Usually they did not take a great deal of notice of this, just
taking the harness off and waiting until the animal recovered. This time,
however, it happened as the horse was standing up to its knees in the
river, and immediate action was called for. Nellie got down into the river
and held the horse's head above the water whilst Charles got the harness
off and fortunately all was well. Mr Hardy once told Nellie that her
husband was an excellent worker, but he did wish he would not try to run
the whole business! In fact Charles was never backward in giving advice,
even when it would have been tactful to keep quiet.
16
Family Roots
17
Life in Salisbury 1800-1920
Charles and Nellie lived in and around Salisbury for twenty years
and became closely associated with the Milford Street Methodist chapel
where they were married. Some years later the post of Chapel Keeper
became vacant and Charles was given the job which was part-time and
earned him the princely sum of 16s 8d per week. His son remembered
this well since he had been learning about American money and it
corresponded to exactly four dollars. Charles was completely
disinterested in this astounding fact when his son who had been sent to
collect the money communicated it to him. He thought it sounded even
less in American than English money. The job consisted of keeping the
chapel and schoolroom clean. The furnace had to be stoked in the
wintertime, a job often delegated to his son. He had to be on hand at all
the meetings, stood at the door on Sundays and acted as sides-man. His
name and address was on the notice board outside, at the bottom after the
minister and times of Church meetings of course, but it was in gold leaf,
the same as the others. His address on the board led to all manner of
callers at home seeking handouts, and help. No one was ever refused,
although no money was ever given, but lodgings and meals were
arranged and paid for. Quite often they did not turn up at the lodging
house, so perhaps there was some method in his way of doing things.
Maurice recalled that his father often got up from his own meal in order
to take someone down to the eating-house in Winchester Street. It was a
time of high unemployment and actual distress. Although his job at the
chapel may sound a menial one, Charles definitely did not consider it as
such. He was a deacon of the chapel, and apart from this had a lot to say
about the running of the place, mostly without being asked of course. His
son had no difficulty in winning first prize every year for regular
attendance at Sunday school, and also at the Band of Hope meetings—
the boy had no choice. The preparation and clearing up after the regular
church socials was also part of the job. He also had a good tenor voice
and often sang for his supper as well. His voice stood out in chapel, he
was not in the slightest degree nervous and he would voice strong
disapproval to the organist if the hymn tunes were not to his liking. The
organist would get his own back by complaining of the dust in his reeds
and as Charles prided himself on always doing things to the best of his
ability, no matter what, this made him furious. Charles had the happy
knack of being able to play the piano and organ by ear. He also played
the concertina well, and could play several wind instruments, but not well
enough to play in public. He could not read music.
Since the chapel job was part time he supplemented this work by his
ever-expanding entrepreneurial activities. He had a strong urge to get on
Life in Salisbury 1800-1920
18
and all the things he did were working toward to his great ambition to
have a business of his own. He had many labouring jobs, (gardening etc.)
about the town but his ambition led him to a partnership with a
remarkable Sarum worthy, a Mr Parsons, in a market stall trading in
sweets and ice cream. Mr Parsons was born before his time judging from
some of his ideas, one of which was to have a weekly competition for
kids in which they were encouraged to write essays extolling the virtues
of the different things they could buy from the stall, with a small prize for
the best one handed in. A curious method was agreed upon for the
distribution of the profits; Charles had the first three hours and then his
partner the next and so on. Some weeks later he found that Parsons had
picked the best times. Later Mr Parsons was taken ill with paralysis, and
became bedridden, so Charles carried on the stall himself but selling
lemonade and ice cream only. When trade was slack he sent his son
about the market place with an enormous ice cream to lick to attract the
customers. As well as the Salisbury market on Tuesdays and Saturdays
trade was plied further afield; Charles attended most of the flower-shows
and fetes within ten miles and undertook longer journeys by train with
Sunday-school treats. The whole family of five, see Plate 4, went on
these trips; a horse and cart was hired to carry all the gear, and beside
several gallons of ice cream ready frozen, they carried all the materials,
ice and salt so that more could be made up if necessary. The stalls used in
the market and other events were home made, and very ingenious,
capable of being erected and dismantled in the minimum of time, and
very portable. Charles was a good carpenter; his son appreciated the
lightness of construction since he had to help push the cart loaded with
the stall up Milford Hill on many occasions. This activity prospered and
he opened a bank account and signed his cheques Charles Trowbridge,
Sarum.
In the winter ice cream was out so the activity switched to chips!
This was a completely self-contained chip shop on wheels designed to be
drawn by a horse, but there was no horse, and he did not consider it
necessary to hire one just to pull the affair from Culver Street, where he
kept it, round to the market place. He pulled it himself, a factor, which
may have contributed to his heart condition later on. He converted the
original design to accommodate people under cover on two sides with
benches to sit on which was good for trade in bad weather. The potatoes
were grown in his allotment and everyone had to participate in the
planting on Good Friday each year. Just before the outbreak of the Great
War he acquired an empty shop in Ox-Row, in the Market place, which
he fitted out as a fish and chip shop. At this point he gave up the market
work and also the chapel to concentrate on the shop which did well from
the first but the hours were long, the work hard, and the atmosphere
18
Family Roots
19
unhealthy. The family now lived over the shop with good
accommodation and a fine view of the market and all that went on there.
An interesting commentary on the so called progress we now all enjoy is
that every morning a telegram was received from Grimsby giving the
day's fish prices, which Charles studied during breakfast, which was at
about 9.00 am; he then sent his order by telegram at about 10.00 am. The
fish was put on the rail the same day, reaching Salisbury by 9.00 am the
next morning. Condition was always perfect. He was a staunch supporter
of the liberal party and was keenly interested in politics; although he held
no official position in the party he always managed to be in the MP's
motorcar leading the processions. On one occasion he got his son in as
well, his first ride in a motorcar. Sir Edward Tennant was the liberal
member and always sent Charles a brace of pheasants during the season.
During one election his house was plastered with Tory pamphlets during
the night, and so all hands spent the day scraping them off.
Plate 4: The Family of Charles and Ellen Trowbridge, Maurice, Vera
and Freda, 1911
Charles Trowbridge in Lymington
20
By 1918 he had become exhausted with long hours and the
additional strain of war work with the ambulance section receiving the
wounded who came in at midnight at Salisbury Station. He decided to
sell the chip shop and look for a more congenial business. In the
meantime he had saved enough money to buy a new house in Harnham.
For employment he worked for a time in the stores at Boots and later on
was on the permanent staff of the Bath and West Agriculture Show. The
search for a suitable business went on, and in 1921 it was decided to take
the dairy business in Lymington, Hants. In all this he was helped by his
son Maurice who had reluctantly given up his career in the Mercantile
Marine in order to help his father. Apparently Charles was not too happy
at Lymington in the early days and became a real worrier although
money was made from the first in a small way. However neither Maurice
nor his elder sister, Vera, got any wages. Maurice had ten shillings
pocket money (50p) out of which he was expected to clothe himself. At
first Charles made many trips back to Salisbury where he had many
friends and was in demand as an organiser of functions, particularly with
his old Liberal cronies. A sign of the passing fortunes of the party came
when they lost the election and the victory torch light procession
arranged by Charles from the railway station through the town had to be
quietly abandoned. With the slow decline of the liberals Charles voted
conservative (officially) but since he usually sided with the underdog,
Maurice believed his vote went the other way.
Things slowly improved, and Charles became integrated into
Lymington life, playing an important part in the Baptist Chapel in New
Street. He became a deacon and trustee. In 1924 he acquired the farm at
Lower Buckland and he and Nellie celebrated their silver wedding at the
chapel with over 50 guests. At this point Maurice took over the running
of the Dairy business in St Thomas St. and moved in with his wife
Connie, so 1924 was a good year. Charles it could be said, had, by his
own efforts, achieved a modest success in life.
Shortly after this Charles turned up at the Dairy one day and
casually remarked, ‗I have turned this business over to you as from
Monday, you've worked for it and its yours‘. The following day he came
back and said, ‗I forgot; you will need some cash in the bank‘, and gave
him £200. There was some shooting on the farm, and they bought a gun
for 7s 6d. second hand (ten shillings was asked but Charles got the price
down). Maurice used this gun for very many years, and said that he could
not shoot as well as his father, despite the fact that Charles had not fired a
20
Family Roots
21
gun since his Bowerchalke days as a young man. He was a natural shot
and could not understand others who could not shoot as well as he did.
He could also train a dog, and on one occasion he left Old Bill the sheep
dog guarding a milk churn at the Monkey House (a public house near
Lower Buckland) and came back a different way. This was in the
morning and the dog was forgotten until evening when Charles went
back to get him and found the dog still on guard.
One other incident shows a typical tendency he had to go to the
heart of the matter, when others would perhaps merely sympathise. There
was a young girl working at Manor House and Charles noticed that she
was very unhappy when he delivered the milk. He soon found out that
she was being unfairly treated. One morning he found her in tears so said
to her, ‗Do you want to go home?‘ She said she was frightened to say
anything to her mistress, so Charles said, ‗Have your bag packed when I
come tomorrow and I will get you home‘. The next day, he drove her to
the station and paid her rail fare home. There were no repercussions, so
presumably the girl's father had got in touch with her employer. Charles
bought the land in Lower Buckland Road, which he called Harnham
Close and built the house on it for his retirement, letting it in the
meantime. He later built two bungalows on the top half, and his daughter
Vera and her husband Arthur Wood lived in one. Charles was taken ill
with a heart attack before the other was completed. Maurice summed him
up in this way:
My own father, Charl Trubridge in Chalk valley dialect, was a man of massive
contradictions. He feared no man on earth, but went to pieces over business worries.
He preferred to work out his days rather than retire when the doctor told him to save
his heart (he could have afforded to). He was a very religious man, but possessed a
violent temper, which became uncontrollable at times. He always had one or two
lame dogs in tow, and was a true exponent of the saying; don't let your right hand
know what the left is doing. Tramps were always sure of a meal but they got no
money. He was generous and kind to children, and would climb tall trees to show
me a bird‘s egg. I can also remember some of the hidings he gave me, and I still
don't know what some of them were for!
He was big and tall, fought our Guernsey bull with his walking stick, and won;
when onlookers said he would get himself killed. He was afraid of water if it was
more than a couple of feet deep.
After a slow pull back to some kind of health, he one day managed to put his
working boots on and supervise loading some pigs, and went home and told Nellie
what a wonderful day he had had—she found him dead in bed next morning
(Saturday, 19 October, 1935). The report in the local paper includes the following:
Lymington has lost a dairyman farmer and the Baptist Church a valued member by
the death of Mr Charles Trowbridge, who died suddenly at his home in Lower
Buckland on Saturday...Always having taken a keen interest in religion he will be
missed at the Baptist Church where he was deacon.
22
He and Mrs Trowbridge have been connected with chapel work all their lives. He
was a founder member of Lymington Brotherhood, and members stood for a
moment in silent tribute at Sunday's meeting...
In his will he left the income from his estate to his wife Nellie in her
lifetime and the property and residual to his three children on her death.
Probate was granted to his executors (Maurice Trowbridge and Arthur
Dinham) and his effects set at £4,60341.
41
£150,000 today
22
Family Roots
23
The Vincents 1800-1920
Ellen (Nellie) Trowbridge (nee Vincent) also went to the village
school in Bowerchalke. The Vincent family moved to Bowerchalke from
Fordingbridge, Hants, some time after 1876, the year of Nellie's birth.
Her father Frank Vincent was born in Rockbourne, Hants, in 1851 the
son of George Vincent and Mary Percy a blacksmith's daughter from
nearby Damerham. The Old Smithy in Damerham is where my father
Maurice lived out his retirement quite unconscious of the fact that this
was the very place where his great grandmother Mary Percy once lived,
a coincidence he would have appreciated. Another coincidence, shown
by the 1851 Census, is that George Vincent was born in Milford St.
Salisbury (1813) where Maurice lived as a child. The census also states
his occupation as a maltster‘s labourer and that his wife Mary was born
in Compton Chamberlain in Wiltshire. Frank married Angela Langdon at
West Chinnock in Somerset in 1875. She was the daughter of Charles
Langdon and Frances Hamlyn who themselves were married in
Chiselborough in Somerset in 1844. Yet another slight coincidence is that
I was staying in this village, at the Manor Farm, on the eve of my own
marriage to Rita Creed in 1954. It is clear that Frank moved his family to
Misselfore, Bowerchalke before 1885 as there is a charming photograph
of the Vincent family; dated that year, see Plate 5(a). Frank is missing but
Angela is shown seated, nursing the latest baby (Clem), with four other
children standing (there were still four more children to come). Nellie,
my grandmother, the oldest, is standing next to her mother.
Frank had a small farm at Misselfore and to quote Maurice, his
grandson who spent most of his holidays there, ‗Had everything to
delight a small boy‘; he was also the village carrier42 in great demand for
village functions as well as running a regular service into Salisbury. The
oldest boy, Maurice (also known as Harry), became stone deaf at the age
of three following an attack of rheumatic fever. He was sent to a charity
home in London for handicapped children for a while. Maurice
remembered his uncle Harry (Maurice) as a kindly, gentle man who
could lip read well and really was completely devoid of hearing, he could
just sense, through his feet, the vibration of the large guns firing on the
Salisbury plain firing range. He and his younger brother Clem helped
their father on the farm and in contract work for the county council, flint
collecting. Flints were used for road making and the local gypsies would
pile the stones up at points along the track on Pentridge hill. These were
then thrown up into Frank's cart by his two sons each using a large
twelve-tine fork. Maurice was taken along with them sometimes and
42
Using a wagon and horses for local transport of people and goods
24
remembered vividly the horses; when a load was complete his
grandfather would shout to the two great carthorses, ‗Prince-sah!
Captain-sah‘, to make them take up the strain and then to the smaller
trace horse up front he would yell, ‗Lightfoot-sah‘. The women of the
household would also be out and about picking up wood from the downs
for fuel to bake bread; the faggots would be bundled and carried on their
backs. I once saw the peasants in southern Italy doing this (1950), and it
came as something of a mild shock to realise much later, from my
comfortable modern perspective, that my own ancestors, only two
generations back, were doing the same thing.
(a) Angelina with her children in 1885
(b) Frank & Angelina Vincent
Plate 5: Vincent Family of Misselfore, Bowerchalke
Their daughter Frances married a railway inspector and went to live
in Bristol. Another daughter, Eva Kate, married a butcher in Salisbury
but according to Maurice she later ran off with the lodger. She was
charged with stealing bedclothes and Maurice said he saw her under
arrest with the police, hand-cuffed, in Salisbury market place. Her
husband Bill said, ‗Kate's gone! Gone with the lodger...I want her back‘.
He was badly affected and apparently jumped into the river on one
occasion and finally cut his throat—a very sad case. The youngest
daughter, Lillian Theresa, was married to Harry William Stagg in 1913
but sadly he was killed in the war in 1917. They had two children and she
appears with one of them in a vivid photograph published in a local paper
some time in the 1930's, see Plate 6a. The two of them are shown
returning from a rabbit catching expedition, the daughter is leading a
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Family Roots
25
small pony carrying a dog (lurcher cross), sitting upright on its back, and
Aunt Lila is holding a large black Labrador by the collar with her left
hand and holding a spade over her shoulder with her right. There are
rabbits trussed up in bundles attached to the pony on both sides.
The terrible slaughter of the 1914-18 war had taken its toll of
Bowerchalke youngsters, as it did everywhere, and the youngest Vincent
son, Clem, was a survivor of the 1st Wilts regiment which had been
badly cut up in France, see Plate 6b. Clem was rather wild and had in fact
joined the army in peacetime; it was said that if his father had paid him
better he would not have joined up. He was wounded twice in France.
Maurice said that his wounds were not properly healed when he was
recalled; he wore a mitten on one hand because of a bayonet wound and
also had a badly damaged shoulder. A letter he wrote to his family from
the front in June 1915 survives, also a photograph in uniform, probably
taken in Salisbury before he went to France in 1914. In the letter, which
is quite cheerful, he thanks his family for sending a parcel and some
ruled writing paper. He refers to a lady called Gwen (a girlfriend?),
...am please to say that Gwen is getting on quite well and she will soon be able to go
out.... she is going to have her photo taken because I asked her for one. I heard from
Lila a few days ago, she sent me a box of cigarettes...how is the garden
looking...there is some lovely gardens about here, the things is all up and nearly fit to
pick....I guess they beat the English for growing things well.... How is it that Henry
did not write the letter?
In a postscript he shows concern for a neighbour back in
Bowerchalke,
...How is Mrs Sheppard, remember her to me and tell her to cheer up.
Isaac Shepherd, her husband, was the first Bowerchalke man to be
killed in the war. This is especially poignant since Clem himself was later
posted missing in Mesopotamia. In fact when he was recalled in 1916,
after being on leave recovering from his wounds, he joined the Persian
Expeditionary Force and was killed in action on 17 April. His father
Frank on receiving the terrible news had an accident with his pony and
trap on his way back from the telegraph office (he had gone to nearby
Broadchalke to send telegrams to his family telling them about Clem).
The accident was serious and had made him unconscious, as he had
suffered an impact to his head on being thrown from the cart. Although
he recovered from this he died a few months later from a stroke. The
vicar, Edward Collett records:
Frank Isaac Vincent died Sep. 2, 7.30 pm. 3 Misselfore Cottages, buried Wed. Sep
6th at 2.30, 1916, aged 64 years—apoplexy
26
(a) Aunt Lila-The last rabbit catcher
(b) Clem Vincent, 1915
Plate 6: Aunt Lila and Uncle Clem Vincent
Nellie Vincent the oldest daughter of Frank and Angela went into
service at the tender age of twelve and worked at the Vicarage in
Rockbourne. Her grandfather George Vincent had once lived in the
village and the family had strong associations. The vicar's wife was a
hard woman and kept the child short of food and subjected her to many
humiliations. Her uncle Charles (b.1849) was a local preacher who lived
near the village but he was not approved of at the Vicarage. One Sunday
evening Nellie went to hear him preach instead of attending the regular
church service conducted by her employer. When she returned to the
vicarage she found herself locked out. It was getting late and she was
quite naturally drawn toward her home in Bowerchalke so she set out
across the downs and walked into the night the eight miles back home.
Frank was upset and the next day drove to Rockbourne and vented his
anger on the established church and their lack of charity. Later Nellie
worked happily in London for several years but finally returned to
Bowerchalke and married her village contemporary Charles Trowbridge.
26
Family Roots
27
Maurice Trowbridge 1910-1925
My father Maurice grew up in Salisbury and eventually attended
Bishop Wordsworth‘s School where, by family hearsay, he performed
well and could have progressed on up the educational ladder if domestic
pressure had not dictated otherwise. Indeed at the age of fifteen and a
half (1916) his father thought he had had enough education to enable him
to earn a living. ‗Four years more than I had‘, he said, on more than one
occasion and as Maurice said, ‗one did not argue with father‘. In fact
Maurice‘s heart was set on going to sea, it was the golden age of boys
adventure stories and this may have been an influence. A more potent
influence for him, I think, was the enormous interest generated by the
new communications technology of radio especially when linked to
seafaring. For example in both the loss of the Titanic in 1912 and the
arrest at sea of the wife murderer Crippen radio transmissions played a
crucial part. However, there was considerable opposition from his
parents. From his mother the fear that he would be led astray morally, or
drowned, in that order, and his father because of the expense. He wanted
to be a radio officer in the Merchant Navy and this meant technical
college fees and board and lodging. To be fair his father was working
hard to reach his great ambition; to own his own farm, and about ten
years later he realised this in Lymington as has already been said. In the
end consent was given for quite a different reason. It was the time when
appalling losses in lives were taking place in France and they thought he
would be safer at sea than in the army43.
On making enquiries it was discovered that the minimum age before
Maurice could be accepted for training was seventeen, so his father found
him a job. He soon found himself as the ‗bottom man‘ on the totem pole,
at a long established firm of Complete House furnishers—Distance no
Object, the distance part, Maurice soon discovered would be on foot. He
became a general dog‘s body who, on the one hand, had to respond to the
clarion call of the manager an ex army major, ‗Maurice, drop everything
and dash round to …‘, several times a day but, on the other hand he
discovered that, the Guv‘nor the owner who sat in his office all day with
occasional sorties through the show rooms, left him alone provided he
had a broom or duster in hand. So he learnt to try and keep out of earshot
with a brush or something purposeful visible. Even after the day‘s work
was done he had to deliver packages and letters on his way home, even
quite remote locations were considered to be on his ‗way home‘. His day
started at eight o‘clock with the routine jobs of polishing the floors and
43
In fact by the end of the war, one in ten of the Merchant Navy men had lost their lives at sea,
the proportion was even greater in WW2
28
dusting furniture followed by errands, humping furniture around, and
‗going‘ on outside jobs with the upholsterers or removal men. He liked
Mr Humby, the French polisher and all-purpose workman, the best and
from this crafty old gentleman he learnt some of the ways of working
men. Sometimes the work was very hard indeed for a growing lad.
Despite the use of a van for delivery work this was not used for anything,
which could be possibly loaded on a handcart. They did not have a horse
of their own which Maurice said was just as well, as probably the
RSPCA would have intervened if the horse had been pulling some of the
loads he had to on his handcart. He said to old Humby one day:
I shall suggest to Mr Bridges (the manager) that we have a horse. We could easily
keep it round the back, there‘s tons of room for a horse in one of the sheds,
You rather fancies yourself driving a horse round the town I spose,
I can drive a horse. My grandfather has horses.
I don‘t know what you are going to do when you goes to sea if you don‘t use your
loaf better then wot you do here. Though I does really—you‘ll have drownded
yourself afore you been there two days. Look ‗ere who gets to work a hour early to
feed an groom the ‗orse?
The driver does! Who comes in twice on Sundays to feed an groom the ‗orse?
The driver does, an about that half day you keeps on about? No boy scouting on
Wednesdays cos you‘ll be seeing to the ‗orse.
Maurice got to know the old city thoroughly. I remember, years
later, walking with him in the town and he had an anecdote for every inch
of the way. He was very observant and had a shrewd eye for how things
worked. On this occasion he recalled the visit of a Royal Duke to
Salisbury to inspect Southern Command and afterwards to attend a
function at the council chambers. He remembered a conversation with
one of the lady machinists who said to young Maurice
Are you going to stand outside and cheer the Duke when he comes by?
What on my half day. I‘m going fishing.
I am disappointed in you; I thought you had been better brought up
Well my father says he‘s got a deal on with the Duke. If he doesn‘t bother father,
father won‘t bother him
He had several adventures with old Humby and I think profited
greatly from the experience, which he successfully applied later on in life
when he had his own businesses to run. Soon after his seventeenth
birthday he enrolled at Merchant Venturers Technical College in Bristol
to take the Marconi wireless operators course. Whilst in Bristol he stayed
with his mother‘s sister, his Aunt Francis, who lived at Hallatrow about
ten miles out. He was already proficient in Morse code from his time
with the boy scouts and quickly mastered the basics of radiotelephony.
Professor Robinson, who apparently was a good communicator as he
28
Family Roots
29
successfully got the entire group of forty students through the theory
without one failure taught them the rudiments of this new technology.
Another interpretation could be that shipping losses were so high that
trained men were needed urgently. Maurice tells the story of the final
examination conducted by a Commander Andrews.
We had a ship‘s radio cabin installed, and had been thoroughly taught the checks for
all manner of faults. I almost forgot a small hint the instructor had dropped. ‗You
may find the Commander a bit devious, so watch out!‘ My turn to go in and I was
greeted with the first question, ‗What do you want to go to sea for young man?‘ and
a cosy chat developed. Then he shouted ‗BANG‘ you are torpedoed, jump to it,
position so & so. I pushed in the main switch and nothing happened, he had
removed the fuses. New fuses put in and the generator started, but no high frequency
signals produced, so out comes the testing gear, and found he had joined the main
transformer terminals together, and in a difficult area to get at, and so it went on, but
when all was cleared and I was ready to transmit he pulled the main switch and said,
‗Water has reached the Engine room dynamos, so What now‘, I said, ‗Emergency
gear sir‘, and I went over to it and discovered that the stand-by emergency gear was
above the Morse key and when switched on the fuses blew and molten lead came
down on my hand. With everything now working I was able to begin to transmit the
routine SOS SSSS etc. The four SSSS meant enemy action. There followed
searching questions to make sure I knew the proper procedures. No comment from
the Commander but a wink and a smile from the instructor. The next day we were
given our ‗tickets‘ and orders for Cardiff to report for duty at the Marconi Office and
to be assigned to a ship. I received a diploma from Bristol University some months
later (See Plate 7.)
Plate 7: Certificate of Proficiency in Radiotelegraphy
He was told to report to the HMT Logician in Barry Docks. The date
was August 1918 with the end of the war still some 3 months in the
future. Father was just eighteen, see Plate 8b, and, as I know from my
30
own experiences some 30 years later, joining one‘s first ship is an
adventure never to be forgotten. Taking up the story in his own words:
I had a letter of introduction for the Captain, but only the Chief mate was on board
so he did the honours. He showed me my cabin—pointed out the life belt in the rack
overhead—said you wouldn‘t need that? If we stop one, three people are last to
leave, the Captain, Chief Engineer, and you! That is if you are lucky. (Later on at
sea I found that I still had to take part in lifeboat drill, although my chances of being
in it were rather slight.) The senior ‗sparks‘ did not arrive until just before sailing
time and as there was a long delay in taking on our cargo of coal, I had time on my
hands. I soon got friendly with the two apprentices, and we spent evenings in
Cardiff, and I had a lovely time with them, but at last word went round that we were
signing on next day and then would sail on the next tide. I got my first shock when
the crew started coming aboard. Hardly one was sober; they came along the dock in
twos and threes. No suitcases or kit bags, some wearing only a shirt and trousers.
We moved to Milford Haven to join the Convoy and sailed after dark. Six hours
on and six hours off started, and at first I found it difficult to sleep on my watch
below owing to the engine room noise. To keep station in convoy meant that the
‗telegraph‘ from bridge to engine room would be in use all the time as the revs had
to be adjusted almost continuously. The ships went zigzag within the convoy and the
convoy as a whole zigzagged. I learnt later that a convoy could stretch for ten miles.
The day after sailing I heard my first SOS. It was not completed, so it could be
assumed that the ship was sunk. I was seasick for several days and when I finally
turned up in the saloon, there was a shout of ‗we got a stowaway‘44. We lost one
ship (a tanker) on the way—Yankee sloop went berserk and rushed through the
convoy dropping depth charges. Our first port of call was Gibraltar, which took us
nearly a week, and from then on we were on our own first to Tunis and then to Port
Said. By that time I had got very familiar with the ship (and the two large pens of
ducks and chicken); the ‗Bosun‘ let the ducks out when washing down the deck and
did they enjoy it. However one day the sea was so calm that they all went overboard
and enjoyed a proper swim. I suppose the sharks got them before long. Entering Port
Said harbour it seemed we had to make our way between the masts of three ships
recently torpedoed, however some of the crew refused to ‗work‘ the ship and the
Captain ordered the ‗need assistance flag‘ to be hoisted. A police contingent arrived
armed with rifles and the mutineers were rounded up and made to sit down on the
deck and left guarded by two police officers. When I went on duty I passed them all
laughing and joking together, the guards being asleep with their rifles stuck in a
corner well out of reach. They were later taken ashore and a replacement gang
brought out who were tougher looking lot than the men being replaced.
Some years ago I visited the Public Record Office at Kew to look at
the Merchant Navy records and found some information about the SS
Logician and Maurice‘s first voyage from the ship‘s log book, preserved
in the library. Maurice is listed as wireless officer and was credited VG
conduct and performance on his discharge, 26 January 1919. The ship
sailed from Barry on 19 August arriving in Port Said 11 September then
went on to Colombo and Calcutta. The incident in Port Said was indeed
44
He once told me when I was very young that were two stages to sea-sickness, when you
were scared you would die and when you were scared you would not
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31
covered in the logbook; apparently the twelve stokers went on strike; the
five British nationals concerned were tried before the British Consul and
were sentenced to one month‘s imprisonment. A certain ‗Williams‘
received one extra week for using threatening language and each man
had to pay his own prison expenses. What happened to the other seven is
not recorded.
My father remained at sea until 1923 sailing in many ships owned
by a dozen different shipping lines; this was because members of the
radio branch of the service were employed by the Marconi Company who
then sub-contracted trained officers to the various shipping companies.
He steadily rose up the ladder finally achieved First operator status on the
SS Grelisle in which he made several trips to South America, Plate 8(a).
Plate 8: Maurice Trowbridge in the Merchant Navy, 1918-1923
He told me once about his voyage to the River Plate in Argentina.
Having shown me on the atlas the location of this far away place he said:
… we lost one of our stokers here, drowned after a swim. The crew had been
sweeping out coal dust from the hold prior to loading wheat.
One went in for a swim and as the under currents here are strong that was that. There
was a rush to get the quarter boat down, but we found that the Bosun had been using
it as a paint store and for other odds and ends. They finally got it down and rowed
around for a bit. My own view was that they should have gone down river where he
might have surfaced. When we signed off we were told to stay for the enquiry. ―Was
everything done that could be done to save the man that went overboard. If you
agree put your hands up‖, all this said in one breath and quickly followed by, ―Right
Dismiss‖.
I could hardly imagine then, that one day, many years later, I too
would visit Buenos Aires and that, coincidentally, a stoker from our ship
32
would also be drowned but in rather different circumstances as he fell in
the dock after a night out on the town. My father‘s best time at sea, he
often said, was in a Norwegian ship whose owner was also the vessel‘s
Master, a kindly but shrewd man who made Maurice feel part of his
extended family at sea, his relatives were the ship‘s officers, and the
experience taught him how to get on with people and gave him insights
into how to conduct business without compromising principles. In 1923
he retired from the Merchant Navy, somewhat reluctantly, to help his
father in Lymington as has already been noted. In 1924 he married
Constance Sherrell, who at the time was working at the Londesborough
Hotel in Lymington. Neither the ‗Trowbridge‘ or ‗Sherrell‘ families
approved of the marriage at the time and before continuing with their
story I will relate some information on the Sherrell family who came
from a rather different stock, namely, London and the home counties.
32
Family Roots
33
The Sherrells of London & Dover
My grandfather Percy Sherrell was descended from a Chelsea
hairdresser and bird-stuffer named James Samuel Sherrell who was
baptised on the 12th January 1817 at St Mary's Church, Bryanston Sq.,
Marylebone, and London. James Samuel's father's name was also James
and there is plenty of evidence to suggest that he also was a hairdresser
working in and out of London. The parish registers of Hertfordshire
contain many Sherrell entries and it has been possible to construct an
extensive family tree of the descendants of a Samuel Sherrell and Martha
Bonick who were married in Broxbourne, Herts. on the 29 September
179145. Their second son, James, was baptised 23 August 1795 in
Broxbourne and he probably moved to London sometime before 1817
married already to a lady called Ruth. After the birth of their eldest son
James Samuel in 1817 they moved back to Hertfordshire as the early
trade directories show. Pigots County Directory for London and the
Provinces (1832) lists under Hertfordshire a James Sherrell, Hairdresser,
Fore St, Hatfield, and in nearby Hoddesdon a George Sherrell is also
listed similarly employed. In 1845 the Post Office London and Home
Counties directory establishes the family connection more strongly:
Hoddesdon, Herts. High St.
Sherrell James  Hairdresser
Sherrell James Jun.  Hairdresser
By this time James Samuel, born in 1817, would have been 25 and his
father James, born 1795, 50 years old. But soon after James junior
appears in Chelsea, as the Post Office directory for London (1848)
indicates:
Sherrell Jas, hairdresser, 2 Blenheim Terrace Bond St. Chelsea
Sherrell George, hairdresser, 49 Seymour St. Euston Square
Is the George Sherrell in Euston Square his uncle (b.1800) or his
younger brother (b.1827)? In fact James Samuel (bachelor, aged 24,
resident of Hoddesdon) was married in 1841 to Elizabeth Logsdon
(spinster, aged 24, a servant from Hoddesdon) on the 12 August at the
parish church in Broxbourne. His father, James, is described as a
Hairdresser and his father-in-law, George Logsdon, as a Carrier. It
appears from the trade directory for Hertfordshire cited above that James
45
C.W.Trowbridge ‗The Trowbridge Family History 1690-1990‘, D‘Arcy Publications, 1991,
Ch. 6
34
Samuel may have been living in Hoddesdon in 184546 but his eldest son
George, according to his birth certificate, was born on the 27th. August
1845 at 2. Blenheim Terrace so the family of James and Elizabeth were
established in Chelsea by then. They were resident in Chelsea for the
1851 census on the night of 30th March. They were still living at 2.
Blenheim Terrace in 1853 but by 1861 they were gone, their house and
business occupied by Thomas Oliver, Hairdresser, and his family. They
had in fact moved back to Hertfordshire as confirmed by another trade
directory entry for Hoddesdon for 1855.
Sherrell James, bird stuffer, High St.
Sherrell James, hairdresser
Sherrell Ruth and Jane (Misses), dressmakers High St.
Ruth Sherrell is probably James Samuel's younger sister and Jane
Sherrell may well be his oldest daughter born 1842 who could have
remained in Hoddesdon with her grandparents. By 1862 the trade
directory only lists James Sherrell, Hairdresser in the High St.
Hoddesdon. The next event to record is the marriage of James Samuel's
son George to Dinah Stevens, which took place in Preston by Faversham
in Kent on November 29th. 1868. By this time George has added James
to his Christian name, presumably to standardise on the family custom of
adopting the father's first name as the second name for the son. George's
occupation is a Schoolmaster and he is described as being of full age
living in Preston and his father, James Samuel, is now listed as a
Scripture Reader47. George's wife Dinah (born 25 February, 1849) is
described as being a minor and her father James Stevens a Labourer from
the nearby village of Oare. According to the 1861 census for Faversham
he worked in the local Gunpowder factory and was born in Dartford Kent
in 1819. His wife Jane (nee Jones) was born in Hampshire in 1818. The
witnesses to the marriage were James and Jane Stevens the bride's
parents48 and James Samuel Sherrell. James and Elizabeth Sherrell later
retired to Hertfordshire where in the 1881 census they are recorded as
living alone and with independent means. In fact James lived on until
18th of January 1892 when he died at the age of 75 of Acute Bronchitis
at Ampthill in Bedfordshire having moved again some time after 1881.
46
Or possibly his name had not yet been removed from the directory, his father remaining in
Hoddesdon
47
One employed to read the Bible among the poor and ignorant—contemporary dictionary
definition.
48
James Edward Stevens, son of John Stevens a labourer in the powder mills at Davington,
married Jane Jones, daughter of George Jones similarly employed, in 1839 at the Parish
Church, Oare, Kent on 27 January, 1839.
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35
His son George James Sherrell was present at the death though the death
certificate records that he was living in Amberley, Arundel, Sussex at the
time. James's occupation was again given as a Scripture Reader (retired).
James made a will dated 23rd October 1891 which reads as follows:
This is the Last Will and Testament of James Samuel Sherrell of Maulden
Bedfordshire. I hereby give devise and bequeath to my daughter Louisa Jane
Woolven (Widow) the sum of fifteen pounds I also give and bequeath to my
daughter Elizabeth Sherrell the sum of Forty pounds together with other things to be
added in this Will. I also give and bequeath to my son George James Sherrell the
sum of fifty pounds with other things to be added to this Will. Furniture: I also give
devise and bequeath to my son George James Sherrell situated in the front room
downstairs my Harmonium Bookcase and all the books. 1 Case of stuffed pheasants,
2 other cases of stuffed birds, 4 cases of stuffed fish, 2 etchings. Kitchen Dinner
Service, fender, and fire irons; front room upstairs, lamp double burner, green set of
furniture sofa chairs and 1 oil painting (landscape of Pembroke), table and 1 case of
stuffed birds (under shade), two other cases of stuffed birds and one young Hare, 1
carpet, 1 bedstead bedding etc.; back bedroom, several cases of stuffed birds, 1 Fox,
Mathew Henry Commentary in this room, several oil paintings in gilt frames one
Clock, 4 boxes to be divided between George and Elizabeth. To my daughter
Elizabeth Sherrell I further give and bequeath the following articles of furniture;
front room downstairs, black sofa, two tables, chimney looking glass and ornaments,
5 covered chairs the contents in the cupboard to be divided between George and
Elizabeth, 1 table with the two cases upon it Fox and case of Gulls, small table with
shade of stuffed Hawks upon it with such pictures and books of Scripture as have
the name Elizabeth upon it. Floor cloth and Cocoa fibre matting, fender and fire
irons, window blinds both upstairs and down, one bedstead and bedding complete,
easy chair in back room one of the carpets as well as the Carpet in front room and
chest drawers, wash stand table and looking glass. Kitchen: 1 table, Copper and all
pots and kettles with crockery in the kitchen. Kitchen fender and 2 cases of stuffed
fish in front room one clock, shade of wool flowers in front room one stuffed
Badger in back room. The cupboard in Kitchen, reading lamp and one other large
lamp. I hereby appoint my son George James Sherrell sole Executor of this my last
Will in witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand this 23 day of October 1891—
James Samuel Sherrell
Signed by the said James Samuel Sherrell in the presence of us present at this time
who in his presence and in the presence of each other attest and subscribe our names
as witnesses hereto—Witnesses, Edward Read—John Henry Smith.
On the 16 February 1892 probate of this will was granted to George
James Sherrell the sole Executor. I wonder what happened next to this
stuffed menagerie? The entry in the index of Wills in Somerset House is
as follows:
Sherrell James Samuel of Maulden, Bedfordshire, died 18 January, 1892. Probate
London 16 February to George James Sherrell, Evangelist, Effects £164 11s 4d.
James Samuel's son George James Sherrell and his wife Dinah
Stevens had thirteen children; the eldest was born in 1870 and was
36
named after his father and grandfather, i.e. George James Samuel. Their
second son Percy, who was the author‘s maternal grandfather, was born
on the 1st. of November 1873 at 6 Frederick Terrace, Beatrice Road, and
Bermondsey. His father's occupation is now described as a Scripture
Reader continuing the family religious tradition. Some three years after
the death of his Grandfather, James Samuel, in 1895, Percy married Alice
Maud Durman and the marriage certificate gives more information on
their clerical progress. By this time George James was a minister of the
Congregational Church, probably in Littlehampton, Sussex, his eldest son
George James Samuel in fact later was ordained into the Church of
England. Not so Percy, who, as will be seen, had an entrepreneurial
streak. The marriage certificate reports that Percy (aged 21) at the time of
his marriage was a Commercial Clerk living at 23 Terminus Road,
Littlehampton. His wife Alice Maud described as a Dress Maker aged 23,
resided at nearby 9 Terminus Road and was the daughter of Richard
Faulkner Durman, Ironmonger. The marriage was solemnised at the
Congregational Chapel, Littlehampton, but was not performed by his
father who may have been still living in Amberley, a village seven miles
to the north of Littlehampton.
Plate 9:The Wedding of Percy Sherrell and Alice Maud Durman,
Littlehampton 189549
Dinah Margaret Sherrell (Plate 13a), my mother youngest sister,
recalled for me some stories of her father‘s childhood at the time when
his own father, George Sherrell, was congregational minister in
Amberley. There were thirteen in the family all boys except the oldest
Ellen Louisa (b. 1869) and several of them can be seen together in the
49
Photograph from the collection of Mrs Dinah Smith the daughter of Percy Sherrell
36
Family Roots
37
photograph of the wedding of Percy and Alice Maud Durman (1895)
outside Littlehampton Congregational Church. What a striking line up
the family make (see Plate 9). The boys took up occupations ranging
from the clergy; the eldest boy became Canon George Samuel Sherrell
(St Albans Cathedral, see Plate 13), and a younger son, Benjamin
Frances Sherrell, became a Master Baker in Burnham-on-sea in
Gloucestershire, where, incidentally, his father chose to live on his
retirement in 1914. Other family occupations included the merchant navy
and the army (probably Frank Sherrell who was killed in WW1) with
many other trades in between. Aunt Dinah was named after her mother
Dinah Stevens and she was convinced that we named our own daughter
Dinah after her though this was a retrospective claim! The actual
circumstances are more prosaic; her mother had a kitten as a child and
who like Alice‘s in ‗Alice and Wonderland‘ was so named. We visited
Amberley a few years ago and found the chapel but now, alas, a ‗potshop‘. We were failed to find the names of the ‗Sherrell‘ brothers on the
back pew, which, according to Aunt Dinah, were carved by the boys to
while away the Sunday sermon.
(a) Percy & Boy 1921
(b) Alice & Con 1921
Plate 10: Percy, Alice, Boy and Con on Dover Pier, 1921
Percy and Maud had six children, five daughters and one
Plate 12. Their second daughter Constance Winifred Sherrell
author's mother; she was born on the 9th of March 1902 at 65
Road, Littlehampton. The informant was her mother Alice
son, see
was the
Bayford
who is
38
described as residing at Arun House (12 April, 1902), Littlehampton50.
Had they just moved from Bayford Rd. or was No. 65 also known as
Arun House? Or perhaps Constance was born at the home of a friend. In
any case Percy seems to have moved up the commercial ladder a little
since his occupation is now given as a Corn Miller Master. According to
my mother the family moved from Sussex to Alton in Hampshire shortly
after she was born; she and her sisters were at school there, and I have
several vague memories myself of hearing stories told by her and her
younger sister Bernice (known as Bju) about their life in Alton, see Plate
12(a). In a letter I received from my mother the year before she died
(1950) she nostalgically recalled:
… Did I tell you in my last letter that Dad and I went to "Beech", you have heard me
talk of the village where I lived as a child, it is near Alton. I have often wanted to go
back there, but I was very disappointed it seems to have shrunk somehow, the house
now looks very funny, it is all covered with corrugated iron but I believe it was
wood when we were there 35 years ago—a long time isn't it, the garden was just the
same, very lovely, and no modern building at all in the little village, in fact I should
think it is a forgotten village.
We are going up to Dover for Dinah's51 wedding on 1st August...no sweets about
here I wish they would put them back on the ration52…
Percy got himself the job of arranging supplies of fodder for the
army; he would negotiate purchase of hay etc. from farmers in the South
of England to supply the various army camps in the area like Aldershot
and Tidworth. The army in those days was still very dependent upon
horses. This proved quite lucrative and he was able to start up a number
of business ventures, which were to be a feature of his life. In Alton for
example he acquired the rights to turn a disused chapel into a cinema. In
the home he tended to be somewhat autocratic, surrounded by a mostly
female family who appeared to give the utmost priority to his welfare. He
was sometimes over confident in business and consequently paid the
penalty as some of his ventures collapsed but he always seemed to
bounce back. His inventiveness led him into devising schemes to help the
war effort (1914). He once claimed to me that he had had the idea of
catching submarines in nets and had sent plans to the Admiralty only to
be ignored. I suppose they were receiving dozens of half-baked ideas
every day at that time. Sometime in the 1920's the family moved to
Dover in Kent where he began a modestly successful estate agency, he
was also into property valuation. By 1927 he established a business
50
Arun is the name of the river that flows into the English Channel at Littlehampton and also
comes through Amberley
51
Her youngest sister
52
She had a sweet tooth and a small but regular supply was available under rationing!
38
Family Roots
39
covering the buying and selling of property, arranging mortgages as well
as insurance brokering. In fact he became well known locally mostly
because of his promotional activities. He had an eye for opportunities in
entertainment, already he had run cinemas in Hampshire in the silent
picture days, and now he took on the seaside boom.
Plate 11: Dover Pier 192753
He acquired the lease of the Dover pleasure pier and built an
entertainment centre at the end including a roller-skating rink and a dance
hall. His only son, Harold (known as Boy) played the drums in the band
(see Plate 11(a) with Uncle Boy on drums and Percy looking on from
behind the piano). He later became a professional musician as a timpanist
53
Photographs from the collection of Mrs Hazel Stilwell grand daughter of Percy Sherrell
40
and percussionist in the Sadlers Wells and Royal Philharmonic
Orchestras. Uncle Boy‘s daughter, Marigold, remembered her father
telling her that he had to help with everything connected with the pier
including the management of the roller skating rink and the electric
wiring. Unlike his sisters, who were paid 2s 6d54 per week, being a son
he was not paid a penny. The pier venture prospered until an admiralty
vessel ran into the pier one night. Although there was no real harm done
the pier was damaged and business suspended, see Plate 11(b). Percy was
accused of not displaying the correct lights or something and after a
protracted correspondence with the authorities he finally realised that he
would never get compensation. Unfortunately he could not reopen the
pier until it was restored to a proper working condition, so he decided to
cut his losses and turn his attention to something else.
His regular business also led him on occasion to errors of
judgement: he once bought some land in Wales which he thought would
be suitable for property development only to discover later that it was
situated on a steep hillside and only useful for sheep. However he made
enough to live in some style and acquired a large house below the castle.
He was elected an Associate of Valuers Institute in 1939 and proudly
displayed this on his business notepaper ‗Percy Sherrell, AVI‘. He had
many hobbies, including painting on glass and fishing and I am sure
some of the stuffed animals from his Grandfather ended up in his house;
it was a weird and cluttered place, and as I remember, full of interesting
antiques. One story that my father Maurice used to tell us when we were
with his neighbour about a tree overhanging his garden, blocking his
light, but instead of having a friendly discussion he took his neighbour to
court. This may have worked for him but he decided in his usual over
confident way to represent himself and according to Maurice he took
along to the hearing his own law books which were many, many years
out of date. Of course he lost the case. Also, according to Maurice, Percy
was a natty dresser and always wore brown shoes. I found him interesting
and eccentric, he introduced me to brown ale and fishing but neither of
these interests has lasted but I think I have inherited something of his
spirit of adventure. He was always very kind to me and when I went
away to sea he sent me a book called ‗The Sailing Boat‘ which he
inscribed:
To my dear Grandson Charles William Trowbridge
Wishing a very happy Xmas, 1945
Dear Billy after the great Xmas festival Study every page of this book
When you will become a builder of almost any boat.
Love Grandpa
54
In old money
40
Family Roots
41
Plate 12: The Sherrell Family 1906 & 192355
He lived on into his 84th year living in retirement in Margate. He
died there on 17 April 1958. Aunt Dinah the youngest daughter lived at
home until taking up a nursing career sometime before the outbreak of
WW2 and always remembered her father with great affection, ‗dear old
dad‘ she would say to me as she recalled him in later life. She said he
was a religious man but less bound by dogma and rigorous observance
than his parents. Nevertheless he had brought up his family to believe in
a society firmly based on Christian values. Dinah helped her father as a
secretary and general dog‘s body in his many activities but she also
found time to be a Sunday school teacher. In fact she had a strong
motivation to help others and eventually became a hospital nurse and
rose to be a sister in Dover hospital at the time when large numbers of
seriously injured troops were coming through Dover at the time of
Dunkirk. In many senses Dover was the ‗front line‘, you could hear the
guns from across the channel. She told many a sad tale about the terrible
injuries sustained and of the indomitable spirit shown by many men in
her care.
Percy Sherrell's wife, Alice Maud Durman was born on the 8th May
1872 in Midhurst in Sussex, see Plate 12(b). Her father's name was
Richard Faulkner Durman a White-Smith56 in the town at that time and
55
Photographs from the collection of Mrs Hazel Stilwell grand daughter of Percy Sherrell
A tinsmith; a worker in iron who finishes or polishes the work—contemporary dictionary
definition
56
42
her mother's name was Evelyn Mary Veal. They were married in
Midhurst on the 1st July 1868. Richard was then 32 and described as an
Ironmonger like his father before him, William Durman. Evelyn was 21;
also from Midhurst and her father was Richard Veal, a Licensed
Victualler. Richard Durman was born in 1836 just prior to the start of
civil registration of births so we must look at the parish registers for
confirmation. Fortunately the 1861 census for Midhurst indicates that
Richard in fact was born there, and furthermore the 1851 census indicates
that his mother's name was Sarah and that she was born in Ringwood.
Plate 13: More Sherrell snaps from the 1930’s57
The marriage of William and Sarah took place in Ringwood,
Hampshire in 1830. The marriage register has the following entry:
17 August, 1830 Durman, William of Midhurst Faulkner, Sarah of Ringwood
Thus explaining the Sherrell family name of Faulkner. Sarah was born in
Ringwood in 1803, the daughter of William Faulkner and Mary Haysom.
William was variously described as a Tanner, a Victualler and a
Chapman58 who married Mary in 1799. The register is in fact full of
57
Photographs from the collection of Mrs Dinah Smith, daughter of Percy Sherrell
One who buys and sells: a dealer; a travelling seller of goods; a peddler or hawker—
contemporary dictionary definition
58
42
Family Roots
43
Faulkners. The geography has now come full circle since only a few
miles away in Rockbourne the paternal ancestors of the writer, the
Vincents, were living. Returning now to Veal family it was seen that
Evelyn Veal married Richard Faulkner Durman in 1868 aged 21, which
meant that she was born c.1846. A search in the birth index for 1846
yielded her full certificate which states that she was born 22nd October
1846 in Havant, Hampshire. Her father's name is given as Richard Veal,
Inn Keeper and her mother's as Sally Sharp Veal, formerly Hopkins. The
marriage certificate of Richard and Sally was soon obtained with the
information that the wedding took place some few years earlier in 1839,
also in Havant. The marriage was by Banns at the parish of Havant in the
county of Southampton on the 13th March. Richard's age is given as 27
and his occupation as a Post boy59 and his father, also called Richard, is
described as a labourer. His wife's name is given as Sally Sharp Hopkins,
a servant aged 26, and her father is named as John Hopkins also a
labourer. The Havant parish registers contain many references to Veal
and Hopkins families and in particular Richard and Sally had several
more children and he is described as a postilion60.
As a postscript to Percy and Alice the following selected quotes
from the local newspaper on the occasion of their golden and diamond
wedding anniversaries sums up their life together61.
This coming Sunday, October 7th, will be the 5oth anniversary of the wedding of Mr
and Mrs Percy Sherrell, of Siesta 17, Northwood Road, Tankerton-on-sea.
They were married at the Congregational Church, Littlehampton, Sussex, by the
Rev. Arthur Halack, MA, assisted by the Rev. G J Sherrell, Pastor of the
Congregational Churches at Amberley and Pulborough, Sussex, and father of the
bridegroom.
Mrs Sherrell was the daughter of Mr Richard Faulkner Durman, of Midhurst,
Sussex. There are five daughters and one son, and eight grandchildren.
Mr and Mrs Percy Sherrell and family are well known in Kent, especially at Dover,
where Mr Percy Sherrell held the Promenade Pier and Pavilion under the Admiralty
from 1921 to 1927. During that time the Mr Sherrell and his family became most
popular in endeavouring to boost Dover. Friends of Dover and thousands of visitors
will remember the activities of Mr Sherrell and how the Promenade Pier and
Pavilion also became a centre of amusement for the officers and men of the third
flotilla fleet.
Since 1927 Mr Percy Sherrell has been engaged in estate work. He became an
Associate of the Valuers Institution and opened up offices at 8-9, Cannon Street,
Dover and built up a progressive business. When the bombing came in 1940 all
these offices and flats were eventually bombed to the ground and not one pebble
59
A boy who rides post; a courier
One who rides the near leading horse of a carriage and four; or one who rides the near horse
of a pair.
61
See newspaper cuttings 1945 & 1955 in possession of the author
60
44
remained. Then Mr Sherrell took over Hopewood Estate and 20 acres at
Shepherdswell, and turned his activities to growing food for the nation assisted by
his wife and daughters.
Mr Sherrell was born in London, the third son of a family of thirteen. He was
educated by his father, a Latin, Greek and Hebrew scholar. He left home at 14 to
commence his business career and he joined the Sussex Imperial Yeomanry 1902.In
an interview Mr Sherrell recalled that his first visit to Whitstable62 was at the age of
four years.
He went there with his mother, grandparents, and uncles and aunts from Faversham.
At that tender age Whistable appeared to him as a thrilling place full up with
thousands of holidaymakers on the beach, while others were feasting in great tents
and all seemed to have plenty of money and to be jolly satisfied. His mother‘s
father, Mr James Stevens, was in charge at that period of the gunpowder works at
Oare, Faversham. Mr Sherrell adds: ―I think I can claim to be a Man of Kent‖
62
He had been living in Whistable area during his retirement. But now back in Dover at 16,
Victoria Park
44
Child Hood Memories
45
2. Child Hood Memories
Life at the Dairy 1930-1935
Plate 14: Aldridge’s Dairy 1919
My own earliest memories are of the little flat above the Dairy in St
Thomas Street (Plate 14). The sign on the front said Aldridge‘s Dairy, 46
St Thomas Street but neither my grandfather nor my father ever bothered
to change the name and as far as I tell the premises were occupied soon
after 1911 by a Henry Aldridge who moved his dairy business from
nearby 60 High Street. Prior to this, the site at number 46 had been ‗The
Six Bells‘ a public house and restaurant for nigh on 100 years.63 The pub
was named after the six bells in the church tower as a place where thirsty
ringers could get refreshment after a long session of ‗change ringing‘. In
1901 a new octave of bells was installed thus rendering the name
obsolete. The dairy was sandwiched between another pub, ‗The Dorset
Arms‘ (still there today) and the furnisher shop of C Ford & Co, which
was next to the Church. My grandfather Charles bought the business in
1919, and handed the dairy business over to my father Maurice in about
1930 the year of my birth. The living area was above the shop and
consisted of a sitting room (used on Sundays and high days), a bathroom
and the main bedroom. There were two small bedrooms in the attic above
and on the ground floor behind the shop there was a tiny scullery and a
63
See Brian Down, Lymington: A Pictorial Past, Ensign Publications, 1998, page 83 (The text
may be suspect as the reference to Mr Trowbridge running the dairy is misleading)
46
kitchen–living room. At the rear was the ‗yard‘, which contained all the
paraphernalia for the dairy—the bottle-washers, refrigerator, dairy for
making butter and cream etc. There was even room for the handcarts and
carrier bikes used for milk delivery as well as a small garden and
workshop, my fathers bolt hole. The access to the yard was by the small
alleyway to the left.
(Myles Cooper, Lymington)
Plate 15: St Thomas the Apostle, Lymington64
My earliest memories are of the men rolling churns of milk,
collected each day from the local farms, including grandfather‘s farm at
Lower Buckland, up the stone passage way. The din started about five in
the morning, much to annoyance of our neighbours as I was told years
later. Next the rattle of the milk bottles in their crates as they were loaded
on to the carts and bikes; this was followed by relative quiet whilst the
deliveries were carried out. Later in the morning the empties, both churns
and bottles, had to be washed and sterilised and fresh bottles filled for the
next day deliveries65. In later years the process became more mechanised
and quieter with automatic washing and filling and also the milk was
stored in the refrigerator, so some ‗stock piling‘ of bottles could be done.
64
Shows the east end of the church taken c 1960 in the High St., but very much as it was in the
1940‘s; the dairy was situated on the other side to the west in St Thomas St.
65
Afternoon deliveries to rectify mistakes and emergencies often had to be carried out as well.
46
Child Hood Memories
47
This routine went on seven days a week sometimes upsetting the vicar
conducting Sunday morning services at nearby St Thomas‘s. After dinner
all was peace as Dad had his rest and read. He was an avid reader always
surrounded by a pile of books and magazines gathered from lending
libraries, sales and even dust-bins—the early morning start gave him
unrivalled access to other people‘s junk. For relaxation he preferred to
read science fiction and was a keen devourer of pulp fiction from the
USA, which he received by mail order, titles like Amazing, Astounding
and Analog. These magazines I vividly recall, with their exciting cover
illustrations of imaginative ‗worlds‘. This afternoon period of reading
was sacred and woe betides anyone who disturbed him. By mid afternoon
all was bustle again as the evening delivery was organised. It is strange to
think that households required two deliveries of milk in those days—only
the rich had home refrigeration and food had to be fresh, the concept of
‗sale by date‘ a concept far into the future.
We ate our meals in the tiny living room with dinner at mid-day the
main meal of the day. Mother was a trained cook with many years
experience of hotel work. You could more or less tell the days of the
week by the menu. Typically on Sunday we had a roast then, as Monday
was washday we ate cold off the remains of the joint usually with mashed
potatoes and a superb vegetable concoction. On Tuesday the remaining
residue would be made into a pie, or perhaps a stew with dumplings.
Mother‘s pies, either the pastry crust variety with an inverted eggcup as
central support or the Suet pudding steak and kidney pie version were
justly famous. On Wednesday she made ‗egg-sauce‘ (a delicious creation
made from a cornflower base with a dash of mustard and cheese, bright
yellow in colour with chopped hard boiled eggs). All of us, father, my
two bothers and I remembered this dish with almost overwhelming
nostalgia but none of us has been able to recreate it since she died. On
Thursday she made rissoles or something similar made from mincemeat
or a mild curry and on Friday we had fish. Saturday was Dad‘s shooting
day and we always had sausages to enable him to get off early. Tea was
standard for the time, with bread and butter; cake and sometimes we had
supper with Dads favourite ‗fagots and peas‘. Her ‗sweets‘ and puddings
also remain alive in my memory, such as ‗spotted dick‘ which I liked and
‗bread and butter pudding‘ which for some reason I hated. Associated
with the dairy was the shop where cakes, sweets, chocolate, milk
products, ice cream, and all manner of ‗good things‘ were sold so a ready
supply of these were available though we were not allowed to over
indulge. Mother‘s younger sister Aunt Bju was often living with us and
she worked for Dad and looked after the shop. She taught me to use a
knife and fork using sweets from the shop as bait! My father and Aunt
Bju did not always get on and this was the source of occasional difficulty
48
between my father and mother. Sometimes after a row she would
disappear for a while but she always returned and usually Dad was quite
pleased as he really needed her help. Though, after what must have been
a major row, she left in tears, ‗he makes my blood boil‘, she said as she
went back to grandfather Sherrell in Dover. Mother was always trying to
heal the breach and soon Bju was unofficially back, hiding in her room
having her meals smuggled in, until Dad could be appeased. I liked her a
lot as she was always kind to me; one famous occasion was when the
shop took delivery of boxes of ‗corn-flakes‘ each with a ‗kids‘ toy paper
aeroplane, which could be assembled by folding and gluing. She must
have had some spares as we soon filled the whole house with these paper
planes to my great joy.
At the time of their marriage there was disapproval from both sides,
in fact they appear to have been married in secret in Ringwood and as it
happened Peter my elder brother was born in Totton near Southampton at
the house of a close friend of mothers, a Mrs LeBritton who originally
came from the Channel Islands. Mrs LeBritton worked at the
Londesborough hotel in Lymington as head cook for a while where my
mother also worked. I am not sure when it became ‗safe‘ to bring Peter
home but soon after I imagine as a full reconciliation was achieved
sometime before I was born. Nevertheless I was also born in Totton as
mother certainly trusted her old friend and the local medical care; both
Peter and I were treated by the LeBritton family doctor for childhood
ailments. I recall my father‘s reaction to my question if he could
remember the house where I was born. I was taking him for a car ride in
the New Forest shortly before he died in 1982 and as we passed through
Totton, he said, ‗I suppose you have discovered my guilty secret?‘. When
I was about three the Sherrell family came on a Christmas visit and
stayed at the Dairy, goodness knows where they all slept. Apart from the
grand parents Percy and Maud, Aunts Madge, Bju and Dinah also came;
I suppose some of them may have stayed at the farm. I remember the
excitement of this large family party but little else apart from the busconductors outfit, complete with tickets and a bright red cap that my
grandfather gave me. Frequent holiday visits were made to Dover in the
coming pre-war years and I can remember several later visits by the
Sherrell‘s to Lymington. Father usually could not stay long away on our
trips to Dover owing to the demands of the Dairy and so would take us,
stay one night, and then return home. The Sherrell household was, to say
the least, quite different, a quiet terrace in Dover overlooking the busy
harbour. At that time Percy had stabilised his earlier entrepreneurial show
business activities to house and property matters, buying and selling etc.
He also dabbled in antiques. He was like a king in his household, waited
on by his wife and three daughters; for example, he seemed always to
48
Child Hood Memories
49
take his meals in private or at least he did when we were there. He had a
cluttered study full of books and pictures, some of which it was said that
he painted himself and he gave me a water colour of Dover Castle,
painted on glass.
(a) Connie Trowbridge with Peter, 1925
(b) Her second son Bill (author) 1933
Plate 16: Connie, Peter & Bill
Church of England School
50
The National School, founded by Mrs St Barbe in 183666 in New
Street became the Church of England primary School in 1909. In 1888 an
Infants school was built on the opposite side of the road and it was here
that I began my education in September 1935. I remember my first day at
school vividly, as it is, surely, the biggest cultural shock in one‘s life. To
me it now seems like I was subjected to an irreversible change despite the
fact that one had been prepared in certain ways. Never again was one the
centre of attraction but only a pebble on the beach. My brother did not
help much as had already experienced the process and recounted
numerous horror stories with relish. We shared one of the attic bedrooms
above the dairy and he would tell me about his adventures with such
Dickensian pedagogues as ‗Puffer May‘ (he was hair tweaker) and
‗Honky Hoare‘, who apparently had a strong ‗back-hand‘67. On the other
hand, Mother and Aunt Bju made it all sound jolly and exciting. This was
certainly born out in my first term in the reception class. The teacher, the
sweet young lady of my memory, was kindness itself—she quickly
introduced me to another boy called ‗Bill‘ to make me feel safe. I
remember two other things from that first day. The large ‗2‘ she wrote on
the blackboard, the image of which I have recalled everyday of my life
and much later, of course, I understood its significance (the concept of
‗two ness‘, the notion of plurality, bilateral symmetry and 2 being the
only even prime number). An associated prurient memory also remains
equally strongly and that is the nursery question ‗have you done your
number two‘s today‘. The second event I remember was the enactment
by the whole class, to the accompaniment of the windup gramophone, of
the Teddy Bears Picnic song:
Lets go down to the woods today
And you will get a big surprise
I had to entertain the family at home after tea with my own rendition
of this—I was still innocent then and could do this without
embarrassment. The only other event I can recall from my first few
weeks at school was of a little ‗harsher‘ nature; a boy who would not stop
sucking his thumb was dealt with summarily by having his thumb painted
66
The widow of Samuel St Barbe a prominent member of an old established Lymington
Family
67
This is an exaggeration as Leonard Hoare was a well-loved character in the town who
encouraging youngsters in sport and to get on and his bark was most often worse than his bite.
50
Child Hood Memories
51
with iodine. As Christmas approached I became ill and had to spend
sometime in bed so I missed the school party which everyone was talking
about, however Peter brought home my ‗present‘, a stocking filled with
fruit, nuts and some chocolate. Illness was a new concept for me and I
began to become aware of mortality. Grandfather had recently died
(October 1935) and I remember being taken to see him at the farm
shortly before and had to recount the story of the three bears to him that I
had learnt at school. This was probably my last memory of him. Earlier
memories include being taken by him to see his horse, Kit, being shod by
the Blacksmith at Pennington. I recall sitting on the horse as he lead the
animal the mile or so to the Smithy and being thrilled by the noise of
hammering and the sight of the red-hot iron shoes. In places like that
ones senses are at full stretch, the characteristic smell of horses, straw,
fire and human sweat was unlike anything else I can remember. On
another occasion I was walking in the town with mother and we met
Grandfather in his wheel chair, well wrapped up and my mother
explained that he was very poorly. Neither Peter nor I attended the
funeral though Peter was surely at ten old enough, I recall the quiet
excitement in the house as issues like black shoes and mourning clothes
were discussed. For days, maybe even months, afterwards I asked my
mother every, night after prayers, ‗Will I die?‘
The next major event in our family was the marriage of Dad‘s
youngest sister Aunt Freda to Wilfred Aikman who very much to my
father‘s annoyance acquired the farm at Lower Buckland as an additional
‗prize‘ under the terms of Grandfathers will. I remember the wedding
reception, which was held in the basement hall under the New Street
Baptist Chapel. Dad‘s other sister, Aunt Vera, had married Arthur Wood,
a local shipwright and joiner, some two years earlier. Grandfather gave
them one of the two bungalows that he had had built in the garden of his
house at Lower Buckland. Thus Charles had provided for all three of his
children; Dad the dairy, Aunt Freda the farm and Aunt Vera the
bungalow. I think my father rather resented the fact that he didn‘t inherit
the land and he sometimes used to say ‗all Wilfred had to do was to hang
up is hat in the parlour‘. Nevertheless, they forged some kind of
partnership that worked reasonably well and in any case Wilfred was
capable in farming and Maurice in business matters so maybe Charles got
it right. Dad in fact had a grudging respect for Wilfred‘s skill with his
hands particularly with mechanical things and as Dad, being
ambidextrous, was no mean performer, this was high praise. Indeed,
Wilfred‘s proficiency and speed in cycle repairing was legendary. In later
life Wilfred took up weaving and fine tapestry and became quite famous;
he formed part of the New Forest project to recreate a modern Bayeux
tapestry co-ordinated by Lady Montagu from Beaulieu. As a small child
52
visits to the farm were regular and enjoyable and some friendships were
formed with the kids living in Lower Buckland who were in my class at
school. One of my worst embarrassing moments as a child came as a
result of one friend who I rashly invited to come home for tea without
asking permission first. We both ran to his house first and I remember his
mother scrubbing him clean in preparation and urging him to be good.
We then went to the dairy and I said he better wait outside for a minute
while I went in to see if things were ready. I hoped my mother would
agree, but no she adamant and even after much begging she still refused
so I had go outside and tell my friend to go home. I saw him the other
day by chance, and mentioned my childish trauma to him but, to my
surprise, he couldn‘t recall any of it.
Plate 17: Lymington Church of England School
I spent just two years in the infant school and the transition from the
gentler first year to the second with the formidable Mrs White was quite
a shock. I could already read reasonably well and handle easy sums but
now we were drilled in multiplication tables and for the first time
exposed to peer competition. But what I remember most of all was the
map of the world, which was unfolded on Empire day, and was explained
to us what it should mean to be British. The red coloured areas depicting
the vast extent of the empire on which the sun never set was very stirring
and we had no idea then that this concept was already crumbling away.
We were made to feel proud of our heritage. This jingoism, along with
many of my generation, made a lasting impression. Brain washed? Well
perhaps, but in those days of appeasement national pride was soon to be
crucial. The only event I can remember about the rough and tumble in the
playground was in the smelly boys toilets where the idea was to see who
52
Child Hood Memories
53
could ‗piss‘ the highest; the urinals were open to the sky so the challenge
was to clear the 6 ft. tin wall behind the porcelain. The head teacher was
a matron by the name Mrs Jones, knew my parents well and once told my
mother to make me gargle with salt water to cure a sore throat, a remedy
I have often used since. Friendship with the family didn‘t stop the lady
from giving three of us the stick for throwing stones. I don‘t remember it
hurting much but I do remember the shame as the news spread like
wildfire all over the town by evening. Aunt Bju greeted me with it as I
came in doors and said ‗never mind I was once hit in the face with a stick
when I was at school‘.
At the age of seven we transferred to the ‗big‘ school across the road
and life got a little more serious. Our first teacher there was a Mrs
Shepherd a kindly enough lady who seemed to spend a lot of time
making us rest with our heads on our folded arms on the desk. My
brother Peter said, when Puffer May used this technique he would
supplement the treatment with some ferocious hair twisting on anyone
who made a noise. By this time Peter had moved on to the Grammar
school at Brockenhurst and would entertain me about the new subjects he
was learning like Geometry, Algebra and French. I remember lying in
bed and asking him what the French for this and that was and being
curious about the other strange subjects he was learning. Although Peter
was five years older he was always kindly and helpful to me and really
looked after me, at least most of the time. As I type I can see the scar on
my right forefinger, which Dr Hodgkins sewed up after it was squashed
in our old mangle. Peter got me to feed pieces of cardboard through (why
I don‘t know but he was always making things); these sheets of
cardboard were packing separators from a consignment of cakes for the
shop and were quite thick and for Peter‘s intended purpose had to be
made thin. I was told to feed them between the rollers as Peter vigorously
turned the handle and as can be imagined I was soon bawling my head
off. Dad got the doctor and sat me on his knee as the repair job was done,
and I do think I can remember the pain. At one point the doctor said to
Dad ‗can‘t you keep that boy quiet?‘. There had been earlier accidents,
long forgotten, but Mother never tired of telling me about the deep cut on
my forehead caused by bumping my head into the corner of the stone
step behind the shop in our scullery. On that occasion the good Dr
Hodgkins had closed the wound by using ‗clips‘. Mother also discussed
with Aunt Bju some of the pranks Peter got up to when very tiny. The
one I liked best was the occasion when he got Dad‘s tin of rusty nails and
tipped them into the cream, a splendid feat that I would never have had
the courage to do but I was impressed. However, the biggest event for me
was ‗having my tonsils out‘. One day I was kept home from school, I
don‘t think I was told why, and I remember I played all day in the garden
54
but towards evening Mother told me I had to go into hospital and I was to
very brave. We walked to the cottage hospital in Southampton Road and
before I knew it they had me on this white table and Dr Hodgkins
appeared from behind a screen and placed wire gauze over my mouth
and, I suppose, gave me chloroform. I was terrified and from this
experience I developed an almost pathological fear of doctors and
hospitals. It was all quite ordinary really and I awoke in bed lying on a
rubber sheet, red and with a strong smell I can recall today, Mother was
there and told me I could eat some ice cream the next day. I had to stay in
hospital for several days, considered necessary in those days because of
the risk of infection. There were two other boys in the ward and I
remember a strapping nurse carrying one of them in with blood dripping
out of his mouth after he had been done. I also remember how he cried
every day after his mother left. I think this lad resented me knowing this
as for many years afterwards, passing me in the street or in a bus, he
would try to insult me by playing a ‗trombone‘ in ‗dumb show‘—his
peculiar mind associated the name ‗Trowbridge‘ with the sound of this
most charming of instruments I suppose.
My parents were inveterate cinemagoers. Our local picture palace
(Lyric Cinema) was in St Thomas Street just across the road from the
dairy and the main performances changed twice a week—Monday to
Wednesday then Thursday to Friday. They had reserved seats and usually
went Monday and Thursday, and since I was too young to be left at home
alone I often went as well. The moving pictures had a deep effect on
most of us all in those days generating fantasies, which were often used
dramatised in play. I must have seen hundreds of films and some have
lodged forever in my memory. For example, The Hunchback of Notre
Dame, Les Miserables, The Private Lives of Henry the Eighth, all with
Charles Laughton, The Adventures of Robin Hood (Errol Flynn), The
Thirty Nine Steps (Hitchcock), The Four Feathers etc. The latter came
back several times and was a great success. However, I was terrified by
the classic film ‘M’ directed by Fritz Lang and starring the sinister Peter
Lorre. This must have been a revival since the film was made in 1931
and though I could not have possibly understood any of the symbolism,
or even the plot, I was aware that it concerned a child murderer. I
remember being nervous for days after. The comedies were thoroughly
enjoyed and eagerly look forward to and some of our best fantasy games
were modelled on Laurel & Hardy, George Formby and the incomparable
Will Hay. The latter‘s Oh Mr Porter being a highlight. Another landmark
was the Disney full length cartoon Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
which enchanted young and old alike and began an industry which is still
growing sixty years later. Apart from the main twice-weekly program
there were kids films on Saturday mornings and then on Sundays, much
54
Child Hood Memories
55
to the disgust of the church people Old films were screened for adults
only. Peter often went and thrilled me by his accounts of the films he
saw, he was particularly good at describing the Charlie Chan films and
the cases of the Japanese detective Mr Motto, starring the ubiquitous Mr
Lorre again.
With the coming of the war going to the ‗pictures‘ became the staple
entertainment for most of us both for escapism and propaganda. If you
were under 16 for films designated as A by the censor you needed to be
accompanied by an adult. This meant young kids would gather outside
the Lyric and pester single men mostly saying, ‗Will you take me in
Mister‘—people were very trusting in those days. In 1940 came the film
The Thief of Baghdad directed in part by Michael Powell, which made a
very strong impression on me. This film was followed throughout the
war by a series of films written, directed and produced by Michael
Powell and his marvellous collaborator Emeric Pressburger. Such titles
as 49 Parallel, One of Aircraft is Missing, The Life and Death of Colonel
Blimp, A Canterbury Tale, I Know Where I am Going, and A Matter of
Life or Death, etc, ultimately created a myth of our national identity in a
way which is not complacent or too self indulgent because decent values
of behaviour are extolled. These films can be enjoyed today as period
pieces with a finely developed sense of time and place and because they
were innovative and beautifully filmed.
Early musical memories
56
Hearing someone extolling the greatness of the Cavatina from
Beethoven‘s Op. 130 on the radio recently reminded me of my own
serious introduction to classical music as a boy early in World War II. I
recall listening to a ‗my kind of music‘ broadcast by a man, whose name
I have long since forgotten introducing this piece, and I remember
vividly how he communicated to me his enormous enthusiasm for this
music in particular and also the exquisite pleasure to be obtained from all
things serious in general. I had no idea that such delights were available
to ordinary mortals and music has played a central role in my life ever
since. Not that this was my first experience of classical music for my
earliest memories are bound closely with the wireless—my father was an
early radio enthusiast stemming from his experiences as a wireless
operator in the first war and we had home-made sets in every room! One
of my earliest memories, possibly 1933, was hearing my elder brother
singing ‗Land of Soap and Water‘68 in ‗tune‘ with a radio broadcast as
we were being washed in the tiny cramped kitchen behind the dairy.
Elgar became a passion later but long after Beethoven. My first exposure
to a critical response to Lieder came about when I was about seven when
by chance a gentleman was singing a strange song in a foreign language
on the living room set and my father said, ‗they actually get paid for
making that racket‘. To be fair his day‘s work began at five in the
morning and he was trying to get his afternoon nap in before the evening
milk delivery. Another remark of his was that the ‗switch‘ was the most
important component. Not unlike many enthusiasts, e.g. audio and
computer buffs, he was more interested in the equipment itself than in its
use. In my own case it was the ‗software‘ rather than the ‗hardware‘ that
had the most lasting effect.
Nearly all the music I heard as a young child came from the church.
The Anglican church next door to the dairy in St Thomas Street, typical I
imagine of many places at that time, had its choir presided over by a
dedicated musician who trained any child who showed the slightest
singing talent. Unfortunately I had none so I was excluded from this very
special club, the highlight of which was to play among the gravestones in
the dark with torches. Sunday school was compulsory as was the Holy
Eucharist service every Sunday and I remember hearing the anthems and
voluntaries. Mr Wakeford, the organist, played the organ in fine style and
was very popular. Pieces by Stainer, Stanford and Purcell I must have
heard since these are names that I have always known. I remember being
recruited as a choir probationer and being terrified of the voice test. At
68
Land of Hope and Glory
56
Child Hood Memories
57
the end of a choir practice after about a week Mr Wakeford gave me a
penny (the going rate for a full choir boy was about sixpence a week), I
tried for a while to make the grade but my promotion never came so in
the end I gave up.
Another source of music in the town was the silver band. Every
Sunday night during the summer they played at Woodside Gardens about
mile from where we lived and I would be taken by my parents to listen.
This Sunday night walk was a ritual enjoyed by many of the residents in
the town. The drummer, Mr Bill Starks, was a family friend and an old
crony of my fathers and I enjoyed the privilege of standing beside the big
bass drum. The jubilee celebrations in 1935 were especially exciting as a
special performance of Edward German‘s ‗Merry England‘ was held in
the open air at the gardens in which my hero, Mr Starks, was beating
time. The band was also used every year at the cenotaph ceremony at
11.00 am outside the church. The school children were lined up to
participate in the two minutes silence with little real understanding what
it was all for, though the solemn music cast its spell on me. The band also
led the procession through the town on all national occasions. I
remember watching the jubilee procession from our sitting room above
the dairy in St Thomas Street. The street was lined with a sizeable crowd
but not too many as I distinctly recall boys mock-marching beside the
band. The rest of procession I cannot remember; there must have been
some military involvement, possibly the territorial army, also the local
youth movements would have been involved, boy scouts, boys brigade
etc. We also listened to the ‗main‘ event in London described by a
special wireless ‗correspondent‘. London was a place I was only vaguely
aware of at the end of the railway line many miles away. Dad had only
recently installed the latest gramophone from HMV, which also had an
automatic record changer, and I remember his enthusiasm for the
technical achievements of actuality broadcasting but he appeared to take
little interest in the actual events being described.
There was a rich store of Gramophone records in the house though I
cannot honestly remember if we all listened to these as a family, but as
soon as I had learnt to use the thing I raided the collection. I think, on the
whole my father tended toward music hall, among his favourite
comedians were Billy Bennet, ‗funniest man in the world‘, he said, Stan
Stennet, Gillie Potter and the Western Brothers. My mother liked musical
comedy and there were recordings of things like ‗Chu Chin Chow‘, ‗Hit
the Deck‘ and a great deal of salon music and light music generally. I
discovered items like the ‗Poet and Peasant‘ overture by Suppe—the title
intrigued me for years, ‗Light Cavalry‘, and ‗Lilac Time‘, this latter
based on melodies of Schubert which enchanted me. There were also
excerpts from French Ballet scores, things like ‗Silvia‘ and ‗Copellia‘ by
58
Delibes, which made a very strong impression. I think it was the striking
melodic invention of these pieces that moved me most. Also buried in the
collection was a record with the French titles ‗Chanson de Matin‘ and
Chanson de Nuit‘ played by the London Symphony Orchestra. I cannot
pretend that these left their mark on me then but, apart from ‗Land Of
Hope and Glory‘ in the bath tub alluded to above, these pieces must have
been the first Elgar I heard.
The only musical memory I have from the Church School I attended
from the age of five until ten was the visit of a West Indian folk singer
who was invited to play his banjo and sing to the school. I don‘t recall a
single item he sang but I do remember him squatting in the street
afterward and, in my memory distorted by the music of time, looking
very sad and lonely. The Parish Hall was a much richer venue for
musical experience; apart from the socials there were the amateur shows.
I have a programme for a production of ‗Our Miss Gibbs‘ staged at the
hall in April 1938. It was a ‗team effort‘ in every way involving almost
all the artistic resources of the town. Musical Director, Mr Harry
Wakeford, of course with Mr Bill Starks on the drums. The orchestra also
included the father of a school friend who played the cornet, a
considerable source of envy for me. I remember watching part of a
rehearsal as I was friendly with the son of the hall caretaker but the
details are vague. But what was stunning then and remains so is the
excitement of live theatre. My program, price three pence, and
autographed by all concerned, is a mine of local information,
personalities and contains adverts of the local traders including one for
‗Snappy Snacks, 1938 Catering—open till long after Bed Time‘ an
interesting commentary of the times.
58
War Time in Lymington
3. War Time in Lymington
Key:
1. Dairy St Thomas Street; 2. Lower Buckland Farm; 3. Church of England School
4. Parish Hall, 5. Leylands, Wallhampton, 6. Fordlands. 7. Foleys Green Grocer Shop
Plate 18: Map of Lymington about 1970
59
The Phoney War
60
The Phoney War
My first memory of the impending war was in our tiny living room
at the dairy when father had the radio on listening to a broadcast of a
Nazi rally with Herr Hitler making a noisy speech. I could not understand
a word, of course, but I remember it was a strident and unfriendly voice,
which frightened my mother. Dad said with considerable bravado that he
would join the RAF and be a ‗rear gunner‘. Soon after in the playground
at school a friend showed me his little toy gun and said he would be able
to defend himself if war came. Air raids were a real possibility, so there
was a rush to protect the cottage hospital; even the kids joined in by
helping to fill sand bags and the big boys were digging trenches and such
like. One ‗brave‘ lad managed to ram the spike of a garden fork through
his foot and had to be carried inside for treatment. This dampened our
ardour somewhat but soon other exciting things took over. War with
Germany was dully declared on Sunday September 3rd and like most
families in the land we were glued to the radio and heard the solemn tired
tones of Mr Chamberlain; but my father kept talking about a Mr
Churchill who would soon come to our rescue. The Daily Mail had been
running a strip cartoon illustrating the great man‘s early life and to me he
seemed a daring romantic hero straight out of ‗Boys Fiction‘, leading
cavalry charges, escaping from the enemy in the Boer War and taking on
all comers in politics. Dad told me he had been appointed ‗First Lord of
Admiralty‘ and would soon be Prime Minister. This man had an
enormous influence on the morale and aspirations of young and old alike
but even then I remember some negative remarks as well. There were
those who believed that the great man had questionable motives, for
instance he had changed his loyalties in politics and, arguably, had shown
poor judgement on a number of occasions. I later learnt, of course, that
this was quite typical with heroes and in any case ‗cometh the hour come
the man‘.
The town prepared for war and I suppose the tone was faintly comic
as in Evelyn Waugh‘s brilliantly novel Put Out More Flags and later as
portrayed in the TV series Dad’s Army. Lymington had its ‗Captain
Mainwaring‘ and Local Defence Volunteer units (Look Duck and
Vanish). One evening the church bells rang out, either as a jape or
perhaps a practice, I never knew which, and since this was the signal for
invasion it caused mild panic. Members of Dad’s Army came teeming out
of their houses and shops in the High Street and I was nearly knocked
down by one such, complete with rifle strapped to his back, as he rode
furiously through the churchyard on his way to some rallying point. In
these early days the Ministry of Information mounted an advertising
campaign warning ‗Careless Talk Costs Lives‘ and our vivid
imaginations worked overtime. After dark one evening down by the river
60
61
banks we claimed we saw lights flashing out at sea which we were sure
was Morse code and therefore from spies about to land. We took our
story to the Police Station in Gosport Street, now a fashionable
restaurant, and recounted our claim to the Sergeant who, with rather good
nature praised us and said we could be mentioned in dispatches—we
returned home feeling very proud. As often as we could us ten year olds
would cycle out to see the searchlight and anti aircraft gun emplacements
scattered around the area, which were later to be used in anger when the
Southampton Blitz began.
(Myles Cooper, Lymington)
Plate 19: Lymington High St and the tallest building in town69
Dad joined the ARP and also kept watch on the roof of No. 73 High
St (variously Co-op Stores, Commercial College and Antiques Emporium
and latterly Thoday and Longmans Electricians), the tallest building in
town (Plate 19), to spot for enemy planes. I remember when it was an
antiques shop, or junk shop as we would say now, the proprietor had a
‗legend‘ outside that said ‗Walk In.—You Need Not Buy‘ and local lads
69
Photo belongs to the 1960 era but was essentially the same in 1940
The Phoney War
62
often did just that as it was, to them, an open invitation to ‗shop-lift‘. It
must have been about this time when we saw a Dornier bomber fly high
over the town and Dad grabbed his 12 bore and let loose both barrels. I
also remember how we kept our spirits up by singing songs in the air-raid
shelter at school; one that sticks in the memory was a prurient doggerel
sung to the tune of Colonel Bogey which gave vent to our feelings about
Mr Hitler and his gang.
They say that Hitler has only got one ball
And Goring has two, but very small
Himler is some-what similar
But poor old Goebels has no balls at all.
The school air-raid shelters were situated in the recreation ground
next to St Thomas‘s Church and within a minute‘s walk from the school.
As the dairy in St Thomas Street was also close by I eventually got
permission to run home when the siren sounded. The first time we heard
the piercing variable pitch alarm was unforgettable. The kids were
marched in a orderly manner to the shelters, there was no panic to the
credit of the teachers and to the quiet disciplined behaviour of those days.
We sat in semi-darkness and Mr May (‗Puffer May‘ to those out of his
earshot) entertained us with a spelling contest, I remember being
embarrassed by not knowing how to spell Margarine, this was foreign to
me as my fathers dairy only sold butter. The all clear, that single pitched
reassuring note once the siren was up to speed, came and we marched
back to school again—it had been a false alarm.
62
63
Scouts and Camping
I suppose I must have been rather shy and somewhat apprehensive
in joining groups so my first encounter with scouts and camping came
about through the efforts of a boy at school who had no such inhibitions.
Norman Gannaway who from childhood to this day has joined and led
many of the sporting and social activities of the town. In recent years he
has recorded the history of Lymington football, cricket, boxing,
swimming and by so doing has created a living history of the town70.
Norman called for me one evening shortly after my eighth birthday and
introduced me to the 1st Lymington Scouts Cub pack presided over by a
Miss Manders, a gentle but enthusiastic lady from, I think, a army family
who introduced us to the world of wood craft. The strange mixture of
patriotism, religion, Kipling and the law of the ‗jungle‘ certainly had a
wide appeal in those days and satisfied some of our deeper needs though
we only partially understood the symbolism. We learnt the rituals by rote
and uttered the mantras of duty and patriotism without regard for race
and creed and felt that we belonged to a very special society. Miss
Manders took us out to Buckland Rings nearby and we played some of
the ‗wide games‘ invented by Lord Baden Powell. One I remember quite
well as it involved us in stalking a pretend ‗hippo‘, played by our leader
buried under a pile of leaves. As each one of us crept toward the ‗quarry‘
and was spotted he was pulled down beside her and admonished to be
silent until eventually the whole pack lay together in one great pile. The
biggest event, however, was my first camp. Mr Stevens, who was the
scoutmaster, arranged to take the cubs for an overnight camp in a field
next to Buckland Rings. This was a great experience and for most of us it
was our first time we had spent a night away from home as well outside
our immediate family care. My excitement was intense as we all piled on
a lorry and sat amongst the camping equipment. In no time the older
scouts erected our tents and fires were lit and food cooked. The smell of
wood smoke remains the most potent aroma that I have ever experienced.
After our supper we sang songs and listened to stories around the
campfire. I can‘t remember much else except an image stamped on my
mind of Skip Stevens climbing a tree and swinging across to another
using ropes—an admirable Tarzan. He was a compact man, very tough
and in his element out of doors; he could be seen about the town
delivering coal, hoisting the hundredweight sacks with ease. Later he
joined the army and became, I believe, Sergeant in the RAMC and fought
70
Norman Gannaway, The History of Lymington Cricket Club, 1807-1982, Eon Graphics Ltd,
Highcliffe, Dorset
Scouts and Camping
64
in the Italian Campaign71. My last sight of him was in fact at the door of
Midland Bank when he came to say goodbye to Mr Aldridge Lyon the
Bank Manager and Scout district commissioner. He was dressed in full
embarkation kit and looked magnificent. By this time I had transferred to
the 10th Lymington Church Scouts and Mr Lyon often invited us to have
refreshments in his flat above the bank.
The reason for my transfer to the Church Scouts came about because
of the arrival in the town of a remarkable young clergyman Basil Fletcher
Jones (BMFJ), a native of the Channel Islands. Soon after the outbreak of
the war he was appointed curate to the parish and rapidly became a major
influence. He appeared at the school one morning and proceeded to tell
us about the origins of the solar system. I remember well the vivid
picture he drew on the blackboard depicting the primordial lump of
matter drawn out elliptically by gravity from a ‗nearby‘ star, which
fragmented, into the planets. He said nothing that I recall, about ‗God‘
and it was all quite different from the usual homilies of sin and
damnation we usually had, from the local parson. Our regular teacher at
this time was another charismatic figure, ‗Willy‘ Workman, who drove to
school each day in an exciting MG. He once wrote on the board the word
‗enthusiasm‘ and told us a true story about a man from Bournemouth
who persuaded hundreds of people to believe in God because he was
enthusiastic—this word has had special meaning for me ever since. Mr
Workman used to read to us at the end of the day. His rendition of the
‗Jeremy‘ books by Hugh Walpole made a strong impression. He brought
the Cathedral city of ‗Porchester‘ to life and we eagerly followed the
adventures of this privileged boy, though from a totally different world,
who had similar problems of growing up to ourselves. Our time with
Willie was very short as he was soon called up and joined the RAF and I
don‘t think he came back to Lymington after the war.
BMFJ, or ‗Tinker‘ as he was affectionately known became a great
influence on the Church of England youth living in the area. He ‗roped‘
most of the boys who attended church into the scouts (see Plate 20); I
joined the 10th Lymington Church Scouts as soon as I was eleven years
old and attended the meetings in the prefabricated hut behind the Parish
Hall (Plate 18) on two evenings a week. Tinker introduced us to all
manner of quite rough games, one I remember was called ‗British Bull
Dog‘ in which one scout, usually an older boy, stood facing the troop and
had to catch one of us as we rushed from one end of the room to the
other. Tinker said ‗there are only two rules, no eye gauging or killing‘. In
this way the group in the middle steadily increased in number until only
the strongest and biggest was left—survival of the fittest. The meetings
71
His niece Mary Scott (Mrs Mary Gosling) wrote to me and said that Skip Stevens had been
mentioned in dispatches at the battle of Monte Casino.
64
65
were not just playing games; we followed the traditional scouting rituals
and believed that in time of war we were doing our bit. Tinker organised
us into working parties for helping people in need, collecting waste paper
and junk for salvage, running errands etc. he even had me cleaning a load
of old tobacco pipes for sending to the troops!
(a) Parish Hall (1979)
(b) Scout Hut
Plate 20: Parish Hall & Scout Hut behind the Parish hall
Tinker aimed to educate us as well. He would detail some of us to
mug up a subject and then give an impromptu lecture. I was told to
research and speak about the ‗Grid‘ system and I remember making an
ass of myself as I had no idea and didn‘t bother to check and relied on
improvisation. I did rather better on how to paint a door as Mr Rashley,
the proprietor of a local building firm in the town, who came to talk to us
and said he would offer me a job with his firm when I left school. Some
time in the summer of 1942 Tinker took the troop to camp on an estate
near Cadnam on the northern edge of the New Forest. This, my first
proper camp, which turned out to be a seminal experience; the days were
full of excitement like ‗wide‘ games in the woods, camp fire singing in
the late evening at dusk, long hikes deep in the forest to find three small
lakes, and a visit to Romsey Abbey where I left my scout hat72. The troop
had three patrols, Owls, Peewits and Curlews, and our patrol leader was a
sixteen-year old boy, Dick Clark, who had no room left on his sleeve for
more badges. He proved to be an excellent cook and in fact he could do
most things well and showed remarkable leadership qualities. He was
awarded the ‗Bushmans Thong‘ during the camp, this being the highest
‗badge‘ you could get and was worn over the shoulder, just as well as
there was no room left elsewhere. He became ill toward the end of the
week after cooking himself a birthday cake in an improvised biscuit tin
oven. He told me he would have a bath and soon be better as hot water
72
This was the first of many occasions‘ when garments and other possessions of mine were to
be scattered in places around the world.
Scouts and Camping
66
cured most things. Our troop leader was a seventeen-year-old known as
‗six-gun‘, Harry Bradley (why he was called this strange nick-name was
unknown to me at the time though I think his father was an American
soldier who stayed on after WW1 and may have come from the ‗wild‘
west). Harry was a splendid chap. Some years earlier, when I first moved
into the ‗big‘ school at the age of seven, the whole school marched to the
cricket field for the annual sports day and Harry, then fourteen, won
everything. He shared a tent with Fred Webster, who later on became a
very close friend of mine, and between them they arranged an amusing
jape. Every morning there was a ceremony of hoisting the union jack
followed by an inspection and though Tinker was not ‗army‘ minded he
did respect the scouting tradition and was quite upset when, after Harry
had hoisted the folded flag and pulled the halyard to release it from its
bundle, a load of stones fell out narrowly missing him.
Plate 21: New Forest Camp at Holidays Hill 1943
The following year (1943) we joined in the summer camp at
Holidays Hill (Plate 21) enclosure near Lyndhurst. This was an
imaginative scheme to help the war effort by getting the scouts to carry
out forestry work under the supervision of the few workers not in
services. Several hundred boys between the ages of eleven and eighteen
camped alongside the banks of the woodland stream called The Highland
Water. The boys belonged to thirty or so scout troops from all over
Hampshire. In the mornings we be taken by lorry to one of the work
areas in the forest and the younger boys would be set to weed the
plantations of young trees while the older boys were detailed to ‗brash‘
off the side branches of the more mature trees to stimulate growth. The
66
67
brashing saw was a curved hacksaw at the end of a stick. In the afternoon
we played elaborate wide-games, a kind of army exercise in which one
side had to attack the other guarding a position. The overall strategy was
lost on most of us but the stalking and skirmishing was great fun. The
highlight of the day was the campfire and the singing. The MC was a
clever performer from Portsmouth whose name I cannot now recall but I
remember the strong impression he made. He taught us the popular
campfire songs but his party piece was his rendition of:
I am the music man
I come from fairyland
And I can play…. The big bass drum. Etc
He would march round the arena imitating the sound and we would all
join in with gusto. Eventually like some later-day ‗pied piper‘ he would
gather more and more of us in a snake following his lead. The press got
wind of the camp and sent a reporter and we appeared in the local paper
(Plate 22b); here some of us posed for a photographer pretending to be a
working party crossing the stream. The boy in the foreground, carrying
the axe is Bob Cook, a boy of exceptional musical talent who later
succeeded Mr Wakeford as the church organist
(a) ‗Tinker‘
(b) Posing for the press 73
Plate 22: Rev Basil Fletcher-Jones & Church Scouts (1943)74.
73
From the bottom-Bob Cook, Denis Phillips, Harry Veal, Lewis Gregory, Bill Trowbridge,
Dick Morton
74
Photographs from the collection of Mr Lewis Gregory, Lymington
Scouts and Camping
68
The following year we again went to Holidays Hill and this time the
event was even larger with over 300 Scouts from 14 counties. By then
Tinker had given up leading the Scouts to concentrate on the Church
Youth Fellowship of which more later. Mr R Aldridge Lyon (Skip), the
District Commissioner for scouts in the new forest south area took over
himself and the group was reorganised into two sections. He personally
ran the junior section for boys and I became one of two patrol leaders.
The senior troop for the over fifteens lasted for a while but as the boys
got older and were either called up or in some cases lost interest it
petered out. Fred Webster, one of the oldest, became the assistant
scoutmaster of the junior troop, which flourished for many years. Leo or
Skip was the manager of Midland Bank and like Tinker was a man who
channelled his considerable energy into working with young people. He
was then approaching fifty years old and was more formal and
conservative than Tinker and did not inspire the same degree of affection
in general. Nevertheless he was an extremely cultured man who began to
influence me strongly.
The second camp at Holidays Hill in 1944 occurred at the time of
early days of the second front and forest was full of GI soldiers from
USA. The commanding officer of the US forces in the area came to our
campfire and gave us a talk and some of his men joined in the
entertainment. The influence of the United States was also increasing in
the schools. Brockenhurst School had an exhibition entitled ‗Young
America‘ presented by the Office of War Information of the U.S. Army75.
We heard an entertaining speech by a Sergeant Elmore who in private
life was a school administrator in Michigan. He addressed several issues
including; why Americans are called Yanks? How long does it take to
acquire an American accent? Is life easier for women 76 with their
washing machines, refrigerators and central heating etc? He ended his
chat by quoting a piece of doggerel nonsense from his own childhood:
I eat peas with honey
I‘ve done it all my life
It makes them taste so funny
But they do stay on the knife
I suppose it must have been some sort of relief for him to relive his
childhood memories with us at a time when his comrades were
experiencing such terrible carnage in Europe.
75
The visit was on 23 January, 1945
Though this happened long before the feminism and political correctness era it was clear that
the US is a matriarchal society
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68
69
Brockenhurst School and Walhampton
It must have been sometime in September of 1940 that my mother
took me to see the headmaster of Brockenhust County High School (later
Brockenhust Grammar school and now a sixth form college). I can recall
that this visit came as a small surprise since I had expected to take the
entrance examination (scholarship) a whole year later. I think there was
some talk about ‗means‘ testing and maybe the scholarship was not
available to me but as Peter had left by now the fees could be found. The
headmaster, a Mr R H May (known as Milky), explained to my mother
that the new school building was pretty bomb proof as there were several
inches of concrete above, he pointed his finger upwards—I had visions of
being buried alive under tons of the stuff! Mr May then asked me some
simple maths questions like express 4/5th as a decimal and asked to spell
some words. The upshot was that I was invited to start in the following
January; or maybe the fact that dad was now supplying the school with
its daily 500 bottles of ‗third pint size‘ bottles of milk had something to
do with it. Mr May said something like that if I worked hard I should be
able to catch up—and that was that.
On my first day I caught the bus that stopped just across the road
from the dairy to be greeted by Cliff Isted a boy some twelve months
older who had started the previous term. Cliff, whom I had known as
long as I could remember, was the youngest boy in a large family who
lived across the road above ‗Ford & Co‘ a furnisher shop and removal
firm owned jointly by their father and uncle. The age difference between
us gave him the role of leader in our games and I had been used to his
influence as he was very ‗knowing‘ and his family were relatively well
off. He was, on this first day, waiting for the bus too and as usual both
reassured and terrified me at the same time about what to expect at
school. As things turned out all went well. My memory is of being
greeted by an elderly ‗beak‘ who introduced herself as ‗Miss Box‘, B-OX she said, so easy to remember, who assigned me to the lowest class,
1c, since I had started late and needed to catch up. I also discovered there
was the ‗A‘ stream for the really ‗bright‘ kids who had passed the
scholarship and had free books. There was no Cliff, he was in 1b, to
guide me but I was able to cope and was quite entranced by the
strangeness of it all. We went to different rooms for Physics, Chemistry,
and Geography etc. and had Gym twice a week followed by hot
showers—I had never been so clean. I remember dad complaining about
the bill for all the books and one I still have, Spoken Verse, whenever I
come across it, evokes the memory of the scent of Miss Agnes Graham, a
formidable lady who taught English and History. ‗Aggie‘ kept us in order
by a mixture of precisely enunciated instructions and the implied promise
70
of some vague but nevertheless dire penalty if disobeyed. She gave us a
weekly lesson in speech training and used the above—an anthology of
the ‗best‘ in English verse; I particularly remember her rendition of
Walter de la Mare‘s verses ‗Off the Ground‘ which she made us recite in
turn:
Three jolly Farmers,
Once bet a pound
Each dance the others would
Off the ground
Her pronunciation of ‗ou‘ sounds stays with me now in her carefully
modulated, rather fruity contralto voice. This volume also contained
‗bleeding chunks‘ of Shakespeare, Milton, and Blake etc and opened my
ears to the pleasures of language.
Brockenhurst served as the only secondary school in the New Forest
in those days and had pupils drawn from all the villages and small towns
in the area thus broadening one‘s horizons considerably. Each day began
with morning assembly with the entire teaching staff lined up behind the
headmaster all wearing their academic gowns on the stage of the school
hall. The assembly ritual consisted of prayers, hymn or song and a
reading. Sometimes a gramophone record would be played and at this
first assembly we heard John Gielgud reciting the ‗Seven Ages of Man‘,
which Aggie regarded as near perfect77. The music master, Mr W.
Gallimore, who also taught French was an impressive character and my
first glimpse of him was conducting the school song, borrowed from
Harrow, ‗Forty Years On‘ which he did with passion. Gally, as we called
him, was a man of immense size and a fierce patriot, he ran the school
ATC and was very out spoken against anyone whom he thought was not
supporting the war effort. He worked tirelessly for the school and the
kids, producing plays and organising the school music. He had a pretty
wit also as for instance, when announcing our dismal performance in the
end of term French exam, he would solemnly intone, after reviewing
those with better marks, ‗now we come to those with 10% for charity‘.
The school was well equipped and had extensive facilities for its
five hundred or so pupils including domestic science, art, chemistry,
physics and biology, woodwork rooms or labs as well as an extensive
library. In my first term I was exposed to Chemistry taught by a Mr
Green who must have been a good teacher, as I became quite the class
swot. I have always had a good retentive memory and rapidly learnt the
chemical symbols for the elements and could handle the formulae for the
77
Even 60 years this great actor still occasionally appeared on TV with his famous voice in
tact. He died in 2000.
70
71
simpler reactions. One faux pas however when being asked to name three
acids: I said Hydrochloric, Sulphuric and Dilute. Chemistry, for many
years, was a hobby and so I acquired chemical substances and
appropriate ‗glassware‘ at home, some purloined from the school, and
imagined I was a great scientist.
One boy in our class who lived nearby on a farm was always in
trouble; he had little or no interest in learning, and was often at the sticky
end of Miss Graham‘s patience. He spent most his free time riding his
pony. Then one day Miss Box told us that there had been an accident and
Witney had been killed after he was thrown off his pony. When Aggie
talked about him the following day she was quite overcome. I also
remember Miss Box, who taught divinity, in tears praying for ‗poor
Witney‘; she later informed me, when my school performance became
less than ideal, that she had been praying for me too. Later during my
first term Mr Gallimore put on a concert, a sort of promenade concert of
the old style consisting of short pieces played by the school orchestra
interspersed with vocal numbers; the evening ended with a performance
of an arrangement of the Agincourt song:
Our king went forth to Normandy
Deo Gratius….
Stirring stuff in time of war. He also produced children‘s play about a
benevolent dragon, noteworthy for the clever performance by a sixth
form boy called Faulkner who acted and sang the main part; I have often
wondered what happened to him as he seemed very talented.
This was the period of blitz with terrible air raids over nearby
Southampton. Dad constructed bunk beds in the cellar for us to sleep on
during the raids. I remember lying in bed listening to the thrumming
sound of the German bombers‘ engines. Strange, I cannot remember
feeling too scared which is, I suppose, a tribute to the care and optimism
of my parents. Occasionally we stood outside watching the lit-up sky
with the searchlight beams sometimes intersecting an enemy plane and
the flak exploding all around. Things got so bad in the SouthamptonPortsmouth area that whole schools were evacuated to the New Forest.
Our school had to accommodate a similar sized school from
Southampton. For several months time-sharing solved the problem; we
used the building in the morning and our visitors the afternoon—it‘s an
ill wind. By March 1941 Dad had acquired a house just outside the town,
‗over the water‘ as the locals used to say. This was a house called
Leylands near the hamlet of Walhampton just the other side of the
Lymington river. I now went to school by walking across the toll bridge
(1½d) to the town railway station to get the branch line train to
72
Brockenhurst; the train left at 8.11 each day and took about 20 minutes.
Leylands seemed like the lap of luxury after the dairy, as it was a largish
four-bedroom house with three reception rooms standing in about an acre
of land. I think father enjoyed this place as it gave him many
opportunities to try his hand at landscaping. The rear part was left wilder
and it was there that he used to breed rabbits to help the war time food
supply. He even had the indulgence of a study in which he lined the walls
with his collection of sporting guns. Mother certainly enjoyed her large
lounge and the space after the tiny crowded flat above the dairy.
Dad‘s business interests began to expand. Sometime in 1940 he had
acquired a green grocer‘s shop at the end of St Thomas St. known as
Foleys. He asked his stepfather Roly Gale to take charge at Foleys. Roly
had been in this type of business before the war and had the appropriate
experience. This turned out to be a bad move as by May 1941 Foley‘s
was accused of violating the controlled price regulations. Apparently
Roly had not checked up on the latest food office directives for the sale
of potatoes and he foolishly passed on an increase in a new price set by
the wholesaler to the customer. Dad seems to have shielded Roly from
the ‗fire‘ as he himself appeared in court on May 3rd before the
Lymington magistrates and pleaded guilty. The case was reported in the
Local paper78 and shows local justice in action:
3 ½ d Overcharge Costs Trader £ 8-5s-6d
Potatoes Sold Above Maximum Price at Lymington
TECHNICALLY RESPONSIBLE AS THE OWNER
At Lymington Borough Police Court on Thursday before Capt. B.H. Goodhart (in
the chair), and Mrs M.I.C. Roberts, Maurice Cecil Trowbridge, of Lymington, was
ordered to pay a total of £8 5s. 6d. on a charge of selling 14 lbs of potatoes above the
maximum price, the prosecutor being Mr. F.J. Beeching (the Town Clerk), in his
capacity of Food Executive Officer for the Borough.
Mr. Robert Hughes, of Southampton, who represented the defendant, stated that, he
had been instructed to enter a plea of "guilty." Mr B. D. Rustom, who appeared for
the prosecution, stated that it was ordered by the Lymington Borough Food Control
Committee and he read extracts of ' the Control Order of 1940, relating to the retail
sale of potatoes for human consumption.
―It all sounds very complicated,‖ he commented, ―but it boils down to the fact that
the maximum price for the sale of potatoes was set out in certain districts. Under the
order mentioned potatoes sold during the month of January were fixed at the
maximum price of 1s. 8 ½ d. per lb.
" On Thursday, January 16, Mrs. Jeans called at the defendant's shop and ordered 14
Ibs. of potatoes. Instead of being charged 1s. 8½ d. she was charged 2s. She went to
the shop the next day and complained to an assistant about the price, explaining that
she had previously paid 1s 7d. Mrs Jeans was told that the price had gone up‖.
78
The Lymington Times, May 10th, 1941
72
73
―It might not amount to much in an individual case‖, commented Mr Rustom, ―But
if the practise was generally followed it would cost the public thousands of pounds‖.
In reply to Mr Hughes Mr Rustom admitted that the potatoes were delivered at
Pennington
Stepfather Managed the Business
Mr Hughes said he had been instructed to plead guilty and his client did not seek to
minimise the seriousness of the offence. ―Mr Trowbridge himself is really
summoned because he is the owner of this business. I am instructed that he has
carried on a different kind of business in this borough for 22 years, and that he has
never been before the Court on any charge whatever before.
―He only became interested in the greengrocery trade because Foley‘s was going
for sale. He was asked to make an offer for this business and much to his surprise it
was accepted. That was how he came to branch out as a greengrocer, and he
arranged his stepfather, Mr. Gale, should look after that business for him. My client.
left everything to him.
―In the - greengrocery trade prices fluctuate; sometimes it goes up in the wholesale
trade and sometimes the retail trade follows and sometimes not. Mr Gale used to
communicate and really ought to have gone to the food office in this case—on every
price fluctuation to ascertain the proper price.
Did Not Consult Food Office
―lt seems that on this occasion there was an increase on the wholesale price and Mr.
Gale, without taking the precaution that he ought to. have done, put up the retail
price as well. There was no attempt whatsoever at concealing this transaction, the
potatoes were delivered at Pennington and the bill was given for 2s.‖
Continuing, Mr. Hughes stated that it was rather unfortunate that Mrs. Jeans‘
complaint to the assistant on the following day was not communicated to Mr. Gale,
because when he (Mr. Hughes), asked Mr. Gale when he first heard about it, he
replied that it was not brought to his attention until the inspector came to see him
about a month later.
Mr. Trowbridge very much regretted that this should have happened and he (Mr.
Hughes), hoped that the magistrates would realise that he was Court only in his
technical capacity owner. Mr. Gale unwittingly increased the retail price when the
wholesale price went up, and he hoped that the magistrates would regard breach of
the regulations as more technical than criminal.
When, in reply to the Bench, Mr. Rustorn stated that the expenses amounted to £4
5s. 6d. Mr Hughes remarked, amid laughter: ―My friend is more fortunate in his
costs than I am in other places.‖
After consideration, Captain Goodhart stated that the Bench regarded it as. a very
serious case. They realised that Mr. Trowbridge was there only, as the owner of the
business and it was not his fault personally that the overcharge was made, but that
did not absolve him from his responsibilities, and responsibilities could not be
evaded. The question of charging more than the controlled price was a very serious
one. It was being done in various places and it would have to be stopped. There
would be a fine of £4 and costs.
Roly retired shortly after and Dad installed a Mr Long as his
manager. I liked Mr Long, as he would take me in the shop van on his
buying missions around the nurseries for produce. He had a small
holding himself at Pilley near to Beaulieu airdrome and his son had
74
recently suffered a traumatic experience of discovering a dead German
pilot whose chute had failed to open. Mr Long was a courteous
gentleman from a former age; he had been a pilot on the northwest
frontier of India during WWI and I loved to hear his stories from those
days. He was very loyal to Dad and it was unfortunate when he had to
leave to spend more time at his own farm.
On the evening of 4th May 1941 a returning German plane dumped
its bombs on Lymington. I remember standing outside the house from
which we had a clear view of the town dominated by St Thomas Church
watching the huge blaze very near to the church. Howard Tuckerman
who worked for Dad came over on his motorbike and said that Ford‘s
second furniture shop next to the dairy had been hit directly. Dad of
course was concerned for the dairy and they immediately left to see what
was happening. I could not go and see it but Peter, being sixteen, and a
member of the Home Guard managed later to have a look. Fortunately
Dad‘s premises were only slightly damaged by the bomb but,
unfortunately, had been almost ruined by the firemen and their water. As
can be imagined it was the talk of town for days and many apocryphal
exploits were recounted among the kids. Nearly everyone claimed to
have put out an incendiary bomb. However, within a few days the dairy
was back to normal. Mother was very relieved that we had left the dairy
in time, as the flat itself was now uninhabitable. As it happened the report
of the raid appeared in same issue as the court case, see footnote 78.
Peter‘s personal recollections of what happened that night are as follows:
On the night of the fire, dad got up on to the tin roof and was able to help the
firemen put out the fire, with water from his large tank. Later on he asked if anybody
would go with him into the office to bring out the books, the blaze had reached the
shop by then, and nobody offered apart from a local misfit (just goes to show). They
brought out the books, and later dad gave him reward. I went into the shop later that
night and was knee deep in tea, butter, eggs and everything else. Dad and I boarded
up the windows and walked back to Walhampton. I remember talking to him on the
way saying Fords have lost a lot, and his reply was "so have we son" its funny how
one remembers these things?
Soon after this the blitz in London became very severe and even
mother‘s sister and her family living in Twickenham were under threat.
In fact Aunt Vi was hit by flying shrapnel and had to be hospitalised. Her
youngest daughter Fay, a day younger than me, was evacuated to live
with us for a few months. This was a new experience for me, having a
girl in the house, and it must have changed our lives a little I am sure
though my memory is a blank about details. Far more memorable to me
was the emplacement at the top of our garden of an anti-aircraft battery
complete with a squad of soldiers who often turned up at the door asking
for milk, eggs etc. Though I was not encouraged to visit the gun I often
74
75
use to spy on the men from a safe distance. It was at this time that my
brother Peter came home one night from a Home Guard parade carrying
a bag of mills-bombs, which he placed under his bed. The next day
mother became somewhat agitated when she discovered the ammunition
and Peter had to promptly find another cache. I imagine the BBC TV
programme Dads Army in the 1970‘s was quite accurate in many respects
particularly with regard to incompetence but there was no doubt about
their enthusiasm.
Plate 23: Leylands, Walhampton (1941-1944)
Dad kept his interest in radio very much alive and had constructed a
powerful short wave receiver to listen to ‗Morse code‘ messages from
ships at sea. This interest had rubbed off on Peter who had inherited his
father‘s ability with his ‗hands‘ and also was making radios, I remember
one evening Dad explaining the theory of radio, describing vividly the
flow of electrons in the thermionic valve and its function in wireless
telegraphy. He illustrated the action of the Morse code key with a thin
piece of wood tapping a message on the top of a table. It could not have
been long after this that Peter applied to join the Marconi company and
train to become a radio operator in the merchant navy, thus following in
his father‘s footsteps. He eventually went to the wireless school at
Colwyn Bay in North Wales in September 1942 to begin his training as a
radio officer. I date my own interest in Science from this time and
managed to acquire some basic equipment to carry out simple
experiments in the shed behind the house. My mother complained about
the smells and my raiding the larder for ‗domestic‘ chemicals like
vinegar and baking powder. I have to confess that the common acids and
some glassware were purloined from school. As I have already said I
76
became fascinated by chemical formulae and loved to invent bogus
reactions between chemicals on paper and then try to reproduce them
practically. In fact it was the idea that you could explain and perhaps
discover things by theory that fired my imagination. I tried to convince
dad of my potential as a chemist but sadly without success. I rather think
he felt that I was merely fooling around and an academic career, as
opposed to a practical occupation, should be outside the traditional
aspirations of a member of his family. In any case, the demands of school
were secondary to the excitement and events of the war. It was at this
time that the scouts were encouraged to join in all sorts of ‗war work‘.
For a while we collected ‗salvage‘, items like waste-paper for recycling
though I am not convinced that any of it was put to much use, just like all
the iron railings that were destroyed in a fit of misguided zeal by the
authorities. We joined in civic activities like ‗War-Weapons Week‘ or
‗Warship Week‘ in which the town hoped to raise sufficient money to
buy a tank or even a Destroyer79. The school children would create
posters requesting donations, advertising functions, encouraging saving
of resources and morale boosting. There were concerts and parades in
which the various youth and voluntary organisations would take part. All
the time we were made aware of our older brothers ‗joining up‘ and the
newspapers announcing the news of casualties. Throughout 1941-42 the
fortunes of war were at very low ebb and few families were untouched by
the events and it seemed as if the whole nation was on the move. Our
national pride was further depressed by the loss of such national icons as
HMS Hood in the north Atlantic in May, which affected many families in
the New Forest and Lymington area. In fact 1,419 officers and men lost
their lives with just three survivors. Two of Cliff Isted‘s close relatives
were killed; his cousin, Pilot Officer Peter Isted in 1941, shot down, and
his brother Able Seaman Bob Isted lost at sea in 1945. The evening
papers came out as we returned home from school and I can remember
the bill-boards in the street proclaiming ‗Ark Royal Sunk‘, 13 Nov 1941
and then on June 21 1942, ‗Tobruk Falls‘. However, the beginning of the
end came when we read of the allied victory at El Alamein in October.
At the airdrome in the New Forest at Beaulieu RAF coastal
command had been supplemented by No 311 Czechoslovak Squadron
who in 1942 were converting from Wellington aircraft to the newer and
longer range US Liberator bomber which played an increasing part in
covering convoys and reducing the U-Boat menace. The Liberator
became a familiar part of the sky as they flew out to sea from the station
only a few miles from our house. The local billeting officer became
aware that we had a spare room and soon a charming Czech officer and
79
HMS Obedient
76
77
his young English wife came to live with us. Flight Lieutenant and Mrs
Pauline Dussek stayed with us until early in 1944 and mother said that
the wife was often terrified that her husband would not return from a
mission. I was told to keep out of their way as much as possible and I
now find it strange that I cannot remember Mr Dussek‘s first name. I do
remember that Dad admired the Czech airman and he told me that he was
very clever, as he understood such esoteric subjects as astrology and
higher mathematics. Sometimes Dad and Mum would invite some of his
comrades over on Sundays for lunch and then they would play table
tennis in the garden afterwards. I don‘t remember anyone in our family
beating the Czechs.
My career at Brockenhurst school did not exactly prosper and I
drifted somewhat easily into what seemed at the time to be more exciting
activities. There was little supervision and some of us escaped early into
the forest. One boy whose father was the local police inspector got hold
of a gun and some ammunition, a 0.38in revolver I think it was, and we
went into the woods near Boldrewood Bridge and fired off several
rounds. The recoil scared me and when I think of this today I shudder at
the thought of how near we came to doing some real harm. Another
speciality of this boy was his ability to masturbate at ‗will‘ at the back of
the class apparently undetected by the teachers but enjoyed by the girls.
A far more wholesome friend was Richard Morton whose father ran the
local haulage firm in Lymington, which was often hired by my father to
transport milk from the outlying farms to the dairy. Dick and I were both
low achievers in school and would ‗play truant‘, one particular delight
was to leave quietly after the morning break and walk back home through
the forest imagining we were POW‘s escaping from some camp in
Germany (such was the power of the cinema). Dick and I had ambitions
to be jazz musicians so we rigged up our own radio studio in his house
with equipment I took from Dad‘s radio spares. I learnt how to use a
discarded loud speaker as a microphone, which we connected to the
Gramophone pick-up socket of an old radio. Thus the ‗Mor-Trow‘ radio
station was born. Together we wrote the ‗news‘ and we had fun
emulating the BBC and strumming on improvised guitars and making a
ghastly row singing such immortal ditties as ‗You‘ll Be My Sunshine‘
and ‗Don‘t Fence Me In‘. Later we heard about a new youth club that had
been started at the ‗literary institute‘ in New Street and the rumour went
round that if you joined you could get a saxophone. So Dick and I
presented ourselves to join one night and after an embarrassing interview
by the lady leader the main activity seemed to be that you stood round an
old piano listening to some chap playing the same boogie-woogie tune
over and over again. No saxophones were given out so we soon lost
interest. At about this time I formed another ambition; ships and shipping
78
had always attracted me and I had been an avid reader of sea stories and I
listened intensely to dad‘s stories of his seagoing experiences. The sea
was ever present and the big naval and merchant ships could always been
seen passing nearby in the Solent on their way to Portsmouth or
Southampton. This led to a strong desire to become a naval officer and I
remember getting the books from the library and trying to interest my
parents but at this time all our futures looked uncertain so little could be
done.
78
79
Fordlands and the later war years
The tide of war began to turn in 1943 with the victories in North
Africa and the invasion of Tunisia and Italy with the Americans fully
involved. Peter, now qualified as a wireless operator, was at sea and
added to our worries, though he came home from his first trip with a
suitcase of goodies from the States. War touched us a little closer when
on December 1943 Peter‘s ship the Fort Athabaska was sunk in Bari
Harbour. Dad read about the bombing raid in the paper (he prevented the
rest of us from seeing it at the time) and although no names were given
he wondered if Peter had been involved as 18 merchant ships were sunk
when German Ju-88 bombers attacked the harbour. There were more than
30 ships carrying military cargo. Eventually we got the good news that
Peter was safe though it was a close run thing as there were only 10
survivors from his ship out of 57; Peter told us later that he had been
ashore at the cinema when the raid started. After walking from Bari to
Taranto he was assigned another ship and eventually got home many
months later.
Plate 24: Fordlands, Church Lane
In April 1944 Dad bought a house back in the town. His new house
was in Church Lane and was called Fordlands and had been built by Sir
William Seeds the former British ambassador to Russia to house his
mother on a plot of land near the edge of his estate. Dad paid £3000 for it
and for us it was quite a grand house on three floors with five bedrooms,
a large lounge, a dining room, and a breakfast room. The garden was
quite large though smaller than at Walhampton but it gave him ample
80
scope for landscaping. I think my father soon got tired of his houses as
his passion was in the laying out and shaping of a new garden. To fit into
the alcove in the dining room, see Plate 24 on the right side of the
photograph, or should I say the music room as I cannot ever remember
that we actually had meals there, Dad acquired a grand piano which none
of us could play. He used to play hymns for his father‘s church when he
was a child and was convinced that he would just sit down and play them
now, but alas no. I tried hard to learn but I didn‘t progress very far; Bob
Cook came in a few times and played it magnificently and gave me some
rudimentary lessons. On the top floor there was a spare room I used for
my very first ‗office‘ where I could escape and I began indulge myself
with fanciful schemes. My time was divided between the Scouts and the
Church Youth Fellowship, which I joined as soon as I was fourteen. As
already noted Mr Aldridge Lyon (Skip) was running our scout troop by
this time and he had made me a patrol leader. This mark of ‗authority‘ I
took quite seriously. I began to organise weekend camps on nearby farms
and we even created our own den in an attic above a garage in St Thomas
St. This place was dark and dusty but it was ours and we enjoyed
retreating from the adult world of school and family. My closest friends
and fellow scouts included Lewis Gregory who was about a year younger
than me. He was an outstanding choir boy and is very musical80. As a boy
soprano he sang ‗There will always be an England‘ as a solo at the
official parade during War Weapons Week in 1943. He became an
electrician and served time with the Southern Electricity authority until
he retired. He also played Cricket for the Lymington CC and to this day
is a leading choral singer associated with the church and many amateur
groups. Others in the patrol included Harry Veal who later joined the
Royal Navy and served for twelve years, Denis Phillips and Tony Gale81.
At the same time the youth club run by Tinker opened out for me the
world of amateur dramatics. Tinker‘s passion was the theatre; he had an
encyclopaedic knowledge of West End plays and had, soon after his
arrival in Lymington, introduced weekly play-reading groups held on
Sundays after evensong. By the time I was old enough to join in the club
he had presented a number of plays in the parish hall. These included
Charm School in May 1942 and The Rising Generation in 194382. Tinker
discovered some significant talent in the town but the most gifted was
Ben Baker who starred in most of the club productions. My first direct
experience was in helping Fred Webster with the stage managing of a
comedy thriller called Third Time Lucky by Arnold Ridley now
80
His father came from South Baddesley , a nearby village, and sang in the church choir there.
Became a well known local footballer and Died March, 1999
82
See Lymington Times, May 9, 1942 & June 8, 1943
81
80
81
remembered for his portrayal of Private Godfrey in Dad’s Army. Ben
played the part an incompetent burglar, William Merritt (originally
played by Gordon Harker in the West End production), who steals the
wrong ‗papers‘ from a Blackmailer and later impersonates an archdeacon
to try and recover them from the hero, a village vicar who has the right
ones, all rather silly and improbable. Fred assigned me the role of
electrician, which was fun, and, I suppose, by modern standards,
dangerous. To dim the lights for example we used the old method of a
drainpipe filled with a salt solution to make a ‗home-made‘ rheostat. The
resistance was varied by changing the separation of a pair of electrodes
immersed in the solution. This was achieved by attaching the live
electrode to the end of a walking stick and so I could dim the lights by
elevating the stick. My other jobs included helping Fred build the
scenery.
Fred was a natural ‗handyman‘, as well as being a professional
plumber and he could create a set within a few hours. During the
performances I also had to manage the sound effects. In this play I had
rigged up an electric bell system and at the dress rehearsal I rang it a split
second after the lady of house said ‗Answer that bell‘; Tinker roared with
laughter and he said ‗we will keep that in‘. Music played its part as well
as in another scene, set in a Mayfair flat, the suave blackmailer sits
listening to a piece of music he called ‗Tanhauser‘. To simulate this I had
to rig up a record player and we borrowed the appropriate records from a
local shop and thus I had my first experience of Wagner. I think the play
was a modest success. Tinker had the knack of making youngsters
perform even if they had little talent. He even got me to play a number of
small parts in his productions. The next club play was also by Arnold
Ridley, his most famous piece, the comedy The Ghost Train83. For this
Fred built an ingenious set for the station waiting room where the illassorted group of passengers waits to be ‗terrified‘ by the train as it
passes through the station. To achieve this effect we used a hatbox with
slots with an electric bulb inside. I rotated the box to create the illusion of
the train flashing by the window. We also had fun making the cast wet
for one scene requiring the after effects of rain by making them run under
water sprayed from a line of watering cans. In the last act I had my acting
chance and one line to speak as the Scotland Yard detective arresting the
villains perpetrating the smuggling scam of the ‗ghost‘ train. I borrowed
an automatic pistol from Dads gun collection to add realism. I had a
larger part in the annual nativity play, by Dorothy Sayers, that of the InnKeeper but my ‗big moment‘ came in the thriller ‗The Thread O‘ Scarlet‘
by J J Bell where I played the part of ‗Smith‘ a genial, rather stupid
83
For reviews, see Lymington Times, ‗Third Time Lucky 24 June 1944, and The Ghost Train,
5 May 1945.
82
person not, I hope, type-casting. This character was one of three village
tradesmen discussing, in the pub on a stormy night, the execution earlier
that day of a fellow (innocent) villager. It is an atmospheric piece, which
has at its climax the unmasking of the real murderer. My part served to
build up the tension and was quite important and I remember being
thrilled at being asked to do it. We performed the piece (27 Sep 1944) as
an after dinner entertainment to celebrate the departure of Leslie Moon
the curate in-charge of All Saints the other church in the parish, Tinker
was in his element at this kind of event. He roped in club members as
waiters with Fred Webster as the ‗Head waiter‘ in full fig, including tails
with white tie no less. The play appeared to go well enough but I do
remember feeling self-conscious84. My schoolwork suffered even more
as I now had ambitions to be a playwright and embarked on several
attempts at this. I remember starting several plays but they soon became
abandoned as I found it hard to develop any ideas beyond devising a cast
of characters and a setting, usually imitations of the plays we were
reading or performing.
In September 1944 I entered the fifth form, which should have been
school certificate year. By now I had distanced myself from formal
learning to an extent that I seriously began to look for a way out. I
increasingly felt that I wanted to get away from home and become
independent. Peter was away at sea; Dad was pre-occupied by his
business ventures, and Mother by my younger brother David who was
now six. My life was revolving round two adult influences; on the one
hand Tinker and the theatrical activities of the Church Youth Fellowship,
and on the other by Skip Lyon with the scouts. I think my father thought
these associations were somehow unhealthy but he did little to curb it. I
further opted out of school wok and eventually to avoid embarrassment
and I suppose as a cry for help I applied for a job with a firm of
electricians in New Milton. I cycled the six miles and had an interview
with the proprietor. He was sufficiently impressed with me to write to
dad and say I could start right away! So the ‗cat was out‘ and I was in
trouble. All of this happened in the spring of 1945 as I approached
fifteen, the war was slowly drawing to an end and it appeared that by
now after six years of war the whole world was on the move and I
wanted, in some way to be part of this. I remember I told some of my
friends at school that I was off and I dramatically disposed of my books.
VE night, on the 8th of May 1945 was symbolic. I stood out side Midland
Bank in the High Street and watched the burning of the celebratory
bonfire. When the flames threatened to go out Mr Alfred Isted, my
childhood friend Cliff‘s wayward uncle, who had a well deserved
84
Lymington Times, Oct 7, 1944
82
83
reputation as a boozer, led a contingent of young lads to his garden,
ripped up some fencing and had it brought to the fire. I believe that in the
end they rolled a flaming bundle of chestnut fencing down the town hill.
Mr Lyon who was also the bank manager, who was standing next to me
said that he was half-way in his life and felt he had been in the town long
enough. I understood this to mean that he had recently turned 50 and
would be promoted to a larger branch somewhere85. I think he must have
advised Dad about my future and so I was praised for my initiative with
regard to my attempt at getting a job but maybe a career in the merchant
navy as a deck officer might be more suitable. He was very much aware
that the premier school for entry into the merchant service was via HMS
Conway the famous Liverpool training ship. This notion had immediate
attraction for me as I could see myself on the bridge of a great liner. I had
always been adequate at mathematics and science so it was felt I could
make the effort and gain the necessary entry qualifications. Brockenhurst
School connived at this and I was given special training to sit the
entrance exam in September 1945. I was accepted without interview and
it was agreed that I should join the ship in the spring of 1946.
During my last year at home I became more and more involved with
helping in amateur dramatics. Fred and I became a team working on most
the productions given at the Parish hall; including those by the
Lymington players who did two popular thrillers, Pink String and Sealing
Wax and Night Must Fall in quick succession. In the former Skip Lyon
surprised us by his acting talent in playing the stuffy Victorian father to
perfection and in the latter we made a new acquaintance a local
undertaker and owner of a furniture business an eccentric character called
Peter Langham-Browne. Both of these men were unmarried and I
suppose in today‘s parlances were thought to be gay. Peter certainly was
gay in the old fashioned sense of this word. Indeed we found him
delightful company. Fred Webster and I spent some time in his company
and were captivated by his racy stories, camp style and ready wit. The
nearest crematorium was in Bournemouth and on at least on occasion we
went with him to collect the ashes of one his clients. On the way back he
entertained us to a meal at a newly opened Czech restaurant in Boscombe
‗sitting‘ the earn at the table and pretending that the departed, a grand
lady from the town, was having her last supper with us. He entertained
the waiters and us by acting out a discussion of the menu with the ‗dear
departed‘.
A far more serious influence and source of education was Skip
Aldridge Lyon. As he was the Scoutmaster and Fred was his assistant and
with me as his patrol leader a kind of triumvirate was formed and we
85
He moved to Bath a few years later
84
spent a great deal of our spare time together. He had a ‗Den‘ in his flat
above the bank and there we could listen to music and read his books. I
first heard the Tchaikovsky symphonies under his guidance and he took
us regularly to Bournemouth to the theatre. Once a year the Malvern
Players came to the Palace Court Theatre a delightful small ‗house‘
associated with the Palace Court Hotel in Westover Road. This was my
first exposure to the professional stage and it was a revelation. I saw
Hamlet with Alec Clunes, the father of Martin Clunes of the current TV
series ‗Men Behaving Badly‘, Pygmalion, James Bridie‘s play Mr
Bolfrey and many others long forgotten. The most exciting however was
my first Opera, Cav & Pag put on by Wessex Opera. I have the program
still, the performance was dated Saturday 22 September 1945 and though
the singers are long forgotten that evening remains in my memory as one
of tremendous excitement and pleasure. For weeks those great tunes of
the Easter Hymn and the Intermezzo reverberated around my head. Skip
explained that the prologue, On with the Motley of I Pagliacci was
something special and so it proved. This introduction to the theatrical
delights of Bournemouth encouraged Fred and I to venture out on our
own; so we would get the bus and see a play if we could or, if not, hang
around the Bournemouth Pavilion, a much larger sea side theatre, and try
and sneak in near the end to see the final scenes. I remember standing at
the back watching the final scene of Hedda Gabler with the pistol
business and Hedda‘s suicide. It might have been that day that we missed
the last bus and had to walk home (16 miles) and though it is no excuse,
we were so excited, we turned many of the sign-posts to face the wrong
directions. Signposts had just returned after the war and we thought it a
tremendous joke to behave like vandals. We were stopped by a
policeman just before we got back to Lymington who took our names
and addresses but he hadn‘t observed our crime but was just curious to
know what we were doing out so late.
I also had many opportunities to explore the surrounding
countryside and visit nearby towns. Between VE day and the final end of
the war against Japan, VJ day in August 1945 Dad took us to Weymouth
for a holiday. We stayed in a boarding house near Alexander Gardens
and since this was the first holiday since before the war dad made a
special effort and stayed several days. In the old days he would dump us
somewhere and beat a hasty retreat back to his work. This time I had the
pleasure of his company for several days and he hired a small boat and
we spent time exploring Weymouth harbour. I could now see he was a
good boatman and in view of my future career this was very useful. He
always messed about in boats before the war and as kids we often use to
play on the small motor launch he had. On one occasion, I took his
sailing dingy out for a sail much to his annoyance, as I was not really old
84
85
enough to handle the craft properly. At the time of Dunkerque he
attempted to take his motorboat to Dover but was prevented by the
authorities, as it was not considered seaworthy. He had neglected it for a
few years because of expanding business interests. While we were in
Weymouth the general election results were declared and we learnt that
the returning servicemen‘s vote had returned a labour government and
that Winston Churchill was out. I stood with the crowds outside the big
hotel on Weymouth front to hear the results announced and listened to
the speech by the new member for Dorset South; here at least a Tory
stalwart, Viscount Hinchinbrooke had been returned. At the time this
seemed to me to be a rather an ungrateful response on the behalf of the
British public as to most of us Winston was a great hero. We lived in a
Tory area and Tory New Forest South also remained, despite the labour
landslide. Not all our friends voted Tory however. I remember both
Tinker and Skip Lyon remarking to me on different occasions that the
labour people elected were first class men and it was clear that many
people at home had changed their vote along with the servicemen. I also
followed my passion for the theatre by attending the season of plays
presented by the Manchester Repertory Company at the Alexandra
Gardens Theatre, I remember enjoying the performance of a play by Ivor
Novello called ‗Fresh Fields‘ not a great piece, I suppose, but the magic
of live theatre captivated me.
This year I also had three camping trips to enjoy. The first camp was
near Wareham in Dorset where Skip arranged for us to camp for two
weeks. His short piece in the Lymington Parish Magazine announced the
event:
10th Lymington (St. Thomas) Boy Scout Group86
The troop has been most fortunate in finding a really first class site for their summer
camp at Wareham, Dorset. Added to the natural amenities there is the attraction of a
private swimming pool and a river giving promise of frequent attention! We hope to
go to camp on 18th August and return home intact on the 26th.
Activities of the Group, reported by Patrol Leader Bill Trowbridge, have appeared
in ―The Scout‖.
The Pack and the Troop welcomes recruits and, as this is a Church Group, our own
boys should join it—what about it you young people?
―The Group Scoutmaster‖
There were about sixteen of us and we had a very enjoyable time
exploring this part of Dorset with trips to Corfe Castle, Lullwoth Cove
and Swanage. Skip took us to the church in Wool where Lawrence of
Arabia is buried and we learnt about this remarkable man who was killed
86
The Lymington Parish Magazine, Vol 37, No.7, 1945, Hampshire Record Office,
Winchester, 42M75/PZ19
86
in a road accident near here. I was at an age to be impressed by this
romantic figure and though we know now that he was a complex and
flawed character, he remains for me a hero. Much of the success of this
camp was due to Fred who also told me after when he and Skip inspected
the site after I had got my patrol to strike camp and clean up that the only
thing they found was a match stick.. The second trip was a special patrol
leaders camp near Alton at the Hants Count Scout HQ. One boy only
from each of the Hampshire troops was selected and from Lymington I
went with Eric Smith who was a member of the 9th Lymington Sea Scout
Troop. This turned out to be a rather gruelling affair in which we each
took turns in being the leader. My abiding memory today is being
constipated throughout the whole week.
The final camp was right at the end of the year immediately after
Christmas. This was a winter camp and it was indeed very cold in Sussex
at a forestry commission site, Ashdown Park, near Forest Row. I was
taken by a former boy scout, a naval officer, Philip Farwell87 who had
just returned from the war. His mother was a client of Mr Lyon‘s who
lived in Barton-on-sea a village on the western edge of the borough and
Skip gave a little dinner party to celebrate his return to which both Fred
and I were invited. I think this was part of our ‗education‘, as I had never
been to a formal dinner party before. Philip was very friendly and we had
a jolly evening, I remember Skip had bought a bottle of vintage Beaune
specially and while decanting it in the kitchen he dropped it on the floor
and had to substitute a cheaper one—not that I knew the difference. It
was agreed I could go on this winter camp which had as its theme
‗Trees‘, I remember we had to collect a large number of species and then
in the evening, at a camp fire, we each, in turn, had to ‗impersonate‘ a
particular species and recite its botanical history and characteristics. I had
an easy one to do, ‗Pinus Silvestris‘ the Norwegian Pine. It was so cold
that on the Sunday church parade in the early morning I fainted and had
to rest for several hours. After we returned Philip went back to Oxford to
complete his degree interrupted by the war. We met again not long after
as Tinker arranged a week-end trip to Oxford by bus for the youth club.
This was my first trip to Oxford and would never have anticipated then
that I would later spend the biggest part of my life there. The local paper
reported the event:
FELLOWSHIP VISIT TO OXFORD88
Lymington Church Youth Fellowship spent a weekend at Oxford as the guests of
the boys‘ and girls‘ clubs organised by the Cowley Fathers. They visited a number
87
1917-1995, Served in the colonial service in Zambia (Lusaka) and later became a
schoolmaster at Sherbourne Preparatory school. He was the group scoutmaster in Sherbourne
for many years.
88
Lymington Times, Jan 26 , 1946 (Copy held at the papers office in New Milton)
86
87
of college and university buildings and boys were conducted round the Fathers‘
monastery by Father Hemming, who arranged the Fellowship‘s visit. Lymington
girls defeated Oxford 42-1 at netball on Saturday afternoon, and in the evening the
whole party saw Sheridan‘s ―The Rivals‖ at the Playhouse. Afterwards there was a
dance at club headquarters. Members of both clubs attended Mass at the Fathers‘
Church on Sunday morning, and made a corporate Communion. In the afternoon the
boys played a football match, which was drawn 1-1, Fred Bailey scored for
Lymington. In the farewell speeches after tea Ben Baker expressed the Fellowship‘s
thanks to the hosts, which included the parents who provided hospitality. The trip
was made by motor coach.
We were billeted at the houses of members of the church club run by the
Cowley Fathers, a religious order that Tinker knew well. The young man
who took me home said he was a scout, so in my ignorance I asked,
‗which troop?‘ he smiled and patiently explained that he was a college
servant. Early next morning I walked into the city, the street leading in
was cobbled in those days and sought out Oriel College to meet Philip.
He had an hour to spare and he kindly showed me round and then we
walked along the Isis and watched college boats practising. We also met
Sandy89 the leader of the Oxford University Scout group who had also
been at the Forest Row camp. Tinker later showed us the ‗essential‘
Oxford, which in those days was still relatively unspoilt. I thought it an
amazing place and the idea of academia very romantic. In the evening we
attended a performance of Sheridan‘s play ‗The Rivals‘ at the famous
Playhouse theatre directed by Christopher Fry with Nora Nicholson as
Mrs Malaprop.
Dad continued running his two businesses, the Dairy and Foley‘s
Nurseries and as the war was coming to an end forgotten fruits like
bananas were again allowed to be imported. This led to his appearance
again in the local paper:
HARD THINGS SAID90
Mr Trowbridge, of Foley‘s Nurseries, said that on Saturday last he had only
sufficient bananas to supply 1lb. each to 139 people, and the queue stretched from
Foley'‘ shop down Belmore Lane nearly as far as the vicarage. Foleys distributed on
Saturday afternoon owing to complaints that morning distribution cut out the factory
workers. There was naturally some strong criticism by the disappointed public.
Some greedy people rubbed out the pencil mark and could present a
clean ration book for further helpings. One person was heard to boast that
he did this four times and thus got five lots. The Ministry of Food told
dad that his staff should have used indelible pencils! But a more sensible
89
90
R C Sanzen-Baker the charismatic leader of Oxford Scouting 1936-1947
Lymington Times, Feb 26, 1946
88
suggestion was that a portion of the coupon in the ration book should be
cut out.
Plate 25: The Badge and Motto of HMS Conway
The next and last 91 production of the Youth Club was the Naval
Farce called the ‗Middle Watch‘; this play had long been in Tinker‘s
mind as it offered him the chance of playing juicy part of the Admiral.
Unfortunately, this was a disappointment to Ben Baker, as he had wanted
also to do it. He was offered, instead, the important part of ‗Marine Ogg‘,
who plays a pivotal role in the piece but Ben refused it and since I had
read the part at one of our play-reading sessions Tinker offered it to me.
We rehearsed the play with great gusto and soon it was taking shape but
a few weeks before the performance I received confirmation that I was
join HMS Conway on April 30 which was earlier than expected so I had
to withdraw. I was quite sad about this but excited about the new
experience about to begin for me; my smart uniform as a cadet RNR
arrived and I eagerly wore it to the last rehearsal that I attended
pretending to be a real naval officer rather than make believe. I had found
a copy of the book called ‗New Chum‘92 by John Masefield the poet
laureate in which he recounts the story of his first term in the ship in the
1892. Even allowing for civilising changes over the last 50 years or so
the picture he painted then concentrated my mind now as to the prospect
in front of me, both daunting and exhilarating.
91
92
Tinker left Lymington later in 1946 and the club went into decline
John Masefield, New Chum, Heinemann, 1944
88
HMS Conway 1946-1948
89
4. HMS Conway 1946-1948
Life as a New Chum
Here you will put off childhood and be free
Of England‘s oldest guild: here your right hand
Is the Ship‘s right, for service at command;
Your left may save your carcass from the sea.
Here you will leap to orders instantly
And murmur afterwards, when you disband.
Here you will polish brass and scrub with sand,
And know as little leisure as the bee.
Here you are taught Sea Truth, to eat hard bread,
To suffer with a rigid upper lip,
And live by Look-Out, Latitude and Lead.
Here you are linked with Sailors, who abide
The tempest and the turning of the tide,
Disaster and the sinking of the ship.
John Masefield93
The above verses describe quite accurately what the ‗old ship‘ was
about in 1933 and in my time 1946 also. Owing to enemy action the ship
had been moved from ‗off‘ Rock ferry in the River Mersey at Liverpool
to safer and gentler surroundings in the Menai Straits off Bangor pier in
North Wales. Then, as now, one had to change trains in London from the
Southern Railway to the London Midland Scottish Railway94. I had made
the rail journey to London via Brockenhurst arriving at Waterloo before
but the changing over to the LMS line at Euston was a new experience—
it was a journey I was to repeat many times over the years to come. As it
happened on that first occasion Philip was in London and he had kindly
offered to meet me at Waterloo and show me something of London in the
several hours to spare before catching the train to Holyhead. Though I
had seen the tourist sites with my father in June 1940 during a holiday
spent with Mother‘s elder sister Vi, I was quite vague about the layout.
What Philip did for me, over a coffee in the Lyons corner house in the
Strand, was to draw a plan of the streets and show me the positions of the
principal buildings and monuments. We then walked the central part of
the West End and I learnt the locations of the main theatres and I have
93
94
Quoted from ‗The Conway‘, John Masefield, Heinemann, 1933
This was the still the age of ‗steam‘ and pre-nationalisation
Life as a New Chum
90
never forgotten this lesson. At Euston I had arranged to meet another boy
from Lymington who was joining Conway that day, John Somerset (see
Plate 30), a rather gentle softly spoken boy who I learnt later was far
more nervous than me. John‘s father worked at the Dairy for a while,
helping dad with the office work and also collecting milk and he may
have got the Conway idea for his son from Dad. I think Mr Somerset had
fallen on bad times as he was well educated and must have been in a
better occupation at one time. As far as I know there was no Mrs
Somerset but John was very reticent about his family. The fees for
Conway were expensive even for those days, approximately £50 per
term, so I assume he must have had some private income for educating
his son. There was something of a tradition for local boys to go to
Conway as Cliff Isted‘s cousin Ken Isted, Alfred‘s son, had joined the
ship in 1936 and he was also a former Brockenhurst school pupil. Ken
had a distinguished career as a commissioned officer in the RNR during
the war and was helpful to me later on. The current ‗Lymington‘
contingent was on a through train to Bangor and so expected to arrive
late afternoon. We hadn‘t been travelling for very long when the
compartment door slid open to reveal a youngster dressed as a cadet
RNR, ‗are you Conway‘s too? My name is Peter Barrie Lewis from
Swanage‘, so now we were three, or four rather as his mother was in the
next compartment. I would have been quite embarrassed to have my
mother see me onboard and I hoped Mrs Lewis wouldn‘t bother us too
much. We went next door and were solemnly introduced. I don‘t
remember much else about the journey apart from some idle speculation
on what life would be like once we got there. As things turned out Mrs
Lewis‘s presence was a bonus for when we got to Bangor she promptly
organised a taxi and conveyed us to Bangor Pier (Plate 29). While we
stood on the slipway waiting for something to happen I remember
thinking how imposing the old ship looked in the grey light of early
evening. She stood silently at her moorings in the middle of the Menai
Straits and I was not at all prepared for the hive of activity soon to engulf
me. We must have been spotted, or no-doubt expected, as this was arrival
day for all New Chums (as new cadets were called) and the ship‘s No 1.
Motor Boat was dispatched to bring us offshore to the ship. At the tiller
stood an experienced ‗sea dog‘ wearing oilskins who later transpired to
be a senior hand with the rank of cadet captain, probably a year older
than us and immeasurably more experienced. He expertly conned the
boat in a wide arc stemming the tide and smartly came alongside as his
crew member, fo‘ard, jumped smartly on the quay slipping the bowline
over a bollard. We were invited to jump in. I think Mrs Lewis must have
disappeared by this time much to Peter Lewis‘s relief, and we scrambled
aboard with our luggage, which in my case was a blue canvas holdall.
90
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Plate 26: HMS Conway in the Menai Straits viewed from Anglesey
We were greeted by Lieutenant Brook-Smith RNR, the ‗second
officer‘ of the Conway, standing stiffly at the top of the main gangway
on the lower deck. He welcomed us with a smile and the eager look of
the predator. I later found him to be quite benign and also a gentleman.
He had a strong enthusiasm for all matters ‗Conway‘ and his family had a
long Conway tradition of which he was the present self-appointed
guardian. We were immediately invited to go one deck below to the orlop
deck where I found myself a member of the starboard forecastles at the
tender mercy of a Senior Cadet Captain (a kind of prefect) who
introduced himself as R P Mather (Plate 27). He showed me my black
chest, which had my name boldly stencilled with white paint on the front
side.
Before continuing to recall my exploits on the ‗old ship‘95 some
details of the ship should be given. On August 18, 1859, Her Majesty's
Ship "Conway" was inaugurated as a training ship for the instruction of
cadets intending to serve at sea as officers in the Merchant Navy. The
third and last training ship to bare the name was the former HMS Nile, a
two Decker, 92-gun man of war. She saw service in the Crimea war, and
was eventually commissioned as HMS Conway in 1876 and moored, like
the others, in the river Mersey. The period of training in the modern era
was normally two years, which qualified future merchant navy cadets to
serve only three years apprenticeship instead of the full four year period
of sea time before becoming eligible to take the second mates‘ certificate
examination. Thus one‘s life on board consisted of six terms to prepare
95
Conway was always known as ‗the old ship‘
Life as a New Chum
92
one for a life at sea. The ages of new chums varied between fourteen and
sixteen and were drawn from all parts of the British Commonwealth and
in 1946 there were approximately 250 Cadets on board.
For many years she was successful not only in producing young
men who subsequently became officers of high rank in both services, but
also highly successful in all walks of life. Examples being Matthew
Webb the first Channel swimmer, Warrington Baden-Powell KC,
founder with his brother of the Sea Scout movement, John Masefield,
Poet Laureate, and Buster Crabbe the underwater spy. In both world
wars, Conways died in the service of their country and many gained high
decorations including four Victoria Crosses and a George Cross. In 1941,
the Blitz on Merseyside caused Conway to be moved to the Menai
Straits. In 1953, H.M.S. Conway, whilst being towed through the Straits
for a refit, was swept on the rocks and became a total loss, the last two
Decker of the Royal Navy. Training was carried on ashore at Plas
Newydd but in 1974 requirements for the Merchant Navy decreased
enormously and Conway was paid off.
The role call of old Conways also includes two officers involved in
the Titanic disaster. One was the Sixth Officer, James Moody, who
stayed with the ship to the last and helped to save many lives. The other
was Captain Sir Arthur Rostron, the master of the rescue ship
‗Carpathia‘, who successfully navigated his ship at well above her design
speed for 58 miles through ice at night to pick up the Titanic survivors.
The list of ‗distinguished‘ former Conways include several men created
by the greatest writer of the sea and seafarers, Joseph Conrad. Among
these are ‗Lord Jim‘, a flawed officer who was given a second chance to
redeem himself, and the two main characters in the ‗Secret Sharer‘ a
complex tale of public versus private loyalties. Conrad‘s Conway
characters give the impression of being the author‘s ideal of what an
Officer, Seaman and Gentleman should be and a million miles away from
the travesty implied by the recent film ‗Titanic‘96 where the British
officers are portrayed at best as buffoons and at worse as cowards.
Returning to my first night aboard I can only give some rather vague
impressions. I remember being shown how to ‗sling‘ my hammock.
These were stored deep in the hold and at the appropriate bugle call; all
hands proceeded down the steep stairway to the bowels of the vessel to
fetch their hammocks. A Conway hammock consisted of a strip of tough
canvass that was attached to a metal ring at either end by a number of
short lines. I later discovered that there was a more alarming use for lines
such as these. One ring was slipped over the hook on the orlop deck
bulkhead above one‘s ‗chest‘ and the other lashed to a vertical iron v96
‗Titanic‘, directed by James Cameron, 1998
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frame that was lowered down from the deck-head above. In the morning
one‘s bedclothes were rolled up lengthways inside the hammock and kept
intact by using the long lashing line in a series of loops around the
sausage. This inverse process was known as ‗lash-up and stow‘ (back to
the racks in the hold). I remember being told that the end of the long
lashing line must be tidily arranged in flat pancake coil on the deck
below the hammock after slinging. Though there must have been several
new chums on board I had lost touch with my two travelling companions
who must have been assigned to Port Forecastle. I cannot recall any of
my future companions on that first evening, as I must have been
thoroughly disoriented by the amazing number of new sensations, all was
bedlam. Chiefly there were the sounds of feet running up and down the
companion ways between decks and bugle calls demanding some urgent
activity or other. I was soon to discover that our routine was to be
controlled by the bugle, from reveille to lights-out, for meals, for lessons,
for boat hoisting, coal heaving and frequent parades (divisions) to name
just a few.
I believe that first evening we went to the main deck, two up from
the orlop deck, our living quarters, for a meal. Each ‗top‘ sat round mess
tables lowered down from the deck-head presided over by a Cadet
captain and so we began our introduction to Conway jargon which
included words like ‗sodduk‘ meaning bread, ‗grease‘ which stood for
butter and ‗skilly‘ for tea. Other culinary gems included ‗Juice‘ which
referred to milk or other liquids and D.M.T., which referred to any sort of
pudding of the roly-poly type or indeed to any steamed pudding, or even
cake—it was only later that I discovered that D.M.T. stood for ‗Dead
Man‘s Tool‘. These delights were often covered with thin custard, which
was of course known as yellow peril (the war with Japan had not long
ended). The same term was also used for scrambled egg. Skilly, which I
thought was the foulest drink I had ever taken, was liberally laced with
bromide, or so it was alleged, so that we ‗slept well‘ at night and only
experienced dry dreams. It was hard to sleep that first night though but I
was reassured by the custom of ‗handshaking‘ as one said good night to
one‘s shipmates. It would be natural to feel homesick but I think, in my
case, it was more in anticipation about the ‗morrow‘. On the morrow,
after the bugle call to ‗wakey-wakey‘ and the mad rush to the
washbasins, we went up to the upper deck and I had my first view of the
splendid scenery of the Welsh Mountains, the great rounded domes of the
Carnedd range being the most prominent. The location of the ship in one
of the most spectacular regions in Britain became a special place in my
heart.
Life as a New Chum
94
Kemsley Newspapers Ltd, Manchester
Plate 27: HM King George VI Inspecting Cadets of HMS Conway,
Bangor, summer 194697
As can be seen in Plate 27 Conway cadets were privileged by being
allowed to wear the uniform of the Royal Naval Reserve and could write
RNR after their names. For every day use we wore a blue ‗battle dress‘
uniform, blue viyella shirt with attached white collar and white cuffs, and
we only put on our number ones to go ashore and for church parades on
Sundays and special occasions. The Conway clothing was supplied by
the Liverpool Sailors Home as had been the case for years (when the ship
was in the Mersey a new cadet would visit this establishment to be fitted
out prior to joining the ship). The viyella shirts were so robust and well
made that mine lasted for years after I had left the ship. On that first
morning reality hit us immediately after breakfast when we were lined up
in starboard forecastle by our PO (i.e. cadet captain), R.P Mather who
told us gently that we had two weeks in which to learn the ‗ropes‘, which
he then proceeded to explain.
We learnt that the ship was run by seniority, which meant in our
case that we New Chums were the lowest form of animal life
97
Also showing Cadet Captain R P Mather on the right with Commander Douglas Lane in
attendance
94
95
independent of age, thus if you were in a higher ‗term‘ then you had
superiority over all of those lower than you. Now the rules and discipline
of the ship had evolved over many years; by a kind of natural selection
they addressed the problems arising from the close proximity of 200
cadets. Thus each ‗top‘ had its space and approval had to be sought by
anyone wishing to pass through, the cry ‗Top, please‘, could be often
heard especially when work was going on. We were told about penalties
for non-conformance. For example a special group of cadets known as
‗The Slack Party‘ which, at the disposal of the ‗officer of the deck‘, could
be ordered to carry out some task, often dirty or irksome. A defaulting
cadet could be placed on this party at the whim of a superior. The ‗slack
party‘ bugle call required all defaulters to assemble on the lower deck
and the last to arrive was then given the task. Another punishment was
the ‗coal hole‘ in which the offender was sentenced to a period of hours
shovelling coal from the bunkers to provide fuel for the ship‘s heating
system. Yet another, somewhat similar, was to man the water pumps to
keep the ship‘s bilges dry. Finally the unofficial use of the ‗teaser‘, a
small-sized knotted rope for chastisement98, which though used in my
time was seldom severely administered, more of a sharp shock than any
real pain involved. The lengths of rope required were readily available
from the lines used in attaching hammocks to supporting rings as
mentioned earlier. The rumour soon went around that after the two weeks
period of grace we would be expected to perform by sing to the
assembled ship‘s company before the weekly film show in the hold.
The ship‘s officers, to a man ex Conway, were headed by the
Captain Superintendent, Captain T M Goddard RNR, politely known as
Tom or impolitely as ‗Wah‘ owing to a characteristic of his voice. His
first officer, was Commander Douglas Lane RNR, and second officer
Lieutenant Brooke-Smith RNR, universally known as ‗Spooky‘ owing to
his husky voice. Spooky was quite nostalgic about the ship and on both
nautical and family traditions. On meeting a new chum with ‗ Conway
history‘ he could be heard to remark, ‗I knew your father‘, which led to
the chorus sung to the tune Onward Christian Soldiers by ex Conway
boys gathered anywhere in the world:
Brooke-Smith knew my father
Father knew Brooke-Smith 99
98
99
In John Masefield‘s definition in, ‗The Conway‘, Heinemann, 1933, page 210
As in the more famous case of Lloyd-George
Life as a New Chum
96
Plate 28: Contrasting activities in the Menai Straits
Tom Goddard won respect by aloofness, Duggie Lane by
understanding and kindliness and Brookie by ritual and example. The
business part of the day began with morning divisions in which, lead by
the bugle band and drums, the tops, port and starboard fore, main and
mizzen and lastly the forecastles would march round the lower deck and
come to attention facing the captain and the duty officer on the quarter
deck. This was followed by an inspection to ensure we were all smartly
turned out, including polished shoes. This was really the equivalent of a
school assembly including notices and instructions to the ship‘s
company, morning prayers led by the ship‘s chaplain etc. After dismissal
the morning mail would be delivered by the mail officer, a senior cadet
captain, calling the names of each recipient as he laid the letter on the
main hatch grating. The ship‘s company was quick to detect any regional
peculiarities in name, thus in my case my Hampshire accent was soon
noted and on my name being read out a chorus of arrrhh-arrrh would
follow. I made my first friend because of this as Gerald Holloway (Plate
30, page 99) a new chum from Somerset, who had reason to be
sympathetic, offered me solidarity. After divisions‘ school started on the
main deck, which was now transformed into classrooms, by lowering of
96
97
partitions and using the mess tables for desks. The academic staff lived
ashore and came off each morning in one of the ship‘s liberty boats either
from Bangor pier or the Gazelle slip on Anglesey (Plate 30). Only the
headmaster, T.E.W. Browne, had accommodation on board though he
kept a house in the Wirral for weekends and holidays. TEWB, as he was
known, was a remarkable man who would have a strong on influence on
me over the next two years. His policy was to interview every cadet
during the first days of his arrival and during my talk with him he
remembered other cadets who had come to the ship from Brockenhurst
School and noted that I had been in the Scouts. He told me about the
special Conway, Snowdon Group focussed around mountaineering and
that there were opportunities to spend weekends in Llanberis. The
prospect of this excited me considerably as I had no interest in team
sports. The lessons turned out to be a mixture of the conventional plus
nautical subjects like navigation, seamanship theory, marine engineering,
signalling etc. The foreign language taught was Spanish as it was thought
this was the language that a cadet would encounter most frequently when
he went to sea. In addition to the purely school subjects practical
seamanship was taught by the nautical staff and we soon found ourselves
learning boat handling, sailing, the ‗rules of the road‘ and ships practice.
My memories of that first day have now moved forward to range
over impressions remaining in my mind of my first term. The teaching
staff was certainly a mixture of ex-merchant navy men and ex-armed
forces, some of whom had only recently returned from war service and
others, survivors of an earlier age. Charlie Nicholls was one such
survivor who taught us the elements of Naval Architecture; I can hear his
voice now as he intoned with great emphasis and passion, ‗…. fuel
consumption varies as the ship‘s speed cubed‘, which brought home to
me the competing pressures that always arise in real life. Going fast costs
money but going slow may lose the market. Then there was the exserviceman who taught us English and geography whose face had been
terribly burnt in action; his bright red scars haunted my mind for days—
this was my first close encounter with the results of a serious war injury.
Then there was ‗Spud‘ Murphy who introduced us to the mysteries of
navigation. Acquiring this ‗arcane‘ knowledge was, I thought, the
essence of becoming a ship‘s officer, that and being able to ‗give orders‘,
how naïve. Three books helped us in our work and I have copies of them
by me now100. First, Norries Nautical Tables containing tables of
‗Haversines‘ my first encounter with anything other than standard
functions familiar in plane trigonometry. Secondly, Nicholls‘s (not the
Charlie Nicholls mentioned above) Concise Guide the standard text book
100
My copies from 1946 were lost in a trunk some years later.
Life as a New Chum
98
of navigation and thirdly, Nicholls‘s Seamanship and Nautical
Knowledge which dealt with all those many subjects that make up the
good practice of running a ship. Or in the words of Charles H Brown,
FRSGS, the renowned author of these books,
Seamanship is the work of the seaman on board ship. A vessel is organised into
three departments, deck, engine, and cabin, the members of each department being
all referred to as seaman in the Merchant Shipping Act, but our work refers to the
duties of the deck executive. Seamanship and navigation are different branches of
nautical work; a seaman, for example, need not be a navigator but a navigator must
needs be a seaman101.
The ideal seaman is he who says and does the proper thing in just the proper way
and at the proper time…
Plate 29: Map of the Menai Straits and environs
101
Charles H Brown, ‗Nicholls‘s Seamanship and Nautical Knowledge‘, Brown, Son &
Ferguson, Ltd. Glasgow, 18 ed., 1950.
98
99
This is a very hard act to follow. Indeed the subject has to deal with
all manner of topics connected with the proper running of the ship‘s gear
and these must include a knowledge of cables and ropes, knots and
splices, the use of purchases and mechanical advantage, the strengths of
the materials used, the rigging derricks for cargo handling, and the
construction and handling of a ship and its life-boats. Then there are the
regulations for preventing collision at sea, steering and sailing rules,
chart-work and the correct stowage of cargo both dangerous and benign.
All of these topics require the understanding and application of
elementary mathematics and mechanics. The ideas of ‗levers‘,
parallelogram of forces, moments of inertia etc. play and important role
in the safe distribution of cargo in a ship‘s hold. In all of the above
techniques there is the very strong motivation of safety at sea and how
one optimises the conflicting requirements of ‗profit‘ for the ship owner
and the ever-present threat of the sea itself as a force for destruction. A
ship‘s officer has to address these issues and needs to have some of the
attributes of a mathematician, an engineer and lawyer.
Plate 30: Shore Party on the Gazelle Slip102
So my education in the arts of seamanship began. We settled quickly
into the routine but looked forward to time off ashore. Wednesday
afternoon we had shore activities on Anglesey where the ‗ship‘ had a
sports field near Beaumaris. To reach the shore at the Gazelle Hotel slip
102
The young lad wanted to pose with the ‗sailor-boys‘; second, third and fourth from the left
are the author, Gerald Holloway, and Tony Haslett. On the extreme right is John Somerset.
Photograph from the collection of Tony Haslett.
Life as a New Chum
100
we were transported in one of the ship‘s boats; there were four motor
boats during my time, the diesel pinnace which was the largest and only
recently acquired and could transport 50 or so cadets, No 1 motor boat
about 20 and the smaller No. 2 motor boat only a handful. The fourth
motorboat was used for transporting fresh water to the ship but was also
used to carry personnel. The overall operation of controlling the boats
was under the charge of the duty officer and required good discipline and
careful co-ordination. To lower and hoist these boats ‗cadet power‘ was
used and the bugle call hoist boats was a regular feature which prompted
all hands to man the falls; the officer of the deck would direct operations
with commands like, ‗Heave Ho‘, and we would all pull on the falls and
walk away with the rope, and, ‗Whey‘ and we would all stand still. Once on
shore we would march to Beaumaris and, in theory, at least, to play Rugby
or athletics. I did not care for team games so I opted for the latter and later
when I became more knowing I took up mountaineering but more about that
later.
What I remember most about this first ‗run ashore‘ was the Tea.
There‘s no doubt that we were always hungry though not starved and after
six years of war living on a beleaguered island we were used to it;
nevertheless, thick slices of bread spread liberally with strawberry jam
followed by rich fruit cake all washed down with hot tea was heaven. Mr &
Mrs Smith‘s café was remembered all over the world by generations of
Conway Cadets. Saturday morning was reserved for the ‗heave-round‘; this
was when the cadets cleaned the ship from stem to stern. Each top had an
area of the ship to clean; the decks were scrubbed using stiff brooms wielded
by five or six cadets in a line, the metal stanchions were buffed using Emory
paper and the brass work by a special ‗juice‘ applied by a clout and later
buffed. Hoses were used to wash down the decks and half barrels called
‗yak-tubs‘ were also used to hold supplies of water laced with detergent.
This weekly chore made a lasting influence on some cadets that throughout
their lives ‗Saturday‘ would be dedicated to ‗cleaning‘ their garages and
back-yards. After lunch on Saturday the second shore leave of the week was
allowed with sporting activities and another chance to enjoy Mrs Smith‘s
teas. Another method of supplementing the rather plain diet on board was the
food parcel from home. When these arrived we were, I imagined, rather like
POW‘s getting red-cross parcels and one could become rapidly if only
temporarily popular with frequent requests, ‗ got any spare chum?‘
Practical jokes were indulged in by the older boys at the expense of the
new chums. We all experienced the classic:
Go and fetch some green oil for the starboard light.
100
101
The dreaded ‗singing‘ in the hold came and went and in my case without
any trouble, the trick was to keep well out of the way and try and not
look scared. There was a certain ritual to the proceedings with the senior
hands arriving first filling from the rear leaving the hapless new chums to
sit at the front thus easily accessible. Some of my term mates were not so
lucky and had to stand on a chest and oblige with a verse or two of ‗Roll
out the Barrel‘ or ‗There will always be an England‘, or some such. Not
much time was wasted on this nonsense as most of the ship‘s company
wanted to see the film and soon a chorus of ‗Why Are We Waiting?‘
sung boisterously to the tune of ‗Come all Ye Faithful‘ broke out. Two
films I remember; an early movie, starring John Mills in which he played
a song and dance man, called The Green Cockatoo and Destry Rides
Again with Jimmy Stewart and Marlene Dietritch whose rendition of
‗See What the Boys in the Backroom will Have‘ had everyone joining in.
The projector was hardly state-of-the-art which frequently broke down
only to be greeted by ‗Why Are We Waiting‘ once again.
As the term progressed new friends were made, these included
Gerald Holloway from Chiselborough in Somerset, already mentioned in
connection with his sympathy over our common West Country accents,
and Tony Haslett from Haywards Heath in Sussex. Together we became
a kind of triumvirate, see Plate 30, however they were closer as they
discovered that they shared the same birth date. There was one casualty,
John Somerset, who left and went home without telling or confiding in
any of us. I had rather lost touch with him as he was in the Port Fo‘c‘sle
but as we came from the same town I suppose I could have kept in closer
touch. His father brought him back but he was never happy and after two
terms he left for good103. I was very wrapped up in my own activities,
which led me towards the Welsh Mountains. Soon after arriving I
volunteered for a Sunday hike to Aber Falls. This was organised by the
headmaster Tom Browne together with a friend of his from Bangor
University and began after Sunday morning divisions and church with a
drive east along the coast road to the village of Aber. Here they led us, a
group of about eight cadets, up the valley on the East Side of the river
Afon Rhaeadr fawr. I remember the day being warm and clear and my
first sight of a fast flowing Welsh mountain river negotiating boulders
producing delicate shades of brown was magic. Soon we were climbing
up beside the falls, which we were told would be far more impressive
after rain. Our guides described the landmass we were negotiating.
Apparently we were on the edge of the largest wilderness region in
Wales, known as the Carnedds, a huge area of great whale backed,
mostly grassy hills, crowned by Carnedd Llewelyn (1064m) the second
103
He subsequently joined the Royal Navy
Life as a New Chum
102
highest hill in England and Wales after Snowdon. I remember the pull up
was hard going but our route was to be quite short and took us along the
summit of the foothills to a small peak Gyrn Wigau (643m), my first
Welsh peak. We then descended into the town of Bethesda, full of the
slate industry, and as we proceeded to the town centre I counted
seventeen chapels. I felt a little disappointed that we didn‘t encounter any
rocky mountains but it was a memorable hike.
Plate 31: Our first expedition near Gyrn Wigau104
A few Sundays later Tom Browne took us to Llanberis to do the
‗Snowdon Horse-Shoe‘ and this proved to be an altogether different
affair. For one thing it was raining and no views were available at any
time apart from the clothes of the chap in front. We took vehicles to Peny
Pass (359m) and proceeded along the rock trail known as the PYG track
as far as col Bwlch y Moch and then up the steep rocking slopes of Crib
Goch (921m ~1000ft). At the summit we ate some sandwiches and
shared them with the lone sea gull perched there. The next step was along
the famous ridge known as the ‗knife-edge‘ and I followed Tom‘s
Bangor friend who was wearing a kind of raincoat105 and I remember
unhitching it from the pinnacles as we gingerly navigated the rocky
ridge. Tom Browne pointed out where the lakes Llyn Llydaw and later on
104
The author is third from the right wearing non regulation shirt
These were the days before ‗outdoor‘ equipment became the norm and one wore anything
to hand
105
102
103
Glaslyn were but try as I might I could not make them out in the gloomy
wet weather. We reached the top of Snowdon (1085m) by late afternoon
and did not linger. Though I can‘t be certain after all these years we
probably came down the ziz-zag trail and did not complete the other limb
of the horseshoe. We returned to the ship deadbeat and rather damp.
For sporting activities the cadets were divided into ‗Ships‘, similar
to ‗Houses‘ in a conventional school and I was placed in HMS Cossack,
or just Cossack. Shortly after the Snowdon climb I was immensely
pleased to be selected to join the Cossack team for the annual Haig
Shield Mountain Hike competition. Tom Browne planned the various
routes. The six teams competing had to follow a route with a check point
half way to rendezvous with a ‗judge‘ who would conduct a kind of
examination on mountain craft and first-aid. The leader of our team
turned out to be J. Mitchell (Mitch), the deputy cadet captain of my top.
The following account is based on the actual report that appeared in the
October 1946 issue of the school magazine ‗Cadet‘ written by Mitch with
our help but edited finally, I suspect, by Tom Browne:
The following Cadets took part in the Expedition, Mitchell, Fawcett, Walker,
McAngus and Trowbridge: and their instructions were :
The Rallying Point of your expedition is roughly 71 miles in a N.E. direction from
your starting point. The expedition Log should include a report on any
narrow-gauge railway or tramway (in working condition or not) you may find,
together with a list of information likely to be useful to pedestrians and
mountaineers, e.g. Places of refreshments, Telephone kiosks, Road Signs,
Cross-country power lines.
Doctors' Surgeries, Footbridges, Chemists, Forest Commission boundaries.
The team should look for and produce to the Judges at the Rallying Point one each
of the following: piece of Quartz, water-worn pebble, raven's feather, young fruits of
ash, birch twig with leaves, sheep's skull or thigh bone.
At the point 095642 take Compass bearings of the following peaks, sketching their
silhouettes from the view point,
Yr Wyddfa,, Cricht,, Yr Aran, Yoel Hebog, Yoelwyn Mawn
Keep out of sight of any other team, but if you can observe them without being seen
yourself it will be to your credit. The sealed envelope is to be opened at 1900 hours
if you have not reached, the Rallying Point by that time. You will get further
instructions at your Control Point.
Although the weather did not look too promising the expedition parties left the ship
about 0815 hours and having all landed left the end of the pier by bus at
approximately 0830 hours. As we passed through the outskirts of Caernarvon, the
rain began to fall and as we went our way it looked as if it was going to stay. As we
were to be the last to go, we sat back and watched the other parties set out in the
pouring rain, and were feeling thankful when we disembarked at Portreuddyn Castle
at 1030 hours and the rain had stopped. This was only temporary, for after decoding
our instructions and setting off along the main road in a North-Easterly direction, the
rain started again.
Life as a New Chum
104
About half a mile along the road we passed through the village of Pren-teg, noting
according to our instructions that there was a post office with telephone situated
here. After another half-mile we came to the Glaslyn Arms, noting the fact as
required, and passing on, we turned off the main road into a secondary road at right
angles to our previous course. We went down this until it was crossed by a narrow
gauge railway at Pont Croesor. The railway crossing the road on the same level but
without gates. After crossing the railway the road turned parallel to the railway, and
crossing the bridge over the Afou Glaslyn we were heading in our original direction.
About a hundred yards along we saw a very big break in the railway and, although
the railway is marked on the maps as being used, we decided the line was closed. It
was along here that we obtained the first of our list of objects, the raven's feather.
After travelling along in this direction for about half a mile, we again turned at right
angles following the road. Here while searching in streams for a water worn pebble,
we noticed that the bottoms were very sandy. Very soon the road turned again in our
original direction and we headed straight to the village of Gareg, where we passed a
post-office. Leaving Gareg behind, we set out along a very winding road, which had
an average direction to the East. On the way there was a small stream in which we
obtained the second article on our list, the water worn pebble. While halted at this
stream we noticed an evergreen oak. We then continued on this road, until a small
road branched off towards Llanfrothen. Keeping to the instructions we went down
this lane in a South South Easterly direction and presently arrived at Llanfrothen,
which was not the village we expected. Leaving Llanfrothen behind, we took a
footpath through a field in a Northerly direction. This took us back to the road we
had just left and which was now climbing at a steeper gradient than one foot in
seven. This road was up the right hand side of a steep valley containing a stream.
We soon arrived at the spot point where according to our instructions we left the
road and headed for Ogof-Llecliwyn. We therefore took a path heading North East
past numerous farm-houses to our next point. Owing to the rain which had been
falling all day we found the path was in parts a stream and that the streams were
rising rapidly. It was on the first part of the path, while going along the edge of a
small wood we found two more articles for our list. A twig of birch and a twig of
ash with fruit.
At last we arrived at Ogof-Liechwyn where we found another road at right angles to
our previous route which led to Croesor, our next point to be reached. We therefore
took the left hand side and heading North West we continued our journey. Climbing
steadily round a shoulder we soon reached the highest part of the track, 1,150 ft. and
started our descent into Croesor (500 ft). While descending we found yet another
article upon our list, the lump of quartz. While descending we noted according to
our instructions a tea farm at about 800 ft. As we neared Croesor we noted with
surprise that the rain running down the path had turned a milky white and found that
this was due to the silver coloured sand on top of the path. We then arrived at
Croesor and as we passed through we noted the post office and telephone. We
passed through quickly and began to climb up a rocky path down which all the rain
water seemed to run and we soon reached a height of roughly 750 ft. and began to
drop down to the spot point which had been given as our Control Point. There we
met the Rector and stopped to rest and receive our final set of instructions. Before
we obtained them, however, we had to do a little first aid. After describing to the
Rector, how to tell if a person was still breathing and showing how to splint and
bandage a leg, we were given the envelope containing the coded instructions.
We then decoded them and after saying goodbye to the Rector we started for our
first point, Cricht (2,265 ft). Leaving the path we took to the mountain side and
striking out, soon were following Afon Dylif up to its source. By now we were on
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our old course of North East as we knew by the feel of the South West wind at our
back. As we followed the stream up we found it had grown to a tremendous size and
many insignificant streams were so swollen as to become impassable. Taking the
stream as the easiest route to follow in the low cloud, we continued up its banks until
it disappeared underground. Then taking a course North East by compass we went
on to the summit. From here we proceeded on the same course over the top of Cricht
and then we dropped down to Llyn-y-Biswart. Then keeping about the same height
we worked in a North Easterly direction and arrived at Llyn yr Adar, which was our
next point. We then walked round the western shore until we came to a stream at the
North Western edge and following this down we descended about 640 ft. to Llyn
Llagi (1,238 ft.). From this point we struck off in a North North West direction,
slowly descending we went across to two streams marked on the map and followed
the Southerly one down until we reached Afon Llyn Edno. It was while going down
this direction we found the last object on our list, a sheep's skull. We followed Afon
Llyn Edno down until it turned at right angles. At this point we kept our direction
along a footpath and reached a minor road. On reaching the road we walked along in
a North West direction and about a mile further on, after crossing the river we
reached the main road. Here we turned at right angles and proceeding North East we
made our way to the rallying point, which was just South of Llyn Gwynant, in an
old barn at the far side of the river to the road, where we reported to Mr. Brown,
thereby finishing the course.
Being the junior member of the team Tom Browne greeted me with
a vigorous rub down—I must have been blue with cold and saturated
through to the skin. In fact in was a relief early on in the hike after trying
to keep dry we finally gave in and revelled in our wetness. The above
rather detailed account of the expedition I have given in full because it
introduced me to so many topographical features of Snowdonia that have
been a source of pleasure and a happy hunting ground to me ever since.
The Rector that we met in Croesor turned out to be the Rev. J H
Williams, the vicar of Llanberis whom with Tom Browne formed the
Snowdon Scout group to which I would be introduced next term. I don‘t
believe for one moment that our winning hike was quite as stated above
as the collection of samples and the logging of checkpoints read now a
little too pat. Indeed we were closely questioned afterwards as to whether
we did actually reach the summit of Cnicht as reported and I remember
our discussions on what we would say but I think given the conditions we
did better that the other teams as none of them actually finished their
prescribed route.
Mother wrote and sent food supplies regularly and gave me news
from home, always welcome and an antidote to homesickness. I also
heard from friends. The following, is from a letter from Harry Veal, a
scouting and youth club friend:
…glad to hear your settling down alright, I expect you were a bit of a tenderfoot at
first but are past that stage now. ‗The Middle Watch‘ went off all right. Bud made a
Life as a New Chum
106
grand show of ‗Ogg‘ or Hogg to you106. In case you don‘t know, ―Tink‖ read out
your letter to the cast just before the first night. I think everyone was most
impressed. I must close now, its my supper time.
P.S. Wots the grub like?
As the term progressed I managed to perform reasonably well in both
academic and nautical studies collecting the prize in Signals. This was
due to the grounding in Morse I had had from Dad and from a Mr Taylor
an ex naval signaller friend of the family who had given me lessons just
before joining the ship. The annual prize giving was conducted with due
pomp with cadets especially smartly turned out after protracted
inspections. The following account appeared in the Cadet107
Despite the atrocious summer we have had, we were fortunate in having a glorious
day for Prize Day on 25th July. Owing to the better transportation facilities now that
the war is ended, a larger number of parents and friends were present. Among those
present were Lady MacIver, Sir Richard and Lady Williams-Bulkely, Sir John
Nicholson, Mr. Lawrence D. Holt (Chairman of the Management Committee), Mr.
A. Wilson (Secretary of the Management Committee), Mr. Taylor, Mayor of
Beaumaris, and we were honoured to have as our guest speaker and to distribute the
prizes, Admiral of the Fleet Sir James Somerville, G.C.B., K.B.E., D.S.O., whose
war exploits will be well known to old " Conways."
Mr. Lawrence Holt, in a short though appropriate speech, introduced Admiral Sir
James Somerville, who, after complimenting the Cadets on their smartness and
appearance and recounting the humorous incident of his first introduction to service
with the Merchant Navy, went on to say :
The story of the Merchant Navy in this war was a story of battles, every convoy that
successfully reached a port was a battle won. Those successful battles numbered
many hundreds, perhaps thousands. For each convoy that suffered loss in the war,
two or three reached harbour intact, having overcome the sea's natural hazards, and,
from time to time, the perils of mine, submarine torpedo, aerial bombs, and shells
from the surface raider. They achieved this through the men's own seamanship and
courage.
Our Merchant Navy men had been in the war from the beginning and had suffered
casualties, at times so grievous as to be much greater than the losses in the Armed
Forces. Their triumph was that they had never been daunted ; ships had not been
kept in harbour by the perils of the outside, though some of their conditions have
seldom been matched in the previous history of our Merchant Seamen.
All this was due to the old traditions of the British seamen coming to the fore-men
who knew their jobs and performed their duties to the very best of their ability-and it
led up from the good grounding and work, under Naval discipline, in training ships
such as H.M.S. Conway. To most people the Old School Tie suggests Eton, Harrow,
or some other snobbish public school, but it is not that at all. The Old School Tie
represents certain standards of living, conduct and principle, which in later life
comes to the fore when decisions are being called for and particularly by officers at
sea. Therefore, go forward, remembering, one, to put service before self, two, to
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107
Ted Bradley (Bud) took over the part of marine Ogg from me.
CADET, Vol. XVIV No. 233
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know your job thoroughly and enjoy the best of life, (for you can get away with all
kinds of things, if you are good at your job, and unless you know your job, you
won't get anywhere), and three, know your ship.
When my turn came to receive a certificate I was so nervous that I
could remember nothing except a strong feeling of pride. One last event
to recall before returning home for the summer holidays was that my
canvas holdall had a large hole gnawed by rats. The ‗Bosun‘, promptly in
a seaman like manner, repaired the damage by sewing a patch over the
hole and furthermore painted it ‗blue‘ so that it was as good as new. Rats
were everywhere at this time, even, it was alleged, in the morning
porridge. Tony Haslett and I volunteered to help a cadet who had broken
his arm in a boating accident with his journey to London and
Commander Lane organised it so that we should travel home one day
early which was an additional bonus.
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The Snowdon Group and other activities
Tony Haslett stayed with me for a few days in Lymington at the
beginning of the summer holiday. It was fun to visit my old friends and
catch up on their news. My father said, ‗I suppose you will need some
money‘, and gave me a fiver—a lot of money in those days. Tony caused
me some embarrassment by announcing, ‗My father would not be so
generous‘. I learnt that Tinker had left Lymington in fine style with a
large turn out to see him off at the station. He had taken an appointment
in Perth, Western Australia, connected with Church Youth work—
Lymington‘s loss was to be Australia‘s gain. Tony and I managed a trip
to Portsmouth to visit HMS Victory and whilst walking near the dock
entrance we felt very proud to be saluted by ‗real‘ sailors. The time went
quickly and it had been arranged that I should travel back to the ship with
Tony whose parents were going to drive us up to Bangor. So a day or so
before the beginning of term I went to stay with the Haslett‘s at
Streatham near London. Tony‘s father, a property dealer, and mother
were very kind to me. We set off at 5.00 am and, I suppose, this was my
first really long car journey; we stopped for breakfast in Birmingham and
had a picnic lunch by lake Ogwen. I remember my good feeling about
seeing the Welsh hills again. That night we stayed at the Castle Hotel in
Bangor, a favourite staging post for returning cadets. Tony was in his
element as he seemed very used to hotels and in fact had been at schools
away from home since he was nine108 and had in no small measure the
typical assured style of the English public school boy.
The next day we rejoined the ship and at once we were immersed in
the routine but now we were one step up the ladder of seniority and better
able to take advantage of the extra activities on offer and find contrast to
the claustrophobia of ship-board life. Tom Browne had arranged that
interested Conway cadets could join the Snowdon Scout group109 and
because of my keenness he soon drafted me in as a member. In fact our
Tom was a tremendous encouragement by way of example and a man of
many talents. During World War One he had been a pilot and was a
founder member of the RAF in 1918. After the war he studied at the
University of Wales and subsequently became a schoolmaster. However
he had a strong ambition to study Chemistry at Oxford; in 1928 he
entered Hertford College as a ‗mature‘ student. He resumed his teaching
career in 1931 and then in 1934 was appointed headmaster of HMS
Conway. What made Tom so interesting and a role model for me were
108
His last school had been Ardingly College in Sussex
Started by Rev J H Williams, Rector of Llanberis as a facility for Scouts with a
mountaineering interest
109
108
109
his other activities. He had enjoyed a distinguished scouting career and
had joined the OUSG in 1928—coincidentally the same group that Philip
Farwell belonged to a few years later. In addition to scouting he was an
accomplished musician, playing both the piano and cello up to at least
grade 8 standard. He was also strongly interested in the theatre and was,
for a while, the stage manager in productions at the OU Operatic Society.
Later during the long vac he was asked to be the stage manager for a
series of productions staged in London as part of the London Festival of
Opera. At the same time he continued his association with the RAF and
became a reserve officer; at the outbreak of WW2 he rejoined and had a
distinguished career rising to the rank of Wing Commander110.
On board Conway he organised music appreciation classes and ran
a school ‗string‘ orchestra—their scraping away of the minuet and trio
from Haydn Surprise Symphony is remains engraved on my brain. Tom
himself would play pieces he liked on both the piano (Chopin mostly)
and the cello (Bach). The first and second violin parts were played by
two cadets from my term, Tony Fagan and Mike Keen. The routine of
our escape to Snowdonia was that immediately after Saturday morning
heave-round and lunch we went ashore to Bangor and caught the bus to
Llanberis usually via Caernarfon where we changed busses. I always
marvelled at the impressive castle but there was never enough time to
visit it properly as the connecting bus was waiting. The grandeur of the
King Edward III castle was soon forgotten as we approached the
mountains; the landscape changing dramatically from the gentle pastoral
slopes to the darker exposed hills of slate. As the bus skirted the rocky
shore of Llyn Padarn, lined by a mixture of stone and conifers, the region
takes on a truly mountainous appearance. Although the hills here are not
in the ‗alpine‘ class only topping around 1000m they do rise directly
from near sea-level without the intervening continental land mass which
in central Europe may be at a height of 2000 m before the high peaks
begin. Thus one is persuaded that the Welsh hills have many of the
attributes of a real mountain district, after all the major peaks do get well
above the tree line at these latitudes. However, the first thing one sees on
approaching Llanberis are the slate quarries, this being the former slate
capital of the world, with what appears to be at least half a mountain
hewed away (Elidir Fach). The slate galleries can be seen for miles and
demonstrate the accumulative results of centuries of industry. I later
learnt that this industry was now in decline and the cause of great
hardship for the people who lived in the numerous ‗slate‘ villages in the
region. Many of these places had biblical names, e.g. Bethesda,
110
Tom Browne, MA. MSc, ‗The Skyline is a promise‘, Rondo Publications, 1971
110
Bethlehem, Nazareth etc. and were full of chapels, the dissenting
religions being very strong here.
Our destination was the rectory where we were met by Rev J H
Williams the Snowdon Scout Group leader. We were shown an empty
room on the top floor where we were to stay the night. No beds and no
furniture of any kind, we had our blankets and we were to sleep on the
floor. The rector didn‘t believe in pampering us. The routine was
invariably the same. We were suppose to be self catering which meant
buying food and using a stove in an outhouse to cook it but more often
than not we would just buy fish and chips in the town. In the evening the
Rector would suggest a route for our hike on the next day but this proved
to be optional and we were left pretty much to go where we liked. He did
insist on two things though. Firstly, we had to attend morning service (he
sometimes got me to assist as a server) and secondly, after supper the
night before, we had to hear him play the piano. He had a large grand
piano (Bechstein) in his study and was teaching himself; his struggles to
play the third movement of the Moonlight sonata became quite amusing
and he would soon return to the gentle first movement. As far as I could
tell he had little sense of humour, at least in English; he was very Welsh
and seemed very strange to me. He lived by himself in this great halffurnished house and was probably a little lonely. We took our Sunday
expeditions into the hills very seriously and over the next year or so
climbed most of the peaks in the district as well exploring the slate
quarries, which were mostly deserted, and I suppose quite dangerous.
Tom Browne would sometimes join us on the Sundays and lead us to
more adventurous climbing activities see Plate 32. He took us to Cwm
Idwal in the Ogwen valley. He had a sporty Citroen car and drove it
expertly and quite fast along the tiny mountain roads. We had some rock
climbing tuition on the Idwal slabs which was very exciting until one of
our party slipped and twisted his ankle badly and we had to carry him
back the two miles over rough terrain to Ogwen cottage for first aid.
During the winter months snow was frequently a hazard. Once
when Tom was leading us up the long easy route to Snowdon near the
mountain railway, not yet reopened after the war, we were caught in a
severe blizzard and the ‗easy route‘ was rapidly transformed into a
dangerous retreat. Tom immediately got us to construct a crude igloo
where we could shelter for a while until the snowstorm had passed by.
Also during the winter months we had the ship boxing competition. All
cadets who were deemed physically fit enough had to join in this ‗knockout‘ competition. The ‗Master of Arms‘, a kind of Navy Petty Officer on
the staff who was responsible for gymnastics and squad drill activities
and was in fact a general overseer, paired us off roughly—very roughly
in my case. The pairing was by weight and size. The brute I fought was at
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least a half stone heavier and several inches taller, which meant I got a
bloody nose and only had one fight! He went on to win something or
other. Many of us thought the compulsory nature of the tournament was a
fascist like activity, which ought to be banned.
Plate 32: Some members of the Snowdon group111
During my time on the ship I enjoyed many trips to Llanberis and
got to know Snowdonia well. These excursions served to break up the
rigorous regime of life on board the ship but, on the other hand, we were
there to learn seamanship and navigation and my progress in these arts
was, at least, adequate. In retrospect I am amazed that there were so few
accidents, which must have been due to the skill of our officers. We
learned to sail and for this the ship had a complement of sailing dinghies
moored in the straits. On one occasion under the watchful eye of
‗Spooky‘ Brooke-Smith a group of us (four or five I think) were learning
to sail. We had had the theory drummed into us (tacking ‗close hauled‘
into the wind, running free, before the wind, and the dangers of jibing
when ‗going about‘). We were then ‗thrown in the deep end‘ to practise
and of course we made mistakes and the wind freshened causing us to
jibe and our mast snapped in two. Undaunted, we lashed the mast
together and were able to continue. Spooky watched all this through his
telescope and had a motorboat standing by but we were able to return to
our moorings. On returning to the ship we though we were going to be
reprimanded for not foreseeing the danger but I think he was pleased
with the way we coped. I was secretly pleased that the lashing together of
spars learnt in the scouts paid off. Athletics became an interest and I
began to shine at long distance running. Not all our performances were to
our credit though. Occasionally Spooky would decide to hold a road race
111
From Left to right: Tom Browne, Unknown, Cadets Birnie, Haslett, Johnson, Fagan and
Keen
112
starting at Bangor Pier and finishing at the Gazelle slip on Anglesey a
distance of about five miles. As it happened the selected roads followed
the Crossville Bus route from Bangor to Beaumaris. So after starting off
in fine style we jumped on to a passing bus about half mile down the
road, crouched down low so as not to be seen my the race marshals until
we reached a point by Mrs Smith‘s café about a mile short of the finish.
Then after a cup of tea and a slice of bread and jam we nonchalantly
finished the race well to the rear of the pack. Did our officers know?
Maybe they did, but on this occasion we got away with it.
Plate 33: The Ketch Garibaldi all at ‘sea’ on the Cardigan Bay
My progress in athletics came to fruition at the Outward Bound Sea
School in Aberdovey. This school had been started by Lawrence Holt,
the ship-owner112 and chairman of the ‗HMS Conway‘ management
committee, together with the notable German educator and founder of the
famous school at Gordonstoun Kurt Hahn. The latter was a refugee from
Nazi persecution who settled in UK in 1933. He and Lawrence Holt
thought that the inclusion of Conway cadets to mix with the boys taking
the four week courses who came from Industry and day schools and were
unfamiliar with nautical skills and traditions would be of mutual benefit.
Thus for one month in their fourth term a contingent of Conway cadets
were sent to the school. My turn came in June 1947 and it turned out to
be a challenging experience. On arrival we were first given a thorough
112
Chairman of Blue Funnel Line; I came across recently a piece by Joseph Conrad written for
Lawrence Holt outlining a specification for a sailing training ship to give additional sea
training to Conway Cadets and Apprentices, see ‗Last Essays‘, J M Dent & Sons London,
1921.
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medical to see if we were up to it, then rather like joining the army we
had to exchange our smart uniforms for a rig consisting of a blue sweater
and drill trousers. We Conway‘s were a little put out about this. We were
split up among the other ‘inmates‘ into watches of twelve boys and then
shown the bunkhouse where we had to sleep. At reveille next day we
were sent to have cold showers and had to do exercises before breakfast
of porridge. The officers running this ‗prison camp‘ appointed NCOs
(Watch captains and Vice-Captains) from our number and in my unit it
was a boy from a London Brewery that got the job113. He turned out to be
a good choice. Several things stand out in my mind.
First was Dr Zimmerman, a compatriot of Kurt Hahn‘s who had
been an Olympic athlete. He explained that it was his job to get us to
improve our athletic performances. He certainly worked wonders on me
since by the end of the four weeks I had won the five-mile walk, the
three-mile race and the one hundred yard sprint. For every activity we
were awarded points and at the end these were totalled up and you could
achieve silver or bronze or a standard performance.
Secondly, there were the mountain expeditions into the lovely
Merioneth Hills; every other day we had to go on a hike each one getting
progressively longer. One particular joy was the farm teahouse near the
school but back up a rough track into the hills, which supplied hungry
hikers with delicious hot pancakes with treacle. The last hike, the climax,
so to speak, was of thirty miles in length and began in Dolgellau to the
north and started off by a climb to the top of Cader Idris. This was a
challenge even for those of us who had done a fair bit of this sort of
thing.
Thirdly, we sailed on the ketch Garibaldi out into the Cardigan Bay.
This was a trip lasting about three nights and we were under the
command of a well known sailing master114who gave us inkling of what
going to sea under sail was like. We performed all the functions of a
working crew, handling the sails and navigation etc. including scrubbing
the decks. On the second night we anchored off Abersoch and I
remember the skipper wanted to go ashore. Two of us were detailed to
take him ashore in the ship‘s dinghy but fortunately the sea was very
calm so we had no trouble beaching our craft but I remember the Captain
did not want to get his feet wet so we had to carry him up the beach. The
staff at Aberdovey did not neglect our social and other skills, we each
had to have dinner, in small groups, with Captain Fuller, the director of
the school, and also participate in debates; furthermore there were object
lessons for us, especially the Conway cadets who thought they knew it
113
After a week the watch could replace the appointees with their own choice but seldom done
in practice.
114
I like to believe this was Captain Alan Villiers
114
all. As an example of the latter I was falsely accused of belching at
dinner and was ordered to appear before a tribunal. It was useless to
protest and I had to slop out the bogs for an hour as a penalty. We got our
own back on the rules by escaping one evening and catching a bus into
Machylynth. Tony Haslett and I changed into our Conway uniforms
hiding our ‗blues‘ in the woods behind the school. In the town we went to
the pictures and saw Claude Rains and Vivien Leigh in the adaptation of
Shaw‘s Caesar and Cleopatra.
Plate 34: HMS Conway Cadets on Parade in Liverpool, 1947115
On the whole it was a good experience and my report was one of the
best I ever received. I achieved the silver standard in athletics.
Unfortunately this was lost together with some logbooks on my
expeditions in Snowdonia, possibly stolen from my chest. I had now been
on the ship over a year and because of my interest in hill walking I was
delighted to be appointed to lead Cossack team on the annual Haig Shield
expedition. Cossack won this competition for the second year running but
since my logbook has vanished and I can only remember a rough outline
of the route as my memory here is somewhat sparse. Unlike last year the
weather was good, too good as it was extremely hot and one our party
became severely dehydrated and had to be carried at the finish. We were
dropped at the bridge over the Dwyfor River on the Caernarvon-Port
115
The Conway contingent lead by Commander C D Lane with Lieut. Brooke-Smith behind
on the right. Author lost in the middle.
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115
Madoc Road. From there we had to go deep into the Pennant Valley and
traverse the Nantle Ridge. Little did I realise then that the beautiful
Pennant valley would become a holiday haunt in later life. After this we
had to descend to the village of Rhyd-Dhu. The second leg of the route
took us around Llyn-Cwellyn and then a climb up over Moel Eilio
(726m) and thence a descent into Llanberis to rendezvous at the
rectory—a distance of about 15 miles.
About this time the ship‘s company joined in a parade in Liverpool,
I cannot remember the circumstances but it involved marching through
the streets (Plate 34) and later visiting a merchant ship in the docks. The
ship was part of the Clan Line fleet and we were shown round by a
midshipman who had left Conway last term. We were given lunch onboard and I remember the thrill of sitting in the saloon and being waited
on by the smartly dressed stewards. Biggest thrill of all was that each of
us was given a bottle of beer to drink with our lunch. In the summer of
1947 Tom Browne invited some of us who were interested to a climbing
holiday in the Lake District. Tom asked me to join him first at his house
at Neston in the Wirral. Here I was accommodated in a tent in his garden
but had meals in the house with his father and sister who were staying
with Tom for the summer. Tom knew of my interest in the theatre and
encouraged me to write some sketches for the next Conway concert. We
decided after some discussion to do a series on the ‗Apple‘ in history, i.e.
Adam & Eve, William Tell and Isaac Newton etc. Tom really believed I
could do this but alas though I tried hard for a day or so I did not get very
far and it was with some relief when we motored on to the Lakes to join
the others.
We were to stay at the Robertson Lamb Climbers Hut in Langdale
where Tom had arranged that we should be taken out and taught some of
the skills needed in Rock Climbing. There were several expert climbers
staying in the hut including A B Hargreaves who had tremendous burn
marks on the palms of his hands as a results of holding someone who had
fallen and a Major in the army who had formerly been a member of the
Canadian Mounted police. His name, I think, was Malcolm. On our first
day out we hiked up to Stickle Tarn and were taken on some elementary
routes on Pavey Ark the ridge that contains Jack‘s Rake the well-known
walkers route. I was paired off with the Major who really exposed me
and I was found wanting at the second pitch where we had to traverse
along a very narrow ledge to the left. I was petrified and refused to
budge. There was Tom shouting at me from below to be careful and the
gallant major from above urging me on. ‗Shut your eyes‘, he said last,
‗and I‘ll pull you up‘. Well, I must have done something like this as
somehow I managed to complete the traverse and join the Major. From
then on I had a great time. Afterwards the Major drove me into Skelwith
116
Bridge where we had a pint of beer. During that week we did climbs on
Coniston ‗Old Man‘, and Scafell. To reach Scafell we had to hike up
Rossett Gill the long steep and rough track to Angle Tarn then on to
Great End, Broad Crag to Mickledore. On Scafell Pike, A B Hargreaves
led us up a chimney and eventually to the summit. It was easy day for the
experts but a great experience for us. I now fell in love with the Lake
District and my loyalties to Snowdonia were divided.
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A Senior Hand and Final term
Time was flying by. I became a Cadet Captain in my turn and could
now persecute others! We had our own area known as the ‗Gun Room‘
and we could be private to some extent and indulge in private activities.
The senior Cadet Captain, sort of head boy, was Alan Bennell who had
been marked out as outstanding and the cadet most likely to succeed in
later life. In Alan‘s case this was true as after a brilliant career he became
the Commodore of the Cunard Line and commanded the QEII. I can
honestly say, though we lived tightly packed in a very male oriented
society, I cannot remember any unnatural homoerotic practises apart
from some mild mutual masturbation. I had a supernumerary job as the
ship‘s mail officer and therefore could go ashore to Bangor to collect the
mail and of course the opportunity of a little more freedom. Another
member of our term who stood out to me was Ted Coote a natural
‗seaman‘ having had the sea in his blood from birth. Ted also had a good
ear for music, which he would often demonstrate by whistling Rossini‘s
overture to the Barber of Seville, note perfect while dressing in the
morning. Not all of us were so single minded, for example Harry Burdon
although a reasonable seaman and very bright was interested in the occult
and hypnotism which he would practise on anyone who could be
persuaded to join in. He had read it all up and would hang his watch in
front of a gullible subject and claim to put them under by making them
stare at his watch intoning ‗Go to sleep'. He had very penetrating eyes
that added to the effect.
At this time I also made friends with two cadets from the immediate
term below us. One was Hans Brill the son of a refugee from Vienna who
resettled his family in Cardiff in 1938 and the other Brian John
Chatterton Taylor or BJC for short a charismatic lad from Woodford
(Essex) in London. Hans had had a thorough educational grounding from
his family who were intellectually minded and I remember receiving
from him a kind secondary education myself. We discussed all manner of
subjects including Freud, Young and Adler. I met his siblings‘ family
several times in London who further opened my ears to music
particularly Beethoven and Verdi. Hans was a member of the Royal
Navy class on Conway and had the ambition to become a regular naval
officer. BJC also joined our circle and was knowing beyond his years. He
was probably the cleverest boy on the ship and succeeded in everything
he touched. He was also a little dangerous to know, for example one
weekend he was determined we should spend the night in Tom Browne‘s
cabin whilst Tom was away in Neston. This we did and it felt very
daring. I also visited his family in London and discovered that he was in
fact a very complex person who had leanings toward religion but at the
118
same time a keen appreciation of the opposite sex; his father was a top
civil servant at County Hall.
I think our term as whole became somewhat ‗bolshie‘ demonstrated
at least on two occasions. The first time was after the Conway-Worcester
‗rugger‘ match at Greenhithe. HMS Worcester was the London based
training ship with similar terms of reference and traditions as the Conway
and there had been for years rivalry in sporting events like rugby football
and gig racing. In November 1947 a ‗cheering party‘ of cadets was
allowed to accompany the team and we decided to ‗miss‘ the train back
to Bangor after the match and stay in London and go to a show. When we
arrived back next day the authorities gave us the benefit of the doubt so
nothing more was said.
Plate 35: HMS Conway Cadets, 1946-1948116
However the second occasion did produce a stronger reaction; this
was after the term photograph was taken some time in February 1948
during our last term, see Plate 35. We had to go to Bangor for this event
and on returning to the pier we gathered in the pavilion at the end and
indulged ourselves by having a singsong. Our crime was that we refused
to board the boat sent out to bring us off. Of course our little mutiny did
116
From the left front row: Alan Bennell (fifth, future Master of RMS Queen Elizabeth 2),
Author (seventh); middle row: Ted Coote (sixth), Tony Haslett (eight), Harry Burdon (tenth):
back row: Gerald Holloway (fifth).
118
119
not last long and since all the senior term was involved complete with the
Corp of Cadet Captains this offered a disciplinary dilemma to Captain
Goddard. He solved it by lining us all up and delivering a hard hitting
‗lecture‘ laced with irony about how our generation had been deprived by
the recent war etc. It made me feel embarrassed, as our so-called
‗hardships‘ had been of little account compared to our older colleagues
who fought in the war. We felt as if we had let the side down and it was
an object lesson to us all in the decent and effective way the Captain
handled a difficult situation.
Travelling ‗to and from‘ Ship and home, via London, offered me
many opportunities to go to the West End theatre. What I would do
would be to leave Lymington one day early and spend the afternoon and
evening in London and catch the last train to Holyhead from Euston
around midnight. This meant, if fortune shone, that I could do two shows,
a matinee and evening performance. By not eating and only buying the
cheaper tickets I could afford this out of my allowance. In this way I
managed to see three of the finest musicals of the day, Annie Get Your
Gun, Oklahoma, and Bless the Bride and many straight plays. I
remember vividly the excitement of getting a returned ticket in the stalls
at the London Coliseum for ‗Annie‘ at the last moment and being shown
my seat near the front. I didn‘t see the start so they must have let me in
during a pause between numbers. The first number I saw and heard was
Dolores Gray as Annie singing ‗Doing What Comes Naturally‘ which
was marvellous. Certainly theatre going had become a passion.
It was soon necessary for me to get serious about my future career. I
had to join a shipping company and go to sea and earn a living. The usual
practise was for one‘s parents to lobby the Captain who arranges such
matters and try and get one into a good firm. I think in my case we
neglected to do this and Captain Goddard suggested by default that the
Houlder Line would suit me. Houlders was a London based shipping line
with a long history117, specialising mainly in the frozen and chilled meat
trade from Argentina though most of their ships carried small numbers of
passengers as well. ‗Hungry Houlders‘ as they were known by seaman
everywhere had suffered terribly during the war having lost seventeen
ships out of a fleet of twenty-two in the war by enemy action118. Over
100 seamen lost their lives and nearly as many seriously injured these
losses were above average for the Merchant Navy as a whole whose fatal
casualties amounted to 20%. Houlders at this time were rebuilding their
fleet and were looking for staff. I was sent down to London for an
interview where, for the first time, I met the Marine Superintendent of
117
118
Edward Frank Stevens, ‗One Hundred years of Houlders, 1849-1950‘, London, 1950
‗Sea Hazard (1939-1945)‘, Houlder Bros and Co. Ltd., 1947
120
the company, Captain John F. Allen. He asked me why I wanted to join
his company. I couldn‘t say it was by default as neither I nor my father
had shown any initiative so I mumbled something about my desire to
visit South America. Anyhow they seemed pleased to recruit a Conway
Boy so I got the job. The trip to London offered another opportunity to
go to the theatre and I remember seeing the fabulous ‗Oklahoma‘ at the
Drury Lane Theatre, which gave me lots of ideas for our end of term
concert, which Tom Browne had asked me to produce. But my previous
history seemed to repeat itself, and as with ‗The Middle Watch‘ in my
last weeks in Lymington, fate took a hand. Captain Goddard informed me
that the Houlder Line had a ship for me immediately and he was prepared
to release me early. The previous weekend I made a final trip to
Llanberis to say farewell to the Rector and to be invested as a Rover
Scout. I had to spend the night in the church experiencing a vigil just like
the ‗knights of old‘, which was part of the rover scout initiation. Tom
Browne was there and took some photographs (Plate 36).
Plate 36: Llanberis 1948119
Then some two weeks before the end of term (24 March) together
Harry Burdon and Mike Keen we left HMS Conway for good. The night
before we were entertained to dinner by Captain and Mrs Goddard and
during the ‗drinks‘ period, before the meal, I mentioned that Hans Brill
had just heard that the Royal Navy had accepted him. This news caused
119
From left to right: Eric Saul, Alan Arrowsmith, the Author, Tony Johnson
120
121
Captain Goddard to send for him and join us for dinner as a celebration.
The next day at breakfast the rituals of ‗leaving early‘ began. The leaving
cadets at breakfast had to go round to each table and shake hands with
every cadet in turn. I remember a second term cadet, Bill Seybold,
informing me that his own father and his uncle were both a Masters with
Houlders and told me it was a happy outfit. Years later I would get to
know Bill well who became the best man at my wedding. We were given
the traditional farewell with the entire ship‘s company lining the ship‘s
side cheering us on our way as we were pulled ashore in the twelve-oared
cutter. It was an emotional experience for the three of us. Years later as I
write about those far-off days I realise that my career as a Conway boy,
though satisfactory, was not brilliant and, as during my time at
Brockenhurst, I had indulged in too many side issues. I was eventually to
discover my true vocation lay out side that of seafaring but my going to
sea proved to be a valuable experience and ultimately lead me to acquire
sufficient self-knowledge to be single minded in my future vocation.
My First Voyage- SS Cerinthus
122
5. Brassbounder, 1948-1951
A sailor finds a deep feeling of security in the exercise of his calling, the exacting
life of the sea has this advantage over the life of the earth that its claims are simple
and cannot be evaded.
The men of the sea understand each other very well in their view of earthly things,
for simplicity is a good counsellor and isolation not a bad educator.
Joseph Conrad (Chance)
Plate 37: Bound to the Houlder Line for three years
In December 1947 Dad finally gave up the dairy in Lymington for
good; the business was sold but for the time being he retained the
premises in St Thomas Street. He decided to move his business interests
to Christchurch where he acquired the Priory Fruit Market. Mother, I
think, wanted him to move, she had long wanted to live in Bournemouth.
I don‘t think she had ever been truly happy in Lymington and felt that a
‗nice house‘ in Bournemouth was a step forward. So in January 1948 we
moved, first to a house in Canford Cliffs and then in May to ‗Leven
122
Brassbounder, 1948-1951
123
Close‘, a very pleasant house near the centre of town next to Meyrick
Park. By this time Peter had left the Merchant Navy and had a
partnership in a radio and later television business in Parkstone and was
living at home. Dad had provided most of the finance. So I prepared for
my first voyage in Bournemouth. I had to go to the Shipping Federation
offices in London for the various formalities, which included a medical
and eye sight examination. All sailors must be able to distinguish red
(port) from green (starboard) and have good long sight vision. We
received through the post the Apprentice‘s Indenture documents that had
to be signed by my father and which bound me for three years to the
shipping company, see Plate 37. Houlders had also supplied us with a list
of clothes and such like that I would need, so Mother and I had a
shopping expedition in London. We stayed at the Cumberland Hotel,
near Marble Arch, and took our long list to Messrs Gieves (or Messrs
‗Thieves‘ as they were known by to the more experienced!), the well
known naval outfitters in Regent Street. I was kitted out to serve my time
as a Cadet Apprentice in the Merchant Navy. The gear included various
items such as oilskins, a Sou‘wester, a solar topee, a new uniform and a
superb greatcoat. A few days later we received a telegram instructing me
to report to the SS Cerinthus (see Plate 38) in the West India Docks in
London.
This ship proved to be a Liberty ship built in the USA as one of
three thousand or so prefabricated, welded vessels rapidly constructed to
assist in the tremendous effort to arm the allies in the war against
Germany. In truth the cost of the vessel itself was small compared to the
value of cargo transported to a deprived and desperate UK, so even a
one-way voyage was deemed sufficient justification. These vessels, after
their first purpose, were eagerly bought by the decimated shipping lines
of the UK to restore their fleets to something like pre-war levels and
Houlders were no exception. Fully laden these vessels were well found
but if ‗light‘120and without proper ballast, they were severely at risk. This
had been recently demonstrated by the disaster to the SS Samtampa
(managed by Houlders), which had sunk with the loss of all hands plus
the crew of the Mumbles Life Boat when on a short passage from
Liverpool to Newport. The SS Cerinthus was launched on 25 September
1943 at the Fairfield Shipyard in Baltimore, and was named Nikola
Tesla121, later changed to Samkansa. Her gross tonnage was 7,265 with
length, beam and depth measurements of 424x57x35 feet respectively.
After war service under the operational control of the Ministry she was
120
Without cargo
Named after the great Croatian Electrical Engineer who studied at Graz Technical
University in Austria a slight coincidence for me as I worked there many years later.
121
124
bought by The Hadley Shipping Company122 in 1947 for £135,000 and
renamed Cerinthus. However, she was chartered to Houlders and
operated in their colours for the duration of ownership123. In their lifetime
ships names change frequently; indeed the ship I joined in 1948 was the
second ship owned by Hadley‘s to have this name and then after she was
sold in 1951, they built and operated two more ships baring the name.
The original ship named Cerinthus was sunk by enemy action in 1942.
Photo Collection of J & M Clarkson, 18 Franklands, Longton, Preston, PR4 5PD
Plate 38: My first ship, SS Cerinthus124
My Conway friend B J C Taylor, now home for the Easter holidays,
invited me to spend a day or so with him in Woodford, not far from the
dock area and conveniently placed on the Central line. We had a night
out on the town and saw a show, a revue with lots of pretty girls—Ted
wanted to discuss, rather clinically, their relative finer points. He
accompanied me to Houlder Brothers offices in Leadenhall Street the
122
W J Harvey, Hadley (World Ship Society, 1996). The Cerinthus was eventually sold for
£580,000, making a handsome profit.
123
A number of interrelated shipping companies were operated by Houlder Brothers, including
British Empire Steam Navigation Co., Empire Transport Co, Furness-Houlder Argentine Lines
and Alexander Shipping Co. All of these became part of the huge Furness –Withy Group.
124
Photographed in Cardiff: the name is from Cerinthus (c. AD 100), Christian heretic,
considered a Gnostic by modern scholars. He had a number of followers in Asia Minor. He
preached that the world was created by a subordinate deity, called a demiurge, or by angels,
one of whom gave the Ten Commandments to Moses. Cerinthus also asserted that Jesus Christ
was the natural son of Mary and Joseph. He taught that the spirit of God, called Christ,
descended upon Jesus at his baptism and enabled him to work miracles and to proclaim the
unknown Father, but that the spirit of Christ left Jesus before the Passion and the Resurrection.
124
125
next day and it was there that Captain Allan introduced me to David
Walton, the other apprentice bound for the Cerinthus, who was to be my
cabin mate for the next two years. David a young man of striking
physique with blond hair and blue eyes was, I thought at first, somewhat
conscious of his ‗good looks‘. He was originally from Darlington but
recently his parents had moved to Carshalton in Surrey. He already had
one year of seagoing experience which, initially at least, was a source of
irritation between us. After a briefing from the Marine Superintendent we
took a taxi to the West India Docks via Liverpool Street station to collect
David‘s gear. We were very amused when the porter threw the ‗tanner‘
(6d), which we gave him for helping with the luggage back in our faces.
After Ted had seen me safely on board he left and I was left to confront
my new life alone. David proved helpful after bagging the lower bunk in
our tiny cabin on the port side on the boat deck. He more or less knew the
‗ropes‘ and did most of the talking when we were sent for by Mr Pike,
the chief officer. Mr Pike, also a northerner, was a very wiry man in his
mid forties and, as became apparent later, was kindly but precise. He told
us we could have a few days embarkation leave so the next day before I
even knew my way about the ship, I went home for the weekend via to
Carshalton where David introduced me to his parents and to his girl
friend, a gorgeous brunette who happened to be a photographer. He
talked me into having some portraits taken by her, which turned out to be
extremely flattering, see Plate 39.
Plate 39: Contract with Houlders, and flattering portrait, 1948
126
At this time I suffered from a series of verrucas on my feet and I had
to visit a chiropodist in Bournemouth so my last leave before sailing was
taken over by excruciating pain—the treatment involved application of
acid and it hurt like hell. A telegram from Mr Pike soon arrived
commanding me to return to the ship on Sunday as there had been a
change in plan and our sailing date had been brought forward. Once back
on board the fun began. Mr Pike soon had us working; I think the first
job we did was to check the stores and equipment for each of the four
lifeboats, which was one of our special responsibilities. During this work
the third officer, a Mr B Payling, came aboard, a lad of about twenty who
ordered us to go ashore and bring his bags on board; we were the ‗lowest
form of animal life‘ were we not? The next crewmember I remember
meeting was the ‗sparks‘, our radio officer, also a man in his early
twenties from Yorkshire, John Harrison, whose main preoccupation was
with girls. He soon went ashore as his duties seemed to be minimal
whilst in port and later that evening, much later, when he returned he told
us about a conquest he made in the West-End. He described her clothes
in great detail; it was the time of the new-look and skirts, after the
shortages of dress material and wartime utility, were now much longer.
The next day, April 20, the crew ‗signed on‘ at the shipping office in
Poplar. As apprentices David and I were bound to the company and were
not required to sign the Articles of Agreement as the rest of the crew but
our indentures had to be produced and our names entered on the
articles125. These articles were first signed by the Master, Captain John
Paterson Frazer Auld, a portly, taciturn Scottish gentleman who we now
met for the first time. He was a man of few words unless angered then he
could explode like bomb.
Like with my father, see page 30, and brother before me it was an
eye-opener to watch the crew come aboard. Some of them looked rough
having little gear and dressed in grubby singlets and threadbare trousers,
and were clearly near the end of their tether. They were desperate for
fresh employment in which to recover. I soon learnt about the life cycle
of these apparent misfits in which a period of shore debauchery would be
followed by a few sober weeks at sea, and it was, amazing to see the
transformation. I soon learnt that not all the crew were like this, and that
it was not always the seaman and firemen that misbehaved in port; some
of the officers were not always shining examples of sobriety. There was
an old salt, Johansen by name who greeted me with this remark:
125
This agreement must include the nature and duration of voyage, maximum period of
engagement. Also the number and description of the crew, scale of provisions and regulations
as to discipline etc.
126
127
You can‘t call yourself a sailor lad until you‘ve been round the Horn and had a
strong dose of the pox—three times!
On the other hand a tall Scot called Alan Diamond, a greaser from
Motherwell, was softly spoken and had a detailed knowledge of British
history and came to my rescue a number of times in arguments about
why we went to war. It seemed as if we were still involved in war as our
ship was loading Military equipment and we were bound for the Middle
East. David and I were ordered by Mr Pike to familiarise ourselves with
the stowage in the holds, so we had ample time to watch the stevedores at
work and could observe that we were loading military stores of all kinds.
I later learnt that we were taking this to the Gulf States; some of the crew
had recently been on a similar voyage where military stores were taken to
Israel, so it appeared that we were arming both sides in the Middle East
dispute. We had our meals in the main saloon where there were two
tables, one on the Starboard side for the Master and the senior officers,
and one on the Port side for the rest of us, Sparks, Third Mate, the Fourth
and Fifth Engineers. Two stewards served us in smart white tunics and
the food was excellent. The catering department was under the direction
of the Chief Steward, Mr Taylor, who was a Liverpudlian who got a lot
of prurient mileage out of teasing me. I found on my bunk, one evening,
a bowl covered by a cheese cloth; on lifting the cloth I discovered two
large ‗stools‘ floating on a pale yellow liquid; there was much laughter
all round until I realised the stools were in fact only sausages. The night
before we sailed I went up to the West End to see a play that reduced my
finances to zero so I had to walk back to the docks (several miles), which
didn‘t do my verrucas much good.
We sailed on the morning tide and I was told to observe and keep
out of the way. I remember being sent aft to watch the second officer and
his crew handling the shorelines and hawsers as we cast off. The standard
arrangement on all ships was that the fore-deck was under the command
of the First Officer (the Mate) which included handling the anchors, the
special province of the ship‘s carpenter (always known as Chippy), Next
to the Mate the Carpenter was probably the most important man on the
ship. The Third Officer would be on the bridge assisting the Master and
the Pilot and the Second Mate on the poop deck, aft, as I have said. I was
thrilled by it all and I have a vivid memory of the ship with its tugs under
the control of the docking pilot being nudged and pulled from our birth
and slowly moving toward the lock gate, the gateway to the Thames. The
Master using a megaphone to relay the Pilot‘s instructions to ‗Let go
for‘ard, let go aft‘, followed swiftly by the longshoremen lifting the
heavy hawsers off the bollards and the second mate ordering the bos‘un
to ‗look lively‘ and winch the rope aboard. He explained to me that it was
important to watch that the ropes stayed clear of the screw (propeller). In
128
addition to the rope hawsers a ship uses wire ropes from aft to forward as
a kind of ‗back spring‘ to provide an additional turning moment
combined with short bursts from the engine to assist the vessel easing its
way off the quay. As we proceeded down the Thames to Gravesend
David and I finished stowing the gear in the lifeboats but I also remember
spotting the Cutty Sark at Greenhithe and observing the change over of
Pilots at Gravesend. Near here the Dover Pilot boarded to guide us out of
the Thames estuary and through the Goodwin Sands in the Dover Straits.
As we turned south at the North Foreland I remember thinking that
Grandfather Sherrell was living nearby at Margate and would have been
thrilled to know I was passing by on my first ship; what a pity I hadn‘t
bothered to write to him. By the time we dropped the Dover Pilot at
Dungeness it was too dark for me to see anything so my first night sailing
down the English Channel was spent in my bunk though I don‘t believe I
slept very much. I do remember David telling me that he had thought of
auditioning for the part of the boy opposite Jean Simmons in the Blue
Lagoon.
Plate 40: First Voyage, Persian Gulf and Australia, 1948
The next morning we were well down the channel and well out of
sight of land. The weather was good so no effects as yet from the dreaded
seasickness. Mr Pike had us working with the day men, the deck sailors
that were not designated to keep watch, under the charge of the Bosun
who detailed us to do various tidying up jobs to make the ship secure for
the voyage ahead. We had some military deck cargo, vehicles etc., which
128
129
had to be securely lashed down and though this had been done in harbour
by the stevedores everything had to be checked and often redone under
the watchful eye of Mr Pike. The deck watch system adopted by most
merchant ships was ‗four hours on‘ and ‗eight hours off‘. The watch
consisted of a deck officer on the bridge assisted by two seamen, a
quartermaster at the wheel and a lookout. The morning watch from eight
a.m. to noon and the corresponding evening was under the nominal
charge of the third officer but was, in fact, the responsibility of the
Master. The middle watch from midnight to 4 a.m. and the corresponding
afternoon watch were the responsibility of the second officer and the
remaining two shifts from four to eight, the responsibility of the first
officer. The engine room staff followed the same system with the
engineering officers126, stokers greasers etc. manning the watches. This
meant that the first officer could oversee the day work, and all officers
could be available to fix the ship‘s position by ‗shooting‘ the sun in the
forenoon. I was told that later in the voyage we apprentices would be
assigned to watches to begin our learning curve but in the meantime we
would work with the day men. I don‘t remember seeing Ushant but on
the afternoon of the third day we were in the Bay of Biscay in good
weather and the second officer127 was kind enough to show me the chart
and our course. He said I was in luck to have such good weather to
acclimatise to life on the sea.
As day followed day I can only remember now fleeting images
during our two week passage to Port Said. We were suppose to be up at
seven in the morning and I can still visualise the scene in the steward‘s
pantry where we would grab a cup of tea before reporting to Mr Pike on
the bridge before breakfast. The second steward or Captain‘s Tiger, as he
was known, would be holding forth about the state of something, often
our ship but of course the last ship was always better, just like the grass is
always greener on the other side of the fence. Then after a while he
would say, ‗this won‘t do, must take Father his Cuppah‘, and disappear.
Our entry into the Mediterranean Sea was a thrill but I remember being
somewhat disappointed that the straits of Gibraltar were not narrower. It
was warming up now and we changed into our summer strip, white shirts
and shorts for the bridge and saloon. Days later we passed by the Island
Malta and I began sleeping well. Too well as things turned out as this
prompted Captain Auld‘s first explosion; David and I were snoring in our
bunks one morning when this plump typhoon burst in on us roaring,
‗what the devil are ye doing in your bunks at this hour‘. This prompted
126
The Chief Engineer was John Gilbert from Liverpool and the Third Engineer Joe Dempster
from Paisley whom I sailed with many times.
127
It is with some regret that I can longer remember the name of this gentleman or indeed any
of the others of my shipmates apart from those already mentioned.
130
Mr Pike to assign us ‗rust chipping‘ the main deck; for this task one uses
a kind of hammer with a blunt chisel head and literally hammers the deck
to remove the strata of rust formed by the constant exposure to the salt
sea. Later the de-rusted surfaces would be treated with several coats of
rust prevention paint. Altogether hard work for a young lad!
By the middle of May we were at Port Said, waiting in convoy for
our turn to proceed down the hundred-mile Suez Canal. This was my
firsts glimpse of the ‗East‘ and I recall the smell of the warm air charged
with sand and overtones of stale cooking. David had told me about the
‗Guily-guily‘ boys who swarm over ships arriving in Port Said. These
lads, aged anywhere from six to sixty, would perform tricks to distract
the unwary and then rob them. One of our crew had his watch pinched
but it was returned later by the Egyptian policeman standing guard at the
main gangway who had decided to search the fellow on his way ashore. I
had my first mail from home, two letters from mother who told me they
had now moved to Leven Close:
…. I hope you are nicely settled down and got over the sea sickness (if any), we
shall soon be expecting a letter from you…we are practically straight now, thank
goodness, it has been very hard work I can tell you…Do you get time for Study and
what do you do? I hope by now your foot is quite well, that has been a trial for you
hasn‘t it. Peter and Dad are very busy down the bottom of the garden with the
Wireless Shed128, they have got it all fixed up, lights and all. If you have any ‗snaps‘
later send some home wont you also if see anything going that we cant get here
don‘t forget to bring it along129 I will pay you of course. Well dear Dad is waiting to
post this so will say cheerio. All our love, Mother
We passed by the long breakwater on our Port Side bearing the
statue of Ferdinand de Lesseps the French engineer who built the canal.
At this time the British still controlled the navigation through the canal
but was slowly withdrawing the troops who guarded the approaches
under the terms of a recent Anglo-Egyptian agreement. Huge searchlights
were rigged up on the bows to enable the pilot to see the canal banks. We
did in fact start our journey in the dark but had to wait until daylight in
the ‗Bitter Lakes‘ near Ismalia to allow a northbound convoy to pass by.
The one sight I can remember clearly was a line of camels belonging to
some desert patrol trotting along the canal path on the Sinai side. The
men wore vivid green kaffiyeh (Bedouin head-dress) and all had huge
curved swords—they could have ridden straight from the pages of T E
Lawrence‘s The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. After Suez it was into the Red
Sea and we were now assigned to watch keeping. Mr Pike had me on his
watch; early morning and evening, which was quite a social hour; David
128
129
They were both amateur radio hams and had constructed a transmitter station.
A reminder that 1948 was still a period of great austerity at home
130
131
had the forenoon and late evening watch with the third officer. Our main
function was to be on ‗look-out‘ at the bow during the hours of darkness,
the sea being calm and this was quite safe. I quite enjoyed these periods
of peace, particularly at dawn when the pre-sunrise colours developing in
the sky and the shore are quite fantastic. The Red Sea being a major
seaway so there were vessels to spot and report to the bridge at frequent
intervals. After sun up I would be required on the bridge where I learnt to
steer the ship and master the compass under the watchful eye of the
quartermaster and Mr Pike. I was also shown the charts and began to
learn the basics of laying off a course and to find my way around the
various navigational aids, e.g. the Admiralty Notices to Mariners which
were, in effect, an ever growing manual of the coasts and ports of the
world. These are constantly updated by radio messages advising Masters
of any new hazards.
After the Red Sea we entered the Arabian Sea and proceeded on a
NE course along the coast of Yemen. It was now that I had my first taste
of fresh winds and experienced a more lively motion, though for the
experienced crew aboard our ship this was considered quite mild. Some
two weeks after leaving Port Said we arrived at Muscat in the state of
Oman. Here we were boarded by a motley crowd of migrant stevedores
who were to live on board for the entire voyage in the Persian Gulf. They
slept on deck camping out on the huge hatches over the holds. The ship
had five cargo holds each with derricks driven by steam winches and Mr
Pike assigned members of the crew to be in the holds watching for any
stealing by the stevedores. Our agent had warned us of this possibility
and Captain Auld was determined that we should be on our guard. Some
of our crew almost went ‗native‘ as they were tempted to join in the
dancing and music making of the Arabs at night. From Muscat we
arrived at Bahrain Island in a few days, a major port of call where a third
of our cargo was to be unloaded. To get to Bahrain we had to pass
through the entrance of the Persian Gulf, see Plate 41, by going through
the Strait of Hormuz. The gulf itself extends northwest about 600 miles
from the Straits to Shatt Al-Arab, a river formed by the confluence of the
Tigris and Euphrates rivers. The Persian Gulf varies in width from 29 to
230 miles. In Bahrain, one of the chief islands in the gulf, oil was
discovered in 1932 and this now forms the basis of its economy and
prosperity, as with the other Persian Gulf states, though only Kuwait and
Iran were major producers at this time. The British influence in this
region had been important since 1853 when Great Britain and seven of
the principal Arab rulers of the eastern coast of the Arabian peninsular
(known as the ‗Pirate Coast‘) had signed the Perpetual Maritime Truce—
the culmination of many short-term peace agreements. Under the truce,
the Arab leaders accepted British protection from outside attack in return
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for a pledge to refrain from hostilities at sea, and the Pirate Coast was
renamed the Trucial Coast. In 1892 the seven states, known collectively
as the Trucial States, became formal British protectorates under separate,
but identical, ‗exclusive‘ agreements, whereby they surrendered control
over all their foreign affairs to Great Britain in return for military
protection. Similar treaties were subsequently signed with Bahrain,
Kuwait, and Qatar. Kuwait became formally independent in 1914. This
situation was still largely in place in 1948 and in all the ports we visited
the British presence was visible and to me then in my naivety reassuring.
Key: Port Said to Basra, via Suez, Muscat, Bahrain, Rastanura, Kuwait
Basra to Safaga (Egypt) via Muscat not shown
Safaga to Melbourne via Aden
Plate 41: Passages in the Persian Gulf region
In Bahrain we were tied up alongside a very long pier stretching
almost a mile out into the gulf and it was a long walk indeed into the
nearest town. The main city in the Sheikhdom, Manama, was quite tiny
in those days and had not yet become the prosperous place it is to day as
a result of the oil boom. Apart from oil, the traditional specialities were
the pearl diving and the building of the Arab dhow. These vessels with
their huge triangular sail were very numerous and a beautiful sight. We
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off-loaded a cargo of manufactured goods and supplies for the oil
industry.
Several days later we made the short passage to Ras-Tannura
(nowadays a huge oil tanker port at the end of the pipeline to the world‘s
largest oil field at Ghawar). In those days oil had not yet been extracted
from the Saudi dessert though it had been discovered in 1938, but the
joint Arabian and American company (ARAMCO) was now just
beginning to develop the area. At this time the place was quite deserted
with just a few buildings and a small coastal community. However the
beginnings of change were apparent as we discharged much industrial
equipment. I got a chance to wander and in the town came across a large
crowd, though I was far to timid to approach, just as well as I was told
later they were engaged in chopping the hand off a convicted thief. Three
colours remain in my inner eye from those days, blue-green sea, brown
dusty landscape and a golden sky from the brilliant sun, which blazed
down all day without respite. The temperature at midday was
approaching 130 degrees.
Our next port of call was a day‘s journey up the coast to Kuwait
famous now for the gulf war in 1990 but then an obscure sheikhdom on
the verge of becoming grossly rich also owing to oil. Then the mud walls
of the ancient city of the Sabah family were still in place. Here I met a
young Tally clerk, Fadil Kalaftailji, who was funding his way through
school by working part time checking cargo. He told me about his
struggle for education and his desire to travel beyond Kuwait; he said
only the ruling family was rich and the rest of the people very poor. He
just wanted to talk to me to practice his English, which was progressing
rapidly and would soon, he hoped, get him a superior job with the
shipping agent. I noticed that the British supervisors here were quite
brusque with the local workers and soon discouraged any further
intercourse.
Our final port of call in the Gulf was Basra in Iraq. This is the main
port in Iraq and is 70 miles up the Shat Al Arab River, the confluence of
the Euphrates and Tigris. Halfway up we passed the giant oil refinery at
Abadan, so impressive and extensive that we seemed to take forever to
pass it by. The British built the modern port of Basra during the period of
mandate set up in WW1 and not ending until 1932 when ownership was
returned to Iraq. Though I did not know it at the time my Great Uncle
Clem, see page 26, was buried in Basra at the Commonwealth War
Cemetery 130. A soon as we tied up in Basra the Iraqi army appeared en
masse to supervise the unloading of the military supplies we had brought.
I had the impression that Iraqis were a very aggressive people and were,
130
This cemetery was moved ‗lock, stock and barrel in 1992 to another location far into the
desert following the gulf war by the express orders of Sadam Hussain.
134
of course, extremely sensitive about Israel; I had also had a distinct
feeling that the young macho officer in charge was busy inspecting our
crew for any suggestion of Israeli influence or attitude. It was here that
David and I were rudely awakened by Mr Pike with water squirted from
one of our fire hoses. We were now sleeping out on deck, it being too hot
below, and we were supposed to work in the early dawn period before
things go too hot to handle. During the heat of the day we stayed ashore
in a refrigerated shed provided by the agent, here at least we could relax
and feel half human. The best part of the day was the evening when the
officers were invited to the RAF Basra officer‘s mess for drinks. The
wives and families of the station personnel made us very welcome. We
were challenged to a (Sunday club rules) cricket match, late in the day
with the sun sinking fast so cooling off a little; needless to say we were
thrashed by the RAF side as none of us had played together and our
ability was, to say the least, limited, though to be fair David was quite a
natural sportsman. I disgraced myself by dropping a vital catch and, as
much as I protested that the sun was in my eyes, my team-mates scoffed.
The area around the dockside was not so built up in those days and one
could walk around and see something of the people. The ladies all in
black from head to toe fascinated me as they worked at date packing in
bare feet. I was romantically interested in this region and tried to get
permission to go on an excursion up the Euphrates to Baghdad. I had
recently been reading ‗The Arabian Nights‘ and also a biography of
Richard Burton the Arabist scholar, whilst lounging in the refrigerated
hut and knew that ‗Sinbad the Sailor‘ had started his seven voyages from
Basra. I certainly felt something of the fascination that many Englishmen
have had with the region, but on seeing how far it was to Baghdad I had
to abandon the idea.
After a week the ship was completely unloaded and we had orders to
proceed back to Egypt, this time to Safaga for a cargo of Phosphates
which we were to take to Australia, so this was to be a very long voyage
indeed. The journey back down the gulf, stopping long enough to land
our stevedores at Muscat, and then round the cost of Southern Arabia and
north again up the Red Sea took over two weeks and we began to run
short of green vegetables and even potatoes. I think the chief steward had
miscalculated and he became very unpopular. The food on board had
been excellent up to now. I enjoyed breakfast as much as any meal where
one could start with curry and rice, or kedgeree and finish with bacon and
egg. I also acquired my life-long love affair with the English kipper. But
now we had no potatoes and had to eat rice cakes instead. Of course
because of the loss of salt owing to the heat we had regular doses of salt
tablets but even so half of our crew broke out with skin problems ranging
from prickly heat to quite horrible rashes. On this leg of the journey I
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remember listening with John Harrison, our Sparks, to Test Match
commentaries from home on the radio. This was Bradman‘s last tour and
a spectacular success for the Australians. John was a Yorkshireman and
took his cricket seriously, almost as seriously as he took the ladies. The
news from the matches was depressing and then as now we mused on
why we were so outclassed by the Aussies, John often said it was
because they had cricket from the cradle out there with every boy born
with a cricket bat in his hands. I remember the fifth test from the oval
when to tumultuous cheers Bradman came in to bat for the last time in
England and too our great delight was out second ball, bowled by Hollies
with a Googly, but it didn‘t make any difference we lost just the same.
Plate 42: Safaga, Egypt for a cargo of Phosphates
Safaga turned out to be a jetty with an Ariel Cable system for
shooting the phosphate ore into the ship‘s holds, see Plate 42. We were
warned not to bathe as the waters here were infested with the barracuda
shark but there was no time for this in any case. The arid brown
mountainous landscape all around was soon to be blotted out from view
by the dust. The phosphate was not only rapidly poured into the ship‘s
holds but into our accommodation, clothes and mouths as well. Within
three days we were off to Australia and so began the great clean up.
Hoses were out and all hands were soon hard at work getting rid of the
stuff. I don‘t think I have ever got it out of my system, even today I can
feel it some times! We called in at Aden for much needed supplies and
fuel before beginning the seven-week voyage across the Indian Ocean to
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Melbourne, Australia (over 8000 miles). We were seriously delayed by
the stormy weather at the start of this voyage off the horn of Africa to the
windward of the Islands of Socotro (see Plate 41). Here we faced a
severe gale and I had my first taste of rough seas. I suppose that my
acclimatisation to the sea had been gradual and I seem to have, as a
consequence of this, escaped seasickness. For the first time also I
experienced the ‗pitching‘ and ‗tossing‘ whereby the ship rocks fore and
aft and one feels the enormous vibration as the screw comes up out of the
sea and races. Some days we only logged 3 knots and it took us several
days to pass by the islands. I thought at times we would never get across
the ocean and this occupied the second half of August and most of
September. During this passage David and I were assigned day work
again and so I learnt the ‗trade‘ of the sailor, which, at that time, was
mostly chipping rust and painting.
Eventually we sighted the Australian coast near Albany and had a
pleasant cruise across the Great Australian Bight to Melbourne. It was a
joy to enter into the Philips131 Bay through the narrow entrance known as
Port Philip Heads and contemplate civilisation again. As explained in
Chapter 1 it is now known that I was not the first member of my family
to arrive in Australia by ship, that honour belongs to my Great-GreatGreat-Grandfather George Trowbridge who was transported as a convict
to Port Jackson in 1814132. He was convicted of killing a fallow deer at
the Salisbury Assizes in August 1813 and sentenced to be transported
beyond the seas for seven years. He was sent to Van Diemans Land
(Tasmania), on the other side of the Bass Straights directly opposite Port
Philip some 200 miles to the south on the northern coast of Tasmania.
After serving his sentence he was allocated a small piece of land to work
as a Landholder133, he vanishes from records in 1828 and the research
work is still in progress as I write (See also page 3). In 1948 I was
unaware of this interesting family historical event and I regret to say that
I joined in the exaggerated and distorted view expressed by many British
Seaman that all Aussies were descended from convicts. At his time I
discovered that Australians tended to deny any Convict ancestry and
preferred the other myth of the benevolent ‗British Settler‘. Today many
Australian are proud of their Convict Ancestors and see them as victims.
It was spring here in Australia and our crew was looking forward to
some fun. We entered the Yarra River, with a view of the low hills of St
Kilda to the east that looked to offer pleasant suburban living to the well
off, and soon found ourselves tied up alongside only a mile or so from
131
Captain Philips was the leader of the ‗first fleet‘ that arrived in Australia in 1788 bringing
the first batch of convicts and began the colonisation.
132
Discovered by the author in January 2000, see Chapter 1 for more details.
133
A kind of tenant to the government with possibility of ownership if successful.
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the city centre. Mail from home was eagerly sought for and I had several
from family and friends. Tinker wrote to me from Perth, where he was
now working as the diocesan youth organiser, with an introduction to
some people in Melbourne:
…I hope you got my telegram in answer to yours—and am sorry for any delays, due
to the fact that I was away in the Country when you will arrive. I take a very dim
view of your ship and its failure to call at Freemantle—I had thought of writing to
the Captain and expressing myself on these lines but have refrained. I have not been
to Melbourne yet so I do not know many people there. Betty Bate, 20 S.George
Ave. Mount Albert whom I mentioned in my telegram used to be near here, and if
haven‘t called her yet I hope you will…. All the best and steer the Cerinthus in this
direction in true Marine Ogg134 fashion. Yours BMFJ
I immediately telephoned the lady mentioned above and she kindly
invited me to spend a weekend with her family in Mount Albert. But
before that David and I went out on the town. We soon learned that
Melbourne was a ‗quiet‘ place in the late forties, at least after 6.00 pm
when the bars all closed by law. They were indeed open during the day
and the major event seemed to be horse racing and betting. This early
closure of bars meant that there were crowds of people guzzling, almost
in desperation on the way home from work. Coffee shops were all the
rage and ‗respectable‘ Melbourne folk used these places for social
contact. I was becoming keen for some feminine company and David
was a charmer so we soon picked up couple of girls in the cocktail bar of
the City Hotel; we discovered that you could buy drinks after hours in
places like this and so it proved. David fancied the good-looking blonde
and I had to make do with her ‗plainer‘ friend Monica. Monica Morrison
said she would show me around the countryside near Melbourne so I
arranged to meet her on the next Saturday. So now I had two weekends
filled. It was clear we would remain in the Melbourne area for two weeks
so this should work out. In fact we moved to Geelong on the West Side
of Philip Bay after about ten days. I was amused to discover that when
David and I returned late that night John Harrison our Sparks was
entertaining a lady in the saloon with several others and I remember
thinking she looked very young. I naively said to her wouldn‘t her
mother be wondering where she had got too, she laughed and said, ‗ no
problem mate, she‘s on the other ship, across the dock‘. It was in
Melbourne that I witnessed our captain‘s second outburst; during lunch
on board the next day a commotion broke out on deck; we all went
outside to see and found two of our engine room firemen quarrelling over
money and a fight seemed immanent. The second mate started to
intervene but Mr Auld said let them knock the stuffing out of each other
134
See page 89
138
first. He got quite excited and urged them on. When they were both
knocked senseless he called the police and had them taken off to jail to
cool off.
My date with Monica proved to be rather dull but it started well
enough. I met her at the station and we went to a wild life park on the
outskirts of the city by train. We walked around and saw some of the
strange animals and flora belonging to this continent; wombats, koala
bears etc, also some dangerous snakes. In the afternoon she took me to
her home for tea but there soon erupted a family quarrel and I was
subjected to a long tale of family woe. I was out of my depth so as soon
as I decently could, I escaped.
My visit to Betty Bate and her family turned out to be of
considerable social interest and tension. By the time I went to visit them
we had moved to Geelong to unload the rest of our Phosphate cargo. This
town is the home of the famous grammar school later attended by Prince
Charles. To travel to the Bate‘s house I had first to go to Melbourne by
train, a distance of about forty-five miles. Unfortunately I was sharing a
compartment with a group of men off to have fun who soon started
passing round booze. I was more or less intimidated to join in. It turned
out that Geelong was the home of the local whisky distillery, named after
a nearby village called Corio, and these fellows had a cheap supply of the
stuff. By the time we reached Melbourne I was half drunk. However as I
was due to arrive at St George Ave, Mont Albert late afternoon I had
time to sober up. The Bate‘s turned out be a notable Melbourne family.
Mr Bate was a Minster in the government, which was socialist at that
time, and over dinner he close questioned me about how we liked the
labour government back in the UK. Betty turned up in time to stop me
from making a complete fool of myself. She turned out to be a vigorous
lady who had qualified as a social worker and in those days there were
not too many of them about. I, for one, had no clear idea what they did.
Anyhow she took over entertaining me so relieving me, and her dad, of
any further embarrassment. During the night my earlier self-indulgences
came to the fore much aggravated by a severe attack of toothache and,
‗Lucky Jim‘ like, I crept around this very large and strange house trying
to find some analgesic and Alka-Seltzer pills. They were all too polite to
notice or interfere. Next day after breakfast we all went to church and
after lunch a long walk in the countryside. Mr Bate was amiable and
explained to me about the indigenous flora. I particularly remember the
huge Eucalyptus trees, and by way of contrast how he was hoping to
emulate the slum clearances in London in Melbourne. I blotted my
copybook by murmuring something about how people back home
believed they were using the baths to store coal.
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139
Later that afternoon I returned to Melbourne and then on to Geelong
much soberer than when I had arrived. David and I were invited by some
girls,, who were connected with the local church in Geelong, to a tea
party; after tea we discussed how Australians of British descent still
thought of the UK as ‗home‘. However one of them said that there were
changes afoot which, in the end, would change the special relationship
forever. We discussed immigration and the increasing number of people
from SE Asia that were settling in the Melbourne area. One the girls
amazed us by reciting from memory a well-known and no longer
‗politically correct‘ poem of Kipling‗s—the one with the colourful
refrain135:
There are times when you‘ll think that you mightn‘t
There‘s times when you‘ll know that you might;
But the things you will learn from the Yellow an‘ Brown,
They‘ll ‗elp you a lot with the White!
Plate 43: Melbourne to Port Lincoln
135
The Ladies, Inclusive edition of Rudyard Kipling‘s Verse 1885-1932, Hodder & Stoughton,
page 434.
140
We enjoyed this outburst and also played some tennis, or rather David
played but, I alas, stumbled about. The night before we left to go to Port
Lincoln in South Australia several of us went to the cinema and saw the
film version of Jane Eyre. This was the version with Orson Welles as Mr
Rochester but it was the actor who played the odious Mr Brocklehurst
that seemed to impress us the most. As we came out I heard the second
mate say I would like to shoot that bastard—so impressionable we
seamen. The weather was rough and our departure from Port Philip Head
was to all appearances dangerous. A heavy sea was rolling in and we
were light (empty with no additional ballast) and at danger from being
trapped against a lee shore. The agent was travelling with us and got so
scared that he must have regretted putting to sea in such weather and with
such a trim. Mr Pike said this was nothing compared to the North
Atlantic in winter. Our agent was quietly blubbing, I firmly believed, but
Captain Auld reassured him and all was soon well and we came to
Lincoln in a few days none the worse for wear.
As far as I was concerned the stay at Port Lincoln was to be an Idyll.
The first thing we were told was that we were likely to be there for
several weeks as there was a strike. We were to fully load the ship with
grain and we had to wait until the cargo could be transported to the town
and this would not happen until the dispute had been settled. Boston Bay,
a marvellous natural harbour, had been the rallying point of the famous
clipper ships in last century where the great grain race to England began
every year. Nowadays, it seemed, one ship could take the entire harvest
from the Eyre Peninsular. Edward John Eyre136 on March 10th, 1841,
exploring westwards along the Great Australian Bight said:
There was a grandeur and sublimity in the appearance of these cliffs, which struck
me with admiration. Stretching out before me in lofty unbroken outline ... and
glistening in the morning sun which made the scene beautiful ...
Port Lincoln itself was discovered by Matthew Flinders137 under his
commission by the British Admiralty to chart Australia‘s unexplored
coastline. The converted collier ‗Investigator‘ dropped anchor in Boston
Bay in February 1802 and Flinders named the spot Port Lincoln after his
native Lincolnshire in England. Only several days earlier Flinders lost
eight seamen near Memory Cove, including his sailing master, Capt.
John Thistle, whilst searching for water. Port Lincoln was initially
136
No connection with Jane, of course! But a insignificant coincidence with the movie we had
just seen.
137
The inventor of the ‗Flinder‘s Bar‘ the large piece of soft iron placed vertically in the ship‘s
compass binnacle to help correct for the magnetic deviation on the compass cause by the ships
own magnetism.
140
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considered as the alternative site for the State's capital, but was
subsequently rejected by Colonel William Light in 1836 in favour of
Adelaide. Lack of fresh water was a major determining factor. The first
settlers arrived in March 1839 aboard the Abeona, the Dorset and the
Porter. There is an historic plaque at the First Landing site to
commemorate that event.
In 1948 the town was still very small, probably with less than 2000
people, and had all the appeal of a small town that one would ever find in
England. Nowadays, of course, this place has gone the way of such towns
with exploitable amenities and now hosts a giant marina (cf. Lymington),
it is a centre for shark and tuna fishing and for seaside holidays. Its
population is now 13,000. The town that I knew was very welcoming and
really very quiet and apart from the occasional night kangaroo hunt,
using car headlights to freeze them, lacked any excitements. We were all
invited to a social to meet the people. This was held in the civic hall, a
building rather like the Parish Hall in Lymington. The local ladies laid on
a tasty supper and after this there was dancing. Sparks was soon the life
and soul of the party, here exhibiting his best church social manner, quite
unlike his behaviour in Melbourne.
I was introduced to a lady called Toni, a girl just my ‗size and
weight‘, fair, rather than dark, but not blonde—her hair, I suppose, a
‗mousy‘ colour, but I thought pretty and I thought my ship had come
truly come in! She told me she was hoping to go to Adelaide soon to
study photography and also to try and further her music. It turned out,
later, that she was a pianist with some talent and had a very strongminded mother. I think as a vulnerable cadet-apprentice I had been
targeted and needed some mothering after a long voyage. Toni invited
me to her house to meet her family the next evening. They lived in New
West Road just a very short walk from the centre in a pleasant bungalow
and not overlooked. The countryside looked green as if Hampshire had
been transplanted to a Mediterranean type climate, the gum trees adding
some exotica, but, as I was to discover, the landscape changed as one
went away from the coast becoming dustier and less lush. Mrs Hill made
me feel at home but was quite a formidable lady and soon extracted my
family history and I now realise I probably failed the test. Her husband,
whom I saw very little of, was the local Post Master. Anyhow Toni and I
did see a lot of each other during my stay. She took me to the local
beauty spots and we did some walks along the coast, which is
spectacular.
On one Saturday we all went on a trip to play cricket out in the
country. The local girls, by now it seemed that all the unmarried
members of our crew were paired off, prepared a bar-b-q supper. Our
opponents turned out to be a mixed team of Aborigines and locals, and as
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usual with the ship‘s team, we were thrashed. I remember making just
three before being given out lbw by David who was the umpire—we all
had to be umpires in our turn. The opposition had brought plenty of beer
so we all had a merry time after. On another occasion Toni played the
piano and I thought she was very good, her favourite composer was
Chopin and she made quite a fist of some of the Waltzes and Nocturnes.
On a lighter note I gave her my vocal score of the musical ‗Annie Get
Your Gun‘, which she rattled off and we sang some of the songs together.
The young girls of Lincoln were looking forward to the annual
‗debs‘ ball and I suppose it was rather touching how these old British
customs lingered on in Australia long after the custom had died out at
home, at least at the local small town level. Toni told me that I could
escort her if we were still in port; this filled me with dismay, as I was a
lousy dancer. At this point fate took a hand, as after about three weeks of
‗lotus land life‘ news came that the shifting boards were to be fitted in
our holds in preparation for the grain cargo. Soon afterwards the cargo
was loaded and we had to leave. Toni and I had a sentimental farewell
evening together and it was Mr Pike who, more or less, walked me back
aboard. As it happened we lost three of our crew here but I don‘t suppose
aborigine trackers were used to hunt them down as often happened in the
old sailing ship days. I felt sad in going, as this had been my first
attachment. I thought of little else as we proceeded on our long voyage
back to Aden. She wrote me an air letter, which I received in Aden and I
rather think it showed that my feelings had been stronger than hers:
…I went out to Sleaford Bay the Friday you left, I came home on Sunday. A nice
quiet weekend with a little riding as the chief pastime. I then had two days in bed, as
that cold caught up with me, and mum made me stay in bed to be free of it for the
debs ball. It was very nice, so everybody was happy. I missed you after you went
Bill and wished you could have been at the ball although I had a corker time and
didn‘t miss a dance.
I loved getting your letter so unexpectedly the morning after you left. I‘m having the
operation138 next week Bill, a nuisance isn‘t? but has to be got over. I want to be
home for Xmas…well Bill dear look after yourself and as mum would say be a good
boy. One never knows in this world, we may even run into each other again. I might
bump into you in the Strand, or you might arrive back here someday.
…Love from Toni
In fact we did correspond for a while and I had hopes of seeing her
again but I never returned to Australia and I never saw her again. The
later stages of my first voyage are quite obscure in my memory. We
arrived in Barry Docks in South Wales on the last day of 1948 after a
138
A minor gynaecological problem
142
143
voyage of over eight months and so my family at home found me much
changed.
Plate 44: Boston Bay, Port Lincoln
144
Tramping to Canada, USA and India
Plate 45: In the garden at Leven Close, Dad, Mum, David and Monty
I found the family ensconced in Bournemouth in a fine house near
Meyrick Park but already financial and personal problems were
beginning to intrude as Dad had now decided to sell his business interest
in Christchurch. This proved a disaster as he lost a great deal of his
capital on the deal. His partner seems to have mismanaged the
procurement of goods, which involved buying vegetables at the Covent
Garden market in London with questionable deals on the side. Dad, it
appeared, had little control over him and though he realised what was
going on he was unfortunately sucked into the debt. He did, however,
manage to get out in time to avoid a total disaster. Keepings the motor
garage in St Thomas Street Lymington, came up for sale and he decided
to go into partnership with a friend and buy this business. His friend, a
Mr Davis, had been the manager at Keepings so it was a kind of
management buy-out and Dad would run the office and administration.
This proved to be better venture but it did mean commuting to
Lymington each day so this caused him to be restless and look for a
house nearer to his place of business. These affairs seem to dominate the
letters to me throughout my next voyage. Nevertheless they worked hard
at Leven Close, Dad transformed and re-landscaped the garden, see Plate
45, and he and Peter built a radio cabin in the garden. They were both
keen radio hams. Brother David, now nearly eleven years old, was away
at a ‗prep‘ school called Rope Hill near Lymington and I went to visit
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145
him and took him out for a day, he seemed happy enough. Mother
enjoyed the garden too and also had her sisters and parents down to stay
at regular intervals. My leave rapidly went by with visits to old friends in
Lymington and trips to London to see plays. One memory that stands out
is hearing the radio news on Jan 9 that the great comedian, Tommy
Handley had died; the announcer said he collapsed when trying to fix his
shirt stud—for anyone remembering the war years the weekly show, ‗It‘s
that Man Again‘ with its gentle satire on the English way of life in war
time will never be forgotten.
Plate 46: Second Voyage with the SS Cerinthus, 1949
On January 21st I received a telegram to report back to the ship now
in Newport Docks. We signed-on on the 25 January and it appeared we
were to go on another tramping charter this time to Canada and then to
India, see Plate 46. Furthermore many of the crew had changed. I
discovered that Mr Pike had been promoted to be Master of his own ship,
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which was a little unsettling to begin with as we had to get to know his
replacement, a Londoner by name of C J Welch. We also had a new
‗Sparks‘ who turned out to have an even stronger sex drive than his
predecessor. I would miss John Harrison as he had been a good friend to
me. As for me, well I was still pining for Toni and could think of nothing
else but how to get back to Australia. We sailed on the 1st February and
since this was winter I was to get my first taste of a North Atlantic storm.
I remember being overawed by the huge swell as the ship almost
disappears into a deep valley and then rides up on to the top of the world
again at the swell‘s summit. Strangely, and contrary to what I had
expected, I was exhilarated rather than too anxious and I suppose enjoyed
it all. The freezing cold that came later I did not enjoy. After a week or
more of riding the storms the weather calmed down and we found
ourselves in fog and extreme cold. The Labrador Current off the coast of
Newfoundland saw to that. Our masts and derricks grew huge sleeves of
ice and the decks and ladders became treacherous. I have never felt so
cold.
We were heading for the maritime states of Canada, to St John, New
Brunswick, in the Bay of Fundy. I later learnt the bay has the largest
range of tide in the world, over 60 feet which poses a severe problem for
vessels tied up along the sea board as the mooring ropes have to be
watched carefully as the vessel rises and falls with the tide. The bay is
about 170 miles long and up to 50 miles wide. In the east, Fundy divides
into two arms, Chignecto Bay on the north and Minas Channel (which
leads into Minas Basin) on the south. The funnel effect of these
narrowing arms increases the tidal range of the bay creating one of the
highest tides anywhere on earth. The tidal surge in Chignecto Bay
produces a large crested wave (bore), ranging to 6 feet in height, in the
lower Petitcodiac River in New Brunswick. The rising tide in the bay
itself creates a ―reversing falls‖ on the lower Saint John River at Saint
John where the height of the tide is enough to reverse the flow of water
even over a series of rapids. The city of Saint John is at the mouth of the
Saint John River and is the largest city in the province, a commercial and
manufacturing centre, and a major year-round seaport and rail junction.
Saint John is the site of Martello Tower, a harbour fortification built
during the War of 1812. In 1631 the French explorer Charles De La Tour
established a trading post here. In 1759 the British gained control of the
area, and in 1783 several thousand United Empire Loyalists from the
United States settled here. In 1785 the city of Saint John was formed by
the merging of Parr Town and Carleton, thus making it the first city in
Canada to be incorporated. As the river St Lawrence freezes in the winter
Saint John, was the major winter port for Canada and stevedores from
Montreal could secure all year round work by wintering there. I was still
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dreaming about Toni and I was pleased to receive a letter from her in
Saint John but she ended with a philosophical comment that proved not
to be far off the mark:
Well, Bill dear, thank you for the nice things you said about friends in Lincoln. It
was also nice meeting you, we probably will meet a lot of people in the future, both
you and I, but I, for one will always be glad to meet you again…
The city in 1949 was quite small and still in the throes of prohibition
and old values. I remember seeing on my first venture ashore the chain
gang of prisoners breaking up the ice on the streets. To have a drink we
had to go to a ‗speak-easy‘ a club where liquor could be consumed on the
premises. We were given an address by the ‗person‘ who, in every port,
is in the ‗know‘. Such information always percolates down to the ships in
port, and so, after dark, we found ourselves outside a low down dive in a
back street. A tough looking bouncer who made sure we had cash to pay
the exorbitant cover charge let us in. The place was crowded but to the
disgust of some appeared not to contain any women so we drank and
sang dirty songs. This to me was a great adventure and I wondered if we
would be raided and carted of to jail; we made enough noise as there
were several ship‘s crews joining in the singing and dancing. I surprised
everyone, including myself by leading a chorus of the ‗The Good Ship
Venus‘:
T‘was on the Good Ship Venus
By god you should have seen us
The figurehead was a whore in bed
And the mast an upright penis
It was in Saint John that I had my first glimpse of Americana, well
presaged in my mind by Hollywood, of course, but now I could see it
first hand. The jukebox era was in full swing. There was a café called
Gar‘s Diner with a selection box at every table that you could put your
dime coin into and chose a song. The ‗song of the day‘ was a dreamy
number, which had the refrain, So tired. So tired of dreaming of you….
Which matched my mood precisely. The Diner had pretty but brash
waitresses who served tasty burghers with all the trimmings, fries, of
course and loads of mayonnaise and other multicoloured sauces. One
could not help comparing the embarrassment of riches here with the ‗fast
food‘ one got at the British restaurant in Lymington with its star dish of
‗Welsh Rarebit‘. The local cinema was showing The Three Musketeers a
new version starring the balletic Gene Kelly as D‘Artagnan, which added
to my romantic yearnings.
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From Canada we went south to Boston and then on to New York. I
have forgotten all about this first visit to Boston but New York made a
lasting impression. The impressive skyline of Manhattan was, in those
days, a contemporary ‗Wonder of the World‘. The panorama appeared
quite suddenly to me as I had been below until we got quite close. It was
winter morning, early, but the day was fine and the dark grey metallic
metropolis against a clear bright blue sky I found impressive—truly a
‗Magnetic City‘. I eagerly spotted the Statue of Liberty to the west as we
passed by Governors Island and entered the East River. We tied up along
the waterfront in Brooklyn near the famous bridge. At the earliest
opportunity I set off across the bridge to see the city. This meant, for me,
Times Square and Broadway and in those days the ‗Great White Way‘
was still the romantic centre made manifest by Hollywood films and the
legacy of the American Musical.
Plate 47: Manhattan Skyline 1949
There was a Merchant Navy Club, which was opened daily in the
Astoria Hotel, and it was there that David and I repaired to as we had
heard there were many New York girls waiting to entertain us! In the
event David‘s charm soon worked and he found a lady who took him off
to see the sights. I also met up with a lass who took me back to her flat
but only to help carry her shopping home; she let me buy her a coffee and
was interested in the labour government back home. I explained the
National Health Service to her and she said, ‗Gee, that‘s Communism‘.
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On Saturday she took me to see the Statue of Liberty, which involved a
short boat trip on the ferry. I climbed right up to the top and then even
higher into the torch itself, up through ‗lady‘s‘ arm, still possible in those
days, see Plate 47. The view of Manhattan and Jersey City from this
vantage point was thrilling. Below was Ellis Island where immigrants
were processed on their arrival from Europe.
We ourselves had been processed on our arrival and had been issued
with special documents to allow us to set foot on precious American soil.
We were asked questions about our politics and our father‘s politics and
being seaman had to have our members inspected by a port doctor to see
if we had VD, the famous ‗Short Arm‘ inspection. There was much
resentment about this. Also the drinking laws required you to be twenty
years of age or older to buy a drink in a bar. I regret to say some of us
defaced our Identity card by changing our date of birth though the
barkeep in a place in Greenwich Village was very suspicious in my case.
This area was the Bohemian centre in New York and all tastes could be
catered for; at one point David and I found ourselves in a transvestite
club and on being accosted by a heavily made up male/female we beat a
hasty retreat. Nearby was the famous Jazz club belonging to Eddie
Condon the banjo and guitar musician and we were able to sit and listen
to him playing Chicago style jazz. Condon was a key figure in bringing
Jazz to a wider audience and at this time he was promoting a series of
concerts at Carnegie Hall involving many of the Jazz greats.
We only had a few days in New York and I was beginning to
realise that though we were tramping all over the world we saw little and
learned hardly anything about the places we visited. Many years later I
would get to know New York and the United States a lot better and have
a better chance of forming a truer picture but for now my feelings were
very ambivalent—the early impression got from the cinema had certainly
been tarnished.
Sometime in March we set sail for India, via Alexandria and the
Suez Canal. Of the Atlantic crossing I can remember little except the size
of the swell again and how the little Portuguese fishing boats disappeared
completely from view, lost in the trough of the sea. We entered into the
calm Mediterranean though there was a South Easterly gale blowing as
we approached Gibraltar. I think this severe gale and the strong current
driving us toward the coast worried Captain Auld a little but he found the
time to explain to me the danger of ‗running into a lea shore‘ as sailors
called it. We got new mail at Alexandria (19 April 1949) and my mother
wrote referring to the westward crossing:
…we received your letter today, very pleased you made the trip successfully, a pity
it was so rough and cold but then you expected it didn‘t you. You don‘t sound
thrilled with Canada but I suppose that is because it is a desolate spot—never mind
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you are now on your way to India and it should certainly be warmer shouldn‘t it. I
expect you are glad of the sweater and the warm vests…. what a long trip you are
making Bill almost a year again.
Plate 48: The Statue of Liberty with the RMS Queen Mary
She also mentioned that her sister, Dinah, was to be married in August
and that Dad was still trying to dispose of the Priory business in
Christchurch and was planning a new venture back in Lymington. I also
had a letter from my old Headmaster, Tom Browne containing typical
comments on my character:
I‘ve been meaning to answer your short and undated latter from St Johns, but you
know what the end of term is like, particularly the Easter term with its annual stage
whoopee…I am enclosing a programme so that you can see the chief conspirators.
The Ballet was the outstanding item in most peoples opinion….I had a letter from
Tony Johnson who asked to see a copy of the script. I have got a fairly complete
set—which is more than last year139. I have had some news from Gordon Burdon
and B J C Taylor—latter has decided to give up the sea and enter the church. All the
best, yours TEWB
In Alexandria; I had a little adventure ashore where I had gone by
myself and I must have wandered away from the business district and
139
I was responsible for some of the show last year!
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found myself in a crowded bazaar. Of course it did not take long to get
surrounded by beggars and such like who began to pester me seriously.
One fellow wanted to clean my shoes, I said, ‗Not necessary, already
clean‘, he then poured a dirty liquid over my smart white deck shoes, and
said, ‗Dirty now‘. I tried to back away but I became completely engulfed
by the crowd and I started to feel frightened. However, help was at hand
when a burly policeman, dragging a felon whom he had handcuffed,
arrived parting the crowd and soon chased the beggars away. He then
very politely asked the name of my ship and after warning me to be
careful and not go about by myself showed me the way back to the
docks. I saw nothing of the famous sights of this great city and later
regretted the lost opportunity for seeing something at least of the
antiquities, and, as far as I can remember, not a single member of the
crew bothered either—such was our feeling for culture.
On this trip we bunkered at Port Said and a short shore leave was
allowed and it was there that our new second officer, John Miller,
disgraced himself by returning to the ship dressed only in his underpants.
He had been robbed whilst indulging himself in a brothel. On board ship,
at sea, he was quite civilised and had a portable wind up gramophone. He
used to play excerpts from Gilbert and Sullivan, his favourite was
Patience and he used to sing along with:
If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily in your medieval hand.
And ev'ryone will say,
As you walk your flow'ry way,
If he's content with a vegetable love which would certainly not suit me,
Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man must be!
He would also discuss with you at length Bernard Shaw‘s, ‗The
Intelligent young Woman‘s guide to Socialism‘; such a strange young
man indeed. From Port Said and the Suez canal we called at Port Sudan
in the Red Sea and in my imagination I could see the ‗fuzzy wuzzies‘
attacking the British Square at the battle of Omdurman, or at least as it
was in the film version, ‗The Four Feathers‘. The local people here were
quite black in skin colour and many did have fuzzy hair but there the
resemblance ended. From the Sudan we preceded to the new country of
Pakistan, via Aden, a long weary voyage across the Arabian Sea
somewhat similar to my first voyage the previous year, a strong ‗head
wind‘ all the way which made for slow progress. We finally arrived in
Karachi mid April and were able to catch up on news from home, though
sad to relate no news from Australia:
…many thanks for the letters and the telegram was very pleased to get it on my
birthday, I did not think you would remember. …Dad has bought ‗Keepings
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Garage‘ in Lymington. He is going to run it with Mr Davis140, dad will do the
clerical side of the job there is one other in it but he is just a sleeping partner, we
have sold part of the Priory and are now trying to sell the house as it is too far for
Dad to go back and forwards every day from here.
India had been partitioned only for a year or so and I could see the
distress in the eyes of the Punjabi watchman when I handed him the
Pakistan flag141 to hoist as part of his daily duties. He said, ‗I should not
be made to fly this flag, it is an abomination‘. John Miller took me ashore
with him, I suppose so that I could learn the ways of a ‗seaman‘ in port,
though I was far too naïve to realise what I had let myself in for. He hired
a Garry, a kind of horse drawn Taxi, and we set off to the Red Light
District. This was in a rather good neighbourhood with a neat row of
detached two story houses on either side of a pleasant tree lined
boulevard. Each house had a balcony on the first floor and the ladies of
the night disported themselves as in a sort of shop window. We drove up
and down a couple of times and then the second mate pointing to a house
in the middle of the row said this one will do and we went in. We had
some beer and were entertained by a group of what seemed to me to be
very over dressed ladies, with not a square cm of flesh to be seen. This
didn‘t bother my companion as he soon disappeared upstairs with one of
them. One of the others grabbed my arm and started to lead me into a
back room where there was already a pair, of what I am not sure, rolling
round the floor. At this I took fright and left.
The next day some of us decided to visit the centre of the city which
was about three miles away. We hired bicycles from a trader on the
dockside and were given a chain and padlock and told we should be very
careful. The ride into town was a revelation. The road was full of hazards
with scared cows that had to be avoided at all costs along with the
teeming traffic of all kinds, motorised and human. We finally negotiated
this and chained our cycles outside a restaurant where we had a delicious
curry, but of course when we came out we could not find the bikes
anywhere. They had been stolen. We returned to the ship via a taxi and
had to stealthily get aboard without being spotted by the bicycle man.
This meant we couldn‘t go ashore again but in any case the next day we
left port. Captain Auld, very experienced in these matters, had the boson
prepare to turn the fire hose on the man if he attempted to board the ship
to get his compensation. Though to be fair I don‘t think he knew the
reason, he was just protecting his crew from the ‗Wiley Oriental
Gentleman‘; a received belief in those pre-politically correct days. I have
far less excuse to offer for my cowardly conduct, I certainly had little
140
141
Mr Davis was married to Dad‘s second wife Brenda‘s aunt.
A ship always flies the national flag of the country she visits.
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money to pay the man for the loss of his bike but I could have faced the
music instead of skulking aboard. Someone said it was all a put up job
anyhow as the bike-handlers were all thieves and stole their own bikes.
Plate 49: Inoculation against Cholera, April 12, 1949
Our next port of call was Bombay, the ‗Gateway to India‘, a young
democracy when we arrived on April 9, 1949. Here we all had to have
inoculations for cholera, see Plate 49, and we were cautioned about
eating food from street vendors, but I think our crew were more at risk
from the ladies in Grant Road the notorious brothel district. I remember
three things: the people sleeping in the streets, a day out to a British club
organised by the local missions to seamen and the Taj Mahal Hotel. The
magnificence of the latter had been spoken of by several of our crew who
had been to Bombay before; apparently it was the last bastion of the
British Raj a place where you could dine in immaculate style. It surprised
me that they let us in, particularly the second mate whose reputation
would surely have preceded him. After a fine dinner served by a team of
turbaned waiters we split up, the second mate to Grant Road and David
and I to the Merchant Navy Club where we played snooker. The
following Saturday, which was the Easter weekend, the local mission
Padre organised a coach trip out to a British Club a few miles from the
city; here we had a pleasant day lazing by a swimming pool and watching
some beautiful girls diving. David knowingly said they were ‗Half Chats‘
or Eurasians who looked fantastic when young but would run to fat in
middle life. Who was I to argue with the man of experience? On the way
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back in the coach as we twisted and turned through the crowded city one
of our ‗firemen‘ stood up and shouted:
Stop the Bus Vicar; we‗ve just passed Grant Road.
To my amazement the bus stopped and half our crew got off and
disappeared to finish off their day out in a true seaman like manner! It
was snooker for David and me again. On Easter Monday I went for a
walk on my own and soaked up the atmosphere; some things disgusted
my sensibilities like the Betel Nut which most men seemed to chew as a
mild intoxicant. It was the spitting out of the remains of the nut that
offended me, and I spent a lot of energy dodging the red stains on the
ground everywhere I walked. I also noticed many couples, men, walking
together hand in hand which showed a far greater tolerance to
homosexuality than that allowed in those days in Europe. Finally as dusk
arrived one could observe the huge number of people preparing to sleep
out on the streets, particularly in the area around Victoria Station. This
practice was more or less unknown in London in those days but how
different today with large numbers of homeless sleeping rough in UK
cities.
Plate 50: The Chinese Fishing Nets Cochin
After two weeks in Bombay we went south to Cochin near the
southernmost tip of India, one of the most memorable places that we
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visited. In those days Cochin was still ruled over by the local Maharaja
who atypically, cared well for his people. In 1956 Cochin and
neighbouring Travancore became the new state of Kerala. The harbour at
Cochin has a beautiful setting amid a cluster of Islands with a narrow
peninsular protecting the bay, which is accessed through a narrow
channel between Vypeen Island and Fort Cochin. Here are strung out the
huge cantilevered Chinese fishing nets that were originally introduced by
traders from the court of Kublai Khan, see Plate 50. The city is one of the
most historic in India with its winding streets crammed with 500-year-old
Portuguese houses. It also boasts two Jewish communities; a dark
skinned group whose roots go back to biblical times fleeing here in 587
BC when Nebuchadnezzar occupied Jerusalem and who are now
intermarried with the Hindu population, and a white group who came
around 100AD. Our stay here was very brief, just long enough to load a
small consignment of Coir, the fibre made from the husk of the coconut,
the areas main industry. I had one excursion into the town and was
enjoying the narrow streets and the colourful shops when the ‗Rains
Came‘, the first monsoon of the year bursting forth bringing a torrential
downpour. In no time the streets became rivers. We had been stifling hot
for weeks and after the shock we just stood there and got soaked through
to our skins appreciating this tropical shower and the relief it brought.
After Cochin we now proceeded around the tip of southern India to
Madras where we arrived on 3rd May. I only have one memory of this
teeming city and that was a football match played between the ship and a
local team. It was the first time we had played football as a team and we
were appalling. The opposition played in their bare feet to such good
effect that they beat us 17 nil. There was quite a large crowd watching
our humiliation and after the game they cheered our goal-keeper (one of
our greasers) off the field. Needless to say I hardly touched the ball. I
later realised that Madras was not only famous for its curry but also in
mathematics as it was from here that Ramanujan came, the poor £20 a
week clerk who was the intuitive and self taught genius who sent
theorems to Prof. G H Hardy of such staggering originality. Hardy
invited him to Cambridge and to his and the university‘s credit there
began one of the greatest intellectual collaborations of this century142. I
must have written a depressing letter home some weeks earlier about my
desire to return to Australia and maybe suggesting that I might change
my career. I received a letter in Madras from mother, which revealed
their concerns:
…can‘t quite understand you Bill, when you talk about trying to get back to
Australia, Dad says don‘t you like your job? He says you never talk about your work
and after all it was your chosen career and you will have to see it through. I should
142
G.H Hardy, A Mathematicians Apology, CUP, 1940
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think it a grand life for a man…about the boy who is studying for the clergy, would
you want to that? In any case it is too late now.
Of course I knew it was never too late and later I would prove it but for
now I realised I was concerning them back home so I replied more
optimistically. However I was beginning to worry a little about my
health. I started getting heart palpitations and I developed a nervous
twitch that others noticed.
Plate 51: Busy Street in Madras
Our last port of call in India was to be Calcutta, which is some 80
miles up the Hooghly River, the westerly mouth of the Ganges delta.
Calcutta stands some 20 feet above sea level and a ferocious current runs
both on the rising and falling tide. Sand and mud banks are everywhere
and so a skilled pilot is essential and the men of Bengal Pilot Service
were among the most highly regarded in the world. In order not to have
to pass the bad spots in the dark it is usual to moor a vessel overnight.
The technique of mooring a ship in this fast moving river using crossed
anchor cables attached to the buoys fore and aft had been taught to us in
our seamanship lessons on the Conway. On the land on either side of the
river people are employed in rice growing but there are numerous jute
and cotton mills also and Jute was to be our cargo. After mooring over
night the Pilot wanted to get us quickly underway; this caused a problem
for me as I had been sent by Captain Auld to find Charlie Hagson our
Sparks as a message had to be sent to the agent. After searching the radio
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room I went to his cabin; I found him still in his bunk but he was not
alone. Sticking out one end of his bed was Charlie looking bleary eyed
but from out of the other I saw a pair of brown feet and painted toenails.
It was most impressive to see how all the crew conspired to get the lady
off our ship into the bumboat alongside without the captain noticing. We
were some time in Calcutta as one of the great communal riots, which
had plagued the country since independence was in full swing. All hands
had to remain on board for several days until these riots subsided. By
some coincidence our Sparks from my first voyage, John Harrison,
appeared on board; he had joined another ship, which had come straight
out to India and because of strikes, his new ship had been forced to
remain in Calcutta for several weeks. It was good to renew our
friendship.
On our first excursion ashore David was determined to visit Firpos,
a restaurant and bar, on Chowringhee Road in the down town area. He
told me about the colourful commissionaire, a dwarf, who ran up and
down outside to attract custom. Sure enough he was still there but there
was no room inside for us, such a popular place in those days but now
sunk without trace. The other side of the road bordered the Maidan, the
huge open space that is the centre of Calcutta life where cows graze,
political rallies are held, cricket matches played, and horses raced; as in
any open space in India, it was also a ‗public‘ toilet. It contains Fort
William the old centre of the British Raj. One of our ratings became ill
and was discharged into hospital and also we had to take on board a DBS
(Distressed British Seaman) to repatriate him to Canada. His name was
Patrick Sivert. He was just a bundle of skin and bone and walked very
slowly. I think he was a diabetic and not one of us thought he would
survive the voyage. I remember little more about this visit to India and I
was aware that I had only absorbed the most superficial elements of the
country. I could see that most people lived in appalling poverty and that
to my ignorant perception most of them followed a weird religion. I now
know that Hinduism is one of the most powerful and social forces in the
world with over 600 million believers. The leading gods, Brahma, the
creator, Vishnu, the preserver and Shiva the destroyer form a compelling
trinity but there are millions of minor gods in the Hindu pantheon. The
Hindu code for living is doing one‘s duty as dictated by conscience,
custom and social background. It is this latter factor that I found then and
still now most unsettling. This is the caste system with its four divisions,
at the top the Brahmins the priests and arbiters of right and wrong. Next
there are the Kshatriyas, the soldiers and administrators, then the Vaisyas,
the artisan and commercial class, and finally the Sudras who are the
farmers and peasants. The Hindu believes that these four castes come
from Brahmas mouth, arms, thighs and feet respectively. However
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beneath these four castes there is a fifth group, the Untouchables who
have no caste and perform the menial and degrading jobs. The sad fact
was and is that these untouchables are virtual slaves despite the reforms
introduced by Ghandi.
The next leg of this voyage was to go back to Canada via Jidda in
the Red Sea and then through the Suez Canal to Sicily before crossing the
Atlantic to sail up the St Lawrence River to Montreal. However first we
had to divert to Ceylon (Sri Lanka) for a very brief stop at Colombo. Our
Chief Cook, Mr Brittle143 had become seriously ill with a high fever and
we dropped anchor in the bay and sent for a doctor. The doctor ordered
him to be sent to hospital and I was told to accompany him ashore. We
had a taxi to a huge local hospital and it was very upsetting for me to
leave this chap behind in a huge ward that appeared so unfriendly, a
room, which was so long with beds on either side seemingly stretching to
infinity. Our first scheduled port of call was Aden for bunkering where
we arrived on June 9 and it was here that Captain Auld discharged three
ratings who had been causing trouble. We next moved on to Jidda in
Saudi Arabia, the pilgrim port for the holy city of Mecca, where all good
Moslems try to visit. I had read recently about the adventures of Sir
Richard Burton who was the first European to make the pilgrimage in
disguise, or so it was said. To me Burton was the romantic ideal of the
soldier scholar and I felt disappointment on his behalf when I read about
his failure to discover the source of the river Nile. The way his
companion Speke cheated him of this prize by naked ambition and good
luck when Burton was laid low by fever I felt was especially poignant.
We anchored off Jidda for a few hours and three fierce Arab soldiers,
complete with scimitars and handguns, came aboard and delivered a
small packing case to the care of the Captain, I never knew what it
contained.
In Port Said we exchanged Chief Engineers. Mr Gilbert, was
transferred to another Houlder Line vessel in order to allow him to return
home early for his retirement, replaced by a Mr Jones. From Port Said we
made a course directly for the toe of Italy passing through the narrow
straits of Messina. We had marvellous views of Mount Etna, which
excited my mountaineering instincts; it would be terrific, I thought, to
have the chance to climb to the top but I soon discovered that Palermo,
where we were bound was far too far away. The short visit to Palermo in
Sicily was enchanting. We were moored quite near the city centre which
showed little signs of war damage (see Plate 52) and the atmosphere in
the evening was really pleasant with crowds of people relaxing in the
balmy weather singing and dancing. We sat at a table indulging in the
143
The galley staff consisted of a chief cook, baker, butcher and galley boy.
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delicious local ice cream, full of fruit and all things nice known as the
Cassata. A sexy lady with a strong voice got up and began to sing
Finiculi-Finicula and everyone lustily joined in the chorus, it was like
participating in an opera with the market square the set of Cavalleria
Rusticana. Our cargo from Palermo was a large consignment of lemons
and the stevedores made lemonade from the lemons on the dockside in a
huge tub; this tasted rather sharp but very refreshing.
Plate 52: Piazza S. Domenico, Palermo, 1949
We eventually arrived off the coast of Canada in the second week of
July, this time in good sunny weather. Then followed the long river
passage up the St Lawrence River, a distance of about 500 miles. We
took the river pilot aboard off Father Point (Pointe au Padre). I remember
our arrival in Quebec City and seeing the chateau ablaze with lights at
night and this prompted memory of a school history lesson of General
Wolfe and the Heights of Abraham. We were destined for Montreal to
unload our cargo of Jute etc. and then to load a full cargo of cereal
products. Montreal is the largest city in Canada and is the world‘s chief
wheat exporting centre. News from home awaited me, mother wrote:
…don‘t laugh but I am having driving lessons in Bournemouth, I have had four so
far and am not yet too good a lorry came into the back of us on the second time out
(my fault) and smashed the ‗Hampshire School of Motoring Board‘ to pieces. Well
dear Bill in case you don‘t get a birthday greeting here‘s wishing you many happy
160
returns hope to see you soon. Fancy you are 19 on the tenth—it doesn‘t seem
possible does it? Hope you liked the snap that Peter took144
I found time to look round the city and visit the top of Mont Real. In
those days the way to go was by the old horse drawn vehicles and it all
made a pleasant excursion. From the top one had a great view of the city
and the river and in the foreground the campus of McGill University; I
could not have imagined then that one day in the future I should be a
visiting academic and give lectures there. I was very interested to read on
the stone tablet at the summit the commemoration of the first European
to come here. He was the French explorer Jacques Cartier who set foot
on Montreal Island in 1535 and visited the tribal village of Hochelaga at
the base of the mountain he named Mont Réal (Mount Royal). The first
permanent European settlement on the site of present-day Montreal was
established in 1642, when the French administrator Paul de Chomedey,
Monsieur de Maisonneuve, founded the mission of Ville Marie on the
banks of the St Lawrence River. The English captured Montreal in 1760,
and the area became part of the British North American Empire in 1763.
Following the development of the harbour in the early 19th century
Montreal was incorporated as a city in 1832, and the arrival of the
railway in the middle of the century attracted manufacturers and
immigrants from all over the world. By the early 20th century, it had
become the largest commercial and manufacturing centre in Canada.
Montreal has one of the largest French-speaking populations of any city
in the world.
Plate 53: Mont Real: Taxi
144
See page 147
160
161
I recall little more about this first visit and began to look forward to
getting home again. We had one more stop to make and that was TroisRivieres halfway between Montreal and Quebec at the confluence of the
Saint-Maurice and Saint Lawrence rivers. It is a deep-water port and an
industrial centre, producing great quantities of paper, especially
newsprint. I managed to go for a long walk around this very catholic
town, however I saw an Anglican church, built in 1699, the 19th century
Gothic-style cathedral, and the Ursuline Convent (1697), which houses a
museum of art and artefacts. This is one of the oldest settlements in
Canada, established in 1634 by the French under the direction of the
explorer Samuel de Champlain, at a site previously occupied by an
Algonquian stockade. It grew as a port and fur-trading post during the
19th century and as hydroelectric power was developed on the rivers in
the early part of the 20th century, the city expanded rapidly. It was
considered the world's capital for the manufacture of paper products
around 1930. We finally arrived in London on 7 August and were
moored in Victoria docks to discharge our cargo of grain.
Buenos Aires and Malaria
162
But lo! A new Bark brings o‘er the brine,
Better than all, the museful ―Argentine‖
Walter Owen145 (1884-1953)
Plate 54: Dakar in Senegal
My leave lasted just two weeks and I remember little that was
positive. I was depressed and obsessed with my health. The heart
palpitations were getting worse and I was too scared to consult anyone so
I kept it to myself. The family news was also cause for some concern as
Dad, now working in Lymington every day, wanted to move back to be
nearer but he couldn‘t sell the house without making a loss. Also, though
he had withdrawn partly from the Christchurch Priory fruit market, he
still had some of his precious capital tied up. On the brighter side Peter
had substantially recovered from the effects of his skin allergy and was
building a social life again. I got tickets for us to see the new farce at the
Palace Court Theatre in Bournemouth starring Brian Rix who became the
leading player in British Farces for the next thirty years or so. The play
was Colin Morris‘s Reluctant Heroes and was a tonic for all who saw it
dealing with the topical theme of National Service. I was sent for to
145
The last couplet from the Sonnet ‗On completing the translation of ―Argentina‖; Walter
Owen was the translator of the Argentine Epic ―El Gaucho Martin Fierro‖ by Jose Hernandez .
I was told that he was a patient in the British Hospital, Buenos Aires at the same time as I was.
162
163
rejoin my ship on August 23 and we sailed soon after for Buenos Aires,
via Dakar as the fuelling stop in West Africa.
First I had a few days in London and I would escape from the ship in
the evening and visit the West End where I saw play after play. I met my
cousin Marigold, the only child of mother‘s brother, Uncle Boy, and we
went to the theatre together. She was working in a library near Shepherds
Bush at that time but would much rather have been a ballet dancer. One
production in particular has remained vivid in my memory and that was
the verse comedy, The Lady’s Not for Burning by Christopher Fry. The
cast was starry indeed including John Gielgud, the very young Richard
Burton and Claire Bloom, and the delectable Pamela Brown. The play
was brilliantly directed by Gielgud and is full of verbal fireworks—I
understood about ten percent of it but I was transfixed. I escorted my
Aunt Enid, Uncle Boy‘s wife, to the play after Marigold, who was to
have accompanied me, at the last minute couldn‘t come. I was
disappointed, as I felt far more at ease with the daughter. I also spent
some time with Uncle Boy who at this time was the orchestral manager
of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Sir Thomas Beecham‘s own. They
were rehearsing Cosi Fan Tutte in a drill hall in Acton in preparation for
the Edinburgh festival and it was a thrill to creep in at the back and
watch, though unfortunately I cannot remember any ‗bon mots‘ from the
great maestro. Not long after this Uncle Boy left this position owing to
the intervention of Lady Beecham who wanted the job, it was said, for a
relative; he then went back to being a percussionist in the Sadlers Wells
ballet orchestra.
Plate 55: Buenos Aires, 1949
164
The Argentine was in fact the principal trading location of the
Houlder Line, particularly for chilled and frozen meat, and they had a
number of refrigerated cargo liners regularly visiting Argentine ports.
This would be my third and last voyage on the SS Cerinthus and it
proved to be for me eventful indeed. The weather was very severe for the
first week as we proceeded south through the North Atlantic with
unusually heavy gales for the time of year. As I lay in my bunk reading
Sir David Bone‘s memoirs146 of being an apprentice under sail I was glad
not to have to go up aloft to reef sail in weather like this. I became very
unsettled and began to wonder if life at sea was really for me. I thought I
would try and develop my interest in the theatre more by having another
go at writing a play but I couldn‘t settle and it was hard to be private
when sharing a small cabin. The distance to Dakar is about 3000 miles
and this took us two weeks. The weather became calmer and we settled
down to the routine of chipping rust and generally making good damage
and repairs resulting from the rough weather. I admired the patience of
Mr Welch who meticulously varnished all the wooden deck doors first by
scraping all the old stuff off then laying on several coats of sizes and
stains finishing with the hard topcoat for maximum protection against the
salt and sun. Mr Welch knew something was up with me so he arranged
for me to see a doctor in Dakar; this proved to be a disaster, as I will
relate. The doctor, who was naturally French from the former French
colony of Senegal, examined me and asked me what the problem was. I
described the palpitations and he asked me if I had a pain in my left arm I
said no and he shook his head and probably put it down to some
psychological cause and I suppose he was right. While I was ashore I had
to visit our agent‘s office, which meant quite a long walk through the
town; the weather was now scorching and insects most likely bit me as
later I grew some prize bumps along with the prickly heat.
The next phase of the voyage to Buenos Aires would be longer,
nearly 4,500 miles so it would take nearly three weeks. During the
voyage special identity cards for Argentina were prepared and issued
using photos that had been taken in London before we sailed (Plate 56).
During the first part of the voyage from Dakar we appreciated the strong
NE Trade winds, which blow toward the equator. South of the equator
there would be the corresponding region of SE Trade winds with the
Doldrums to come in between. The Doldrums weather was typical,
sultry, thunderstorms and heavy rain. It was explained to me that in this
region hurricanes are generated. A hurricane was beginning to develop
within my body. I began to have severe headaches and later felt hot
enough to boil over. I was running a fever. By the time we were well and
146
Sir David Bone, ‗Brassbounder‘, 1910
164
165
truly in the SE Trades Mr Welch was getting quite worried about me.
The Captain radioed for advice from a doctor on a passing Royal Mail
Liner homeward bound from Rio. The doctor said I should lie on my
back without a pillow and take aspirin every four hours to bring down the
fever, which had shot up to 106 degrees. We still had about a week to run
before arriving in BA but I don‘t remember much about it. The treatment
did bring the fever down but I still felt very ill. During this horrible
period and later David did all he could to make me comfortable. As soon
as we tied up in the harbour a doctor was sent for and he took one look at
me and sent for an ambulance.
Plate 56: Argentine Passport, September 30, 1949
166
The company doctor, an Argentinean of German descent, whose
name was Bilfeldt thought I had influenza but wanted me in hospital for
observation. I remember little about the journey in the ambulance but I
suppose I was very apprehensive. I found myself in a small hospital run
by Nuns147 in a very dark ward with one other bed occupied by another
Merchant Seaman who smoked all the time, indeed I remember Bilfeldt
telling him not to smoke as it might upset me but I fear he took no notice.
I found the night time especially terrifying as you could hear screams and
moans from other parts of the building. The relatives of the inmates
occupied the corridors and also made a lot of noise. The next day a thin
man with a Lancastrian accent came to see me and it was a relief to speak
English. He turned out to be Brian Greenhalgh from the Missions to
Seamen, a man that I was to get to know very well and who was
exceedingly good to me (Plate 57). He cheered me up and said he would
get me moved to the British Hospital. However Bilfeldt decided that after
a few days I could return to the ship as the fever had not returned.
Plate 57: Two Snaps of Brian Greenhalgh, Buenos Aires, 1949148
147
I think it was in the San Telmo, but years later I was unable to find it.
Photographs from the collection of Brian Greenhalgh, 1325 Route de Creully Cairon Par
Thaon 14610, France
148
166
167
Back on board I was assigned to light duties and began to see where
we were and how the city looked. In fact we were tied up in Darsena
Norte in Dock 1, see Plate 55, quite close to the centre of the city. I had
the feeling that some of my shipmates thought I was malingering a little,
but not David, he knew I was ill and said so. Indeed I felt so weak that I
soon became very tired and after a short excursion to see the Presidents
Palace in Plaza 25 de Mayo I began feeling quite unwell again. By
evening the fever was back and so was Bilfeldt. This time he was quite
upset and he took me straight to the British Hospital149 in the back of his
car. My temperature was off scale but I remember Dr Bilfeldt extracting
blood from my arm to do tests. One of the nurses looking after me was
from Berkshire, which was such a relief for some reason. Later I
remember another who spoke Welsh and Spanish and was learning
English, she was very sweet to me. Indeed most of the other nurses
turned out to be Welsh from Patagonia, which seemed odd but all was
explained eventually. After the tests it was decided I had Malaria and I
realised later that my condition was serious. The fever lasted several days
despite the treatment of Quinine and other drugs. Brian told me later that
he was quite worried for me at the beginning. The cycles of fever
appeared to come twice daily. The pattern was that after intense shivering
and feeling very cold I would become hotter with a warm front, starting
somewhere down by my feet, slowly working its way up. I remember
thinking if it ever got to my head then I would most certainly die, but it
never did. Or was I so delirious by then that I have now forgotten? They
used ice packs on my head in an effort to make me feel more comfortable
and I sweated profusely. They eventually got the fever under control but I
had been left severely weakened and had lost a lot of weight. Dr Bilfeldt
was apologetic and concerned and said I would need to stay in hospital
for quite some time; he also said that I had had an infection of rheumatic
fever as well. It now became clear to my shipmates that I was seriously
ill.
I gradually became aware of my new surroundings. I was in ‗Lister
Ward‘ with ten other patients. They seemed mostly to be of British origin
but not exclusively so. In the next bed to me there was a young man who
worked at the City Hotel, the leading hotel in the city in those days, he
was a Mr Kelly and was very encouraging to me in my low state. In the
bed on the other side there was an Ex British railway official. I gathered
he had kept his job after President Peron had nationalised the Argentine
railways and so was very grateful. He was a talkative ‗walking wounded‘
patient recovering from an operation; he wore a torn brown dressing
gown and had his arm in a sling. He spent a lot of his time arguing with
149
Probably about 10 October, 1949
168
the others about the regime. He called President, Juan Domingo Peron,
affectionately ‗John Sunday‘ and would frequently declare whilst
walking up and down the ward ‗He is a great man our leader‘. Brian
Greenhalgh visited me often in the early days and made sure I had all I
needed, he also told me that since I was a ship‘s officer I could be
transferred to a private ward but I decided against a change at this stage
as I was well content where I was.
Plate 58:The British Hospital in Buenos Aires
The routine was the classic British style with plenty of starch; the
matron an ageing matriarch dressed in white seemed to rule her nurses
with bleak authority and her daily round had all the style of the
quarterdeck. There was also an under matron dressed in black who came
round later each day. The ward sister wore the traditional black and white
and the staff nurses were dressed in blue and white. The sisters and the
matrons were British to the core but many of the juniors were of Welsh
origin from the Chubut region in Patagonia150, their natural language was
Spanish and Welsh, with English learned in school. The morning parade
of the surgeons and doctors was also a sight to see. One senior consultant
in particular, the doyen of the place, by name Doctor Drysdale, made a
huge production out of his rounds. He was a white haired sage followed
150
In 1865 153 people from North Wales settled in Patagonia seeking isolation to preserve
their religious way of life
168
169
by a retinue of underlings; he always swept by me without notice as I
was not his patient, to deliver his verdict on one of his own—which
usually meant the unfortunate was due to visit his operating theatre. The
serving of meals was also curious. Some hours before lunch or dinner an
orderly would bring round a large cup of soup and the ‗British Peronista‘
told me that I had better drink it up or else! I was not eating much to start
with as I was still getting fever bouts but he told me that he had refused
the stuff when he first came in a number of times. He was then given an
enema. So he said to me, ‗watch out lad, if you don‘t drink it they will
come round and shove it up your arse‘.
Plate 59: Excerpt from the Ship’s Articles151
In a week or so I started to recover, at least the fevers had gone but I
apparently became an ‗Interesting Case‘, particularly for the dietician, a
doctor called Jacobs who had me subjected to a number of tests. I think
the Hospital wanted to make its name as a centre of medical research and
this chap‘s interest was in metabolic rates so he had devised a special
machine. They clipped my nose with some kind of clothes peg and stuck
a tube in my mouth so that I had to breathe in and out of the contraption.
As this was going on they also monitored my pulse, blood pressure and
body temperature etc. By these means he was going to devise a special
151
Photocopy from the Registry of Shipping & Seamen, Anchor House, Cheviot Close, Parc
Ty Glas, Llanishen, Cardiff, CF4 5JA.
170
diet for me. They also had me drinking masses of water and measured
my bodily outputs of urine and stools, all harmless but quite useless.
Plate 60: Cadet David Walton aboard SS Cerinthus, December 1949152
152
Photographs from the collection of Captain D F Walton, Kamloops, BC, the top picture is
of SS Cerinthus bunkering at St Vincent, 5 December, 1949
170
171
After about three weeks I had a relapse when the fever came back
again but with the quinine sulphate it was rapidly brought back under
control. After this I made better progress but it was decided I needed to
spend a lot longer in hospital and so I missed my ship, which by now was
ready to sail. David had been a regular visitor and had done his best to
cheer me up and brought the rest of my things ashore. We said our
farewells but were fated never to meet again, and I had no knowledge of
what happened to him for over fifty years but I always remembered our
three voyages together, sharing a small cabin, and working alongside
each other vividly; we were quite different in temperament but he was
kind and helpful and often gave me confidence when it was most needed.
However, recently his son traced me, owing to the ‗magic‘ of the
internet, and we have exchanged letters. David settled in Canada and was
for many years the Captain of a ferry operating in British Columbia. I
was delighted to receive from him a photograph of both him and the ship
taken at sea in 1949(Plate 60).
Captain Auld came to the hospital and signed me off on 16th
November (Plate 59). So I was now a Distressed British Seaman (DBS)
on the beach in a foreign country. Houlders however were completely
responsible for me and said I would be sent home at their expense when I
was fit again. The princely sum of £14 2s 1d was handed over to the
consul as my wages due and my effects to the company agent. By now I
was getting mail from home and the family were very concerned but
fully in the picture as to my condition. One day a friendly gentleman
came to see me, he was from England and connected with shipping and
on a business trip in Argentina. He had flown down on the flying boats,
which ran a weekly service from Southampton to Buenos Aires.
Someone in Houlders had told him about me and after a very friendly
chat he said he would go and see my family when he got home.
I also made friends with a very unlucky man in the ward called John
Hall who had had a poisonous foot, which had to be amputated owing to
the onset of gangrene. He had been in the rubber industry up in Bolivia
and had led a very active life, so the loss of his foot was very unfortunate.
He had a fund of stories about life in the bush and kept us amused. I can
only remember one and this concerned a Chinese cook and a young
worker who was missing his wife. He kept badgering his boss to have a
weekend home but to no avail since it would take far too long and he was
needed for work. After several attempts to change his mind the boss
eventually said:
There is always the Chinese cook, if you really are desperate
How many people would need to know?
172
Only seven
Seven, how come?
Well, there‘s you, the Chinese cook, and me of course…. and the four men to hold
him down.
I got used to the daily routine with all my convalescing needs being
provided by the hospital staff. After breakfast one read the daily English
language newspaper, ‗The BA Herald‘, and then completed its rather
easy crossword. A barber would come round and perform a quick shave.
The nurses, twice a day, would rub your back with surgical spirit to
prevent bedsores, they would tease me a lot trying to teach me Spanish
using the language of mild flirtation. A book trolley saw to my reading
needs and I embarked on an extensive reading program but I must
confess I avoided anything too deep. I became a fan of ‗Empire
Literature‘, i.e. the novels of Edgar Wallace, P C Wren, John Buchan and
the detective stories by Freemen Wills Croft that feature the exploits of
Chief Inspector French; all of these were dated even then but somehow I
found them reassuring.
Plate 61: Flying Angel House, Buenos Aires, 1950153
I had one adventure with the hospital dentist who I was sent to see in
his clinic. I had had tooth ache and he said it would have to be extracted,
unfortunately for me the injection did not take and as he started to pull I
yelled with excruciating pain and bounded out of the chair. The nurses
sedated me with morphine but I still remember the pain—they say we
153
Photograph from the collection of Brian Greenhalgh
172
173
have no memory of pain but I dispute this. I later saw another dentist in
the city and he repaired the damage. I was also made aware that hospitals
were places where people sometimes actually died. One night a man was
brought in very ill and immediately placed in an Oxygen Tent. His family
gathered round his bed but in the morning he died without regaining
consciousness. One of the nurses told me he had a stroke whilst in his
bath and that he was a wealthy Estancia154 owner of Scottish descent,
well known in BA
The weeks went by and I started to feel better. Brian came and I
went on some excursions with him and began to discover the life he was
leading. A deeply committed Christian he was devoted to helping seaman
both practically and spiritually. He certainly helped me a very great deal
and also became a good friend. He showed me the Mission church and
hall (Plate 61) where he was based and introduced me to many people in
the British community in Buenos Aires, which was the largest in any
country outside the British Commonwealth. I began to appreciate the
delights of the city, which despite the rather oppressive regime, appeared
to offer, if you could afford it, much that was civilised. I also had a letter
from The Colonel O‘Donaven155; a family friend from Lymington who I
think at one time was attracted to my Aunt Bju:
My dear Billie: Madame and I send you our wishes for Christmas: hope , too, that
you will soon be fit again and on your way home. I can sympathise—I have just got
over 5 weeks of my old Malaria—and dwell upon my days in the sun. I have just
rung your mother to get your whereabouts; they are all cheery and Aunt B. answered
the telephone. I saw David in the street, a few months ago, with his crimson school
cap. He was shopping, he said. Madame often thinks of you and the chocolates. She
gets hers from Ireland, when she can. But not from a budding Sailor and Empire
Builder. Good night now and God Bless.
‗The Colonel – O‘Donaven
PS. What are the Nurses? Spanish? What Bliss. They always wore very high heels,
when I was young. Too high
I left the hospital around the beginning of December and was
booked by Houlders into the Phoenix Hotel156 in Calle San Martin at the
corner of Avenida Cordoba near the centre of the city. This hotel was run
in a very old fashioned, somewhat genteel style, even for those days. A
rattling cage lift took one to the upper floors and my room was quite
large with a hard bed, a cracked washbasin and little else and had no
view. However, I remember that the meals in the restaurant were good
154
A cattle ranch in the interior
The ‗The’ is part of his title which he was proud of and came from an old Anglo Irish
family.
156
Still there in 1998 when I last visited Buenos Aires but completely modernised
155
174
though simple with little choice. I spent the first few days exploring the
city and the area that made the strongest impression on me was La Valle,
a narrow street running parallel to Cordoba just three blocks to the south.
La Valle was full of cinemas157, I counted at least forty, and I reckoned,
in the course of a month, one could see almost every film of note ever
made. I certainly went to quite a few. Also near the hotel was Harrods the
premier store in the city and British owned and modelled on the famous
shop in Kensington, London. On the top floor of this shop there was the
British library, which I joined; and so was able to continue reading
‗Empire Literature‘ to my heart‘s content.
In the afternoon I would usually proceed to Avenue San Juan to the
Missions to Seaman and sometimes in the evening Brian would take me
to one of his favourite restaurants. I came to appreciate the Argentine‘s
fondness for steak but what impressed me most was a bar restaurant in
Passeo Colon, the broad boulevard that runs north south parallel to the
dock area, and very near the Mission, known as the ‗Blue Anchor‘. The
owner was an ex opera singer from the famous Teatro Colon and he
would entertain his guests with an aria or two. His best performance was
a striking rendition of ‗Largo El Factotum‘ from The Barber of Seville. I
wanted to go to the opera but that had to wait until later visits to BA. I
was also invited by some of my fellow patients in the British Hospital to
visit them at their homes. The British people mostly lived in the
fashionable suburbs like Hurlingham and Temperly where a ‗Home
Counties‘ style of life was followed including Polo and Cricket. Mr &
Mrs Hill invited me for the weekend to their little house in Olivos, a
residential area in the Province of BA some miles out of the city. This
proved to be an embarrassing visit as John Hill was going through a bad
time. After the amputation of his foot the gangrene had unfortunately
spread up his leg. This necessitated further surgery; first his leg was cut
off below his knee and finally his whole leg had to be amputated to arrest
the infection, which finally stopped. Lying in the next bed I vividly
remember observing his sufferings and stoicism as he was recovering
from these dreadful operations. My condition was trivial by comparison.
He had lost his job and his future prospects looked bleak indeed. He
quarrelled with his wife while I was there and Mrs Hill got most upset.
They had a ten-year-old boy who was proving to be a problem as well.
As I left Mrs Hill gave me several pairs of her husband‘s shoes, which he
no longer had the use for; I found it impossible to refuse them though
they were obviously far too small for me.
As Christmas approached I went to the Mission more often as well
as attending the annual hospital party, which gave me an opportunity to
157
In 1998 the number had dropped to about ten, but still very impressive
174
175
thank the many nurses who had helped me. Dr Bilfeldt now thought I
was well enough to return home and it was arranged that I would join the
MV Hornby Grange, Houlders flag ship at that time, shortly after
Christmas. My presence in BA was also acknowledged by the Consular
office who sent me a greeting (Plate 62). I signed on the Hornby Grange
(Plate 63) in Buenos Aires on 30th December 1949 and found myself as
the fifth Cadet and assigned to light duties. Hawthorn Leslie & Co. Ltd.,
Newcastle in 1946, built this ship, a twin-screw motor vessel of 9,706
gross tons for the company. At this time she was the largest chilled meat
carrier in the world. The transporting of meat at ‗chilled‘ temperatures, a
little below freezing (29ºF), required faster ships than those used for
deeply frozen meat to avoid deterioration so, for the Argentine trade, a
speed of 15 knots, allowing homeward voyage of approximately 16 days
is about optimum. Ships like the Hornby Grange were specially designed
for this River Plate trade. She also had accommodation for twelve first
class passengers thus the general standard of life and expected discipline
was higher than on the Cerinthus. The ship carried four deck officers, the
first, second and third kept the watches with a chief officer who was
responsible for the daily executive management of the vessel and in over
all second command under the master. The apprentices had a fairly large
cabin with four berths, which meant the senior apprentice moving out to
a spare cabin to make room for me, though throughout the voyage I
remained on light duties under the watchful eye of the ship‘s doctor.
Plate 62: Christmas Greeting from the British Consul
176
I had the chance to meet Brian again and to say good-bye to Dr
Bilfeldt and other friends. The good doctor gave me two prescriptions in
case of further attacks, but it was not clear whether or not I had the
recurring sort of Malaria. It had been a shattering experience for me to be
ill so far away from my family and I was happy about the prospect of
returning home. I had been introduced to a fascinating country and had
made new friends but I could not pretend to have learnt very much about
Argentina or its people as I was very much wrapped up in my own
predicament. I didn‘t know it then but I would return many times in the
future and so get to know the country a lot better. We sailed in a few days
to go up to Zarate, a meat processing port some 75 miles up the
southernmost branch of the River Parana delta (Plate 64). Here we loaded
conventional frozen meat into the lower refrigerated holds before moving
to La Plata, a large city and port about 50 miles to the east of BA (Plate
64) for the final cargo of chilled meat into the upper holds. I remember
very little about this trip and what I can recall about this first excursion
up the River Parana etc. is confused in my mind with the later voyages I
made to this region which I shall come to in due course.
Plate 63: MV Hornby Grange
After a week or so in Zarate we proceeded to La Plata to load the
chilled meat cargo. By late January we departed for home, arriving in
London on 16th February at Victoria Docks. As we came alongside I was
told to stand by the gangway, as the marine superintendent wanted to see
me straight away. I suppose my illness had caused the company some
anxiety and I think Captain Allan was much relieved to see me looking
quite well. He told me I was to go home immediately and get checked out
by my family doctor and only when he was satisfied about my recovery
176
177
was I to contact the company to be assigned a new ship. My family
greeted me warmly and it was clear they had all been dreadfully worried
about me. The man who visited me in hospital had made a special
journey to see them and so they knew that I was in good hands.
Plate 64: Buenos Aires & River Plate
I went to see our Bournemouth physician a Doctor Westgarth Taylor
who had helped Peter with his skin allergy. He examined me and read Dr
Bilfeltd‘s notes. Apparently they had been worried about my high blood
pressure in BA which seems to have been auto-suggestive; Taylor
explained to me about hypertension but was on the whole very reassuring
and after writing and giving me English language versions of
prescriptions said I was fit to go back to sea. I spent a month at home
with visits to Lymington to see old friends, and caught up with all the
latest family news. Dad was still trying to sell the house but so far
without success. It appeared that he was getting on fine with the Garage
business in Lymington but he still hadn't been able to get his money out
of the Fruit market in Christchurch. Mum was still trying to pass her
driving test without success and her antics behind the wheel were
becoming a family joke. There was a general election on February 23,
my younger brother David‘s birthday. He was now 12 and still at his prep
school in Lymington. I took him out for the day with his headmaster‘s
blessing. In the election the Labour party‘s majority was much reduced,
only 17 over the conservatives and with 9 liberals returned they didn‘t
178
have a majority over all. Dad thought they would not last long and
Winston Churchill would soon be back. Also the atomic scientist Klaus
Fuchs was found guilty of betraying atomic secrets to USSR. He had
been working at the newly created Atomic Energy Research Laboratory
at Harwell and though I was becoming interested in Physics I could not
have imagined then that one day I would be working there.
178
179
The Ovingdean Grange and the Argentine Run
Mountains of silver indeed there were in Mexico and Peru, and these were the goal
and foundation of Spanish power in the Americas. Not so in the region to be called
Argentina. The first Spaniards arrived in 1516 under the leadership of Juan Diaz de
Solis. Unlike Cortes, de Solis encountered no civilised community of Indians which
he could divide and conquer. Quite the contrary. The Indians were poor, primitive,
and savage, and they ate him.
H S Ferns, Argentina158
Plate 65: The River Plate Run
158
H S Ferns, Argentina, Ernest Benn limited, London, 1969, page 17
180
I was now designated as fit and I soon received orders from
Houlders to report to the SS Ovingdean Grange at Victoria Docks to sign
on for a voyage to the Argentine and Patagonia (Plate 67) on 9 March
1950. This ship, like the Liberty ship Cerinthus, was a wartime vessel of
the ‗Empire Ship‘ class, built in the UK. She was launched as the Empire
Buckler in 1942 but was renamed by Houlders in 1946159. She was built
by Lithgow Ltd., Kingston Shipbuilding Yard at Port Glasgow,
completed in September 1942. Her gross tonnage was 7,046 with length,
beam measurements of 433 ft x 56 ft respectively. As the Ovingdean
Grange, Houlders owned her from 1946 to 1959 and as she was partially
equipped with refrigeration equipment they used her mainly in the meat
trade from Argentina. She was sold in 1959 to a Liberian ‗flag‘ under the
name Sabrina and later to a Lebanese ‗flag‘ under the name Noemi and
finally was wrecked in 1965 off the coast of Oman.
Plate 66: Ovingdean Grange160
I was about to begin the first of three voyages in this ship and for the
next year she would be my home and then my apprenticeship would be
complete. The Master of the Ovingdean, an upright man of about 46
whose name was Charles Belton was known to one and all as ‗Bullshit
Belton‘ because of his attention to smartness—I think it was his first
command. Of the first mate I remember little except that he was a decent
sort; his name was Mr Turner (aged about 28), and he always maintained
a friendly and helpful relationship with us all. The second mate, William
Byers, was quite different yet again; he kept himself to himself at all
159
W H Mitchel and L A Sawyer, The Empire Ships: A Record of British Built and acquired
Merchant Ships during the Second World War, No. 979, page 89. Houlders used several
Empire Ships, including the Urmston Grange in which I later served as Second Officer.
160
22 July 1950 [F W Hawkes Collection]
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181
times which was just as well because he reeked of scent. He had recently
married a South American lady from Chile and always wanted to have
his leave in Buenos Aires. The third officer, Mr Sankey (aged about 23),
turned out to be an excellent chap and was a good friend to me and to my
fellow apprentice161. The Sparks, a Mr Dingly, was much older, in his
forties, and really did keep to himself—he became a man of mystery
owing to his back being covered in scars, at least according to the second
steward who reported on the state of his bed linen. The other person on
board who impressed me from the start was the Bosun; a tough black
chap from the Seychelles Islands but now settled in Tiger Bay Cardiff.
The night before we sailed from London the crew celebrated in the dock
boozer in traditional style; they were a ‗London‘ crowd and so many
wives and sweethearts were there to join in the party. As the evening
progressed singing broke out including the traditional:
Now is the hour
When we must say goodbye
This was based on the Maori song of parting very popular
everywhere in those days. Although this was a sentimental occasion there
were genuine emotions expressed as well about the coming separation.
The more knowing officers discussed whether all of the crew ratings had
left adequate provision for their families by declaring an allotment of
their wages. Or if, as soon as ‗Jack‘ was out of site and mind their
women folk would get their consolation elsewhere. My own feelings
were changing; I believe I had now got over ‗Australia‘, my illness had
helped in that and I could now think of other options. The talk in the pub
was about the ‗Long Johns‘ we had all been issued with at the company‘s
expense. This ‗thermal‘ underwear was for Southern Patagonia where we
were going and in particular the Island of Tierro del Fuego at the ‗end of
the world‘ where it was always cold.
I was looking forward to BA and maybe learning more about this
fascinating city. On the voyage south I tried to read a little about the
history of Argentina, see footnote 158. I learnt, for example, that one of
the first explorers from Spain, Juan Diaz de Solis, was eaten by the local
Indians but it was Sebastian Cabot, the great Venetian navigator under
the service of the Spanish crown, who managed to penetrate the country
by river in the hope that this would lead him to the source of the silver in
the north. He got as far as present day Rosario (1526) before turning back
and still optimistically named the river estuary the Rio de la Plata (The
161
According to the articles of which I recently obtained a copy, his name was Hugh Michael
Bell but strangely he has now gone completely from my mind. For years I thought he was John
Lofts who certainly was with me on this ship for the next two voyages.
182
River Plate). His optimism was rewarded by two years in jail in West
Africa. His father John Cabot with his sons had settled in Bristol in 1490
and, as all kids of my generation learnt from their history lessons,
discovered North America, or at least Newfoundland and Nova Scotia
and claimed that part of the new continent for England whilst searching
for the North West passage. Among European Royalty he also served
Henry VIII and indeed later Edward VI as inspector of the navy and
founded the company of Merchant Adventurers of London.
Subsequent landings in the River Plate encountered strong
opposition from Indians but the upper reaches of the river were explored
and the city of Asuncion (the capital of present day Paraguay) was
founded. Hereabouts the Indians were friendly and lived a sedentary life
as cultivators and food gatherers and with an abundance of fuel and
building materials available the invading Spanish found a society ready
for exploitation. Thus several ‗provincial‘ cities were established in
Northern and Western Argentina as the region was later called. It took
two centuries for Buenos Aires to grow and become important and so the
city is a latecomer in the great metropolises of the western side of the
Atlantic. The single most significant reason for this change was the
transformation of the deserted pampas into a treasure house of riches.
Cattle and horses brought to America by the Spanish settlers proliferated
on the endless pastures. The environment of grass and water under a hot
but friendly sun made all the difference by providing food. Furthermore
the combination of Indians and half-breeds with horses led to the hunting
and processing of cattle for marketing. So the culture of the Gaucho and
the boom in leather was born. The fertility of the Pampas is in part due to
the huge alluvial deposits of rich soil brought down by the vast river
system flowing west from the Andes and from the north and east from
the plateau in Brazil. It is said that if you were to plough the earth west
from the River Plate to the Andes you would not encounter a single
stone.
On this voyage our first port of call was Montevideo the capital of
Uruguay. Uruguay in many respects is a smaller version of Argentina
having a similar pampas culture with its mix of Spanish colonial and
Indian origins. The city of Montevideo guards the northern bank of the
River Plate estuary and it was near here just ten years earlier that the first
sea battle of WW2 was fought when the British navy took on the Graf
Spee, the mighty German pocket battleship which had been plundering
British shipping in the early months of the war. Fatally damaged she
crept into Montevideo harbour and was later scuttled by her commander
when political pressures prevented the essential repairs from being
carried out. We arrived on the evening of 6 April in glorious autumn
weather. I remember going ashore and enjoying the nightlife, which was
182
183
colourful, lively, and mildly erotic. In a tavern called the ‗Blue Anchor‘ I
fell in with a lady called Gladys who I think was of English descent; the
way she held on to me as we shuffled round the small dance floor stoked
my boilers in way I had never experienced before. Just when I thought I
had it made she told me that she was kept by an American sailor who was
expected home soon. Furthermore, she said she had a baby at home but I
could come back later if I wanted. Back aboard the ship the Chief
Steward told me I was a bloody fool when I asked him how to spell
Gladys as I wanted to write the girl a letter to tell her I couldn‘t come
back that night as I had to be on board to keep watch. The next day we
left for Buenos Aires, which was probably just as well. On arrival in BA
Doctor Bilfeldt came aboard and spotted me and asked me to come up to
the hospital next day as he wanted to check me over—I was very relieved
when he told me all was well.
Plate 67: Argentina, Patagonia & Tierro Fuego
184
Plate 68: Calle Florida
On the way to the hospital I noticed the posters everywhere
declaring that this was the year of the Liberador General San Martin.
This man died in France in 1850 but this celebration was to
commemorate his exploits in 1814 when he organised an army to cross
the Andes to liberate Chile and Argentina from their colonial Spanish
master. He was successful in this but later quarrelled with almost
everyone in the new state and went to Europe a very disappointed man.
Years late the Argentines wanted a national hero so they arranged for his
body to be re-interred in the cathedral in Buenos Aires. Thus a precedent
was born that was to be repeated with the body of Eva Peron years later.
The Peron government always looking for myths to appease and succour
the people revived the cult of San Martin in a big way by declaring 1950
to be a special centenary year. The emergence of BA as the main city and
indeed the capital of the fledging republic was due in part to the way the
citizens thoroughly defeated the British when they made two attempts to
secure BA for the British crown in 1806. The British army left with their
tail between their legs but there were many deserters who settled. The
British came anyway and developed the trade from the Pampas of meat,
leather and grain, building railways and settling in Buenos Aires. But
throughout the nineteenth century very much larger numbers of Spanish
and Italian immigrants came. To begin with the Italian workers would
operate a seasonal routine, spending half the year in Italy and the other in
Argentina. And so European people, particularly in the cities, heavily
dominated the population. There had been no slave trade, which meant in
modern times the population was predominantly white with half-breed
184
185
and Indian descendants living in the pampas. Powerful families acquired
the land however and built up ‗empires‘ based on the gaucho culture.
One such was Juan Manuel Ortiz de Rozas who became the first in a
long line of ruthless dictators in 1830. He governed with a gaucho‘s
ruthlessness and lack of respect for human life. His spies and secret
police intimated his enemies who were often beheaded, and their heads
exhibited in public. He was in power for over twenty years but was
finally overthrown in 1852. Nevertheless he brought stability and
unification and set the pattern of socio-politico structures of the country.
It is interesting to relate that the British Charge d‘Affaires, at great risk to
himself, conducted the fallen idol of the people, in disguise, and put him
aboard a British steamship. Thus he escaped the natural justice from his
successors and ended his days in England where he became a farmer near
Southampton and died in 1877. There are no statues in his honour in
Argentina today. Rozas was an example of a Caudillo, a kind of cowboy
baron or warlord and a long line of these succeeded him but the change
of power was usually bloodless. The first truly radical and honest leader
was Hipolito Irigoyen who was elected to the presidency in 1916 and he
lasted until 1930. By this time economic depression had made life
difficult and other forces were at work.
The current dictator Juan Peron who partially seized control in 1945,
was in many ways a true heir to Rozas. He was a flamboyant army
officer somewhat in the mould of Hermann Goring. He possessed the
skill of getting along well with people and inspired by the example of
Mussolini he wished to convert Argentina, a land of cattleman and
agricultural labourers, into a thoroughly modern state with its own
industrial base and self-sufficient economy. He exploited the fact that the
poorer classes had been neglected by previous regimes and saw that by
winning their support they could provide the basis of his power. So he set
out to provide social security measures like pensions and higher wages.
Peron was also a modern caudillo as he recognised the value of
propaganda and adopted a glamorous life style and was often in the
company of show business and sporting stars. This was how he met his
wife Eva Duarte who became even more powerful than Peron himself.
She was a nightclub entertainer who came from the working class and
responded to the snubs handed out by the ladies of wealth by an immense
determination to defeat them by winning the hearts and minds of the
workers. This the couple triumphantly did in 1946 when Peron obtained
the Presidency in elections fair and free. However the result was
achieved by a mixture of stage-managed hooliganism and other fascist
techniques.
When I came to Argentina for the first time in 1949 the process of
Peronista ‗reforms‘ was well advanced and the nationalisation of the
186
British controlled infrastructure had been completed. The British
community felt under threat but many kept their jobs by adopting the
‗cause‘ as my Peronista friend in the hospital showed. So what did I
make of all this? Walking in the city the life of many citizens appeared to
be glamorous with well-stocked shops and crowds of smartly dressed
portenos162 thronging the traffic free street of Calle Florida (Plate 68). To
me it was like London or New York, a city with a colourful night life and
full of artistic events—if you had money. The descamisados or shirtless
ones appeared at the docks each day to unload the cargoes and were
eager to buy from us packets of cigarettes, which were purchased cheaply
in the Cape Verde Islands. They wore loose fitting smocks gathered at
the waist by a broad cummerbund of black cloth and could hide the
cigarettes inside with ease. They were now a little better off owing to the
largess of Peronismo and their Saint was Eva Peron whom they dubbed
Evita. I eagerly made contact with Brian at the mission and enjoyed his
company. We attended a concert conducted by Malcolm Sargent, who
was on a tour introducing Benjamin Britten‘s Young Person’s Guide to
the Orchestra to South America, at the Gran Rex theatre in Avenue
Corrientes. We also found a café, not far from the Avenida 9 de Julio
with its Obelisk (Plate 69), where one could listen to the Tango played by
the characteristic line up of bandoleon, violin and piano. I was quite
enchanted by the girl who sang songs of love and death in a deep
contralto voice. The two weeks rapidly went by and we were soon on our
way to Tierro del Fuego to collect a cargo of frozen lamb.
This Island was discovered by Magellan and he called it ‗The Land
of Fire‘ because day and night the Indians dwelling along the coast kept
their fires alight against the perpetual cold and damp. The island is a land
of great contrast with high mountains in the West (the Chilean part and
southern tip of the Andes) with glaciers, which descend down to the sea,
and on the East (the Argentine part) a plain having a poor soil, which
produces an inferior type of grass that can only support a limited number
of sheep. The distance to Rio Grande, the small town from which frozen
lambs were processed, from BA is about 1500 miles. The journey took
over a week as we encountered severe westerly gales, which are ever
present off the coast of Tierro del Fuego. We arrived first in San
Sebastian a sheltered bay from the ‗roaring forties‘ where we had to
remain for several days. I remember that the admiralty charts for the bay,
based on a hydrographic survey carried out by the Navy in the last
century, were in serious error as to the soundings of the mean depth of
water. We reported our new findings, which showed considerable less
162
As the natives of Buenos Aires were known
186
187
depth, and we had to navigate with caution163. After several days the
wind abated and so we attempted to go to the port of Rio Grande some 50
miles to the south. The weather worsened again so it was decided to
return to the bay and ship the lamb out by lighters; it was deemed cold
enough to use insulated but un-refrigerated lighters as the ambient
temperature was sufficiently low. The British Consul came aboard and
stayed with us for many days to supervise the loading, he was also the
owner of the Estancia shipping the carcasses.
I spent part of the time assisting with the tallying of the lamb in Rio
Grande at the sheep station. The slaughterhouse procedures were, to my
sensitive nature, deeply off putting. The smell remains with me in my
mind‘s nasal senses to this day. It took well over two weeks to complete
the operation. A crowd of stevedores came aboard to carry out the
loading into our refrigerated holds; at night they would cook lamb chops
in the traditional Gaucho Assado style by spreading a carcass on a
vertical iron spit facing the wood fire embers—it tasted delicious. Also
we had a friendly Argentine official aboard who told me things about
Argentina and always beat me at chess. On at least one occasion we had
to heave up anchor and steam out to sea to ride the gales but eventually
the job was finished and we left for Puerto Deseado, a small port some
400 hundred miles to the north on the coast of Patagonia.
Plate 69: Avenue 9th July, The Widest Street in the World
163
I like to think we were credited with a small footnote on the modern chart but I have never
checked.
188
This place was on the north bank of the river of the same name that
had its source some 250 miles to the East near the border of Chile in the
Andes at Lago Buenos Aires. Puerto Deseado turned out to be tiny little
settlement and a sheep processing plant. The countryside reminded me of
Mid Wales; behind the town there were low grassy hills covered by a
heavy mist. It was bitter cold and not at all hospitable. Fortunately we
were there for only three days but long enough for a small adventure
ashore. Some of us went to the town ‗bar‘ which was empty apart from
the barman who told us there was a military run brothel nearby which we
could visit if we wished! Some of our men immediately disappeared. I
remember putting a coin in the jukebox and hearing a selection of Jerome
Kern, including All the Things you Are, which made us feel nostalgic for
home being in such a remote place. As the evening progressed the
Second Engineer, Jock Couper, got tight and started teasing me; he
pinched my cap and in playground fashion started tossing it to the others.
I then got very cross and we started a bit of a scrap. I sustained a blow to
my mouth and things began to get rough but at this point the Bosun, the
tough black chap from the Seychelles, joined in and thumped Couper164
soundly. He was a dreadful sight for days after but he didn‘t appear to
bare any malice. According to the ship‘s articles, signed by a Mr
Bateman the vice consul, we left Puerto Deseado on 22 May 1950165.
Plate 70: The Pampas Land
164
I met him years later in the Harwell social club where we had a drink and reminisced over
the fight without any malice.
165
I have a copy of the articles in my possession
188
189
The next leg of this voyage was a return to the River Plate but not to
Buenos Aires. This time we sailed up the River Parana for 250 miles as
far as Villa Constitucion to load grain into our non-refrigerated holds.
Above Buenos Aires the river becomes narrower and deeper; this fact is
an important consideration and limits the amount of cargo that can be
loaded ‗up river‘. On our way we steamed against a turgid flow of yellow
water through a vast area of flat land stretching as far as the eye could see
on either side (Plate 70). One can easily imagine how this huge
waterway, coming from its sources in the higher plateau of Brazil, with
its millions of tons of fresh water, irrigates and sustains the broad
stretches of the pampas. This rich land of black earth and pasture raises
two crops of grain every year. We arrived on 27 May and spent over a
week loading grain. My recollections of this part of the trip are very
sparse but I know we returned to Montevideo on 11 June to ‗top up‘ our
cargo having safely crossed the bar near the Isle of Garcia. We finally
left the River Plate region on 13 June and arrived back in London on 11
July.
Plate 71: Teatro Colon, Buenos Aires
I immediately went home to Bournemouth for ten days leave. It was
beautiful weather and the garden looked lovely. Dad had re-landscaped
the front area with a new low brick wall and made a patio. It was high
summer and very warm so the garden was being well used. In the spring
mother had planted a bed of dahlias, which were blooming in many
colours. Mother herself, though, was not well. Her throat had been giving
her trouble for some time and it appeared she was suffering from a severe
infection. I found her in bed. There were frequent visits from the doctor
but I was told that she would soon get over it. I said good-bye to her in
190
her bed and felt confident that she would be up and well when I next
came home.
We sailed for South America again on 4th of August from Newport
and reached Montevideo on 28 August and Buenos Aires on the 31
August. I discovered a few changes; we had a new First Officer, a Mr
Barker, a rather scruffy Londoner with very bad teeth but with a cheery
and decent disposition. The documentation I have166 confirms that my
fellow Apprentice on this voyage was indeed the John Lofts that in my
memory was with me also on the previous trip. John had the most
amazing red hair and freckles. He was two years younger than me and
came from Dartford in Kent. We became good friends and spent hours
chatting in the evenings after dinner. His interests were different from
mine; he was crazy about Motor Racing and would hold forth for hours
on the relative merits of the Grand Prix racing drivers of the day—
Stirling Moss was a particular favourite. We shared one thing though as
he was quite keen on cricket and liked nothing better than to toss an
orange, at great velocity, to me to develop my slip fielding skills.
Whoever dropped the orange first would have to answer a quiz question
posed by the other in order to stay in the game.
We arrived in the middle of a meat strike, which kept us in BA for
six weeks. I met up with Brian again at the Mission and helped them
prepare for the annual mission fete in San Telmo. I remember we worked
late in the evening preparing stalls etc. and afterwards had a pleasant
meal in Plaza Dorrego. As it was so late I decided to stay the night at the
Mission and according to Brian‘s memory I slept on the billiard table. On
the thirteenth of September I got a ticket for the Opera at the Teatro
Colon (Plate 71). This was the first of many performances I saw at this
magnificent house. The piece was Cimmarosa‘s, The Secret Marriage,
the brilliant ensemble piece contemporary with Mozart. It was
enchanting. Also in the audience I spotted our Sparks, Mr Dingley; he
had kept his interest in Opera very much to himself as he did everything
else but I walked back along Corrientes to dock 4 with him and it was
interesting to discuss the piece with someone who was very
knowledgeable.
The next day Captain Belton sent for me and handed me a piece of
paper, which knocked the stuffing out of me. It read:
No. 259
―OVINDEAN GRANGE‖ please translate the following and forward it to the
Captain—Apprentice Trowbridge please inform him mother died yesterday
166
Copy of the Ships Articles
190
191
Nothing more. Belton murmured something about how I should take
some time to adjust, and I left his cabin. It is difficult to describe the
loneliness that I felt but I remember the great kindliness shown by two
people. On board, the third officer Mr Sankey rose to the occasion in a
very sympathetic and understanding way but some of the others were too
embarrassed to say much but I am sure they felt for me, especially John
Lofts.
It was Brian who gave me most comfort and helped me send back to
the family a cable and flowers. Brian could share my grief because he
had lost his own mother when he was only eight and was able to offer
consolation and, being a deeply religious man and experienced in dealing
with grief, he knew how to help me come to terms with my loss. I
thought a lot about my younger brother David, who was only twelve, and
wondered how he was coping. Though I knew she was ill I had no idea it
was so serious. I had received no letters so I imagined shortly after I left
there had been a major deterioration in her condition leaving Dad no time
to worry about me. I wandered the streets of the city and saw film after
film in La Valle as way of escape. The only ones I remember seeing now
are Gone With the Wind and an early Danny Kaye film. After two days of
wandering I came back to earth and rejoined my shipmates. They were
having an all night drinking party in the 4th Engineer‘s cabin. He was a
tiny man with a scatological turn of mind. He knew more ‗dirty songs‘
than anyone I ever knew and that night we heard his complete repertoire.
In a week or so I began to receive mail from home. Peter wrote:
September 15, 1950
Dear Charles,
We received your cable this morning and also the Florist rang up concerning your
flowers, that was a very kind thought Bill.
It is very sad that we should lose our Mother so soon in life, she was only 48 you
know, it‘s a pity you are so far away and cannot be with us…but I expect your
deepest thoughts are with the family.
As you know Mother was in Lymington hospital for the past month 167, up until last
week the Doctors hoped she would turn the corner, but it wasn‘t to be. Poor Mother
was so weak from her ordeal in bed at Leven Close that other things set in, and she
was taken from us.
Dad asked me to write to you because, as I expect you can realise he is very upset,
they were only just beginning to enjoy life, and you don‘t need me to tell you how
hard he has worked in the past. David is taking it very well, and I think he has got
over the initial shock, he goes back to school soon now, and when he get‘s back
among the other boys we think he will be OK.
Your loving Brother..Peter
167
I did not know this as she was still in Bournemouth, at home, when I left on July 23
192
Plate 72: Programme for Teatro Colon 31 Oct 1950
I also heard from Mother‘s sisters Bju, Madge and Dinah. Aunt Bju
wrote:
September 26, 1950
Dear Bill.
I have been going to write to you so many times… We still cannot realise that your
mother isn‘t here any more, & though we knew she was very ill we had kept up
hope & had been so certain of her getting well again, especially after she went to
Lymington Hospital. But to begin with she was in such a low state of health as she
has been more or less ailing ever since last year when I was here before, but I quite
thought when I left her in Feb last, that she was well on the way again…I certainly
192
193
hoped she had finished with the Doctor 168here, however she didn‘t pick up again so
one thing led to another and this Doctor here seems to have treated her all wrong.
Anyway dear we could see after I had been here a week or so that she wasn‘t getting
better & Dinah169 came down too—but she needed hospital treatment and so we got
in touch with Dr Stewart who did everything possible and got her to the hospital—
but it wasn‘t to be Bill, she died in her sleep after being in there for five weeks..
I will tell you more about her actual illness when I see you—I felt for you very
much and the shock of hearing must have been terrible for you. I was glad you
cabled your father so swiftly it helped him a lot and the flowers were very lovely.
You made your mother very happy when you were home last170, you had taken her
out to tea and so forth and she enjoyed it so much……..
I went to the Garden of Remembrance today and took some of the flowers from this
garden which she had planted herself……
Love from Aunt B.
I now knew something of what had happened. Years later I learned that
she had developed a streptococcal infection, which had further developed
into a lethal septicaemia. These days it could have been cured and maybe
even then if a proper diagnosis had been made soon enough.
Meanwhile I managed to get my public life back together. The meat
strike ended by the end of September and we were then able to load the
first part of our cargo. This was completed by October 12 and the next
stage of the voyage was to steam up to Villa Constitucion as we had done
on the last voyage for a second cargo of grain. The ship‘s draft was kept
low enough to cross the bar at the entrance to the Parana River on our
return, and it only then remained to complete the final loading of our
cargo of frozen beef. I managed one more excursion to the Teatro Colon
for a double bill of ballet and the new choral work by Carl Orff receiving
its first performance in BA under the Hungarian conductor Ferenc
Fricsay. The whole evening was a celebration of modern German music.
The ballet was a version in four scenes of the Don Juan story set to music
by Werner Egk. I found the piece colourful but not memorable—I think
this must have been due mostly to the impact of the Orff piece, which
quite took my breath away. Though the cantata had been composed in
1937 it was not widely known then and certainly not the popular work it
is today. It was sung in Spanish but Brian translated the outline of the
piece from the programme note and so I got the gist of it and the mixture
of piety and profanity appealed to my humour especially in its
celebration of the world‘s delights. The rhythmic drive was tremendously
168
This was Dr Westgarth Taylor who had been treating her for the throat problem for
sometime. He also saw me after my illness in BA in 1949 and had been treating Peter for his
skin allergy.
169
Mother‘s youngest sister who was a state registered nurse
170
This was probably during my leave after leaving the SS Cerinthus in February.
194
exciting. In the interval we had a beer in the bar and got so involved in
deep conversation that we forgot to pay. After the performance the
affronted waiter accosted us as we scuttled down Avenue Corrientes—he
had lain in wait for us, which was embarrassing.
A day or so later we departed for Liverpool arriving there on 2
December. I went home on leave with a heavy heart. A letter waiting for
me from Dad told me he had sold the house in Bournemouth and was
now living back in Lymington in an apartment in Captains Row. I arrived
there late at night and knocked the door; Dad opened it in his dressing
gown and when he saw me he burst into tears. I discovered next morning
that Aunt Bju was staying with Dad for a while to house keep for him
and we had a long talk about what had happened. She was still very
distressed and blamed herself a little for not doing something earlier but I
knew she was being very unfair on herself. It was clear that she wouldn‘t
stay very long and I think it was very noble of her stay at all considering
she and dad had never really got on but she had a strong sense of family
obligation. I had had a couple of weeks leave and spent a lot of the time
with old friends in the town. Fred Webster‘s family welcomed me and I
spent some time with them. I stayed the night in their house a few times.
On one occasion I awoke with a tremendous heart palpitation and Fred
got so worried he fetched his mother from the hospital where she was a
night nurse. The understanding Mrs Webster was not very concerned and
she said I would soon get over it.
I called on David at his school and we had a day out together and I
also went to see Peter in Parkstone. He was now lodging in Parkstone to
be near his business, Atlanta Radio that seemed now to be progressing
well. He also introduced me to his new girl friend, Hilda, whom he had
met at one of the Bournemouth tea dances. Peter loved ballroom dancing
and went regularly and Hilda seemed an ideal partner for him—I felt
very pleased for them.
On the following Saturday I visited Shirley near Southampton to see
the Vine family who were friends of Skip Lyon. Mrs Vine had kept the
village shop in Pennington for years and had kept open house for Fred
and me; we could always be sure of a superb high tea and a warm
welcome. Mr Vine had been a farmer but had to retire early owing to a
serious tractor accident, he was now partially lame and somewhat
confused. His wife looked after him beautifully as well as their two
daughters Jose and Jean, their new shop in Shirley, and anyone else who
came to stay. At this moment Skip was staying with them for a few days
having a short break from the Midland Bank in Bath. It was good to see
him again after three years; since he had known my parents extremely
well, and wanted see Dad again, I arranged for him to come down on
Sunday for Tea. The visit was not a great success as Dad was far from his
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best. After tea Skip drove me in his car to some of our favourite spots in
the New Forest and I felt much better after seeing him. At this time
talking to Dad proved to be impossible and shortly after Christmas Aunt
Bju left to go back to her parents‘ house in Dover. I was not too sorry to
report back to the Ovingdean Grange in Liverpool on 28 December
either.
The ship departed from Liverpool on 30 December and we
celebrated New Year‘s Eve at sea. I was offered Drambue by the Chief
Engineer but I thought it far too sweet. Thinking over the year 1950 I
realised it had been a critical time for me and I was now more or less on
my own. Two great writers of English had died, George Orwell and
George Bernard Shaw. In the austerity years since the war Orwell‘s
satires had influenced me towards the conservative view in politics; I had
recently read 1984 with its vision of the totalitarian state, which I found
frightening, and judging by what was happening in the east, in Europe
and in China, the tide was getting closer. Shaw was different; he had a
tremendous sense of humour and passion for scepticism. I was enjoying
his plays immensely and already had copies of most of them. We arrived
at Saint Vincent our bunkering port in the Cape Verde Islands on 12
January 1951. Our tough Bos‘un displayed a ruthless streak in the way he
dealt with the ‗bum boats‘ that surrounded the ship during bunkering.
First he tried telling them to keep clear and when this failed he turned the
hoses on them, but they still kept bothering us. Finally he lifted a heavy
shackle, which must have weighed several pounds, and dropped it over
the side whence it plummeted through the bottom of the flimsy craft,
which rapidly sunk.
We arrived at Montevideo 30 January. ‗Monte‘ in high summer
under the Southern Cross was a good place to be in those days, but I have
to confess I allowed myself to be led astray. Three of us, the 4th and 5th
Engineers and I went ashore together. The evening started off by
someone telling us about a cinema showing ‗blue movies‘ so off we
went. Not that there was anything much to write home about as the
projector illumination was so low (set by local bylaws) that it was
difficult to make anything out on the screen at all. Blurred images of half
clothed ladies were all we saw. But it raised expectations. Near the port
area there was a little plaza where ladies would sit and wait for clients.
We sat at a table near by and whilst supping beer we exchanged glances
with the women and began egging each other on. A brassy female, she
must have been forty plus and heavily made up joined our table and
offered her services. Well all I can say is, that one by one we succumbed
and being the youngest, I was the last ‗to go‘ and going meant following
the lady, or it could have been one of my companions; I was too drunk to
know, into a nearby doss house, climbing up the stairs, handing over
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some money. The girl then did the rest—an anti climax indeed. I worried
for days after about the possibility of getting a ‗dose‘ as the sailors call it.
To limit this possibility the chief steward issued us with a kit when we
got back aboard. This consisted of several tubes of cream and a page of
instructions. You had to force this stuff up into your penis at regular
intervals for 24 hours. Apparently the timing between applications was of
the essence. The next day we moved on to BA. I remember feeling so
demoralised that I told Brian about my little ‗adventure‘ but he was not
impressed. Indeed, he told me about an adventure of his own; he showed
me a matchbox, inside of which there was a piece of grizzle, his grizzle,
from his ear no less. Apparently he had had to become the ‗chucker-out‘
at the mission after several drunken sailors had got very abusive. He said
to me:
You know Bill, of course, that we are known as the Flying Angle Mission and that
most of you refer to us as the Flying Duck. Well what I didn‘t know was, until this
fellow bit half my ear off, they reverse the initial letters.
Brian worked tirelessly for the Flying Angel Mission and no matter how
much he was put upon he never lost his sense of humour.
Plate 73: The Rat Guards in BA
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Two days later we went to Palermo where the Teatro Colon had a
summer season in the open air to see a performance of Rigoletto. The
performance at Palermo was spectacular as they had lots of space to fill
with superfluous scenic effects. A day or so later we went to see Carmen
where they used real horses and cattle for the Bullring scene. Brian
enjoyed visiting us on the ship; one day he appeared at my cabin door
while I was listening to the local radio where a performance of
Beethoven‘s Eighth Symphony was in progress, leading up to the final
cadenza. He liked to tell everyone that I refused to greet him until the last
chord was played. At that time I had a little Philips portable radio that
went everywhere with me. He also tells the story about how, coming
back to the ship late one night to avoid the duty officer of the watch
spotting me, I climbed up one of stern ropes to get aboard. This was a
tricky operation as the ship had a large ‗Rat Guard‘ on each line, a three
feet diameter dish to prevent rats coming aboard, which had to be
negotiated (Plate 73).
John Lofts visited the Mission with me one night and Brian took us
to the German Restaurant in Passeo Colon; it must have been a good
meal as Brian still remembers it 50 years later. We told Brian what life
was like on board; he was particularly interested in our 1st Mate who
wore the most horrible threadbare trousers whilst working. Brian had met
him and dubbed him ‗Teeth and Trousers‘. On 21 February we left BA
for Montevideo to load some Uruguayan beef. Whilst we were there John
and I had a little experience, which we both regretted. A middle aged
English ex pat, now retired from business, visited the ship and invited us
to his home for a meal. He met us on the dock and took us in his car to a
small villa where he lived out in the suburbs. His wife cooked us an
omelette, rather reluctantly I thought, and then we had some wine. At
some point the man took John off to another room to show him
something or other, a classic case this, whilst I stayed talking to his wife.
I remember thinking how sad she looked. The next thing I hear is a shout
from John who rushes in announcing that ‗the dirty old bugger tried to
touch me up‘, or words to that effect. We left hurriedly, a little wiser, but
John was cross with me for a while as he thought I should have realised.
My last voyage on the Ovingdean ended with another trip up river,
this time to Rosario the largest grain port and second city in the republic.
A few days later we were back in BA for just enough time to say farewell
to the Mission; I remember that last night ashore because Peter Denyer,
an apprentice off another Houlder ship who I had met several times, was
there. He had a passion for wrestling and he challenged me to a friendly
bout. Now I am not normally the aggressive type but I felt I couldn‘t lose
face so I had a go and in fact it was not that bad; I don‘t know who won
but the physical contact was in a strange way interesting. Later in the
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evening the monthly social was held and a couple of amateurs sung the
magnificent duet from the Nile scene from Verdi‘s Aida. We left BA on
19 March arriving in London on 17 April. I had now completed my
apprenticeship and could now prepare for the second mate‘s certificate. I
had been at sea for just three years (Plate 74). I had experienced many
things; I had fallen in love and lost, my mother had died and the family
had been shattered. I had caught a tropical disease and nearly died
myself. On the positive side I had matured significantly. I had learned
how to get on with others and had made important friendships but I was
not satisfied and knew, deep down, that I had not yet found my niche. In
the meantime I had no choice but to continue my chosen career.
Plate 74: Apprenticeship Complete—Letter from Houlder Brothers
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Deck Officer, 1951- 1956
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6. Deck Officer, 1951- 1956
Longitude West—Greenwich best
Longitude East—Greenwich least
Anon, A Navigators Mnemonic
School of Navigation – Warsash
I began my studies in the department of navigation at Southampton
University in May. The department had its base at Warsash, the little
sailing port on the southern bank of the Hamble river estuary on the
eastern side of the Southampton Water. The department also ran a presea training school offering a one-year course for prospective
apprentices, somewhat similar to HMS Conway, HMS Worcester and
Pangbourne schools except that in the latter cases the training period was
two years. The senior courses for masters and mates were tailored to the
syllabus of the Board of Trade certificates of competency and were early
examples of the university ‗short course‘ that are offered today in most
subjects under the sun. The duration for these courses was of the order
three months, which meant I could sit for my ‗ticket‘ in July. The
examination consists of several written papers on navigation, seamanship
etc. followed by an oral, which was the most feared part of the ordeal.
Indeed the awesome reputation of the Southampton examiner became
known to us from day one as the exploits of many failed candidates,
enduring the prospect of a ‗re-sit‘, were recounted to us, ad nauseam, in
the Rising Sun.
Near the school in a splendid position over looking the Southampton
Water was the ‗Bunk-house‘ a single story hut-like structure where we
each had a room, small but functional. There I found several ex Conway
cadets including two from my Term, Tony Haslett and Alan Newman.
Tony and I had kept in touch during our apprenticeship, and it was good
to renew our friendship. He had served his time with the Union Castle
Line, a top-drawer company trading mainly to South Africa, which was
well suited to his somewhat patrician temperament and personality. I
remember feeling envious, at the time, when he secured a berth with such
a prestigious company. This was, in part, due to the effectiveness of his
parents in negotiating with Captain Goddard in our last term on the
Conway. Tony had also kept in touch with Gerald Holloway the third
member of our Conway triumvirate who had joined Shell Tankers with
Alan Bennell. Unlike Alan, who was destined for higher things in the
service, he left after two trips to return home to Chiselborough in
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Somerset to help his father who was a farmer. Our first drop out. Very
soon we were all immersed in the course.
Plate 75: The Rising Sun, Warsash
Each day we had lectures covering Navigation, Ship Stability, Naval
Architecture and Seamanship. Also we had lectures on the underlying
Physics and Mechanics, which I found interesting, and were to prove
very influential on my future career development. The quality of the
lecturers was very good indeed, we were lucky to have such
acknowledged experts as H J Pursey whose books on Merchant Ship
Stability and Merchant Ship Construction were highly regarded and very
‗young officer friendly‘. I enjoyed my time at Warsash studying hard by
day with plenty of social drinking in the ‗Riser‘ after dinner. The week
for the written examinations soon arrived and proved to be
straightforward, though the oral was an ordeal. The principle examiner in
Southampton was the formidable Captain Charles McKay who had
terrorised a generation of young candidates, but oddly, the received view
was that you didn‘t want to be examined by anyone else as a ‗ticket‘
awarded by Charlie was a first class one. A batch of us travelled to
Southampton to the Board of Trade offices in a mini bus and there was
much talk full of bravado despite our queasy stomachs. I cannot
remember how long I had to wait for my turn but it seemed like an
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eternity. We knew that we would be asked searching questions on the
‗Regulations for the Prevention Collisions at Sea‘, known as the
‗Articles‘, thirty-one in total. These Articles had been thoroughly
digested by most of us, including the notorious Article 9 on fishing vessel
lights, itself four pages long. The most important section involving
avoidance of collisions at sea had to be learnt by heart. Article 24 still
remains in my memory:
Notwithstanding anything contained in these Rules, every vessel, overtaking any
other, shall keep out of the way of the overtaken vessel,
As does the general ‗last resort‘ caveat of Article 27:
In obeying and construing these Rules due regard shall be had to all dangers of
navigation and collision, and to any special circumstances which may render a
departure from the above Rules necessary in order to avoid immediate danger.
So whatever you do don‘t hit the other fellow!
When my turn came I stood nervously on the receiving end of a very
large table, which had lots of model ships and navigation markers. The
Captain without any preamble began firing questions at me using his
models rather like a modern day version of Peter Snow with his
‗Television Visual Toys‘ used for explaining battles and elections. The
questions posed hypothetical situations involving close encounter with
other vessel at sea like:
You are in a steamer and you see two other steamers, one on your port bow and the
other on your starboard bow. Both are rapidly approaching so as to involve a
collision risk; what do you do?
The textbook answer is:
I should avoid the vessel on my starboard side; the other on the port side has to keep
out of my way (Art. 19)
But this immediately begs the question:
But you would then be violating the rule that requires you to keep your course and
speed for the vessel on your port bow?
To which you must reply:
Article 27 requires me to avoid a collision as a last resort.
All of which, fortunately, is a matter of common sense although
it must be remembered that manoeuvring a large ship is like moving a
‗block of flats‘, which would have considerable momentum so nothing
will happen quickly. After questions on ‗The Rules of the Road‘ other
areas were explored and one was soon in a bewildered state and as more
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hazards were theoretically examined, requiring more and more unlikely
solutions, which had to be dragged out of ones subconscious. I must have
given some sensible answers and the Captain finally appeared to be
relaxing his pressure but there was a sting in his tail. Behind him he had a
glass tank full of foul looking water and he handed me a hydrometer and
said ‗tell me what the fresh water allowance for your vessel would be if
you were berthed in a dock with such water?‘ Now normally when you
are in harbour, some way up a river perhaps, the water is fresh and so a
vessel will ‗draw‘ more water than in the salt ocean. The measured depth
below the water line is known as the ship‘s draught, which will decrease
on going from fresher harbour water to the salt sea. This means that a
ship can be safely loaded to greater draught by an amount determined by
the difference in density from fresh to salt, the so called fresh water
allowance. The allowance is maybe several inches, which could
correspond to hundreds of tons of cargo. Returning to my oral
examination it appeared that the wily examiner had been ladling salt and
may even have peed into it in order to make the solution saltier than
standard sea water thus reversing the effect and a trap for the unwary in
carrying out the simple calculation leading to a negative fresh water
allowance. I must have given something like the right answer as the oral
ended quite abruptly with the examiner saying, ‗you‘ll do lad, next
please‘.
We celebrated in the ‗Rising Sun‘ that night and after downing
several pints we staggered backed to the ‗barracks‘ singing to the tune of
‗Onward Christian Soldiers‘ (page 95):
Brooke-Smith knew my father
Father knew Brooke-Smith
Somewhere along the road we came across a telegraph pole lying on its
side on the roadside verge. Someone said ‗Heave ho‘ and we lifted the
thing and carried it, like the smart seamen we now were, down the road
for a hundred yards or so demonstrating a degree of coordination that
would not have been possible had we been sober. Other things happened
that night in the quiet village as the next morning a ‗trade-bike‘ was to be
seen hoisted up the flagpole on top of the local parish church and, of
course, no one claimed responsibility! My Second Mate‘s certificate was
dated 4th July 1951 and it was with some pride that I collected the
handsome document from the Mercantile Marine Office in Southampton.
While I was at Warsash Dad had moved from Captains Row and
was now living in the Anglesey Arms, a small hotel just off St Thomas
St. near his place of business at Keepings garage. I spent my weekends
either with him at the hotel or perhaps more often with Fred Webster or
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the Vine family in Southampton. Dad was working quite closely with
Percy Davis and he used to spend sometime with the Davis family. I
remember having lunch with them and afterwards listening to some
gramophone records of piano music (Chopin, I think); we sat in deathly
silence, Dad probably dozed, Percy stared out the window and Mrs Davis
nodded knowingly in time with the music with a rapturous expression on
her face. I was glad to escape.
Some time towards the end of June I discovered a lady sitting in
Dad‘s office at Keepings, a smartly dressed fair haired woman of about
27 whom I immediately liked. She had a black Scottie dog called
‗Whiskey‘ and was visiting her Aunt in Lymington whom I soon learnt
was Mrs Davis. A few weeks later Dad told me that he was helping
Brenda, the lady‘s name, to secure a divorce from her husband who was
in the army and had deserted her171. Within a few weeks their relationship
blossomed and by the end of July, after a holiday together in Wales,
Brenda left her home in Bedfordshire and went to live in Boscombe
where she got herself a job as a hairdresser. The liaison caused a rift
between Mrs Davis and Percy (by osmosis?), which ultimately led to Dad
withdrawing from Keepings and moving to Bournemouth where he
bought a house in Lonsdale Rd so as to be near to Brenda.
My Grandmother wanted to mark the occasion of my 21st birthday
(July 10) so we went together in the bus to Southampton where she
bought me a gold watch, which I used for more than forty years.
Grandmother Trowbridge (nee Ellen Vincent), now called Mrs Gale172,
was 75 years old and was living with her youngest daughter Freda
Aikman at Lower Buckland farm. It was my duty to visit the farm on
every leave and I had watched Grandmother develop into a formidable,
independent old lady. She frequently went on coach trips to places far a
field like the Highlands of Scotland and the Lake District. She took a
keen interest in me and always wanted to give me a ‗day out‘, which
meant a bus trip to Bournemouth or Southampton where we would go to
the pictures followed by afternoon tea. Later Dad presented me with a
silver cigarette lighter he had specially sent away for but Brenda told me,
years later, that he got quite upset when it didn‘t arrive on time.
I returned to my room at the Anglesey Hotel one day to find all my
possessions scattered all over the room. I went down to complain only to
hear merry voices in the bar. These turned out to belong to Tony Haslett
and Gerald Holloway who had decided to pay me a visit and as a mark of
their respect they had wrecked my room. It turned out that Gerald had
left the sea and was now working with his father on the farm in Somerset.
171
172
This was being somewhat economical with the truth as I later found out
Her second husband Arthur Roland Gale died in 1944
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Indeed his father had offered Gerald several inducements to change his
career, as health required him to have help; so Gerald now had a car, a
sailing boat at Lyme Regis and a family business. He had collected Tony
from Warsash who still had to take his oral, and they decided to come to
Lymington to visit me on the off chance. Gerald was keen to show off his
new motor, a Ford I think, and we three went for a drive to Bournemouth.
Gerald invited me to come and see him in Chiselborough, which I did
several times in the coming years. A friendship was re-established which
was to be the catalyst for the most important event of my life. When
Brian Greenhalgh heard that I had got my ‗ticket‘ he wrote:
The Missions To Seamen
San Juan 234
Buenos Aires
Tuesday 17th July 1951
My dear Bill,
It was good to have a line from you. Congratulations on getting your 2nd Mates‘ first
go. That was a good show. The 3rd Mate on the Ovingdean asked after you when I
went on board but that was before I had your letter. Peter Denyer is in port (3rd mate
on the Cerinthus). By the way any news of Lofts? You did not mention him in your
letter. I was glad to hear about David Walton.
As yet there is no news of who is to take over after Padre White leaves. He goes in
October so that leaves us high and dry over Christmas, Thank heavens I have
Ronnie and Ozan. However the Plot thickens because we may have to move out of
our old building by the end of September and it will be sometime before the new
building is ready……..
This is all for now and I shall look forward to seeing you soon.
With all good wishes,
As Ever, Brian
The letter dealt with many issues worrying Brian at that time, apart
from the move and the problem of finding temporary accommodation for
the Mission, he had to bridge the gap between the changeover of the
Mission Padres, which proved to be over a year. It was good to hear
mention of my old ship ‗The Cerinthus‘ and former shipmates, John
Lofts, and David Walton. I was now looking forward to visiting BA
again, which would happen very soon as the Houlder Line had just
appointed me to be the Third Officer of the SS Malmesbury.
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Third Mate and SS Malmesbury
Plate 76: SS Malmesbury [A Duncan]
I joined the Malmesbury in Liverpool in the last week of July and
signed articles on the 1 August 1951. The SS Malmesbury (Plate 76) was
a coal-burning steamship of 7,174 gross tons; she was formerly named
Ocean Valley and was constructed in Richmond California to British
specifications in 1941. This vessel was a member of yet another class of
ships built during WW2 that I had served in and had been managed by
the Houlder Line during the war but now was owned by The Alexander
Shipping Company but still under the Houlder flag. The Master, Captain
Sam Howell, made me feel welcome this was encouraging as it was my
first ship as a deck officer and I was somewhat nervous about being in
charge of the bridge during my watches. The officer of the watch‘s
duties, as well as being in over all charge of the ship, included keeping a
look-out for possible hazards, regular checks on the course steered by the
quartermaster which was always prominently displayed on a slate in
general view, and ensuring that proper lights were displayed at night.
Also making regular observations of the weather by recording the air
temperature, wind direction and speed. Navigational duties included the
observation, by compass, of terrestrial bearings from prominent coastal
features, if any in sight, and the altitude and azimuth of the pole star, if
visible. This data had to be recorded in the ship‘s logbook at regular
intervals together with anything unusual. The vessel‘s progress was
recorded on the chart with possible deviations from the course annotated.
These deviations could be estimated by Dead Reckoning (DR) where
distance ‗run‘ through the water was measured by a spinning ‗propeller‘
trailing from the stern with the distance indicated on a dial. This ‗distance
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log‘ would be measured at least every watch. From this information and
the estimated effects of wind and current the position was estimated
using the simple applied mathematics of parallelogram of velocities. A
more precise position is obtained each day by astronomical observations
in the forenoon. The third mate keeps the 8 to 12 watches, at which hours
the Master can keep his ‗weather‘ eye on things.
The second mate, just a couple of years older than me, was Philip
Kirby a Londoner who soon demonstrated his confidence and
incidentally boosted mine. I spent an anxious three hours on the bridge
on my first evening watch. Sam Howell finally went below at six bells
(11 pm) to sleep after checking our course and warning me to keep a
sharp look out and to call him if any thing arose, which worried me. I
was due to be relieved by the second mate at midnight which proved a
relief indeed as dozens of lights had become visible over the horizon and
appeared to be closing quickly. These were fishing vessels and the
dreaded Article XI of the ‗Rules of the Road‘ came to my mind and I was
trying to recall whether I should order an alteration in our course, call the
Master or just panic when Phil Kirby appeared on the bridge and with
hardly a glance at the lights, now getting very close, said, ‗ let‘s have a
cup of tea‘, and wandered off into the chart room abaft the wheel house. I
said, ‗what about all these lights?‘ but he ignored me as well as the lights
and quietly supped his tea and later, when we went back out on the
bridge, the lights were far away to our stern. I suppose his expert eye
realised immediately that though we had closing vessels on either side
they were going to pass us by safely, well clear.
In the forenoon watch all the mates joined in the navigational ritual
of ‗shooting the sun‘; by using the optical sextant to measure the altitude
of the sun above the horizon and recording the time from the ship‘s
chronometer a good estimate of our longitude could be calculated using
additional data from the nautical almanac and spherical trigonometry.
Then at noon, at the sun‘s highest point in the sky, the sextant is again
used to measure its altitude, from which the latitude is computed by a
simple subtraction from 90 degrees. This is an over simplification as
various corrections have to be made to the readings. It was at the
declaration of results that the ritual reaches its most telling moments.
Each of us would be required to make our crosses on the chart where we
calculated the ship to be, starting with the third mate and working
upwards. I firmly believe that the Master, coming fourth, would simply
chose one of the three to be near173.
We were bound for the River Plate and I can recall very little about
the voyage south as this was now becoming a regular excursion for me
173
How different nowadays with satellite navigation instantly available
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and has become a blur in my memory. Reading was my main pastime
and it was my chance encounter with a ‗Pelican‘ book called Why Smash
Atoms that first attracted me to ‗Modern Physics‘. This was a reprint of a
famous book by Arthur Solomon first published in 1940 well before the
first atomic bomb. In the preface the author writes:
This book is the outcome of innumerable arguments in which I have had to defend
my profession because many of my friends could not understand the practical
purpose of smashing atoms…
But I do not want to give the impression that I work at my profession because it is
practical. That would be putting the cart before the horse. I am a scientist because it
is fun…
The atom is a tiny entity highly armed by nature to resists attack. It can be imagined
as similar to a walnut with its distinctive kernel protected by a hard shell-like barrier.
To crack a walnut, one‘s first impulse is to use a nutcracker—and so one might
think a trip-hammer might be used to smash the atom. But the atom is so tiny that it
would get lost on the surface of the trip hammer. An alternative method of cracking
the walnut would be to stand at a distance and take pot shots with a high-powered
rifle. Although this is ridiculous for a walnut, it is the proper procedure for an atom.
Other atoms, the smallest known, are used as projectiles, and the rapid fire guns that
project them at velocities of more than a million miles an hour have come to be
known as atom smashers174.
This rather quaint language fired my imagination about the profession of
a physicist at this stage in a purely romantic way but nevertheless the
seeds were sown.
We arrived at BA on the 11th of September in the middle of the
music season so the opportunities for concerts were many. The Teatro
Colon was in the midst of its ballet season and so I had to make do with
Swan Lake (Act 2) and a one Act version of Hamlet by Boris Blacker.
The highlight was the concert conducted by the great conductor Otto
Klemperer at the Gran Rex Theatre in Avenida Corrientes on 17
September. I went with Brian and Padre White; it seemed so exciting that
these concerts should start so late, nine thirty in the evening allowing
time for dinner before hand, if one wished. The program included a ‗first‘
for me, Till Eulenspiegel by Richard Straus. Enough of this piece rubbed
off to make me eager to hear it again but I have to confess to my
untutored ears it sounded modern! The program also included the Prague
Symphony of Mozart, the Brahms ‗St Anthony‘ variations and
Beethoven‘s ‗Leonora No.3‘, all of which knocked me flat. This concert
was put on by the Association Wagneriana de Buenos Aires and played
by an orchestra of that name; a band formed from the principal orchestras
of the city. After the concert we had a late night dinner in a German
Restaurant in Passeo colon near the Mission and I remember discussing
174
A. K Solomon, Why Smash Atoms, Harvard University Press, 1940
208
my new enthusiasm for atomic physics. We conjectured that the sub
atomic planetary system of electrons swarming around the atomic
nucleus could be a kind of inner universe with the electronic satellites
supporting ‗life‘. I believe the Padre had had this somewhat heretical
thought before and liked to tease his Christian friends with it. I was
especially glad to meet up with Brian again who now became in charge
of the Mission as Padre White was about to return to England. Thus
began a difficult period for Brian who had to oversee the removal of the
Mission from the premises in San Juan to temporary accommodation
before moving into a new building still incomplete. As he wrote in the
monthly magazine:
As I write we are still in the process of making Garay 349 a suitable base for our
work. The Chapel is already completed and Services are held there daily. It is good
to see a steady increase in the number of Seafarers finding the fellowship we are
able to offer in the House and Chapel. Our removal has placed the utmost strain on
our small Staff; Mr R D Rodgers and Mr Paul Ozan have worked from early
morning dismantling, removing and refitting…We are glad to have another series of
good entertainments on Wednesday Evening, ably organised by Miss Miriam
Jennings.
Flying Angel House will be the Home of The Missions to Seamen until the New
Building is completed; I am most grateful to all those who are working so hard to
make it really worthy of the work we are trying to do.
T. Brian Greenhalgh, Reader
In the same issue Brian wrote a fine tribute to the work of David
White the retiring Padre, ‘… with these expressions of goodwill from
many friends in Buenos Aires as well as from The Flying Angel
Fellowship and other Seafarers our Chaplain might well look back with
pride on nearly four years of hard work’. A photograph was taken of the
farewell party given in Padre White‘s honour. On re-reading the Mission
Annual report recently175 I was interested to note that there was a
donation from the ―SS Malmesbury‖ Officers and Crew of 477 Pesos
(£10), see Pay Slip on page 209. It was at this time I conceived the idea
of writing a play about the Mission and Buenos Aires under the Peronista
regime. I had learnt that one should write from one‘s own experience and
that plays were often set in institutions. My previous attempts had long
been thrown away but my interest in the theatre was still very keen.
Heavily under the influence of J B Priestly I decided to use Brian as a
model for my hero who would be portrayed as a selfless and
compassionate activist ministering to the needs of the men of the
merchant navy washed up in a fascist state. I had been reading a lot of
175
Kindly sent to me by Brian Greenhalgh
208
209
Rudyard Kipling at the time and was inspired by his poem about the
Priest of St. Wilfred176:
Eddi, priest of St. Wilfred
In his chapel at Manhood End,
Ordered a midnight service
For such as cared to attend
Cash Newport
£ 8 – 00 - 00
Cash Buenos Aires £16 – 00 - 00
Cash Montevideo £00 – 15 - 07
Contrib. to Mission £00 – 10 - 00
Plate 77: Pay Slip for SS Malmesbury
The idea of the Priest ordering a service despite numerous counter
attractions and mocking indifference seemed to be apt for the BA scene
in 1950. Brian cared for the spiritual and pastoral needs of his ‗parish‘
just like Eddi in Kipling‘s poem. There was also the British Community
and those members of it that gave support to the mission, a milieu not
unlike the small town parish church that I grew up in and familiar to me.
I imagined scenes involving ‗power struggles‘ between the helpers and
an impossible romance between a ship‘s officer and a local girl. The
176
Eddi‘s Service (AD 687), Inclusive edition of Rudyard Kipling‘s Verse (1885-1932,
Hodder & Stoughton, page 503
210
young officer gets involved with the local police when the girl‘s family
are accused of anti government activities. Against this background my
hero has to sort things out which creates a crisis in his obligations as a
Christian and a human being. This all sounds, now, as being very
pretentious but at the time I felt inspired. I called the piece ‗Manhood
End‘ and worked at it over the next year and even managed a more or
less complete draft.
Plate 78: Farewell Flying Angel177
A few months earlier a plot had been discovered to assassinate
Peron and his wife and several of his old allies were flung into prison
along with a selected panel of conspirators drawn in a representative
fashion from the various sectors of the community: the Church, the
armed forces, business, and the landed gentry. In the case of the Church
and the armed forces, a clever economy of effort was achieved, as the
men arrested were naval chaplains. I was determined to use this in my
play. On the 28 September there occurred the army revolt of General
Meneday; this similarly abortive attempt to overthrow President Peron
became known as the ‗Morning Rebellion‘, but nevertheless the incident
was responsible for making us depart BA up river for Rosario in haste.
Sam Howell sent me ashore to round up the crew who had not returned
from their night‘s boozing in the dockside bars. It was a rather daunting
177
Photograph from the collection of Brian Greenhalgh; Padre White and Mrs White in the
front row next to Miriam Jennings (Second from the left). Brian is fourth from the left. Ronnie
Rodgers is in the second row, 7th from the left.
210
211
experience as they tried to persuade me to ‗have a drink wi‘us sir‘, but
the ship‘s deep whistle blasts came to my rescue as she prepared to cast
off and I was able to persuade them to come aboard just in time.
We were back in BA on October the 2nd and by then peace had
descended so we were able to complete our loading. On October 12 a Mr
Charles Davison came aboard and was signed on as a supernumerary. We
left immediately for Liverpool with only a very brief stop at Montevideo.
Charles was a man of mystery, well educated with a posh accent. I spent
a lot of time with him during the voyage playing chess and he loved to
join in with our poker games for matchsticks. Despite our lengthy
conversations I learnt very little about him and yet he took a great deal of
interest in us. We used to tease him by telling him the mate would get
him painting the ship as he had signed the articles but it soon became
clear he was not working his passage and was a person of some
importance. We arrived back in Liverpool on 16 November and at the
first opportunity Charles went ashore, now smartly dressed in a threepiece dark suit, bowler hat and umbrella. He was met by a liveried
chauffeur driving a Bentley and disappeared from our lives without a
word.
Dad wrote to say he had moved back to Bournemouth and would
meet me at Brockenhurst station. He was driving a new Wolsey car and
had Brenda with him who welcomed me home with enthusiasm. My
father appeared to be very relaxed though in contrast he drove like a man
possessed through the forest and villages showing off his expertise and
pride in his new vehicle. He explained that though he was still working in
Lymington he hoped to change soon and was looking for a new business
venture. His new house in Bournemouth was pleasantly situated in
Lonsdale Rd, not far from the town centre and was a roomy four bed
roomed detached house with modest sized garden. It appeared that
Brenda was living in a bed-sit in Boscombe but I was sure that was only
while I was home, it does seem strange nowadays that he should have so
much care for the ‗proprieties‘ with respect to his son. I remember my
first evening with them outlining the plot of my play, which impressed
them both though I must have been a fraud as little had been done.
I escaped to visit friends in London, seeing several plays and
realising how far I had to travel if I were to write one myself. I met up
with Hans Brill, now a mature sub lieutenant undergoing training in
combined operations. We discussed my aspirations for playwriting and I
gave him a copy of the draft I had done. He had artists among his
relatives and promised to advise me. He took me to visit his sister whose
husband was an opera buff and we listened to the latest recordings of
Othello. They had had tickets for the first performance of Benjamin
Britten‘s opera Billy Budd on Dec 1st the previous day and gave Hans and
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I a vivid impression of the piece—its naval setting was intriguing but the
plot based on Melville‘s story seemed harrowing. I also found time to
visit Gerald Holloway at Manor Farm Chiselborough: this was the first of
several pleasant visits I enjoyed there with his family who were always
kind and very welcoming. I returned to Bournemouth for a few days
before rejoining my ship in Newport on 19th December to sign on for my
second voyage on the Malmesbury. We sailed on 22nd December so
unfortunately another Christmas was spent at sea, three out of the last
four, and we arrived in Montevideo in high summer on January 18th
1952.
The officers were unchanged except we had a new 4th Engineer
named Ivor Duffield who came from County Durham. Over the next year
he and I became firm friends as we shared interests in music and reading.
This was the voyage that history seemed to repeat itself as it was in the
River Plate that the ship my father was in lost a man by drowning, see
page 32. The crew proved to be, on the whole, a hard drinking crowd
ashore with several seamen in trouble. A typical entry in the logbook178
for various drink related offences relates:
21/1/52 1800 hrs: Jones L, No 9, AB was absent from duty without leave this
afternoon of 21st January and at his request he is being entered in the Log Book
instead of receiving a warning. For the offence he is fined 10 Shillings and forfeits a
half days pay. Signed S W Howell (Master), J Hands (Mate)
Jones made no reply to the above entry when it was read out to him.
The firemen and stokers in the boiler room were a hardy and tough
bunch. Their drinking bouts ashore were legendary. A group of three
Liverpudlians and one Scot were inseparable and it was in Buenos Aires,
where we arrived on 22nd January, that the tragedy occurred. The four
had gone ashore on the night of the next day after our arrival for a heavy
session of drinking. The logbook takes up the story:
23/01/52 0430hrs: Foster, Thomas, Fireman trimmer No. 34, was returning to vessel
this morning of 23rd Jan at 04:15 am; accompanied by three companions, J
Catterhall, No. 37; A Cocker, No. 32; and F Joyce, No. 38; when at the end of the
dock and near the bows, his companions say that he slipped on the edge of the dock
and fell into the water.
A Cocker states that Foster was swimming but appeared in difficulties so he,
Cocker, jumped in the water and caught hold of Foster who however struggled and
disappeared below the surface after which was not seen again.
F Joyce states that he ran aboard and threw over a rope to which Cocker maintained
a hold.
J Catterall states he ran aboard for assistance but unable to see anyone he obtained a
life jacket and entered the water with Cocker. By this time it was evident that the
178
Official log of the SS Malmesbury, copy in possession of the writer
212
213
three companions were in the water endeavouring to find Foster but their search was
of no avail.
It is assumed that the above happened between 4.15 and 4.30 am as at the latter time
a watch keeping fireman called the Second officer, P Kirby, No. 3; and told him a
man was in the water. He immediately went to the scene of the accident but could
not see any trace of Foster but the other three men, one now on deck, and two in the
water were searching.
At about 0440 I, the Master, went on deck after being awakened by shouts and a
whistle being blown, I went on the quay and searched alongside the ship between
the quay and round the bows using a torch for light but no signs of the man could be
seen. By 0500 the police arrived and were requested by me to obtain a boat
immediately as the second officer and Joyce were in the water holding up Catterall
to whom a line had been attached, as this man was showing extreme signs of
exhaustion (it is noted that Catterall is a non swimmer). The police removed
Catterall to hospital for first aid treatment and he returned to the vessel at 1200.
By 0530 it was evident that Foster‘s body was not to be seen; at this time the search
was stopped but at broad daylight the Second officer looked round the vessel but
saw nothing.
From all the evidence I could obtain I can only presume that Foster, T must be
considered as ―presumed drowned‖. Dragging operations were commenced at 0800
by the police authority and the drag continued for six hours but no body was
recovered.
Reports on the loss of this man were lodged with the HBM Consul and ship‘s agent
during the morning.
Signed P Kirby (2nd mate), S W Howell (Master)
I was not aware of the accident until breakfast time when the Second
mate handed over the deck to me. The events recounted in the logbook
were of course written down some hours later but are probably quite
accurate. The dragging of the dock continued throughout the day and by
2.45 the police had hooked the body and dumped it on the dockside. I
went down on the quay to participate in the identification179. I shall never
forget the pathetic sight of the body lying in the pool of dock water still
draining away from his clothes and hair. Later that afternoon I made an
inventory of Foster‘s effects. A Cocker and I packed his few personal
belongings into a battered brown leather suitcase; strangely I found a
copy of James Joyce‘s novel Ulysses among his few belongings. The
copy had belonged to the library of a Houlder Line sister ship the
Langton Grange and had been obviously passed around by various crews
owing to the salacious passages, well thumbed and quite dirty in places
with traces of coal dust. As I was the Malmesbury‘s librarian I placed
this copy in our library.
The drowning had a strong effect on the crew. They held a kind of
wake for Foster and obtained some local ‗hootch‘ a pretty basic ‗wood‘
alcohol and became rapidly paralytic. During my evening watch I had to
179
Fosters colleague A Nolan made the official identification at the mortuary.
214
go and calm them down in their mess room aft; one of the three
companions offered me a drink from a opened fruit can, complete with
the jagged edge, full of this cheap booze. I pretended to drink it,
fortunately they were too far gone to notice. At one point one of them ran
to the ship‘s side and said:
…if it‘s the last thing I do, I‘m going to dive in the water and find out what killed
him….
Brian came aboard to make arrangements for the funeral and
requested that Foster‘s closer shipmates be allowed to attend. The
February issue of the ‗The Flying Angel‘ magazine records the event:
THOMAS FOSTER of S.S Malmesbury, aged 25 years who was found drowned on
23 January and laid to rest in the British Cemetery on Saturday the 26th January. The
funeral was taken by Revd, A S Irwin, MA, and attended by the Master of the
Vessel Captain S W Howell, and many members of the ship‘s company and others
from other Houlder Bros.‘ Ships in port.
It was on the 7th of February that we heard the news that King
George VI had died. I remember hearing the news from an old Conway, a
member of my term, Ian Hay, who was now on the Argentine Star and
had came aboard looking for me; apparently he had heard from someone
at the Mission that I was in port—an example of the ‗Conway Mafia‘.
We talked about the day when the King had inspected the ship‘s
company in Bangor. He was much loved for his concerns for ordinary
people especially during the war years. During the stay in BA I met Brian
on many occasions at Flying Angel House his temporary headquarters
and in a quiet room there I worked on the second draft of my play. One
of the Mission helpers Ronnie Rogers offered to do a clean typescript for
me, a generous offer that I gratefully accepted. Ronnie was one of those
selfless people you find in institutions everywhere, always thinking of
someone else.
Thomas Foster‘s three companions continued their odyssey of
touring dockside bars regularly getting drunk and failing to report for
work. They were fined by the Master on 24, 29 January and then again in
Rosario on 14 February for failing to report for duty. After a week in
Rosario loading grain we returned to BA for a day or so before departing
for home. During the voyage home I spent hours talking to Ivor Duffield,
who was a kindred spirit as he liked music and reading as much as me.
Our current passion was Beethoven and we would spend hours searching
the wave bands of my short-wave radio for a broadcast of his works. We
were ‗collecting‘ the symphonies which we agreed were the greatest
music we knew and somehow the Eroica had escaped until one night we
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215
picked up a concert from the CBS network sponsored by Longine
watches; unfortunately it was faint and to our chagrin faded altogether in
the scherzo. We rushed up to the radio cabin and persuaded Sparks to
locate the station on his powerful receiver and I remember the feeling of
joy when finally he found it in time to hear most of the final movement
with its great tune.
My reading was also broadening. It was at this time that I had my
first awakening to the romantic appeal of mathematics, which came about
in rather a curious context. I had been reading Dostoyevsky‘s, Crime and
Punishment, where in Part 3 the protagonist‘s noble friend Razumihin
exhorts Dr Zossimov to distract his lady love by teaching her the Integral
Calculus. Well, I had no idea what this meant but I was hooked and I lost
no time in discovering what this calculus thing was about. I soon
understood that this subject was central to understanding the physical
sciences and indeed was an important gateway into higher mathematics.
Though it was a closed book to me at this time I soon became fascinated
by its esoteric nature and I began to want to be a member of the ‗club‘.
My education in mathematics had not gone beyond that needed for
navigation and mensuration which certainly does not require calculus but
from now on I was addicted.
We arrived in Liverpool on 22 March 1952 where I had the painful
duty of the delivery of Foster‘s effects to his mother who came aboard
the ship. I found her very calm and stoical. I hope she received some
comfort from hearing the details of the accident and the funeral. I am
sure Sam Howell described the events stressing that it was a tragic
accident but I doubt if the relatives were totally unaware of how seamen
behave in port after a long voyage.
I did not go to visit Dad immediately but, instead, I went to see
Gerald Holloway in Somerset for a few days. I found him enjoying his
new freedom. His father had bought him a small sailing boat to console
him from giving up the sea. I also discovered that he had a girl friend, a
lady called Eileen Clark from Crewkerne whose father had a jewellery
shop. It was fun to go sailing at Lyme Regis with Gerald but not so much
fun playing gooseberry so after a few days I left and went to visit Dad in
Bournemouth. Gerald had told me about his cousin, a lady called Jane
Rutter, who lived in Southbourne so I called her and we arranged to
meet. The relationship did not develop very far beyond a visit to the
Pavilion Theatre to see a production of ‗Kings Rhapsody‘ by Ivor
Novello an operetta, sub Lehar, and a couple of dinners. Although she
was an attractive girl with a warm personality we had few interests in
common. We did arrange to meet again at the Young Farmers Ball in
Crewkerne to which Gerald and Eileen were going and they had invited
me to go with them. This was a black tie affair so I borrowed Dad‘s
216
‗monkey-suit‘ and went back to Somerset. In the event Jane didn‘t show
and for me it was a miserable experience, as I have no skill in dancing,
then neither did Gerald so we hung around the bar much to Eileen‘s
displeasure.
On the 29th of April I rejoined the Malmesbury in Liverpool for my
third and as it proved my last voyage in her. After a short stop in
Newport we sailed for the River Plate on 5th of May arriving in
Montevideo on the 2nd of June. All my spare time on the voyage was
spent in revising my play, which I hoped to deliver to Ronnie for typing
on my arrival in BA. On arrival in Monte I had a letter from Dad saying
he had sold his interest in Keeping‘s Garage and finally left on May
31st—the relationship with the Davis family had become untenable
following his liaison with Brenda. Dad and Brenda seemed very happy
together and were planning a new venture in Ringwood involving
Brenda‘s parents. The town dairy had come on the market, which Dad
was going to purchase in partnership with Brenda‘s family. The
premises, with spacious accommodation in the town centre, were large
enough for the four of them. I felt some relief, as Dad was very
experienced in the Dairy business. On the 9th of June I went to a concert
at the Teatro Solis, one of the series of subscription concerts by the local
orchestra under the direction of Carlos Estrada. Works played were by
Corelli, Schubert (Unfinished Symphony), Roussel (Concerto for small
orchestra), Ascone (a tone poem entitled ‗Sobre el Rio Uruguay‘ by a
Uruguayan composer) and Borodin (Polovsian Dances from Prince Igor).
This was a varied and colourful program with a stirring climax in the
Borodin, which was sung and played with great panache.
We arrived in BA on the 12 June and I immediately set out for the
Mission now established at Flying Angel House in Avenida Garay. I
passed over to Ronnie what I had written as the play was more or less
complete; Ronnie said his sister, who was a touch typist, would gladly do
the work but I don‘t think I appreciated the time and effort involved at
the time—the selfishness of youth. I persuaded Brian despite his busy
schedule to accompany me to a recital at the Colon given by the
celebrated violinist Henry Szeryng who played a wide ranging set of
pieces including the ‗Devils Trill‘ Sonata of Tartini, a Bach Chaconne,
the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto (Violin & Piano version), and a
potpourris of show pieces including the Introduction and Rondo
Capriccioso by Saint-Saens. The house was packed and his reception
tremendous; we sat high in the Gods but could hear perfectly such is the
excellent acoustic of the theatre. I also recall two fine concerts by the
Orquestra Sinfonica de la Buenos Aires conducted by the celebrated
French composer and conductor Manuel Rosenthal.
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The first of these at the Teatro Gran Rex was memorable for me
because I heard for the first time live performances of both
Rachmaninov‘s Rhapsody and Variations on a Theme by Paganini for
piano and orchestra and the Brahms 4th Symphony, both works powerful
in their effect on me and afterwards we discussed the music long into the
night. The second concert was held on Sunday morning at 10.30am so a
crowd of us attended after morning communion at the mission. The
tradition is have a breakfast of boiled eggs after the eight o‘clock service.
The program this time continued the Brahms theme with his third
symphony but it ended with Stravinsky‘s ‗The Rite of Spring‘, which I
had not heard before in any form. To my untutored ears it sounded
abrasive and cruel and left me feeling stunned and drained. The warmth
and patchwork structure of the Brahms had been swept away almost
dismissively by the Stravinsky but only temporarily I am glad to say for
as I walked slowly back to the docks later the delightful melodies came
flooding back to my inner ear.
Brian departed on the SS Kingsbury on the 30 June after over five
years dedicated service to the Mission. There were many tributes by his
colleagues and friends but Brian himself put his vocation into words in
his goodbye letter180:
…over three of my five and half years with The Missions to Seamen has been spent
in this port. Work with the Society has proved hardly less eventful than the previous
five years in such War spheres as the Western Desert, Monte Cassino, and Greece.
We in the Missions to Seaman may occasionally be weary but never bored, and my
period with the society has not lacked excitement. At our Institute at Immingham
Dock I awoke to find the place in flames; by breakfast time my sole possessions
were a pair of pyjamas and an old dressing gown; of the Mission nothing remained.
A kind friend made me a present of a new pipe. On another occasion, violent contact
with a drunk on Mission premises resulted in the loss of a piece of ear. Life has, you
will see, not been exactly dull.
It would be impossible to say goodbye to this Port without attempting to express my
thanks, however inadequate, for all the help and kindness I have received. I have
particularly asked that there shall be no formal farewell or Presentation. It would be
wrong I feel, to spend valuable time and money in such a way when it is needed so
badly to keep our work going. No gift of any kind is needed to remind me of the
many acts kindness…
After paying his own personal tribute to the helpers and staff he sincerely
thanked various members of the Anglican clergy residing in the port and
ends by writing:
…it is surely our fellowship in gathering together at God‘s Board that constitutes the
core of our work and worship, and gives us the power to carry on. The work of this
port will be much in my prayers and thoughts as I go elsewhere.
180
The Flying Angel Magazine, Vol 19., No. 6., June 1952.
218
He found the time to attend a concert at the Gran Rex with some of his
friends from the ships in port and this was indeed a blazing farewell. We
heard the distinguished Russian composer and conductor, Igor
Markevitch directing the State Symphony Orchestra in a spirited
performance of the Fantastic Symphony of Berlioz. Brian had given me
support and friendship in times of difficulty for which I am ever in his
debt and I looked forward to seeing him again back in England. I
managed one more musical evening, this time to the Opera where the
Colon was in the middle of its winter season. The house was packed for a
performance of Il Tovatore and I watched from the ‗Gods‘ where the
acoustic was fine but the view was like looking down the wrong end of a
telescope. The only memory I have now is the singing of Isabel Casey, a
fine American contralto, in the role of the Gypsy Azucena in Act 2; how
the audience cheered.
We left BA on the 11 July the day after my 22nd birthday and I
felt that an end to an era had come and this was reinforced in my mind by
the announcement of the death of Eva Peron on 26th July aged 30.
Though this was not the end of Peron‘s stranglehold on Argentina it was
the beginning of the end. We were heading for Newport Mews in
Virginia via Trinidad. On watch one evening I was joined by the Master,
Sam Howell, who told me something about how it was during the war; he
described the frightful injuries suffered by some of his crew during a
surface U-Boat attack, his powers of description were so vivid that I
fainted—this was the first time I experienced this kind of memory
transfer and I realised how squeamish I would be if faced with such
trauma firsthand. For the most part the voyage is a blank in my mind
apart from beautiful Islands in the West Indies, passing by quite close as
we steamed north through the Leeward and Windward Islands and an
encounter with the ‗Jim Crow‘ Laws in Newport. I went ashore there
with Ivor Duffield and we boarded a bus and without much thought went
to sit at the rear. This was quite crowded with black men and women and
as we attempted to sit down with them a group of whites started to shout
at us, ‘the seats at the back is for niggers’, we said, ‘ so what’ and the
driver stopped the bus and asked us to move or get off. We reluctantly
moved at the request of black women who said it would be best for us all
if we did. I remember feeling very humiliated and the resigned and sad
expressions of the unfortunate black people has haunted me ever since.
In the town I went into a music shop and bought a recording of
Beethoven‘s final string quartet, Op. 135, which I couldn‘t play for years
as, at that time, I did not possess a gramophone but whenever I hear it
now and, it has become for me one of the most precious of things, I recall
that bus and those poor people despised by citizens of the ‗greatest nation
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on earth‘. The composers telling inscription on the score of the finale,
‘Must it be? It must be! It must be!’ I discovered later this enigmatic
quote, which is strangely comforting and settling—it was so then and
remains so for me today. We finally arrived in Newport, South Wales on
the 29th of August and my year with the SS Malmesbury had come to an
end and, though I did not know it, my years of loneliness also. I had been
invited to visit Gerald in Somerset and I went straight there after signing
off for my leave. Gerald and Eileen met me in Taunton and said on the 4th
of September we should all go to the Annual Autumn fair at Crewkerne.
Gerald said we would have a few drinks first and then meet up with
Eileen who lived near the town square. What I didn‘t know was that they
had invited a girl friend along to meet me, I suppose for the very good
reason that they were happy together and they wanted me to have
someone as well. A blind date in fact that was to change my life.
Rita and the Argentine Transport
220
Dost thou truly long for me?
And am I thus sweet to thee?
Sorrow now is at an end,
O my lover and my friend!
William Blake (The Birds)
Plate 79: Rita in 1946, 1950 & 1951
On our way to the fair we collected a bunch of coloured balloons
each and with these in tow we collected Eileen at her house. A few
moments later along the road toward the town square there stood a
slender girl with long blond hair somewhat reminiscent of a film star of
the day, Veronica Lake. Eileen introduced her as Rita and then promptly
disappeared with Gerald. I don‘t know who was the more embarrassed
Rita or me but I quickly dumped the balloons and mumbled something
about seeing the fair and somehow we managed to walk away together
and mingle with the crowd. I persuaded her to take a ride on the ‗big
wheel‘ which I learned later was somewhat scary for her as she had some
small fear of heights and afterwards we had a drink in the George Hotel
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bar. I was captivated and we exchanged those small details of family and
work that help in the breaking of ice:
Candy is dandy
Liquor is quicker
Ogden Nash (Ice Breaking)
I learned that Rita was a Teacher working in Trowbridge in
Wiltshire, a small coincidence eagerly pounced upon, and that her father
was a dairy farmer living in the nearby Dorset village of Mosterton and
that she had a twin sister Eva and a brother Bernard. I fear I reciprocated
with some exaggeration by glamorising my status as an officer in the
merchant navy; I also (she told me so years later) inflated my father‘s
position as a successful businessman. The evening ended outside the fish
and chip shop where Rita introduced me to her father and brother. As I
drove home with Gerald I told him I would like to see her again so the
next day we looked up her father‘s phone number and eventually I found
the courage to call and to my delight I got an invitation to visit the family
at Ridge Farm Mosterton for Sunday tea.
Gerald drove me over to Mosterton and then after introductions
he made himself scarce. They lived at Ridge Farm about a quarter of a
mile along the Chedington Rd in a new house, which Rita‘s father, Albert
Barnard Creed (always known as Bert), had built on his farm only a few
years before. I later learnt that Bert was the youngest of a very large
family of twelve descended from a line of Dorset farmers. I later did
some research on the family and discovered that the family were all
descended from a Somerset farmer, David Creed (1781-1835), who
acquired a small farm at the eastern edge of the beautiful Marshwood
Vale between Lewesdon and Pilsdon hills early in the nineteenth century.
These two hills, the highest in the county, were both clearly visible from
the front of Ridge Farm and formed the distant western prospect of a
series of beautiful gently undulating hills and valleys which in those days
were sparsely populated. This was prime dairy country. Rita‘s
grandfather Tom Creed (1861-1941) had been a very successful farmer
who had been able to set his many sons up in farms of their own but Bert
Creed being the youngest was the last to be provided. On his marriage to
Eva Grinter in 1929 he and his bride shared the farmhouse at Manor
Farm in the centre of the village with his brother Reg though Bert had his
own land up at Ridge. It was at the manor farm house that Rita and Eva
and later their brother Bernard were born (1929,1931). It was only after
the war that they had saved enough to build a new house actually on the
farm itself. I was made to feel very welcome and I particularly remember
the warmth showed me by Rita‘s mother. Over tea Rita told me that it
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should have been her twin sister Eva who was actually Eileen‘s friend
who was asked to meet me at the fair but she had been away and had not
been not available. Here fate had intervened, as I don‘t think the darker,
arguably prettier twin attracted me half as much. I managed to persuade
Rita to let me visit her in Trowbridge, where she worked, the following
week and so the next day I said goodbye to the Holloway‘s and went to
visit Dad and Brenda at Ringwood. A letter was waiting for me from
Houlders ordering me to join the SS Argentine Transport in Antwerp
Belgium on 19th September so I could manage just two or three days with
Rita in Trowbridge.
Plate 80: Twin Sisters
I arrived in Trowbridge on Wednesday September 16th and booked
myself into the George Hotel in the Market Place. It felt strange to be
visiting for the first time my place namesake though in those days I knew
nothing of genealogy. My memory of this visit is very vague, Rita was
working of course so I could only see her after school but I know we
went into nearby Bath for the evening by train and went to the theatre
and enjoyed a meal in the Sedan Chair after. The play at the Theatre
Royal that week was a new comedy with the unlikely title of Pagan in
the Parlour, starring Hermione Baddeley with Catherine Lacey and one
or two other up and coming performers, including William Mervyn and
Joss Ackland. I was so pleased to be with Rita that the play itself
mattered very little. We had to wait in the station room sometime to catch
the last train back. I remember Rita saying that her landlady, a spinster
with strong religious convictions of the Baptist persuasion, would not
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approve. Her name, it turned out, was Miss Crook—I never knew her
Christian name, and I suppose she was a suitable ‗chaperone‘ for a young
unmarried teacher in the town. However I managed to persuade Rita to
be brave and when I eventually got back to the George Hotel sometime
well after midnight, walking on air as they say, I found the hotel locked
and barred. I tried knocking loudly on the front door and even went
round the back but all was dead. I was about to climb up the drainpipe
when a torch was shone in my face and a voice said, what’s going on
here? It was the local bobby on his beat. He said, you better come and
stay with us, after I had explained my predicament and he took me to the
station opposite. Here the Sergeant, a fine gentleman, offered me three
star accommodation in one of his cells. I think I was the only ‗guest‘ and
after a decent cup of tea at seven the next morning I returned to the
George for breakfast. After school that day Rita invited me to her
lodgings in Wingfield Rd to have high tea with Miss Crook. All I can
remember is the parrot and the Tomato. Miss Crook had been a great
traveller and I think a Baptist missionary and somehow she had acquired
a parrot, a talking parrot no less, who had to be covered up to get him to
shut up. As you came in the room the Polly would squawk, hello – hello
– hello, how are you, and when the dishes were laid he would continue,
Poly want a bit, Polly want a bit, give us a kiss. This bird had a
formidable beak and his mistress had the scars to prove its effectiveness.
I was on my best behaviour and I tried hard to display exemplary table
manners but the tomato was my undoing for when I attempted to cut it
with a rather blunt knife bits, the juicy bits, shot all over the table and
showered Miss Crook.
Later that evening Rita took me for a walk and she agreed that we
could write to each other. I said I hoped that my coming voyage on the
Argentine Transport would not be a long one and that I would be home
for Christmas. According to Rita I even managed a kiss. The next
morning I had to catch an early train to London in order to catch the
afternoon boat train to Ostende and Rita came to the station to see me off.
I remember feeling very sad, not wanting to go and from the window I
leant out and kissed her lightly on the forehead as the train moved off. I
remember thinking that this had been the best leave I had ever had. I
wrote to Rita as soon as I boarded the ship in Antwerp:
19th Sep 1952
My Dear Rita
I have just arrived on board and the prospect doesn‘t seem too bad; we sail
tomorrow for USA, New York and Boston. The journey over was quite pleasant. I
arrived in London at 11.30 and went straight to Victoria where I had previously
224
arranged to meet a friend181 at 12.30. We had lunch together and he did his best to
shake me out of my melancholic mood that always overcomes me when leaving
home, more so than ever this time because of you…
The passage over from Dover to Ostende was comfortable; I read and talked to my
new shipmates who on the whole seemed a decent bunch. I have sailed with some of
them before but the Second Engineer let us down badly as he became quite drunk, in
fact he‘d been drinking steadily ever since he left Inverness the night before. On the
ferry he got mixed up with a crowd of students who were having a singsong and
tried to get them to change their protest songs to something more in tune with his
revolting taste. The bus trip from Ostende to Antwerp was cold but interesting as we
had to drive through Ghent and I think most of us were enchanted by the sudden
appearance of this medieval city, particularly the cathedral which took on a most
eerie effect in the floodlighting. We arrived in Antwerp at about 11.30 and went
straight to a hotel where they served us a splendid feast—I have never seen so much
food. After breakfast we proceeded straight to the ship, and that‘s where I am now.
Well, there is little else to write at the moment. I am wondering whether I ought to
do some work. Give my regards to your family and to Miss Crook. I would very
much appreciate a photograph of you…could you send me one. We sail tomorrow
but I will try and write again before we actually push off. Take care of yourself Rita.
Cheerio my dear, yours ever, Bill
Rita‘s first letter to me written five days later caught up with me in the
US and gave me a little encouragement and a lot of pleasure.
Dear Bill
I‘ve now received your two letters. Thank you. You seem to have had quite a
pleasant journey, and I‘m glad you have at least one person to talk too! I‘m
wondering if you received my letter; you told me you were sailing on Thursday
before so I only put the postage for Belgium on it, now I expect you‘ll have sailed
before it arrived there so you‘ll have to pay some extra postage or something. Poor
you!182
I think you are very lucky to be able to see something of foreign cities even if it does
mean leaving home for several months. Certainly if you‘re to be home in December,
you can‘t grumble—you‘re not missing much here as nothing seems to happen. I‘m
disillusioned tonight, sorry if you don‘t approve of the word but it just about
describes my feelings. I‘ve had a hard day at school, and have been working since
9AM, To add to my troubles the Headmistress came in and pointed out what a
dumb, daft set of children I have—as if I didn‘t know it for myself!
Tomorrow I‘m going to the theatre at Bath but I expect I‘ll return home on the 10.00
PM bus—no dinner in the Sedan Chair or waiting in the Bath waiting room!183
About the photo, Bill: I haven‘t a very recent one. Do you remember the big one in
the sitting room at home? I‘ve a small one like that if it would do—it was taken
about a year ago. I‘ll send it anyway and you needn‘t look at it if it is not to your
liking! I haven‘t one of you either. I‘ll be going home this weekend so I‘ll send it
then; that means another letter for you and if you get them all at the same time in
181
Hans Brill, I think
I have no recollection of ever receiving it
183
On our visit to Bath together the previous week we had done both
182
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New York I think you ought to keep some of them and read one every few days on
the journey home.
… I hope by now you‘ve found some more work to do—I hate to think of you idle
when I‘m working! End of paper—more work to do. From Rita
Unfortunately fate decided that I would not be coming home for
Christmas and indeed this voyage with the ‗Argentine Transport‘ proved
in the end to be one of my longest and most eventful. Apparently we
were on a ‗Time Charter‘ to an American Company, which, in theory
could last for two years. The ship‘s articles record:
19th September, 1952 in Antwerp at 1100 am, the Wireless Log, Official Log,
masters wages book and all the ship‘s papers were handed over to Captain D
Murray by the relieving master Captain P L Grant184.
Donald Murray turned out to be the uncle of Bill Seybold, an ex Conway
friend whose path would cross mine several times in the future; he had
had an distinguished wartime record with Houlders which involved 13
days in a lifeboat after his ship the Hardwicke Grange was torpedoed in
June 1942185. Bill Seybold told me later that his uncle had been severely
shell-shocked during the war as well. The Chief Steward, Colin
Sutherland, had been on the SS Malmesbury with me so we knew each
other well and I soon made friends with the two apprentices, William
Edward Duncan from Hull and Frank Joplin from Haslemere, both in
their second year. The second mate was a Londoner of Polish descent
who, I soon discovered, was serious minded and a good talker known
always by his surname Zabel. The ship herself was a Liberty Boat of
7283 GT, built by the New England Shipbuilding Corporation and
launched in February 1944 as the Samtyne in Portland, Maine. She was
acquired by the Empire Transport Company in 1947 and renamed
Argentine Transport under the Houlder Line management. This would be
my second ‗Liberty Ship‘ and I hoped she would perform as well as the
Cerinthus had, though the horror tales of these vessels being used without
ballast and coming to grief still were very current.
As I settled down for the first leg of the voyage to USA I had two
obsessions, my new and happy one with Rita and my attempts to finish
my play now being typed up from my latest draft in BA by Ronnie
Rodger‘s sister. As it happened I received a letter from Hans Brill who
had now read an earlier version and had put pen to paper as a drama
critic.
184
185
Ships Articles and Crew Agreement, copy in authors possession
Sea Hazard (1939-1945), Houlder Bros., 1947
226
Plate 81: SS Argentine Transport (Photo Collection of J & M Clarkson)
RN Staff Officers Mess, HM Dockyard
Portsmouth, Tuesday. I think186
Dear Bill
Sitting by the fireside last night, rather drunk with the pleasure of having an
armchair, a dying fire and the Mozart Requiem all to myself, I thought about the
play. Honesty is no sort of virtue, but shall tell you what I thought because you will
please allow for the usual exaggeration, be distinctly nettled, and think it over—and
press on business as usual. So here goes.
Bill is writing a play about Buenos Aires and the Mission to Seaman there. And
because he is angry it becomes in part quite effective. The inward spiralling
bitterness, the self-cloying vicious circle of meanness of the English Island
community. The Peronistas etc. But he cannot get out of his three act Noel Coward
drawing room play form., and the attitude that goes with it. Well it‘s a very good
form and dramatically proven. But it does not follow that God divided his work with
the Mission at BA into three acts. And the playwright who sees Gods work and
welds it into his own shape does not necessarily do either.
Do away with the beautiful Barrie-Florence Nightingale girl and the wet dream love
affair that is sterile anyway… Your Peronista maybe a swine but he also ticks. You
are not WT from Lymington, you are a playwright, and each character is as vitally
you as the next. You can have no favourites. You are not an old hand mumbling
away the sacred formulas, which he had endowed with his blood in his youth. You
are a new dramatist…
You are not to be performed by third class village amateurs. For them, there are two
thousand plays to many already … Bill; you must fly with the angel of the lord. If
186
September 23, 1952 according to the post mark.
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you must dream away on school comedies and beautiful girls you would like to fall
in love with and jobs you would like to do, then go and dream it but don‘t get it
mixed up with your play. Do you read Blake? Then do some more. I shall send you
the collected edition if you promise to be inspired. This is getting off the point. The
point is that you have a first class subject and you must not let yourself be put off
and you must go through it ten times in ten different forms—try one in non scanning
blank verse or one a la Ulysses if you like. And change everything until you have
made people. Lilith from your third rib.
I am keeping an eye to windward and await your signal.
Hans
When my irritation subsided I realised that Hans had at least spotted
something lacking in my efforts, and deep down I could see the force of
his arguments even if his pretentious style was irritating. I was familiar
with Blake, indeed Hans had already given me a slim volume of Blake‘s
poems a year before. My dilemma was should I try and create something
new and probably fail or retire gracefully. I decided to wait until I had a
clean draft from Ronnie which was a later version than the one Hans had
seen but in truth this was a way of shelving the project so that I could
devote my full romantic feelings to my girl from Dorset. In the event this
voyage was to prove a watershed for me and at the end I would be much
changed.
We arrived in Boston on the 6th of October where we discharged
a small amount of cargo before moving to New York on October 10th. I
wrote to Dad and asked him to send that old studio portrait (See page
125) of me to Rita at Ridge farm where she would be spending half term.
As this photo was now four years old I went ashore and used a photobooth to take a ‗grim‘ picture, which I also sent. In addition I organised
some flowers to be delivered for her birthday on October 7th. We
remained in New York for two weeks and I had a good opportunity to
explore Manhattan and hear some music. One event in particular was the
first time I heard a piece, which came to mean much to me in the future. I
had the radio on, as usual, in my cabin one afternoon and found myself
struggling to identify the music, which sounded a little like a mix of
Brahms and Tchaikovsky but was neither, and when the moving adagio
came I realised that this was very different but very strongly reminiscent
of a style that I knew well but couldn‘t place. To my delight the piece
went from strength to strength and when the so positive end of the finale
came I was transfixed. The radio announcer was the jazz clarinettist
Benny Goodman who at that time had a weekly show on classical music.
Goodman was an early example of the ‗Cross-Over‘ musician who often
ventured into classical music and had had music written for him by
several composers including Bela Bartok. He was a compulsive talker
228
about music and on this occasion when he said, after the final chord had
died majestically away, that we had been listening to the Symphony
No.1. by Edward Elgar187 and all my preconceptions against this English
composer, formed by the current breed of trendy musical critics,
dissolved forever.
Plate 82: A ‘Self Portrait, Boston 1952
I didn‘t neglect live music as I managed to go to Carnegie Hall on
October 14 to hear Eugene Ormandy conduct his Philadelphia orchestra.
After a happy afternoon wandering round Central Park, which in those
days was a delightfully safe place to visit, I got to the famous Hall early
in order to savour its history as one of the few venues in the world that
could be said to be synonymous with symphonic music. Most of the
world‘s great musicians have appeared upon the stage of this huge hall
seating over 2700 people and with legendry acoustics. The concert did
not disappoint me and was a mixture of the old and new, a typical
program the papers said from ‗Ormandy‘ then one of the foremost
conductors in America. In my memory Beethoven‘s rhythmic Seventh
symphony stood out and was given an energetic and colourful
performance, the first live performance I had heard. The concert ended
with Ravel, his Suite No. 2 from the Ballet, Daphnis and Chloe. This was
187
At this time there was only one recording of the work available that conducted by the
composer in 1930.
228
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an apt pairing with the Beethoven as both works are concerned with the
bodily movement, and both works end with a glorious, almost savage,
but joyful Dance. The concert began with a string symphony by Jean
Rivier (1938), which did not make an impression on me; neither did the
colourless piece by the American critic/composer Virgil Thomson played
after the interval. His Five Songs from William Blake for Baritone and
Orchestra receiving their first performance in New York I found very
disappointing as I was at that time much into the poems of Blake. On my
way back to the ship I watched with the crowd gathered outside the
Waldorf Astoria Hotel as President Truman left after addressing a
meeting in support of Adelai Stevenson; the democratic candidate for the
forth-coming presidential election. The democrats were no longer very
popular, newspaper headlines had recently declaimed, ‗Lets get that
piano payer out of the White House‘, but to me Truman still looked
spare, confident and energetic as he quickly walked to his waiting car188.
Also in the crowd were the opposition sporting their ‗I Like Ike‘ buttons.
Plate 83: Voyage of the Argentine Transport: Eastern Seaboard of USA
After New York we moved on to Philadelphia where we arrived on the
25th October after sailing up the Delaware River. In Philadelphia I found
time to make a voice recording in a booth that both recorded your voice
188
The democrats lost heavily as General Eisenhower was swept to power in a republican
landslide on November 4th.
230
and produced ‗shellac‘ records that could be sent through the post. From
there we moved on to Baltimore through the Chesapeake – Delaware
Canal. I received several letters from Rita, which were a great comfort to
me. I began to form a picture of her life as a teacher, which was very
hard work, and extremely tiring in those days of very large classes; 44
seven year olds sounded terrifying. I also liked reading about her family
life at Ridge Farm, which gave her such a secure base , the like of which
had gone out of my life after the death of my mother. Here are some
excerpts from a letter dated October 1st:
How are you? It seems ages since I saw you. In fact, now I come to think of it, it
seems almost improbable that I ever did see you! If you hadn‘t come to Trowbridge
for a while I doubt I should be able to realise it as my home life seems so remote
from my working life, and you would be remote with it! What a way to start a letter,
you‘ll probably put it down in disgust!
… I told you I was going to Bath, didn‘t I? I saw Die Fledermaus , and didn‘t really
like it a lot. I like the opera (and the theatre) but thought the cast very second rate.
The women were especially poor. I can‘t really judge I suppose, as I‘ve seen no first
class opera, but I‘m sure you wouldn‘t have liked it any more than I did. Even the
costumes were indifferent—I hate pale pink, revealing, nightdresses on the stage
especially when worn by plump, middle-aged women!
… Oh I forgot, I received your post card. Thank you. Did you get either of my
letters before you sailed? I hope you did, or I shall be even more unreal to you than
you are to me. I‘m sending the photo anyway, and that should recall me a little!189
In her letter to me dated October 11 she referred to a recent accident
gripping the national press:
Have you seen any pictures of the Train crash?190 I‘m sending you some in case not.
The papers have been full of them and everyone has been talking of it. It really was
a terrible crash and puts that air disaster somewhat in the shade191. I wonder how
these things happen. I suppose those trains have been running normally for years
with the same people on them, and then suddenly they crash. It almost makes one
think that there must be some destiny or fate attached to these things.
She reported her experience at a wedding in her letter of 12 October:
First the wedding192. We motored over and met the family here and I should think
quite ten loads came up from home. The wedding was just the normal sort of thing
with the bride in white and the bridesmaids in blue and red; the service was quite
short and the parson quite doddery! We went to the reception at about 1. PM and
189
See page 223, photo dated 1951.
Britain‘s worse train crash since 1915. On Oct 8th three trains collide near Harrow killing 78
with more than 200 injured.
191
This probably refers to the first Comet jet crash in October 1952
192
This was the marriage of Bill Creed, Rita‘s cousin, to a lady who came from near Bath
190
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didn‘t leave until after 4.0. Needless to say, we weren‘t eating all the time, though
some of the men were drinking most of it. Eve and I were sitting one on each side of
a rather bashful man of about 30. He lives near here so we already knew him , but at
times it was quite hard work to get a word out of him. I think he wanted to talk but
didn‘t quite know what to say! Poor John, I think he‘s destined to remain a bachelor.
Do you ever read ‗Readers Digest‘? It gives a good description of a bachelor‘s idea
of himself—‗A thing of beauty and a boy forever‘!
In the same letter some comments about her landlady and the Baptists:
On Sunday we went to Miss Crooks for lunch and tea and David Clark (the Baptist
student I didn‘t want to see) came to tea with us. It turned out to be quite a merry
gathering and poor Miss Crook was quite out of her depth. She told me afterwards
that I put David off his work and his sermon wasn‘t half as good as usual! Eve and I
went to chapel and heard him preach and didn‘t think there was anything wrong
with it, however, she thinks he‘s a little impetuous and should turn his mind to more
serious things. I think that‘s wrong. Surely Parsons should have a little fun as well as
other people; they wont know how to protect other people from vices unless they
find out a few for themselves.
Rita wrote again on October 18 and thanked me for the old photo I
got Dad to send and for the flowers I sent her for her birthday:
I‘ve now seen the flowers and they really are lovely, the carnations especially. They
were well worth waiting for. Thank you again Bill, you are nice to me. Its almost
impossible to thank people properly on paper I think, why don‘t you come home, I
could do it much better then.
You say that men get very childish when they‘re at sea. Well, I say they get childish
anyway, whether at sea or not! For example—I was walking along the road recently
and standing on the corner ahead of me were two men—one old, one young. There
was some nudging and grinning before I got to them so I elevated my nose and gave
them what I thought was a damping stare! However, it was without effect. When I
passed them the old man said, ‗ Good afternoon‘ in a cheeky voice, and I replied,
then he turned to the other and said ‗Thought I‘d bloody well make her say summit‘
Will you please thank your father for sending on the photo to me? Think of me
sometimes Bill.
In a letter written on 3 November, which I received in New Orleans
our next port of call after Baltimore she commented on the photo I took
of myself in Boston, see Plate 82, and her headmistress.
Many thanks for the photo. You don‘t really look like that do you? You evidently
don‘t wear your uniform ashore, though I can‘t imagine why not. I think uniform
looks rather smart. I‘m glad your friends liked my photo (I don‘t, by the way, I
naturally like to imagine I look far nicer than that! Don‘t disillusion me, mind or I
shall be most upset).
The school is making me unsettled here as Miss Hall (The Head) is in a difficult
mood and not at all easy to work for. Your picture of her wasn‘t quite right—she‘s
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not at all superior, she just fussy and fidgety and inclined to interfere, in fact she‘s a
damned nuisance. She has not got her aims and desires at all straight in her mind and
she changes her opinions about every other day. I imagine she‘s quite an idealist in
her outlook and I don‘t think she‘s really at all suitable to be Head of a school.
Plate 84: The Chesapeake River Suspension Bridge
I wrote to Rita on the 1st of November, the day we departed
Baltimore:
At this moment I am waiting in suspense for the ship to sail, we are all ready but
there is no Pilot, he should have been on board one hour ago. I hate waiting for
things to happen—its rather like waiting to see the Doctor. I hope you get those two
little records I sent you; you should receive them about the 10th of November. I must
go the Pilot has just arrived.
I‘m sorry I had to break off so abruptly this morning; unfortunately I was required
on the bridge. It is now 7.30 PM and much has happened, we got away to a good
start and have spent the entire day cruising down the Chesapeake river towards the
sea, we shall drop our pilot at about 10. PM and with him will go this letter.
The passage down the river was pleasant apart for a slight haze, which reduced our
visibility a little; the countryside on each side of the river seemed to me to be much
the same as the coast of North Somerset or Devon. We passed under the new
Chesapeake suspension bridge (see Plate 84), which was only opened last
September; this bridge is quite a sight, being 7½ miles long and 200ft high, already
one man has committed suicide by jumping off. We have a sea passage of eight days
before us and I hope we don‘t meet any ‗Hurricanes‘, they are around, especially in
the Gulf of Mexico and that‘s where we are going. New Orleans is 80 miles up the
Mississippi river. I wonder if we will sing ‗Old man River‘!
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I have been listening to a concert from Carnegie Hall, Toscanini performing Richard
Strauss (Till Eulenspiegl) and Brahms 3rd Symphony. Brahms always puts me in a
good mood with that wonderful opening motto theme, ‗Free but Joyful‘, so I view
the voyage with less chagrin now, music is a wonderful thing. From New Orleans
we go to Denmark but then I‘m looking forward to seeing you again—you had
better ask the police in Trowbridge to prepare a cell for me.
It is now getting near to Eight Bells (8.PM) so its time I went to the bridge to relieve
the Chief Officer for my watch. He gets quite annoyed when I‘m late. Take good
care of yourself, how is the winter getting on? You will have to put chains on the
wheels of your car if it snows. There goes the bell I must go. Kindest regards to you
Rita, I am thinking of you….
Plate 85: The Cathedral and Jackson Square in New Orleans
We arrived in New Orleans Sunday 8th of November and I wrote
immediately:
We arrived here at 3.0AM and I found a letter from you waiting for me. After we
had made the ship secure I managed to get some sleep around 5AM until 8.30 and
now it is 9.30 and we await for the carpenters to come aboard and install the large
shifting boards that prevent the grain from moving when the ship rolls about in
rough weather. We should have a quiet day and half whilst the men complete this
job. Tomorrow evening we will move to the grain elevator to fill up completely with
corn which should take just two days so we will be on our way to Denmark on
Wednesday—Oh how I wish it were England.
At this very moment my radio is playing Tchaik No. 5 which is a wonderful
commentary on my thoughts… I wish you were here and we could listen together;
We had a pleasant voyage from Baltimore, it took eight days and the weather got
steadily hotter as we progressed south. We changed into tropical gear off Florida,
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saw Miami from just several miles off shore where it reminded me of a super sized
Blackpool. As we approached the Mississippi delta it grew steadily colder and we
are now back in our winter uniforms. The great river was interesting as on each side
we could see oil wells with gushers and huge fires where they burn off the excess
oil…
This morning while we at breakfast a middle aged lady brought a message on board
for the Captain, it went something like this, ‗ All sailors invited to a grand dance,
plenty of beautiful girls, hot home made cakes, Television—All Free, Free, Free…‘
As it takes place in a weeks time we won‘t be here, too bad! I walked up the road
just now to buy a newspaper, the area surrounding the docks is mostly populated by
African Negroes and racial segregation here is a big thing, I hate the prejudice of
some Americans towards the Negroes and I am not in sympathy with the American
way of life in general; their attitudes and values are so different from ours.
Did you receive the records I sent you; I shudder to think what I sounded like, you
can always burn them as the stuff they are made from is highly combustible.
That evening Zabel and I went ashore to attend a concert given by
the New Orleans Symphony and we heard the fine Chilean pianist
Claudio Arrau perform the 4th Piano Concerto of Beethoven. It has been
said that this artist possesses distinctive keyboard sonority, rich and
aristocratic in its subtlety. Well, if this was the reason for us being so
moved then I won‘t quarrel. New Orleans was, of course, the place where
Jazz was created and even in 1952 some of its former greatness still
remained. During my short visit I managed to see the French Quarter and
the Cathedral, and visit several bars in the Basin Street and Storyville
areas where traditional New Orleans style Jazz was still played in the old
manner for dancing. Frank Joplin who is a jazz fanatic and I went to a
small bar where it was said Bunk Johnson, one of early the pioneers; was
still playing with his all-star band. We sat in a corner nursing beers and
listened entranced for several hours, but whether or not we heard the
mighty Bunk, who taught Louis Armstrong his craft, I cannot say.193 The
music the band played sounded authentic to me with the traditional line
up of trumpet, clarinet, trombone etc. They rattled out one standard after
another and when the clarinettist stood up after a spirited rendition of
Clarinet Marmalade there was great applause and Frank wondered if we
had just heard the great George Lewis who certainly played with the
Bunk Johnson band in New Orleans in the 40‘s. Frank was a mine of
information on the history of Jazz and recommended that I read Shining
Trumpets by Rudi Blesh194. This trip to hear jazz inspired Frank and I to
193
Bunk died in 1949 but George Lewis continued with his band well into 1950‘s and made
recordings in 1962.
194
Years later I obtained a copy and discovered the information on Johnson and Lewis was as
Frank said.
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while away many an hour at sea in imitating Jazz music using
instruments fashioned out of comb and paper much to the annoyance of
the Second Engineer who called it ‗Monkey Music‘. We were some what
delayed in the loading of grain and did not finally depart from New
Orleans until 18th November for Denmark.
Plate 86: Argentine Transport visits several ports in Denmark
It soon became clear that we were to unload our cargo in
Copenhagen, Korsor and Odense, but there were high hopes that we
would return to the UK afterwards and maybe home in time for
Christmas. The ship‘s official log recorded several incidents of
aggressive behaviour from some of our crew members whilst we were in
New Orleans. For example Captain Murray writes on 9th of November:
N0. 26 D McArthur195, Fireman W.T. for being under the influence of drink will be
fined 10/-, for using abusive language and threatening Mr Mc Larty, Second
Engineer, will be fined the sum of 10/- for disobeying orders, 10/- for assaulting A.
Cottam, 2nd Steward 10/-. In the whole of my sea career I have never heard such a
disgusting exhibition by a human being.
An ironic comment from Don Murray who himself was later to crack up
under the strain. The 5,890-mile voyage to Copenhagen took 26 days;
during the voyage Frank developed a swollen face and was treated with
penicillin, which quickly cured the problem much to his relief as he was
195
A 28 year old from Middlesborough
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looking forward to some fun ashore. Mr Zabel and I became increasingly
aware that our Captain was hitting the bottle heavily and he seldom made
appearances on the bridge. The first officer Mr Tilsley was quite
philosophical about all this and gave the master his full support but was
critical of his inability to stop drinking. Zabel and I decided that we
should do our utmost to maintain the proper seaman like standards. This
we could do and providing no critical decisions were needed then there
should be little cause for concern apart from the bad example, but we felt
vulnerable none the less.
Plate 87: Kronborg Castle at Elsinore
We arrived in Copenhagen on December 14th and my first sight of
the Island of Zealand was the view of Kronborg Castle at Elsinore, which
we passed on our starboard side, quite close by as we steamed south into
the ‗Sound‘; the narrow channel between Sweden and Denmark (Plate
87). The castle is a splendid sight but not the grim ramparts that
Shakespeare describes in Hamlet, which once occupied the same site. As
I returned to my cabin after we had secured the vessel alongside, my
radio kept playing Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen, Salty old Queen
of the Sea, from the recently released Danny Kaye film on the life of
Hans Christian Andersen the Danish writer. Well, it was wonderful
indeed for our crew as a lusty ‗crew‘ of Nordic ladies, who proceeded to
occupy the galley, the saloon, and even our bunks, immediately boarded
the ship! In fact discipline collapsed during our entire stay in Danish
waters and I can only blame the master for this, as seemingly he was too
drunk to care. A local newspaper published a photograph of the ship as
she arrived in the port which was later packaged in a frame ready for sale
to members of the crew; our tall Apprentice William Duncan is standing
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237
at the bow but no one else can be seen, see Plate 88. The role call of
offences by the crew continued and were duly recorded in the official log
and it is remarkable that the master was able to dispense justice whilst
being under the influence himself; I believe he was reasonably coherent
in the morning but by nightfall he would, we judged, be beyond
competence, though he did not show it in any obvious manner. I think the
Mate had a lot to do with maintaining order and made sure the entries
were properly recorded. Here are some examples of the crew‘s behaviour
noted in the logbook:
15 December, Copenhagen, No 8. G Cuthbert A.B. and No 12 L Jackson A.B. for
failing to ‗turn to‘ 0830 in order to shift ship to adjust the ‗Sucker‘ in No. 1. Hatch
will both be fined the Sum of 10/- each. No. 8. G Cuthbert A.B will be fined the
Sum of 10/- for insolence to the Master.
17 December, Copenhagen, The above entries were read out to G Cuthbert and L
Jackson , L Jackson made no reply. G Cuthbert replied, ‗I agree with the first entry
but as I am under the influence of drink I would like it read out when I am sober‘
For striking the Chief Steward No33 M Currie Asst Steward will fined the sum of
10/-. The above entry has been read out to M Currie and he replied, ‗ I hate the Chief
Steward and I will hit him again‘
During the course of tea No 36, D Hebblewhite , 2nd Cook and Baker, was insolent
and used abusive language to the 3rd,4th and 5th Engineer Officers. For these offences
he will be fined 30/- the sum of 10/- for each offence. The above entry has been read
over to D Hebblewhite and he replied,‘ They used abusive language to me first‘.
I was delighted to receive several letters from Rita in Copenhagen
which helped me come to terms with the steadily worsening condition
aboard, her life at home seemed a million miles away rather than the
actual 600 or so as the ‗crow flies‘. She wrote on the 6 th November, just
before we arrived in New Orleans so the news was a bit old but
nevertheless more than welcome:
Once more I‘m alone so I thought I‘d start a letter, Polly is making a dreadful noise,
I think I will go and cover Polly up a minute and perhaps she will stop—she has!
I‘ve just read your last letter again and reminded myself about your voice recording.
I could never do anything like that as I would never know what to say! Any
recording of mine would consist of a cough and a splutter and perhaps a giggle, and
that wouldn‘t be at all realistic…
Bonfire night last night and I didn‘t have one firework! But the weather here was the
one fine evening in a week of bad weather and just right for fireworks, its cold and
dark and wintry now, all the trees are bare and everyone is in winter coats and fur
boots or heavy shoes. As Christmas gets nearer we get more and more busy at
school and the children get more and more excited. They‘ve talked of nothing but
fireworks this last week, and from now on they‘ll talk of Father Christmas. It‘s hard
to get any work done—in fact it‘s a constant puzzle to me how they ever learn
anything.
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Polly has started to talk again, ‗ Goodnight, kiss me, quick, quick, more kiss‘, It
seems an appropriate moment to end!
Plate 88: Entering Copenhagen Harbour
She wrote again on Monday 17th November to tell me about a dream that
Miss Crook had had involving me with some comments on her
relationship with her. She also gave some account of her work at school:
Now for Miss Crook‘s dream. It‘s faded a little now and I have forgotten the details
but I do remember that you were in Bristol with her helping to conduct a religious
meeting! You were playing the piano for hymn singing and keeping the meeting
going while she was out collecting her projector. It didn‘t sound very much in
character to me, Is it? Last weekend she talked religion at me all the time, I felt
definitely anti-religion after it, but I couldn‘t tell her that, as it would only upset her.
Our sale at school went off very well and we made £18. Now we have to buy
presents for all the children with it so it won‘t last long. I have ten of my children out
with mumps, and teaching is quite a picnic. I had a letter from one of them on
Friday; a very nice little boy. Did you write letters to teacher when you were at
school?! Have you written to the school that‘s adopted you yet?
I managed to see a little of Copenhagen; the usual things including
the famous Tivoli Gardens, quiet at this time of year, the Christiansborg
Palace and the Royal Theatre. There was not time to see any
performances and though Hans Andersen was Denmark‘s most famous
writer there was little made of him here apart from the Hollywood film
currently going the rounds. I bought a book of his tales and solemnly
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239
walked along the Langelinie, the fine promenade through gardens and
alongside the harbour to see Edvard Erikson‘s bronze statue of the Little
Mermaid rising from the water. After three days we left for Korso, a
small port on the west coast of Zeeland to discharge some more of our
grain cargo. Though the ladies of the night had been ordered ashore most
of them seemed to have been smuggled aboard again as they were still
with us in Korso. I found one in my bunk when I came off watch at
midnight; I didn‘t have the heart to throw her out so I slept on the small
bench seat against the bulkhead. Our Chief Steward, Colin Sutherland,
got rid of her in the morning. In Korso I was involved in an incident with
members of the crew. I had to call the police to break up a fight between
a young steward, M D Currie and the 4th Engineer. This was a
continuation of a row that had started ashore as the Captain‘s log makes
clear:
19 December 1952, Korsor, It has been reported to me that while the 3rd, 4th & 5th
Engineer Officers were leaving a hotel in this town PM 18.12.52, No 33, M Currie,
Asst Steward insulting all three officers and fought the 4th Engineer & was forcibly
restrained by the police. Again at a later hour on board the vessel he created a further
disturbance threatening the 2nd,3rd,4th and 5th Engineers and was removed by the
police to jail.
He was later released and appeared to be very contrite and caused no
further problems so the feud between the Engineers and the Stewards was
over for the time being at least.
Our next port of call was the fine old city of Odense on the Island of
Fyn just 50 miles or so away. Navigating the Odense Fjord was a little
tricky and at one point we went aground but we managed to re-float after
2 hours. We had to anchor overnight to await the Tide and the next day
we proceeded along the narrow Odense Channel where we cut a small
buoy adrift. I hasten to add that this was not in anyway the master‘s fault,
drunk or sober, as we were under the direction of the Pilot. We finally
tied up alongside the town wharf around midday of the 22nd; I thought
this was a most attractive place with the harbour square overlooked by a
huge windmill196. During my watch that evening one of our seaman
started insulting me for no apparent reason and when I attempted to calm
him down he struck me in the face; in the old days he would have been
flogged at least but our master was more lenient:
No 15, S Hartley, JOS, for striking the 3rd Officer, being under the influence of drink
and for using abusive language will be fined 10/- for each offence-30/- in total.
196
I did not know at the time that Odense was the birthplace and home of Carl Neilson the
great Danish composer who‘s music I later came to know well  an opportunity missed to see
his birthplace.
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The above entry has been read out to No 15, S Hartley, JOS, and when asked if he
wished to make any reply, he said, ‗ I will make it a couple of pounds next time‘
A double dose of abuse and striking I assume? I think someone must
have sorted him out physically as he was taken to the hospital the next
day with a contusion of his left elbow. He became much worse, or was he
malingering, and contrived to get himself paid off the ship and sent home
for further treatment. For my part I spent Christmas Eve in bed with a
sore throat and heavy cold but managed to stagger out on Christmas day
to go ashore and make a telephone call to Rita. She later wrote me197
about this call and other things on Boxing Day:
Mosterton, 26 Dec, 1952
…It was nice to speak to you once again—you sounded just as I remember you so it
was very satisfying. I hope I sounded like me, and I hope I gave the right answers; it
was difficult to hear you. Did I thank you properly for the flowers? I hope so they‘re
lovely. They arrived yesterday morning and were a pleasant surprise.
I think it‘s a pity you have to go to America again—you‘re back where you started
in September as regards coming home and I did hope you‘d be home soon. We
decorated the house for Christmas, of course, and hopefully put up some mistletoe
but I‘m sorry to say no one made use of it! The only one who appreciates mistletoe
here is Father and he doesn‘t really need it!
… I don‘t envy you sailing with your Captain; perhaps you‘ll have fine weather and
everything will be all right. Did you have any sort of party? Thank you for being so
nice…
I also received a characteristic letter from Dad:
Ringwood, 16 December 1952
Dear Bill
Just a line to with you all the best for Xmas from self and Brenda. Very pleased to
say my heart has improved considerably, but I have a lousy cough at present. By the
way my pullover is missing, a light one Brenda bought me—Do you by any
coincidence happen to be wearing it? Love from Dad
PS I wrote to Paddy O‘Donovan198 last week but he has not bothered to answer it.
Seems curious, as he was so friendly. I wrote as he has always been shouting about
coming into partnership with me, so I wrote saying I could do with £2500 and
offered him a good salary as a director. I thought he might be able to bite the old
woman‘s ear as he has no money himself.
Yes we did have a ‗sort‘ of party on board and it was in full swing
when I returned. I have never experienced anything like it. The crew
went wild; the hookers cooked the Christmas dinner as they had long
since taken over the Galley. It was a long wild party with one member of
197
198
Received in Galveston 27 Jan, 1953
See page 176
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the crew pinching our Captain‘s best uniform reefer and cap, which he
wore with no distinction, and led a conga dance all over the ship. At
some point Murray‘s uniform got covered in flour. I was incensed as was
Zabel, not because the men were having a good time but because of the
ugly disrespect. By far the most important event in Odense however, was
the news given us the day before that we would not be returning home
but were being sent ‗empty‘ to the US again, to Galveston Texas in fact.
As we were on a time charter we could not object but when I discovered
that our Captain was prepared, at the behest of the agents, to take us
‗light ship‘ across the Atlantic in winter I was appalled. As I have said
earlier Liberty ships were originally designed to transport supplies to war
torn Europe during WW2 and would not be stable without ballast when
‗light‘. I discussed this prospect with Zabel and the first officer, Mr
Tilsley, and we informed Don Murray about our concerns. At first he
took no notice so acting on my own I had a row with him in his cabin
when I discovered that he was too drunk to take the winter passage
seriously. There were, fortunately, no witnesses to hear me accuse him of
ignoring his clear duty; I think I said some harsh things about the
hypocritical way he was conducting discipline on board. Zabel and I
resolved we could not sail in the vessel if we did not take on ballast,
which meant special shifting boards to be installed as well and the agents
were not prepared to meet the cost of this.
In the end the master allowed us to meet the agents with him and we
strongly argued that the proper seaman like precautions should be taken.
In the end our view prevailed and it was decided that ballasting should be
carried out despite a further 48hrs delay. Just before we sailed from
Odense on the 28th to my delight Mr Tilsley showed me a message, just
received from Houlders in London, saying that the Master should take
full precautions to ballast his ship before proceeding across the Atlantic.
So if we had set sail, un-ballasted as originally ordered the Master would
have been very embarrassed to say the least.
We celebrated the New Year just 12 miles off Beachy Head in the
Channel—so close in distance but oh so far from all things dear. I sent
Rita a Happy New Year cable via the ship‘s radio. Earlier that day we
had navigated near the notorious Goodwin Sands with the masts of the
many wrecks poking up through the water as our Captain slept off his
latest binge below. Zabel relieved me at midnight and we welcomed the
onset of 1953 with a hot cup of tea. We then carried out a solemn act of
libation by softly entering the Master‘s Day cabin, just below the
chartroom, and collecting together all his glasses and as many bottles of
spirits as we could find. Taking our haul back on to the bridge we went to
the lee side and chanting a suitable litany we tossed the bottles and
glasses into the sea one by one. Mr Zabel thought our action was worthy
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of Henry the Fifth at Agincourt as written down by the great William
Shakespoke (sic)199. Zabel liked to talk for hours about Shakespeare
whom he greatly admired.
As far as I can remember the voyage to Texas went by more or less
uneventfully, apart from the many cases of Gonorrhoea that soon
manifested themselves among the crew passed on by those ‗delightful
ladies‘ from Copenhagen. By the time the symptoms appeared the
Captain was fortunately sober enough to carry out the injections of
penicillin needed but he was carefully watched over by the Chief
Steward. Colin was adept at this in any case and could be relied on to
follow the proper procedure. Frank Joplin got very worried when he
discovered small organisms running riot around his private parts and was
diagnosed as having a dose of ‗crabs‘, so much for the supervision
demanded by an Apprentices‘ indentures that the Master should ensure
that they should be shielded from all houses of ‗Ill Repute‘, mind you the
whole ship became a floating brothel in Denmark. Frank was given a jab
along with best of them and within a few days this marvellous drug cured
all. We endured strong gales most of the way and our progress was quite
slow as it took 31 days to reach Galveston, the ship quite stable though,
thanks to the ballast.
We arrived in Galveston on 27th January and very quickly loaded the
grain cargo. I did not see anything of note as we were remote from the
city but I received a bundle of letters from Rita, which were very
welcome indeed after a month at sea. In her letters of January 5th & 27th
she wrote from Trowbridge:
…your cable arrived on December 31st—thank you very much. Last night we drove
back after the holiday and had quite an eventful journey as our lights failed twice!
Luckily we weren‘t far from home and managed to find a garage open; the man
there fixed them for us and we proceeded, very doubtfully, but, none the less, safely.
Mss Crook and Polly were both as usual when I arrived and I received a kiss from
the former and a stony stare from the latter, of the two I preferred the stare—I think
females kissing one another is a waste of time! We have a TV at home200 and last
week at we invited an Uncle and Aunt to see it—Norman came too, Norman is big,
shy and awkward and aged about thirty and is Uncle‘s brother. Actually like most of
our family they have some funny ways. Uncle Bob is famed for his late evening
remark, ‗We be kippin you volks up‘, which he says at intervals as the evening
progresses but takes no steps to remove himself and so stop ‗kippin‘ us up! He went
at about 1A.M.
Miss Crook is about to put on a film; not cowboys or romance, but religion; that
means the light will be put out and my letter must stop, unless of course she‘s going
to run it through with the light on. Usually she insists on reading the script that goes
with the film (doubtless to further or correct my education) but I hope I will be
spared that tonight. I‘m trying to look very busy! If I get my flat I shan‘t be bothered
with that sort of thing anymore. Miss Crook loves to mother me, last night she
199
200
Zabel always referred to the Bard in this Joycean way
This was in the early days of TV in the UK when not many households had it
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almost had the police on my trail because I was out an hour later than usual. She
greeted me with a very pained expression and many gentle hints about being
inconsiderate.
Bently is to be executed tomorrow. Have you heard all the fuss going on here about
it? I hope he is not executed, I think he‘s much too young and also didn‘t do the
actual killing. I don‘t approve of capital punishment anyway201.
…don‘t stay too long in America. Miss Crook says. ‗Give Bill my love‘—I
questioned the love and suggested ‗regards‘, but she assured me that she meant
‗love‘ ! I‘ll copy her example—with my love, Bill, from Rita
We left Galveston for Italy within a few days; once again, our hopes
of return to UK had not materialised. The grain was to be shipped to
Barletta a small port on the Adriatic coast in the province of Apulia, not
far from Bari where my brother‘s ship was sunk during the war, see page
79. We arrived there on about the 25th of February and I noticed on the
chart that not too far away from Barletta up in the Apennine mountains,
the backbone of Italy, there was situated a mountain by the name of
Vulture (4354 feet), Plate 89, and I conceived the idea to climb this peak
during the week end after our arrival. I thought this would make a
welcome diversion from the ship after being cooped up for nearly two
months. What follows is based on a letter to Rita dated 2nd March the
Monday following our weekend excursion. I managed to persuade one of
our Apprentices William Duncan (Dunk) and our fifth engineer Bob
Jeffrey, a Welshman known as Dai, to come with me. We prepared
ourselves by taking our heaviest boots to a local boot-mender in the town
and had ‗climbing‘ nails fitted. We also bought cheap rucksacks, which
we stuffed with warm clothing and food. As an additional precaution the
Bosun prepared a good long length of rope in case we needed to rope up!
Zabel thought we were mad and the Master was too drunk to care.
Barletta in those days was a very small town and the local people stood
and stared at us as we walked by on our way to the railway station and
probably thought we were stupid. I felt stupid as a group of small
children followed us along the road. I had worked out that the starting
point for the ascent would be the village of Melfi, which we could reach
by train, changing at the town of Foggia. We boarded the train at 10.06
and were soon on our way to Foggia in a fast Diesel Express. The train
was non-stop and we passed through several small villages but by 11.00
we had arrived. The local ‗steam‘ train for the interior departed at noon
and we spent a pleasant hour in the buffet drinking beer and eating a tasty
‗Focaccia al Formaggio‘ a kind of flat bread with a wonderful gooey
201
As I write there has been news of an official pardon for Bentley 47 years after the event, of
considerable consolation to his surviving family. This tragic event was of major importance in
achieving the abolition of hanging in the UK.
244
cheese filling, a speciality from Liguria in Northern Italy, which I
thought delicious.
Plate 89: Barletta and Mt Vulture
The train left on time but was a slower chugging through very
picturesque scenery. This leg of the journey took over two hours and we
soon felt we were miles from anywhere as we climbed higher into the
Apennine hills. The weather was fine and sunny but quite cold and it
really felt good to be in the hills after so much sea. Eventually we
steamed through a long tunnel and as we emerged we saw ahead a snow
covered peak topped by a large cross on the top of the summit cairn. We
left the train at the little village just beyond the tunnel and as we walked
away from the train we encountered a group of villagers. We pointed to
the summit ahead and when they understood we had come to climb to the
top they shook their heads and thought we were loco; not I venture to say
because the climb in prospect would be difficult or dangerous but
because it seemed to them to be a pointless exercise.
We left the village and after crossing a stone bridge tramped up a
rough track in the general direction of the mountain. Unfortunately the
best map I could find was the road map for the district, which was all but
useless for hill walking, and furthermore I had not been able to obtain a
small pocket compass as the smallest on board (life boat compass) were
far to large to carry up a mountain. After about an hour we decided to set
up a camp for the night with the plan of a very early morning ascent. The
height of mountain was just over 4000 feet and I judged we were already
above 2000 so it should be a relatively easy scramble to the summit,
weather and snow permitting, and we would return to Melfi in time for
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an evening train. Nearby we found an old ruined stone building, probably
a shepherd‘s refuge, rather damp but it would suffice. We set about
making a fire but gathering of wood proved to be a little difficult as the
local peasants had already taken most of it; we had observed several old
ladies with bundles of wood on their backs coming down the hillside as
we came up. Nevertheless we managed to find some Oak branches and a
few twigs of Sweet Chestnut and soon we had a fire going. With some
water from a stream and a feast from our provisions we enjoyed a meal
of boiled eggs, corned beef, bread and tea. It was now about 5.00 pm but
our mountain was now covered by a thick mist and we hoped by morning
it would be clear.
After our meal Dai and I decided to go back down to the village,
leaving Dunk to guard our stone hut. It only took a half hour or so and we
soon found ourselves in the little town and enjoyed the narrow cobbled
streets and the evening street life. Groups of people talking and drinking
wine despite the cool weather. The focal point seemed to be the
Communist Party headquarters complete with the ‗Red Flag‘ flying from
a post outside. Apparently Stalin was dying in Moscow and the local
faithful were gathered around the radio to get the latest news. The main
form of transport was riding on or being pulled in little carts by Donkeys
of which there were a large number. We bought some local wine to
sustain us during our climb and also some oranges. The wine came from
a small wine shop and was tapped out of a large barrel, just like cider. It
was now getting dark so we set off in haste to rejoin Dunk at the stone
hut. The moon had risen and quite providentially the mist had cleared
from the summit, it stood firmly silhouetted against a silver grey sky
casting a long black shadow over the village. When we arrived at the hut
we found that the ‗wood‘ situation was desperate, Dunk said he couldn‘t
find anymore so it looked as if we were going to spend a cold night. We
did have enough fire left to brew a cup of tea but then we wrapped
ourselves up in all the spare clothing and the one blanket we each had
brought and eventually dropped off to sleep about 9.30pm. The other two
around midnight waked me up. They were trying to stoke the fire up
because they were frozen. I think we slept in short snatches but by
around 3.00 we were in extreme discomfort and something had to be
done. The other two had not done any climbing or even camping before
and I realised I should have anticipated that we might be exposed to a
cold night on a bare hillside. I got up and by descending a little managed
to stumble on some dead wood which enabled us to get the fire going and
enjoy some warmth. This encouraged the other two and they also found
some fuel and by about 4.30 we had a breakfast of Coffee, bread and
more corned beef. As dawn was breaking Dai went outside and reported
that we were in the middle of a thick mist.
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This was annoying but I thought we could go as high as we could in
safety on the assumption the mist would burn off when the sun came up.
So we packed up and commenced to make our way up the rough track;
we left at 6.00AM and by 6.30 had come to the end of the rough track. At
this point we were faced by a predicament as to which of two ways to go,
follow the steepest gradient or continue contouring round the mountain.
In the end, guided by faith and some judgement plus many a silent curse
about being ill equipped and irresponsible I decided to follow the steepest
gradient, onwards and upwards. At first the going was easy, mostly soft
earth interspersed between boulders and stunted trees but soon the slope
got steeper and we could see what looked like a crest of a ridge high
above us—the mist had started to clear. The higher we climbed the
steeper the way became; although it was hard graft it was in my
judgement safe, not unlike the climb up Crib Goch in Snowdonia. The
other two said they felt like dying and made remarks like, ‗what a way to
spend a weekend‘. We pressed on and after another half hour or so we
came up to the top of the ridge we had seen from below. As we started
out along the ridge, which was quite wide but rocky, care was needed as
the far end was still covered by mist. I prayed it was the summit ridge
and proposed we should at least go a little further and hoped that the mist
would clear. But first we had a short break for food and a good swig from
our bottle of local wine, which gave us some of our lost energy back.
The ridge ascended we continued on our way upward but though the
going was easier than the climb up to the ridge our lack of visibility was
presenting problems so we decided to ‗rope up‘ and proceed with
caution. By now we were encountering patches of snow and I decided we
should move one at a time though the climbing skill needed was minimal
and the rope used as a safeguard. My feeling was that in good visibility
the climb would be quite benign. After about an hour of steady progress
the ground levelled off and we were clearly on the summit of something?
It proved to be a false summit but with growing confidence we continued
ascending the ridge, now far less steep, and to our delight the mist began
to clear and there in front about 100 yards or so we could see the cross on
the summit cairn202. We quickly climbed to the cairn and stood on the
peak; we had done it and felt good. Then suddenly the mist disappeared
and we were bathed in glorious sunshine and could enjoy a marvellous
view of the surrounding area. Indeed we could see both east and west
coasts of Italy with Naples to the west and Manfredonia to the east. Mt
Vesuvius, smoking I think, could be clearly seen as well as a charming
sunlit lake far below us. Little Melfi looked circular and was guarded by
a ruined Roman Fort and our little stone hut, lonely and abandoned
202
The mountain is in fact an extinct volcano, the only one on the eastern side of the
Apennines
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amongst the oak trees, could also be seen. Dai took some photographs203
and we had a little food before beginning our descent at about 11AM.
The way was clearly visible and we were able to retrace our steps without
any difficulty. We arrived back in Melfi at 2.0PM with large blisters on
our tired feet. After a meal in the station buffet of bread, ham and ‗vino‘,
brought to us by a friendly old lady, we caught the three o‘clock train to
Foggia and we slept most of the way.
Plate 90: Monte Vulture from the North
I wrote a detailed account of our little adventure to Rita and ended
my letter with the following:
…enough of mountain climbing, we have no news yet as we are still discharging
our cargo of grain. This should be finished by Saturday, 8th March so we might
leave here on Sunday. Where to? I don‘t know, somewhere to load for England
anyway. You asked me if I am happy in my job, the answer is an emphatic NO, I
wouldn‘t be honest with myself if I said otherwise, but I shall hang on until I think
of something better…
I received several letters from her in Barletta and she told me that she
was hoping to move to Frome and share a flat with her sister Eva. I had
been suffering from toothache and it was arranged that I should see a
dentist in Bari the provincial capital some 35 miles along the coast. I
travelled by train, a short journey of about 35 minutes. I was interested to
see the harbour where Peter‘s ship had been sunk in 1943; though this
was ten years ago now some of the wrecks could be seen still though the
harbour was now fully working again. The dentist was reluctant to
extract the offending molar and attempted a repair job by drilling and
filling, a painful process and I was glad to escape. Back on board we
learnt that we would take yet another passage across the Atlantic to
203
I never saw these photographs as after the voyage our paths did not intersect again.
248
Charleston for a cargo of tobacco for Bristol and would be home in April.
First we would proceed to Ceuta in Morocco, opposite Gibraltar, to take
on board fuel. We sailed as planned from Barletta on the 8th March, after
ballasting as we would be ‗light ship‘ again, for Ceuta and the next day a
stowaway, Peppino Guiseppi Rizzi, was discovered as we steamed
passed Syracuse in Sicily. The authorities in Barletta were informed but
it was too late to turn back so he would have to stay with us until the
voyage ended in the UK. I thought he was an agreeable young lad, just
seventeen years of age, and he settled down well and was soon working
under the Bosun. I think he hoped to get to USA but unfortunately this
could not be and I expected he would be ultimately returned to Italy. The
voyage to Ceuta was unpleasant because of abnormal weather conditions
and, in addition, my tooth problem became very much worse.
We arrived off Ceuta early on 13th March and had great
difficulty in manoeuvring the ship into the harbour owing to the heavy
swell and very strong gale force winds. Our Captain was also very
indecisive and we had to make several attempts to make our anchorage.
Eventually the barges with the fuel were able to come out and begin the
bunkering. I told the Captain I would need to see the dentist and so the
agent arranged for a car to pick me up at the quayside. In the event the
Captain came too as he had tried to pull a tooth out himself with a pair of
tweezers, which had become lose; he was still drinking heavily from time
to time and probably did this while he was drunk. The dentist was an
Arab who actually frightened the life out of me at first because he was
stripped to the waist and conjured up images of torture. In fact he was
excellent and extracted both our teeth without too much discomfort. We
sailed from Ceuta later that day and experienced some very rough
weather on the way. We eventually arrived in Charleston on the 4 th of
April. There were several letters waiting for me including several from
Ronnie Rodgers, mostly about the typing of my play; apparently he had
written one these letters last September and it had been wandering round
the world and had finally caught up with me in Charleston. He had
experienced quite a lot of problems during the typing but now he
reported that his sister had done all that I had left with them last year.
Ronnie was concerned with several matters arising from his study of my
MS, which needed my input. He said he had packaged the typescripts
together with his notes and had sent the material by hand to the Mission
To Seamen in London addressed C/O Brian Greenhalgh whom he
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believed was working there204. So I could collect the material when I
returned in April. I immediately wrote thanking Ronnie and his sister for
all their efforts on my behalf. This voyage and my developing
relationship with Rita had driven most thoughts of playwriting out of my
head. The play was driven further from my mind when I found later that
despite Ronnie‘s best efforts no such package ever turned up at the
Mission.
I also received several letters from Rita and still feeling sea weary I
wrote immediately: describing the latest
My Dear Rita,
Please forgive me for using the typewriter again. Time is so short as we are only
here for a few hours before moving on to Wilmington. We are loading Tobacco here
as part cargo, and finishing off in Wilmington and leave there on the 9th, for
England, arriving in Avonmouth on about the 27th April.
The voyage over from Ceuta has been terrible, and when we arrived here today I
think we all silently thanked God for a safe arrival. When I say terrible I mean just
that, I have mentioned before the dangers of taking a sea passage without cargo, the
ship just sits on the surface of the water and any severe movement of the sea due to
wind, throws her all over the place, the weather we experienced was not bad under
ordinary circumstances, say with a loaded ship, but in our condition it was appalling,
despite the ballast, and we all knew something was bound to happen sooner or later.
We ran into an extensive gale a few hundred miles South of the Azores, the
barograph arm was so low it rested on the base of the instrument. We just couldn‘t
get clear of it, our speed became virtually zero and we rolled around for days. I can‘t
do justice to the situation in a letter but you can imagine a great tension enveloping
us as we watched the ship keel over nearly to the water on her side and then lurch
back again with a deafening roar. Our steering gear broke down and we had to rig
emergency gear aft, but the poop deck compass was useless so we had to direct the
steering from the bridge by telephone, a cumbersome and dangerous procedure. We
eventually managed to extricate ourselves from the bad weather and make toward
Charleston but at pathetically slow speed. We arrived here today just over a week
late.
At last this voyage is drawing to a close and never before have I experienced such a
dramatic sea trip. There have been thrills a plenty, fights, and shocking rows, and
with the morale of the ship‘s crew at rock bottom, it couldn‘t get any lower, as every
one is hating every one else. I‘m afraid the spirit of adventure has worn rather thin
now and the whole wretched business has been one of discontentment. I‘m just
longing for the day when I shall leave this ship at Avonmouth in only 16 days time,
I know Rita when I went away I told you I‘d only be away for three months at the
most, well that‘s what I thought, because that was what we were told. I feel very
204
‗I have to inform you that I was able to get the original copy of the text of Manhood End off
on the Highland Princess on Thursday 12 February, 1953, by hand of Mr Louis Burnett, 5th
Engineer. A memorandum accompanies the text on the question of corrections and some
observations of my own are appended regarding censorship, approval by Mission HQ and so
on. I trust you will not object to these comments. You can just chuck them in the WPB but as I
thought of them I felt they might as well go down on paper too in case they were of any help to
you.
250
upset about it—they tell you lies to keep you happy when all the time its nothing but
a sham. Thank goodness I don‘t have to go back for at least six months and perhaps
by then I can get myself launched on a new career, I‘ve decided to do some
studying, I‘m going to try and get an Arts degree, but first I must get Matric, anyway
I shall have plenty of time to think about it. My main ambition as you know is to
write, but first I must learn a lot more.
Enough of this unpleasantness, at the moment I‘m listening to a Symphony concert
from New York, the NewYork Phil. is giving a splendid performance of Vaughan
Williams 4th. Symphony, this is a magnificent work, terse and passionate I am
reminded a little, heaven knows why for no two works could be so different, of 3rd
Symphony of Brahms,
I hope you are spending a happy Easter Holiday, give my regards to your family and
Miss Crook , oh by the way I‘ve shaved off my beard so you needn‘t worry, I was
sad to hear the news of Queen Mary‘s death—what a splendid old lady she was. Did
you get the letters I sent you from Ceuta ? There was some doubt about the postage,
I‘m looking forward very much to seeing you again and I‘m terribly sorry I‘ve been
away so long.
Well I must close now, forgive the typing Rita, I‘ll write a letter from Wilmington
Good bye for now, Love Bill
My letter from Wilmington on the 8th April was far more optimistic:
My Dear Rita, many thanks for your letter, received a few moments ago as it was so
welcome. We depart for England, Home and Beauty this afternoon. And if we get
good weather we shall be in Avonmouth on 26th. I suppose you will be in Frome by
then; are you going to live with Eva? have you a phone there?
When I get home I shall first take 7 weeks leave before beginning the course at
Southampton. I shall probably sit the exam in November. I hope to have a month off
in the summer as well. I hope you will be able to see something of the coronation
with me? I don‘t know how I would have stood this voyage without your letters.
You have been very kind.
This part of USA is very pleasant with good weather at the moment. The
countryside is flat and green and is densely wooded in parts as well. Charleston is
quite a small town with friendly people; Wilmington is similar but even smaller and
quieter. The morale on board has now improved, partly I suppose because the
voyage is now coming to an end and also because the Captain has sobered up. He is
very charming to me but I fear he has a serious problem below the surface for which
he needs help. He had a tough war, of course, and I don‘t think the public quite
realise the debt we owe to those men who were at sea in those awful days.
The stevedores are now loading the last few barrels of tobacco so soon we shall be
on our way. I am offering a silent prayer for the weather, I hope it remains fine, this
ship has had some near misses but I believe our luck will hold—luck versus
incompetence, what a predicament!
Well Rita I must stop now as we really are going to depart for England. What a
lovely thought and in only 17 days I shall see you again, it seems such a long time
ago I said Good Bye to you on Trowbridge Station last September. Ever yours, Bill
The last leg of the voyage was smooth and without incident and we
duly arrived in Avonmouth on 25 April. I called Rita and arranged to
visit her straight away after we paid off at 11.00 AM. We had been away
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251
for 35 weeks and I was paid off with the princely sum of £58. My
allotment to home, made payable to Dad, was £20 per month so I should
have at least a further £140 in the bank if Dad has not spent it!
Second Mate and Courtship
252
Let not thy divining heart
Fore think me any ill,
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfill:
But think that we
Are but turn‘d aside to sleep;
They who one another keep
Alive ne‘er parted be;
Sweetest Love, I do not go John Donne205
Plate 91: Mosterton from Ridge Farm
On my way by bus to Frome I felt apprehensive about meeting Rita
after an absence of seven months. I had over the course of this long
voyage built up my hopes that we could develop our relationship further
but I realized that after such a long absence, which indeed made ‗my
heart grow fonder‘, we were virtually starting again. I quickly found
Rodden Road where Rita and Eva were now living and it being Saturday
afternoon they were both at home to greet me. Rita seemed very pleased
to see me and I decided to stay in Frome for a few days before visiting
205
I copied this in Rita‘s autograph book after proposing to her on Whitsunday. The verse
appeared to signify that lovers are never parted!
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253
Dad in Ringwood. The next weeks were among the best of times for me
that I can recall. We took long walks in the countryside around Frome
and we began to get to know each other well  it was a touching and
affecting experience for me. I think I made a nuisance of myself with her
landlady who didn‘t approve of our late night suppers. Eva was very
tolerant of me, which must have been difficult for her as a twin sister
whose previously secure relationship was now under threat. I had to
return to the ship in Avonmouth for two days but then I broke free of this
unhappy ship to start my leave and contemplate my future studies at the
Nautical Department at Southampton, which would begin in June. In the
meantime I had several weeks holiday and I was determined to spend as
much time with Rita as I possibly could. The very next weekend I had
been invited to stay with Gerald in Chiselborough, which afforded me the
opportunity to visit Rita at Ridge Farm. The two sisters had bought a car
from a young farmer in Mosterton, a Hilman of dubious provenance for
which ‗double declutching‘ was needed to change gear to avoid
excessive grinding, and furthermore when in second, a strong arm was
required to stop it jumping out. The forty-mile journey, along the A349
mostly, went through such delightful places as Nunny, Wanstrow,
Bruton, Sparkford, Queen Camel, Marston Magna and Yoevil. The last
twelve miles meandered through West Coker, Hazelbury Plucknett and
North Perrott before arriving at Misterton and then finally Mosterton
(Plate 91). In those days this was almost motoring in the golden age with
very little traffic (apart from Yoevil) and no bypasses. The Somerset
villages still retained their ancient character with the occasional departure
here and there from the golden Ham Stone created by ribbon council
development and it was well before the influx of the affluent city
dwellers. I sat in the back a little ‗on pins‘; I have to say the shared
driving indulged in by the twins was as if a single intelligence resided in
two bodies with gear changing a joint exercise.
Mrs. Creed greeted me warmly when we arrived though the men
were non-committal but not at all unfriendly. Their day revolved around
the ‗milking cycle‘, which never goes away, day in and day out, and kept
them tied down. Over the next few months I would experience much
more of this but one thing was apparent: the Creeds were a tight-knit
family and I felt something of an interloper. I made no major gaffes and
managed to survive until Gerald arrived to collect me later in the
evening. Gerald told me of his plans for his forthcoming marriage to
Eileen and said it would take place in the autumn. Eileen was at Manor
Farm and wanted to know how my ‗romance‘ with Rita was progressing;
she was quite pleased for me and a little for herself having set the whole
thing in motion. The next day he brought me back to Ridge again so Rita
and I had a few more hours together. I proposed that next weekend we
254
should go to London together and to my joy she accepted and so I said I
would come to Frome on Thursday so that we could go up by train the
next day. All sorts of other plans were also forming in my mind to
celebrate my homecoming after the long voyage and they all involved
Rita if she would agree. However on Sunday I took the train to
Brockenhurst where Dad and Brenda met me.
Plate 92: Miss Hall and her team at Trowbridge Junior School
Rita front row left, Miss Hall centre and Sylvia Plenty second from left back row
Dad was now back ‗in business‘ as a Dairyman, a trade he knew
well. In order to buy the business Brenda‘s Mother and Father had
chipped in as well and were now living with them in Ringwood. I think
Dad needed some additional cash to make the purchase and Brenda‘s
family had willingly allowed their ears to be bitten! I found them all
cheerful in Ringwood and I spent a few days with them. My nautical
skills with rope splicing even came in useful as I made some neat
lashings for some tarpaulins used to cover equipment in the dairy yard.
Brenda suggested that ‗Le Bassee‘, a boarding house in Boscombe,
would be a good place to take Rita for the Whitsunday long weekend I
was planning. I called Rita and told her my proposal and she agreed to
come with me; this was a very attractive prospect for me as it would give
me the opportunity of showing her a little of my territory and also we
could visit Ringwood and see Dad. The following weekend I was back in
Frome and met Rita after school on Friday and whisked her up to
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London. We stayed at the Cumberland Hotel near Marble Arch and met
up with Brian for a meal later that evening. Brian was still working for
the Mission at their head quarters down at the docks and I had recently
received a letter from him posted in February to Italy but caught up with
me in Ringwood, I must have told him about Rita and of my aspirations
for us as his remarks suggest:
Il gentilissimo Cavaliero Trowbrigio
You old so and so, what about taking your feet off the table, switching off the
wireless, putting the ―Lives of the Great Composers‖ back on the shelf…and writing
me a letter…
Well, how are things Bill? You seem to have had a long trip. Ronnie sent me your
address so thought I might write. A letter from me I know is something of a rarity.
And there is little to tell, as I am no longer living an exciting life. No one bites my
ears off, offers to fight, push me in the dock, or what not. However I feel I must
spend this time re-equipping myself. Eventually (in how many years I don‘t rightly
know) I want to take a B.A. , so shall continue to swot Greek and what not till then.
I expect you are still in the realms of LOVE, and in some ways I envy you. As a
matter of fact I also met a young teacher from my Uncle‘s school. She would be just
the person I would marry if I could. She‘s keen on music, and art, and likes the
French impressionists, as I do, but knows more about them. In every way an ideal
person. In view of my feelings I have decided to steer clear of her in the future. For
me personally it would be suicidal. However I don‘t suppose she‘s interested in me
anyway.
There has been an opportunity to do one or two concerts since I have been home.
Last night I went to the Festival Hall to hear a String Quartet, and you maybe
surprised to hear that Malcolm Sargent joined in , to make it a piano quintet—I
never knew he was a pianist.
I am greatly looking forward to reading the final installment of ‗Manhood End‘, and
meeting the author personally!! As you know, I am hoping that you will one day
find an opportunity to stay here for a few days, please let me know when you can.
However, you know I well realize you want to spend every possible moment with a
certain young lady and I well understand…. As ever Brian
So Brian met Rita, which was very pleasant indeed for both of us.
The fate of ‗Manhood End‘ came up and Brian reported that no sign of
any package had appeared at the Mission delivered by hand according to
Ronnie‘s instructions by a Mr. Louis Burnett, Fifth Engineer of the
Highland Princess, see page 246. This vessel should have long since
arrived in the UK so my play was lost without trace! During the night at
the Cumberland Rita was disturbed in her room by some street noise. It
turned out that this was a rehearsal for the forth-coming coronation
procession and she was delighted to watch the horses and state carriages
practicing their turns etc around Marble Arch across the road. The next
day we managed to get tickets for the Ballet at the Royal Opera House.
They were doing Swan Lake with the latest ballerina, Beryl Grey. The
production was a revision of the original Russian production by Ninette
256
de Valois but was also notable for the additional choreography by
Frederick Ashton. It was the music that enchanted me but Rita was very
keen on all forms of dance and thought that it was a fine show and we
both enjoyed the occasion immensely. We returned back to Frome on
Sunday and on the following day I marked time while Rita was teaching
but we met immediately after school ended and I took her to Bath to meet
my old mentor from Lymington Mr Aldridge Lyon (Skip), who was the
manager of the Midland Bank in the city. He took us out to dinner at the
Francis Hotel in Queens Square; he was charming to Rita and though not
expressed it was clear that our relationship would now be rather different
from the comradely-tutorship one that I had enjoyed previously. The next
day I went back to Ringwood where I was officially based, but according
to my diary I was up in London midweek, saw Brian and went to the
Festival Hall. I also found time to go to Bournemouth to have two
driving lessons and secure accommodation in Boscombe for Rita for the
Whitsunday weekend. By good fortune it was the Diamond Jubilee
celebrations of the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra and I was able to
get tickets for the Saturday concert but the rest of the festival was fully
booked though it would be possible to queue for spare seats. Also the
‗Doyly Carte‘ Company was having a two-week season at the Pavilion
theatre and as Saturday afternoon was still free I got tickets for the
‗Gondoliers‘.
I was back in Frome on Thursday and Rita had arranged for us to
have dinner at the George Hotel with a colleague and her husband, Sylvia
and John Plenty. They turned out to be an odd couple in some ways as
Sylvia was an attractive and warm girl but John had a drink problem and
by the end of the evening he was paralytic. I was pretty drunk as well I
have to say and spent an uncomfortable night. After school on Friday we
headed off for Boscombe and checked in La Bassee, which, though we
had to endure cramped accommodation, was not too bad. We played
table tennis together in the basement games room and ate fish and chips
for supper; it was fortunate that my powers of recovery after a boozy
night before were good. On Saturday we enjoyed a feast of music. The
Gondoliers at the Pavilion was very enjoyable with some of the great
stars of the ‗Doyly Carte‘ Company performing. Peter Pratt as the Duke
of Plaza-Toro marvellously paired with Anne Drummond-Grant as the
Duchess. A little after their prime I suppose but no matter, what style.
There were some ‗up and coming‘ G&S performers as well including
John Reed who was a notable Duke himself but on this occasion singing
one of the lesser Gondoliers. I think the superb ensemble singing in the
opening long stretch of continuous music is one the best things Sullivan
ever did and we were rewarded with a fine performance. In the evening
we went to the Winter Gardens for the concert under Charles Groves, the
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new permanent conductor of the Bournemouth Symphony. This was
notable for the first performance of the new Symphony No. 2. by
Malcolm Arnold, one the most significant of the new generation of
British composers. I remember feeling very emotional during the
passionate slow movement, which seemed, even on a first hearing, to be
especially significant. The piece concluded with a lively and tuneful tour
de force which Groves conducted with much aplomb.
Plate 93: Bournemouth Square in 1953
The next day we decided to take a steamer trip to the Isle of White. I
was keen to take Rita on a round trip that first involved taking the bus to
Southampton where we could board the ferry across to Cowes. In Cowes
we could then take a bus to Newport, the capital town of the Island, and
see Carisbrooke castle where the Roundheads imprisoned Charles I. We
planned to have Lunch in Newport and then take a journey on the old
West Wight railway to Yarmouth. We could then return to the mainland
by the Yarmouth-Lymington Ferry. There would be just enough time for
Rita to see something of my old hometown before returning to Boscombe
on the Bus. Altogether it would be a ‗five star‘ trip, and so it proved, with
things going very much to plan—a memorable Whitsunday outing to
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treasure. I felt our relationship had developed very well on both sides so
that evening I asked Rita to marry me one day and to my great joy she
appeared to accept though at this stage we decided to keep our intentions
to ourselves. On Whit Monday we took a trip to Ringwood to meet Dad
& Brenda and I think they took to Rita immediately and so I was set now
well on my course and would do everything in my power to make our
relationship succeed.
That evening we were back to the Winter Gardens to hear another
concert in the Bournemouth Diamond Jubilee season. This time we had
no tickets so had to queue for ‗returns‘. After an hour we were rewarded
and managed to get in to hear the famous maestro John Barbirolli
conduct the orchestra in a Brahms concert. This was my first experience
of this fascinating little man whose reputation stood so high. As we
waited a hush came over the audience and to my surprise he entered from
the rear of the hall and walked slowly along the central aisle, almost a
shuffle, with one hand behind grasping his stick looking from left to right
at the audience. On the podium he refused to start until all sounds of
expectation had vanished; he looked at one moment if he was going to
raise his arm to begin but a slight sound disturbed him and he very
slowly turned, swivelling on one leg, and glowered at the audience.
Finally satisfied that we were ready he began the overture. I must confess
I have forgotten the details of the program, except for the violin concerto
played by a large lady soloist, Gioconda de Vito, with long flowing
golden hair and wearing a huge tent of green. Her performance was
rapturously received. I am sure the music was superbly played but I
confess my mind was on other things. The next day we said goodbye to
Bournemouth and went to Ridge.
Rita had a further week‘s holiday (half term break), which would
include the Coronation on Tuesday 2nd June in one week‘s time. I was
very honoured as Mrs Creed invited me to stay. This meant sleeping in a
fold-up bed in their lounge, a small price to pay in my mind for the
opportunity of being so close to Rita. For the two men the day started
early as was to be expected on a dairy farm with the milking. Breakfast
was a family ritual with the most sumptuous bacon, eggs and fried bread
I had ever seen and the most delicious I have ever tasted. In these pre
cholesterol days there were no inhibitions. Rita‘s brother Bernard did full
justice to the food, relishing the fat and the soft runny fried eggs, which
he spread over the two thick slices of fried bread. Bernard was a great
reader and always had a book in tow; reading at the table was not
discouraged and Bernard only spoke when he had something intelligent
to say—he was not strong on small talk. Unfortunately he had
experienced a bad accident some two or four years before when a horse
had bolted causing him to be severely dragged. He made a complete
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259
recovery in every way except that his hair started to fall out and he was
now quite bald and became, hardly surprising then, quite self conscious
about his loss. This was a great pity as he was very bright and capable
but it appeared to me that his disability prevented him from fulfilling his
social potential.
Plate 94: Arial View of Ridge farm house is on the right with the farm
buildings on the left.
Plate 95: Rita with her parents at Ridge Farm
The Creed father and son worked a dairy herd of Frisians, some 30
or so animals on 100 Acres, yielding as much as 30 gallons of milk a day
and destined for the nearby milk factory. The monthly ‗milk cheque‘ kept
them solvent. Bert Creed had over the years built all the farm buildings
260
himself but was supported in every possible way by his wife, Eva, who
had worked hard beside her husband as well as bringing up the family of
three. She was some nine years older than her husband and before
marriage had been a schoolteacher. The hens seemed to be her
responsibility still; there was a large barn behind the house full of battery
cages with birds that needed constant attention, water, feed, egg
collecting, grading, boxing etc, the two girls helped in this and with
everything else while they were home. When I was taken to see the hens
the stench nearly knocked me out.
Plate 96: The House that Bert built on Ridge Farm
Bert had invited his closest relatives to come and see the Coronation
on his TV; he being the youngest of a family of twelve was closer to
modern technology than the others! The great day came and the sitting
room was arranged a little like a cinema with rows of chairs facing the
small screen. The two girls were kept busy making tea and sandwiches
throughout the long day for all in attendance. The men folk kept coming
and going first dropping their wives etc, at Ridge and then returning to
their farm for milking and such like for a spell and then coming back
again. At one time or another there must have been a dozen of them.
There was Uncle Fred and Aunt Mabel (Rita‘s mother‘s sister, as
brothers had married sisters) and the cross sibling rivalry provided hours
of friendly discussion. Then Uncle Cecil (whose age went round with the
century) and Aunt Elin, Uncle Edwin, Aunt Nel, Aunt Hilda, Uncle Bob,
Aunt Elsie, Aunt Nell, Aunt Margaret and goodness know whom else. To
us they appeared for the most part, very old but in fact most of them were
in their prime and some of the ladies kept their hats on all day. As for the
show on TV I can remember the unctuous tones of Richard Dimbleby
describing the events but we were spared a lot of this by the frequent
outbursts of conversation from the audience. The most exciting thing for
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me was the announcement that Mount Everest had been climbed some
few days earlier with the news of the British triumph arriving in time for
the great day206. When the men and the family were all together later in
the evening the family news, scandal and gossip reached epic
proportions—I was completely ignored of course and good thing too. I
even witnessed the staggered departure of Uncle Bob that Rita had
written to me about, see page 242.
A few more days of bliss then I had to start my course at Warsash
for the ‗first mates‘ exam. I now realised that my reserves of money were
beginning to dwindle. This was to be an increasing problem for the next
few months and in the end was to lead to some embarrassment. After
collecting my things from Ringwood I arrived in Warsash on Sunday 7
June. The residential accommodation was full so I was forced to take
lodgings with a Mrs Fothergill in the village at 6s 6d a day for bed and
breakfast. The room was small and was accessed up a loft ladder, the bed
wobbly and tiny but we were near the ‗Rising Sun‘ so it had some
benefits. It was there that I soon repaired to and met up with some old
chums. I wrote to Rita at ‗Trowbridge‘ apparently sending her £5 so I
must have borrowed money from her and this was a pattern that was to
occur frequently over the months ahead. We declared our love for each
other in our exchange of letters and tried to meet as often as possible at
the weekends. I was obviously applying far too much pressure as Rita
became enmeshed with the demands of her sister and on looking back I
was probably not sufficiently understanding.
My old Conway friend, Bill Seybold was also on the course and he
agreed to meet up with Rita and her sister Eva for dinner and a day out
together. I booked rooms for them at the Star Hotel in Southampton. The
four of us took a trip across the Southampton Water to Hythe and then
caught a bus to Beaulieu Abbey where we had an interesting day seeing
the museum and ruins (Plate 97). Bill & Eva got on well enough and
though they saw each other later and did correspond it didn‘t lead to any
lasting relationship. In the meantime I got down to my study and hoped
after an intensive course I would be able to sit the exam in July. If not
then I would apply to Houlders for some relieving duties during the
summer break in August to earn some much-needed cash. I would then
sit the exams in September and if successful return to sea and save up
enough money to marry Rita next year. At the forefront of my mind
however I continued to wrestle with the problem of changing my career
so that I could live a normal life at home. As National Service was still in
force I would have to stay in the Merchant Navy until I was 26 in order
to avoid military service and at my stage of development it would he
206
On 29th May Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tensing reached the summit.
262
rather silly to leave now and be called up. In any case the next three years
would give me plenty of scope to plan a sensible career change and
obtain some qualifications. The problem was, in what field?
Plate 97: Rita & Eva at Beaulieu with the ‘Two Bills’
During the week we corresponded madly and I appeared to live for
the weekends. I wrote the following letter toward the end of July:
Officers Mess
Warsash, 23 July
My Dearest Rita,
…tomorrow will be Friday and I shall be seeing you again, I have booked rooms at
the Star Hotel as before. I hope yesterday went off alright; Miss Hall is pleased with
your performance I know as Miss Crook told me she thought the world of you 207.
So do I!
I am writing this letter between lectures so it is rather sketchy and very brief. My
brain feels addled and so I can‘t think straight. We had two hours of meteorology
this morning and I feel ‗washed out‘; I wrote ten pages of notes but I fear I cannot
read a word of them. My work has been nearly all been marked but I had a session
with the Electrical lecturer this morning and it appears that I am all at ‗sea‘. I don‘t
know yet if they will let me take the exam at the end of the month but no matter,
September will do.
207
The school parents open day. Miss Crook and Miss Hall were both Baptists and attended
the same church in Trowbridge
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So you have to move from Rodden Rd. When? I do hope you find somewhere as
good. Well darling I must close now as the next session is beginning and the lecturer
is frowning at me, I think I‘ll take this to the post box right now, that will give him
something to frown over.
My love to Eva, goodbye my darling…Bill
PS I love you.
It soon was confirmed that I couldn‘t sit the exam until September
so I applied to Houlders for some ‗relief‘ work. I immediately heard back
and was asked to report to my old ship MV Hornby Grange in Liverpool
on Monday 3rd August. With no regrets I left Mrs Fothergill‘s
establishment and went again to stay with Rita in Mosterton for a few
days before travelling up to Liverpool. During September I could then
stay in Frome to revise and then sit the exam at the end of the month.
Rita and Eva had arranged to share a small apartment in Frome where
they would be more or less independent. This summer separation was
painful for us both and not helped by my pestering Rita with daily phone
calls, even to Ventnor on the Isle of Wight where she had gone for a twoweek holiday with Eva. A family coincidence occurred during their stay
in Ventnor. They went to the theatre to see a play based on a recent novel
by Monica Dickens (The Happy Prisoner) in which the leading player
was confined to a wheel chair. Rita wrote that his performance had
impressed her a lot and she thought him a fine actor. His name was
Jeffrey Gardiner208 and the company the ‗Bradford Rep‘. This actor could
be none other than my cousin Jeffrey the son of my mother‘s sister Violet
who in the past I had often stayed with in Twickenham.
At the beginning of the autumn term the sisters moved into their
new flat in Frome. I managed to get a room in the Ken House, a
guesthouse near the market place and only five minutes away from the
flat. The place was run by a well endowed blonde lady, Mrs Biggs, who
made her men visitors feel at home in a familiar but not too familiar,
way. During the daytime I could read and study but in the evening I
usually had a meal with Rita and Eva. Eva was very kind and if she was
jealous she never showed it to me. Often I would get Rita to test me on
some of the regulations I was suppose to know off by heart and this
afforded us a great deal of amusement. The flat was the top floor of a
three story Victorian house built from local stone in a short terrace called
West End (see Plate 98). Behind the house there was a convent school
and the sitting room of the apartment overlooked it and from time to time
the nuns could be spotted with the children. The front prospect was spoilt
by the collection of buildings of the Singer Sewing Machine Company.
Denis and Norah Mitchard, a very hospitable and friendly couple with
208
I met Jeffrey recently after 45 years and he remembered appearing in the play.
264
two young children, owned the house. We had received an invitation to
the wedding of Gerald and Eileen in Crewkerne on 9th September; it was
difficult for Rita to take time off from school so I went on my own. Tony
Haslett was his best man and I was asked to be one of the ushers. It was
good to meet Tony and his mother, a dear lady who always wrote to me
on my birthday. The reception took place at the George Hotel where
there were around a hundred guests. Eileen looked radiant and I was so
pleased for them and grateful to them too for engineering my
introduction to Rita.
Plate 98: Two Views of 4 West End, Frome
I eventually took the written exam at the end of September and was
awarded my First Mates ‗ticket‘ on Monday 26 October after a stiff oral,
which tested my nautical skills to the limit in the artificial surroundings
of the examiner‘s office. I was reminded of the stories that were told to
us on the Conway, the luckless candidate was placed in a lifeboat in
rough weather and the examiner set the scene that the boat was near to
capsizing:
‗What are you going to do, lad?‘, he barked, ‗Throw out a sea anchor sir209‘, he
replied after some thought. The examiner then said, ‗ The wind blows up stronger
your boat is not responding, what will do now?‘, ‗…Throw out another sea anchor,
sir‘, he said tentatively, ‗No good lad the wind blows even stronger‘, ‗Another sea
anchor then sir?‘, The examiner exasperated said, ‗where the devil are ye getting
these sea anchors from?, ‗The same place as you‘re getting your winds from…Sir‘
209
A large canvass conical ‗bucket‘ on the end of a line to help bring the vessel to head into the
wind.
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I was now ready to go back to sea as a second officer which though a
promotion, earning me some much needed money, would take me away
for a longer period. During the summer my money crisis had become
acute, my spell on the Hornby Grange in August had not made much
difference either, as there were outstanding bills to settle from
Southampton and for my accommodation in Frome. I even sold my
Sextant—a navigator‘s most important ‗tool‘ of his ‗trade‘ and I felt
terrible about it. I had to borrow heavily from Rita, which I excused in
my own mind by thinking that I was a ‗hostage to fortune‘ and the ends
would finally justify the means. Rita‘s willingness to give me so much
trust on so little evidence was the saving of us. Reading my old letters
became an embarrassment, as it appears I gave the poor girl little respite
in my demands. I was obsessed with seeing her on every possible
occasion and overstepped the mark by being over emotional when for
some reason Rita was unable to cooperate. We enjoyed a lovely visit to
Lymington to see my relatives. We stayed at the ‗Monkey House‘210 a
pub on the edge of the town for a weekend and went to see my
Grandmother, Mrs Gale, now living with her youngest daughter Aunt
Freda at Lower Buckland Farm. The old lady and Rita got on very well
together and I felt we had received the seal of approval. We also visited
Freda‘s sister Aunt Vera who lived nearby and Rita was given some cloth
for her ‗bottom drawer‘. Some months later Rita wrote that she
remembered this weekend with me as one our very best experiences.
Our letters over the next two months continued to reflect the parlous
state of my finances and my desperation to meet her on every occasion,
impossible or not, but Rita‘s love for me never faltered and she had the
skill to express her deepest feelings which in the end always made me
feel good. I would write long rather pompous critiques of the music I was
listening to and today most of my ‗half baked‘ comments make me
cringe but at that time I was discovering new things every day. She wrote
and asked me to explain the answer to a crossword clue, ‗ Wagner‘s
Operatic Circle‘ which she correctly guessed was ‗Ring‘. This gave me
the opportunity to show off and write a lengthy account of Wagne‘rs
Ring Cycle.
My first appointment after getting my ‗ticket‘ was as relieving
officer again on the Hornby Grange for 14 days at Victoria Docks
London. Rita came up for a weekend on the 13 November and stayed at
Flying Angel House in Poplar. On 24th of November I was sent to join
the MV Condesa in Avonmouth for a home trade run to Glasgow as
second officer, my first time as the Navigating Officer of a vessel with
210
Now renamed as the Toll House
266
special responsibility for the charts and navigation equipment. I wrote to
Rita on 7th December from Glasgow a fairly cheerful letter:
My dearest sweetheart,
…the trip from Avonmouth was uneventful except for the fog which held us up in
the River Clyde for 24 hours. There is a schools programme on the radio at the
moment and a baritone voice is singing, ‗Aiken Drum‘, all about the Man in the
Moon: ‗His hat was made of Good Cream Cheese and he played with a ladle‘. This
is a miserable ‗hole‘, we have thick black clouds and a throat tickling smoke haze.
Oh for rainy Somerset and the Ken House Juke-Box. Our Chief Officer told me a
story today , ‗One day when I was young and handsome, not long after my first
voyage, I took a girl out in Cardiff and being a shy young man I took her for a walk
and we climbed to the top of a hill. When we got to the top I had no idea what to do
so I started to tell her about the stars. I told her about the big constellations, the
phases of the moon, and the vast distances between the stars and the earth. After
suffering my long lecture in silence for some minutes she turned and said,—hey
mate! lay off will yer, the only time I looks at stars is when I‘m lying on my back
looking at them over a blokes shoulder—‘
Usually I object strongly to the manners of Bus Conductors, and as you know, most
of the ones down our way are bad tempered. Contrary to what I expected the
Glasgow Tram conductors are exceedingly polite and helpful, especially the girls,
and nice looking too, some of them. Glasgow as a city appears uglier than most on
the surface but I have the idea that there is more warmth here from the people than
in most other large towns. We are working cargo long hours here, all day and half
the night too so we shall soon be ready to go to sea again and so the sooner I shall
get home. I could do with your smiling face right now. I like your hair cut short with
those black earrings and that black sweater…. bye for now my sweet darling…I
love you.
By the 7th of December we were in Liverpool and I had the pleasure
of meeting up with Mr Zabel the second officer of the Argentine
Transport. We had an evening out together and went to hear the
Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra play two English classics, Walton‘s
first Symphony and the first performance of the ‗Ritual Dances‘ from
Michael Tippet‘s opera the ‗Mid-Summer Marriage‘. The latter was
unfamiliar music to me, and the audience response appeared to be rather
cool so the conductor, Hugo Rignold, repeated the piece again. This time
this complex score began to make sense and the audience responded with
considerable warmth. I smile at the memory of this, as both pieces seem
nowadays to be part of our everyday musical landscape. I left the
Condesa on December 18th and was told to go to Hull to join the SS
Urmston Grange to take over as second officer. In this vessel I did a
series of home trade runs around the UK but I was able at the last minute
to escape and go to Ridge farm for Christmas. I arrived at Yeovil Pen
Mill Station after travelling over night from Hull on Christmas Eve
arriving very early in the morning. I remember Rita drove their old car to
pick me up but I was so pleased to be with her that I didn‘t notice the
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discomfort or have time to feel scared! It was the first family Christmas I
had had for five years and marvellous it was too. I had to be back in Hull
on the 28th and in my rush to catch the train at Kings Cross I slipped at
Waterloo and hurt my leg but not bad enough to return home. We sailed
for Newcastle on New Year‘s day arriving there the next day where we
immediately paid off so I was able to return to Mosterton again for a day
then go to Ringwood to collect all my gear, say farewell to Dad and
Brenda and travel over night to be back again in Newcastle at 5.30 am on
January 5th. There I found a letter (Plate 99) sent on from Hull appointing
me to be the second officer of the SS Urmston Grange211 under Captain
Capon for a voyage to Argentina. But first we would do two trips in her
to Antwerp to load part cargo there and in London. We departed for
Antwerp on 13th January arriving there late the next day.
Ten days later we were back in Victoria Docks London; I couldn‘t
get away so Rita agreed to come up to London on Friday for the
weekend. I contacted Brian and we got tickets for Covent Garden to see a
performance of Tosca; Rita was not pleased, as I was spending money
that was needed for our future! This was the 150th performance of this
popular piece at the ROH and featured Joan Hammond, Walter Midgley
with Otakar Kraus as Scarpia and John Pritchard conducting. It was my
first time for Tosca and despite the mutterings from the sterner critics
that the piece was a ‗nasty bloody shocker‘ Brian and I were astonished.
This was my greatest experience in the theatre to date despite missing the
beginning of Act 2 as in the interval I called Rita from a phone in the
foyer and we quarrelled—I wanted her to drop everything and come up
to London sooner. For the weekend Rita was accompanied by Eva and
they both stayed at the GWR hotel in Paddington for two nights; on the
Friday evening we went together with Brian to the Festival Hall for a
concert conducted by the exciting young conductor Norman Del Marr
performing Beethoven and Elgar; we heard Leonore No 3 Overture from
the foyer as we were too late to be seated, or at least we heard the off
stage trumpets at the climax. This was followed by an indifferent
performance of Piano Concerto No.5 played by a mature lady with very
red hands, I remember, though I have forgotten her name. After the
interval we had the Enigma Variations, a work the Del Marr always
cherished throughout his career and indeed that performance was a
revelation. After the concert we went to the Lyric restaurant in St.
Martin‘s Lane and enjoyed a celebratory supper; Rita and I had become
formally engaged. It had been and continued to be a difficult period in
our relationship as we were so desperate to be together. This was hard to
211
A sister ship and almost identical to the Ovingdean Grange, see page 183, she was built as
the Empire Pibroch, 7,046,GT by Lithgows, Glasgow in 1942, renamed by Houlders in 1946
and like her sister ship had part refrigerated holds.
268
manage owing to my uncertain movements and acute shortage of money.
Several of my creditors were dunning me at this time and one in
particular was acutely embarrassing. This was an account for £4 for a
small carpet I was persuaded to buy for my father as a gift some years
ago. The bill was never paid and to make matters worse it was an old
friend who had persuaded me to buy it. We had bumped into each other
in Lymington and I had introduced him to Rita and he must have picked
up enough information to track her down in Frome. In the end Rita paid
the bill!
Plate 99: Appointment letter to SS Urmston Grange
The next day (30th January) I sailed for Antwerp via Southend where
we had our magnetic Compass adjusted. The ‗compass adjuster‘, a
technician employed by the board of trade, came aboard and we swung
the ship and I took bearings to record our true heading as the adjuster
played with his permanent magnets in an attempt to minimise the effect
of the ‗ship‘s magnetism‘ on the magnetic compass by placing them in
optimal positions in the ship‘s binnacle—truly a process of ‗trial and
error‘. The weather was appalling. We were experiencing one of the
coldest winters on record with temperatures as low as 40 F, 280 of frost.
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On a freezing Monday morning we arrived in Antwerp and as second
officer my docking station was at the stern of the vessel to supervise the
men in handling the shorelines. These would be lowered down to a small
boat to the longshoremen who would take the hawsers ashore to place
over the bollards. The pilot and master would relay commands to me via
the ship‘s telephone system. Now the ship‘s propeller is aft and of course
should not be rotating during this exercise. Unfortunately after we started
and the main hawser was well and truly in the water and being retrieved
by the longshoreman the Pilot on the bridge ordered the engines to go
slow ahead, despite my warning this continued and the rope was wrapped
around the screw. This meant going into dry dock to have it removed and
the loss of several days! There was a post mortem on the bridge and at
first I was blamed but John Capon the master realised that it wasn‘t my
fault and took responsibility, as he had to do though I think the Pilot
acted precipitously. The next day the Master of the Barton Grange, Don
Murray, came aboard. He was of course the Master of the Argentine
Transport last year on our fateful voyage and it was good to see him in
much better shape. During our stay in Antwerp I remained on board most
of the time, it was far too cold anyway and I wanted to save. We
occupied the time by playing Bridge, which had become our number one
game; I had became a devotee of the American Culbertson system last
year after buying a book in the states.
We finally left Antwerp on February 16th and were back in London
the next day. I managed to get away for a few days before our departure
for South America. I went to Frome on 23rd and on Friday 26th we went
to Bath and bought engagement rings, a solitaire diamond (£53) for Rita
and a Cornelian signet ring (my birth stone) for me. I didn‘t have quite
enough money so Rita had to chip in a little as well to get the ring she
wanted. We now decided to get married on my return from Argentina,
possibly in June. It was now Rita‘s half term so we spent the weekend at
Ridge and on the Sunday I cut my nails; Rita said ‗You will have the
devil with you all the week‘. Too true as on the Monday I received a
cable to report back to the ship immediately, it was also the day of the HBomb test at Bikini! I returned to London but Rita came up to see me on
board on 5th of March—she slept on board and beat all comers at darts.
We finally sailed for Buenos Aires on 11th March. I was very reluctant to
go but just before sailing I received a most marvellous letter from Rita,
which set my mind at rest. It was full of encouragement, faith and tender
love. Her realistic assessment of our situation was governed by common
sense as well as concern for my peace of mind. So I buckled down and
made the best of things.
My monthly salary was £48-5s and I made an allotment of £32 each
month to the bank as savings as marriage was now the major priority. My
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new colleagues were pleasant enough though I was too wrapped up in my
own thoughts to be very sociable. The first officer was a 41 year old from
Skegness, a Mr Fowler, and the Master was two years younger and the
Urmston Grange was his first command. He was still learning how to
distance himself from the rest of us, as he was a gregarious man who
liked to be one of the lads; his exploits ashore as a younger officer had
followed him around and were legendary. Nevertheless a capable and
honest man as the episode with fowling of the rope had shown. The third
mate, a Welshman from Cardiff, K R James, was a clever young man of
21 and we played a lot of chess, which he won rather more than me. I
managed to carry out my duties in the middle watch without any
problems; indeed I was quite relaxed and thought to be quite capable. I
found keeping track of the charts and updating them with the latest
information received by our ‗Sparks‘, a 27 year old Shetland Islander,
from Trinity House very interesting. I began a diary letter, which I would
send to Rita to keep her informed about my life and activities on board:
Thursday 11 March
We are now steaming down the English Channel passing all those places where we
found our love, Southampton, Lymington, Bournemouth, Weymouth, Portland Bill
and West Bay, … The weather is good, the sea slight with a fog haze which
prevents us from seeing the land. This is our first day at sea and it will be 28 more
before I read a letter from you. Our cock birds are crowing and we have two Rams
on board too but they are quiet. What with two cats and the ‗dive bombing‘ sea gulls
we have quite a menagerie. I must get some sleep as I am on watch at midnight.
Friday 12 March
One whole day at sea, 27 to go with 9 to St Vincent but I doubt if I will hear from
you there. The weather today has been very good for this time of year. There is a
heavy swell running and the ship is rolling, but there isn‘t much wind. We passed
Ushant at nine o‘clock this evening and said farewell to Europe and will spend the
next 36 hours rolling across the Bay of Biscay.
Saturday 13 March
Halfway across Biscay, 451 miles from Frome. Our hens have laid 4 eggs so far and
the cocks keep us awake. I shall have boiled eggs at midnight to start my four hour
vigil… We had Boat and Fire drill to-day otherwise known as ‗Board of Trade
Sports‘; I hope we never have the occasion to use the boats as no one seems to know
what to-do!
Sunday March 14
I sent you an ‗Ocean Letter‘ today; this is a wireless message we send to a ship
bound for England, which is posted to you on arrival. I calculate that you should
receive it on March 20th. I put the ship‘s clocks back one hour today so we are now
one hour behind your clocks and by the time we reach Montevideo we shall be three
hours behind..
Monday March 15
Southerly Gale with the ship pitching and rolling heavily and we are all
uncomfortable but we manage to play Bridge most evening, I drink a bottle of beer
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each day and try and stop smoking! The old man is very decent and the crew at sea
are subdued but that will change when we reach South America I expect.
Wednesday 17th March
This evening we steamed by Madiera. Our average speed up to now is only 9 knots
so that means we have lost a day. By my calculations we will be in Montevideo on
April 7th and that means you should be reading this on April 14th, see how far I‘m
out. Each day is essentially the same; even the hens produce 3 eggs a day. I get up at
8.30 AM have breakfast and then go to the Bridge to ‗shoot‘ the Sun (measure the
Sun‘s altitude above the horizon with my Sextant) to calculate our position. At 9.30
I go to my cabin and think of you until noon. Then I am on watch until 4, have tea at
5, play Bridge until 7. Then I‘m on watch at midnight until 4AM then back to bed
until 8.30 again—there you are my love, the same every day.
Thursday 18th March
One week at sea. It is getting hot now (76 degrees) and we change into tropical gear
tomorrow. I have been washing a shirt today and I also ironed it! Quite an effort as
our water is still a dirty rust colour. We will be passing the Canary islands tonightanother day nearer?
Friday 19th March
Slight stomach upset today. The weather is now very hot and promises to get much
hotter as we proceed south. I have just realised that I need to give the company four
weeks notice before they will grant me leave to get married. Please confirm date as
soon as possible.
Saturday 20th March
Weather has got unbearably hot with a heavy damp atmosphere and I feel bloody
awful, my eyes are burning, my back aches and I have a shivery feeling up and
down my spine.
Sunday 21st March
Tonight we should sight St Vincent. I feel a little better today after an immense
evacuation! Heat still oppressive, boiler room heat, sticky and very uncomfortable.
We have a ‗band‘ on board. Last night I heard the queerest noises drifting up from
the stern with the wind. It turned out to be the 2nd Cook on accordion, a sailor (from
Lymington actually and we share mutual acquaintances) on trumpet, two others
playing mouth organs and a fireman playing a guitar—out of tune most of the time.
Monday 22nd March
Today we arrived at St Vincent and today we left St. Vincent having ‗oiled‘ the ship
in five hours. We arrived at 6 this morning and left at 11. Sao Vincent is one of the
Islands belonging to the Cape Verde group off the West Coast of Africa. The most
striking characteristic is the colour ‗Brown‘, a medium dry ‗Brown‘, contrasting
hungrily with the cool ‗Blue‘ water; Yes, Blue and Brown. The Islands are very
mountainous and barren and nothing appears to grow on them and there is nothing
green except for a few bedraggled palm trees along the shore. The Islands are
Portuguese possessions with a predominantly Negro population from West Africa.
There are many hybrid races also, mostly ‗Brown‘ too though with a mixture of
European which gives variety. I had my hair cut this morning by the same coloured
barber that does it every time we come here. In fact he gives me the best haircut I
have ever had. He tells me, ‗You no have hair cut for long time‘, I have to say, ‗No‘,
when was it Darling?
Wednesday 24th March
Its now a fortnight. At 7.45 this morning we passed the SS Holmbury, Bill
Seybold‘s fathers ship, she is bound for London and will arrive April 5th. Eva may
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like to tell Bill this if she writes. Our hens have stopped laying, must be the heat
poor devils it must be very uncomfortable for them in their coup despite being on
deck. I haven‘t told you much about the crew have I? I‘ll try and describe some of
them to you each day. I‘ll start with the second engineer, Vandervis by name and a
Dutchman born in Leiden who has lived in England for many years but isn‘t
naturalised despite many advantages he says if he were. He is married to a very large
woman they say and has a pretty daughter. To look at he‘s late forties, bony and near
bald with a blotchy skin but well tanned. he also had a crooked smile and a stilted
walk. His weakness is ale, he loves it but he also drinks rum at 7.30 in the morning.
For the last three days he has been asking me, ‗When do we cross the line‖
(equator), ‗next Friday‘, I say, ‗Oh‘, says he and his eyes, like ―—holes in the
snow‖, glisten. He gets free bottles of Rum to give his ―Firemen and Trimmers‖ a
drink when we cross the line.
Thursday 25th March
Today it‘s the first officers turn (Mr Fowler). He is a little man in his forties with
greying hair (from worry?), a very smooth skin and fair complexion—almost a baby
face. A proper ‗Worry Ass‘ as the saying goes. I think he has been passed over for
command, our Captain is only 39, and this makes him try too hard. He does work
hard and indeed I also find him a reasonable and likeable man but occasionally weak
and indecisive. I know he has a loving wife ( and one son) as he gets regular
telegrams from her at sea.
Friday 26th March
To Rita (0100 Hrs)
Three hours to go
Does the stomach swell uncertainly?
Does the heart work faster unto weariness?
Only three hours to go
Then we leave unto nothingness.
We shall come back!
Does the stomach sleep peacefully?
Does the heart grow tender unto tranquillity?
Yes, we shall come back!
The complement of body and personality
We crossed the equator today so we are no longer in the same hemisphere. The 4th
Engineer, a highlander called Coutts, was with me on the Argentine Transport and a
good fellow with a mop of red hair who enjoys sophisticated persuits as well as the
more common things of life. He boasts that there are several red haired youngsters
running around the Mauritius Islands in the Indian Ocean. A Red Headed League!
Saturday 27th March
Today we passed the Island of ‗Fernando Nohrona‘, originally a penal colony off the
NE coast of Brazil, to begin our log journey Southwestwards along the coast of
South America. It is a hot and swampy place and you wouldn‘t care to live there.
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We have a fireman onboard who looks like ‗Oliver Hardy‘, he walks like him too
and has the same air of conceit and seriousness, he is a steady chap and well liked. I
am sure you would describe him as a Lamb.
Tuesday 30th March
Have you heard about the ‗Empire Windrush‘, Bill Seybold‘s ship, it caught fire
near Algiers and they had to abandon ship but I think everyone got off OK. It so hot
now that my fingers are swollen and my ring won‘t come off.
Thursday 1st April
April Fools day today and I am a fool to be so far away from you. We have a cynic
onboard, our wireless operator; I think you met him in London? He is a Shetland
islander; short, rather plump with thick curly, close-knit black curly hair. He regards
‗love‘ as a transitory stage to be ‗got over‘ as soon as possible. He once went out
with a girl from Manchester (a doctor) which didn‘t work out. Quite a pleasant man
but rather crude as he ridicules all the conventional customs with gusto but like
some other cynics I have known one detects a note of regret.
Friday 2nd April
I hear that four of the engine room staff lost their lives on the ‗Empire Windush‘ so
that means Bill must be safe. I am hoping he will be my best man212.
Saturday 3rd April
At noon today we had 761 miles to go and we‘ve come 5,362 from London. My
ring has come off now so it must be getting cooler. Binks, our assistant steward and
‗Gay Lothario‘ told me the other day the reason why he‘s so successful with the
ladies, ‗It‘s me eyes‘, he said seriously, ‗They don‘t blink‘
Monday April 5th
We arrive in Montevideo soon now which is the capital of Uruguay it always seems
to me to have a very peculiar smell of its own, like mildew with a shot of garlic. In
the port area cafes, bars and nightclubs are everywhere and open all night with all
the temptations of the old style sailor‘s town. If you survive these predators and get
as far as the town you will find an attractive city centre with Spanish style colonial
buildings, churches, concert hall, art galleries etc.
So the long voyage south ended; the agent came on board with the
mail and I received 6 letters from Rita. There was some confusion about
our future movements and one possibility apparently was that we take
part of our frozen meat cargo to Russia after discharging the grain in
Hull. I was determined to avoid this, as it would upset our wedding plans.
I wrote to Houlders immediately requesting leave at Hull. Matters were
not helped by the delay in exchanging news with Rita so I wrote to her to
try and get a firm date fixed. Fours days later we left Montevideo for
Buenos Aires arriving there on April 12th and to my disappointment there
were no letters waiting indeed the last news I had was already over two
weeks old and in her last letter she said she had not been well. In a fit of
panic I sent her a cable and was delighted to get the reply, ―Quite well
love, Rita‖, though the ―Quite‖ worried me! When at last I did receive
more letters I began to appreciate the strain she was under; she had had a
212
During the rescue he made friends with the ship‘s nurse, Sylvia, whom he later married.
274
severe bout of nervous depression and had been off work. My insistence
that our marriage should take place in June had made matters worse but
despite this and her illness she somehow managed to make all the
necessary arrangements.
Plate 100: Marconigram from Rita
We stayed in BA until April 19th to finish discharging our cargo.
During that time I remained quietly onboard as most of my friends at the
Mission had now left. In particular Ronnie Rodgers had also left and
returned to the UK so any chance of tracking down the typescript of my
play this end had vanished. We were back in Montevideo on 20th April
to load the meat cargo and I was delighted to receive some letters but the
news they contained was long out of date. We were back in BA to load
grain on 28th April and I was greeted by a further batch of letters from
Rita but dated earlier than those I got in Montevideo. I did learn however
that she was getting over her nervous trouble but would not be going
back to work until after we were married in June. There were further
delays in loading our cargo but we finally departed for home on the
afternoon of the 6th May. I sent Rita a cable to say we should arrive in
Hull on 3rd of June. I can remember very little of our passage home
except off Rio I received a cable from Rita:
12 May 1954 Yeovil
To Trowbridge: 2nd Officer Urmston Grange, Caoetown Radio
SUGGEST WEDDING JUNE 12TH REPLY
MOSTERTON AM ALRIGHT
RITA
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I replied immediately:
HELLO SWEETHEART JUNE 12 ALRIGHT STOP
ARRIVING HULL JUNE 4 ALL MY LOVE
BILL
Plate 101: Ship Letter to Rita
This news made me happy and I was content now to let the journey
toward home proceed in good spirits. We had an engine breakdown for
five hours off Fernando Nohrona on the 17th but Mr Vandervis somehow
managed to get the engine going again so I relaxed again. We arrive at St
Vincent on the 23rd for bunkering and there I received a letter dated 5th
with old news but the very next day another cable arrived (Plate 100):
25 May 1954 Crewkerne
JUNE 12 INCONVENIENT WEDDING CHANGED TO 19 BANNS BEING
CALLED LICENCE UNNECESSARY- RITA
I again replied immediately:
RECEIVED CABLE TODAY TWENTYFIFTH STOP JUNE NINETEENTH
FINE STOP LEFT VINCENT SUNDAY RECEIVED TWO LETTERS HOPE
YOU ARE BETTER ARRIVING FOURTH I LOVE YOU DARLING BILL
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And so it proved. I found a letter waiting posted a week before:
Dearest Bill
Only seven more days my love, we‘re having the reception in the George in
Crewkerne and I‘ve had the banns called here for both of us. That will save a special
license. I‘ve told the vicar all and even chosen the hymns. Now he wants to go
through the wedding service beforehand with both of us I told him we didn‘t want a
sermon, or a ‗few words, as he called it! Right?
Bill, phone when you arrive won‘t you please. I want you home now, I don‘t like
doing all this without you, I feel so lost… I wrote to your father to supplement your
very inadequate list and he filled it in. He also said he‘d sold the business and would
be leaving at the end of May. Did you know? he said that his health wouldn‘t stand
the worry.
Bill have you got a best man, with uniform? And what about your own clothes?
Don‘t think I‘m fussing, my dearest, but you are rather a scatterbrain when it comes
to personal affairs of that sort!
It will be wonderful to see you again. Come soon Bill. I love you. Rita
Wonderful indeed though I was concerned about Dad I had no
knowledge of his departure from Ringwood. I called him and discovered
that they were planning to buy a hairdressing business in Boscombe
Arcade and that they were going to live in the flat above. Brenda would
take charge of the hairdressing side and Dad would do the accounts and
manage the business. I called Rita and to my great relief found her in
very good spirits. We paid off ship that afternoon and my final account
came to a credit of £31 15s 8d; this with the £112 paid by allotment into
my bank during the voyage meant I had saved around £143—enough to
get married and after? I wondered. I escaped from the ship the next day
and arrived in Mosterton late on the 5th of June.
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Marriage and Higher Education the Hard Way
―Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,‖ the Mock Turtle replied,
―and the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and
Derision.‖
Lewis Carroll Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
I found Rita in bed but quite well and looking forward to the big day
on June 19th. We were soon immersed in the last minute preparations;
mostly the things I needed to do like arrange a Honeymoon and get a best
man. After some discussion we settled on North Wales for one-week
preceded by a couple of days in London. Rita had been so busy arranging
everything else that she more or less left the choices to me and I
suggested North Wales because it was first a kind of second home to me
and I knew the area extremely well and secondly, the Snowdonia region
offered a peaceful landscape with both hills and seaside which I was sure
would please Rita. I was able to book a room for us at the Castle Hotel in
Bangor and for London the Great Western at Paddington. On the best
man front we settled on Bill Seybold as he was still in touch with Eva
and was available following his tremendous experience on the Empire
Windrush. Brian was a closer friend but could not be available213; we
hadn‘t given people much notice! He wrote to us a characteristic letter
with some sincere advice:
Astley Rectory, Stourport, Worcestershire, 1st of June 1954
Dear Rita & Bill
This is not a formal congratulations I couldn‘t do that, marriage is too big a thing on
which to express one‘s feelings in a stereotyped phrase. You will both be happy I
know but even selfishness can be a selfish hermetically sealed sort of thing between
two people.
Whatever you don‘t sink all your former interests into a lowest common multiple of
humdrum domesticity…
Well I mustn‘t ramble, I cannot unfortunately come over on the 19th, the Rector will
be away on holiday and shall need to be here. You will be in my thoughts
nevertheless.
Greek is going over pretty well but am not really competent to cope with exams in
all subjects yet and hope to take them in November if possible.
It is very peaceful here, studies, a daily Mass, Matins & Evensong.
Every good wish to you both,
As ever, Brian
I had to buy a wedding ring so Rita and I went back to Bath as
superstitiously we wanted to get it from the same jeweller from whom we
213
Brian was standing in for the Vicar of Stourport as a lay reader and was also preparing
himself for the Ministry by studying classics
278
had bought the engagement rings. We also spent a pleasant evening with
Gerald and Eileen at their home in Chiselborough; they were now living
in a house on Mr Holloway‘s farm and were very much the married
couple. Rita‘s family were all very supportive and welcomed me into the
family and everything began to take shape. We had our interview with
the Vicar; a Mr Champion who was rather deaf but we found him very
willing to meet our request for a minimum amount of sermonizing, i.e. no
lecture before the altar and Rita, on no account, was going to promise to
obey me!
Left to right: Maurice (Bridegroom’s father), Marjorie Payne (Bridesmaid), Bill Seybold,(Best Man)
Bill, Rita, Bert (Bride’s father), Eva (Bridesmaid), Eva (Bride’s mother)
Plate 102: St Mary’s Mosterton, June 19th, 1954
The great day came and all went off well; I stayed the night before
with Gerald and Eileen, and we had over 70 at the reception at the
George Hotel in Crewkerne after. The service went according to plan
with Rita‘s former teacher Mrs Chaffey playing the organ. I stood
waiting full of nerves and was very relieved when things began. Rita
looked tremendous and very pretty in her bridal dress, as did the
bridesmaids; all together they made a colourful group with the headdress
flowers of gold matching the gold braid on our uniforms. The Rev A .C.
Champion conducted the ritual with a fine sensibility throughout and
made us speak the responses into his hearing aid. My family and friends
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were less numerous than Rita‘s, but in addition to Dad and Brenda, and
my elder brother Peter, my Grandmother, Mrs Gale, came with her
daughter Aunt Freda and son in law Uncle Wilfred. It was a little
disappointing that none of my Sherrell relatives were able to make the
long journey from Kent but they all sent telegrams.
Plate 103: Bridport Times notice
Some of my friends also made the journey and these included,
Gerald and Eileen of course, who started it all, with their parents. On
Rita‘s side there were many more; well over 50 came to the reception and
many more to the church, not too surprising since her family was very
large with many uncles. The honour of proposing the toast to the bride
fell to Mr Sydney Chaffey the ‗big man‘ of Mosterton, the local miller
whose wife had been the village schoolmistress for years and years and
had had a considerable influence on all the Mosterton children for a
generation or more, including Rita and Eva. Mr Chaffey made rather a
280
meal of it but I didn‘t think him too embarrassing. My effort was poor
and incoherent but Bill Seybold more than made up for that by giving us
a witty speech and, turning a little serious at the end, he made some
comments on how tough it was for families whose men spent most of
their working lives at sea—he spoke with feeling as his own father and
uncle were both master mariners.
Plate 104: Our Honeymoon Hotel (Booking Postcard)
We made our escape around four o‘clock with an exciting dash to
Crewkerne Station to catch our train to London. We were pursued by
many of the guests and given a marvellous send off as the train pulled
out. So different this time from the melancholy of our earlier train
departures that led to long separations. We sat in our empty compartment
and sighed with relief that it was all over and more—we were together.
We had a wonderful week in North Wales where I was privileged to
introduce Rita to the delights of hill walking! The Castle Hotel was still
as I remembered the place from my Conway days and, to make the point,
there were parents staying there visiting the ‗ship‘ but, alas, the ship was
no more only a wreck lying on her side on the Bangor shore of the Menai
Straits. We had no transport but the Crossville bus company had regular
services to all the villages and interesting areas of Snowdonia and we
used this service everyday. The weather was reasonably good but as
always the threat of rain and mist on the hills was ever present. After a
day to orient ourselves we went to Plas Newydd to visit HMS Conway
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and my old Headmaster Tom Browne. The Conway, since April 1949,
was now mainly a shore establishment and occupied part of the beautiful
state belonging to the Marquis of Anglesey with customised new
buildings. The old ship had been taken there to a new anchorage but after
four years badly needed a refit and just over a year ago was wrecked
while being towed to a temporary anchorage off Bangor en-route to
Liverpool(see Plate 105)214.
Plate 105: Views from North Wales with the Conway Wreck and Rita
‘dressed’ for Snowdon!
I introduced Tom to Rita and he showed us around and I could
appreciate how things had changed since my time. Tom asked me if I
thought the training I had received matched the requirements in the
service. I responded somewhat negatively by trying to be objective and
wondered if more ‗hands-on ship‘ experience would help. I told Tom I
had never had a proper ‗feel‘ of the work onboard a modern merchant
vessel, apart from one visit to a ship in Liverpool, until I joined my first
ship and I had experienced a kind of culture shock. Tom was not too
214
She grounded on April 13, 1953 to Liverpool for a refit. The full story of this calamity is
described by Tom Browne in his book, ‗The Skyline is a Promise‘, page 139.
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pleased at first, as he understood me to be over critical of Conway
training! He smiled at my ‗half-baked‘ comments and I didn‘t blame him.
I could see that the boys were better catered for at the new establishment
and their living conditions were much improved from the cramped
accommodation on the ship. After lunch Tom took us in his car (the same
Citroen that he drove in 1948) to Llanberis on a sentimental journey to
meet the Rector, J H Williams, and see the Snowdon Waterfall. I found
the Rector just the same and still living alone, and the Rectory just as
Spartan. Rita thought him very odd (see page 108).
The next day by stealth I persuaded Rita to do some hill walking.
Early in the morning we took the bus to Capel Curig and enjoyed the
superb views of the Nant Ffrancon pass, Llyn Ogwen with the peaks of
Tryfan close by and the wild landscape either side of Afon Llugwy. In
Capel we began our walk westerly along the Nantygwrd valley toward
the heart of Snowdonia with the fine prospect of the ‗Snowdon
Horseshoe‘ tops spread out before us. In those far off days the traffic was
almost non-existent and we admired the Highland Cattle grazing on the
shore of the twin lakes Llynau Mymbyr. It is about 4 miles to where the
road splits at the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel, the base for the Everest climbers as
their training centre just eighteen months previous. We took the road that
climbs steeply up to the head of the Llanberis Pass, another mile, and by
the Youth Hostel at Pen-y-Pass (1300 ft) we set out along the miners
track for Llyn Llydaw(1416 ft). Halfway to the lake we had a rest and ate
the bread and cheese we had brought with us. At this stage our objective
was the lake but I had a hidden agenda to go a little further if possible. In
fact we got to the causeway quite quickly and the weather was still fine
though it had become overcast but we could see the summits towering
above us. By now we had walked about 7 miles but we were young and
fit and felt in very good shape so we crossed the causeway and followed
the path along the shore of the lake passing the deserted mine buildings. I
told Rita that we could easily reach the next lake, Glaslyn, some 500 ft
higher.
At Glaslyn the weather began to deteriorate but I heard the steam
whistle of the Snowdon Railway and I was able to persuade her that we
could catch the train at the summit of Snowdon and ride back down in
comfort. Bwlch Glas, the col on the northern side of the Snowdon, could
easily be reached by the zig-zags, a steep but safe stony track. So we set
out but the weather got worse and we soon found ourselves in mist and
rain. I suppose I was breaking all the rules of hill walking that we respect
to day, inadequate clothing particularly shoes and no clearly defined
objective to state only two of them. However I knew the terrain and had
abundant confidence. By the time we reached the Col one merely had to
follow the railway track up the gentle slope to the summit. I promised
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Rita that there was a hotel and warm food there; of course there was
neither and we found the place abandoned for the day and worse no train.
We had now ascended over 3000ft and walked 11 miles and there was
nothing for it but to walk a further 5 miles back down the railway track to
Llanberis. We arrived rather the worse for wear around 6.00 PM and my
conscience was pricking me and I wondered whether I had put my dear
wife off hill walking for good. We had walked a total of sixteen miles.
We slept well that night and most of the next day but apart from feeling
rather stiff we suffered no ill effects.
The rest of our stay in North Wales was more sedentary. We visited
Beaumaris, Llandudno and even went to Blaneau Ffestiniog on a Sunday
and found it very quiet, even the public loos were locked up and bolted.
We also managed a film; it was Julius Caesar with the exciting actor
Marlon Brando as Marc Anthony and James Mason as Brutus. This was a
very memorable production playing up the political thriller aspects with a
really ‗lean and hungry‘ performance from the veteran actor, John
Gielgud, astonishing to think that today some 45 years later the man is
still acting. We returned to Mosterton, full of confidence, on Wednesday
29th June. After a few more weeks loafing at Ridge farm it was time for
me to begin earning a living for the two of us. I informed Houlders that I
was available and they soon offered me a job as a Relieving Officer on
the Duquesa at Tilbury Docks. At this time this vessel was the Flag Ship
of the Line (see Plate 106) and a very fine vessel she was too; newer
vessels in the post war era were being built to a higher standard and far
more space was allocated to the crew‘s quarters. This was a temporary
appointment but it offered opportunities for occasional weekend visits
with Rita. We desperately wanted somewhere on our own to live and we
decided on Bristol for several reasons; mainly because Eva was at Frome
not far away and Marjorie Payne who was an old college friend and a
Bridesmaid at our wedding lived in Bristol with her family. Her father in
fact was a retired sea Captain who had ended his career with Bristol
Steam Navigation Company. Another important reason was that Bristol
and nearby Avonmouth and the South Wales Ports offered me easy
access to a possible ‗Home Trade Career‘, which could be an important
option for my future. While I was with Duquesa in London I saw quite a
lot of Brian who had now embarked on a Teacher Training course at St
Marks College in Chelsea and we discussed our plans for the future on
many occasions. I decided that I must be better qualified for a ‗shore‘
profession and I was coming round to the view that it should be in
Science. My efforts on the arts side I was now convinced would lead
nowhere and I had become very keen on mathematics and physics since
my second voyage on the SS Malmesbury in March 1952 (see page 215).
So I now embarked on a course of study using the ‗Teach Your Self
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Mathematics‘ text by P Abbott. I hoped I could reach a sufficient
standard to enable me to take a science degree; this as things turned out
was naïve and later I had to change my approach but at least it was a
beginning. At the end of July Rita went to Bristol to begin ‗flat hunting‘,
staying with Eva whilst she did this in Frome. I could only watch from a
distance and it made me unhappy not to able to join in but we simply
could not afford the additional travelling expenses.
Plate 106: Furness Houlder meat carrier, Duquesa(1949; 11,007 GT)
Sitting in my cabin aboard SS Duquesa on Sunday 1 August I heard
a new BBC program. It was the very first broadcast of a series of
classical music requests introduced by the musician Trevor Harvey. This
program was to run for very many years and gave me enormous pleasure.
Trevor Harvey asked for requests and I immediately wrote to him asking
to hear the Credo from the Missa Solemnis of Beethoven; at this time I
had not heard a note of this work and from my reading I knew it was
something very special. Unfortunately I was transferred to the Thorpe
Grange (see Plate 108) the next weekend and missed out on hearing the
program but I like to think there must have been thousands of listeners
who liked my request! On the 17th August Rita moved into our new flat
in Walsingham Rd, Bristol. She had written to me about her adventures
and the struggle she had had to find somewhere suitable for us and of the
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great support she had received from the Payne family. For example in
one letter she recounted an abortive attempt:
Come soon darling, it‘s a week now since I saw you. The flat! You‘ll hear when you
phone tonight, but I‘ll tell you just the same.
No good—didn‘t like it, shan‘t have it! The letter sounded all right, it was in answer
to my advert; the woman sounded all right when I phoned; but from then on nothing
was all right. We got to Bristol at 5 PM ; I phoned and got her daughter and she said
‗Mummy was out‘. We went to see Marjorie‘s parents and phoned again from there,
the flat was near there we could get to it quite easily. Finally I got her and arranged
to go and see the flat—Mrs Payne, Eve, Mrs Jones (Marjorie‘s aunt) came with me!
She arrived with her daughter & an un friendly piece she was too—said ‗Mrs
Trowbridge?‘ & marched off inside without waiting to speak to anyone else. The
bedroom was fine; sitting room too small; kitchen all right & bathroom not too bad,
But not hot water, no access to the back of the house & no facilities for washing—
also all sorts of ‗agreements‘ read out from a piece of paper to be signed by us if we
had it! :- No wireless after 11 PM, no animals, downstairs people to use our
bathroom etc.—& references needed!
Better luck next week I hope
Plate 107: 31 Walsingham Rd, Bristol
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And so it proved. I had to do a home trade run up to Sunderland in the
Thorpe Grange (she was a brand new ship and had to go back to the yard
to correct some problems that had arisen on her maiden voyage). I was
delighted to discover that the Master was Percy Grant whom I‘d met
briefly at the beginning of my voyage on the Argentine Transport. Percy
was a perfect gentleman and a man of great kindness. He had had a
distinguished career with Houlders as had his father before him. During
the war he had commanded the Empire Buckler215 and had many
adventures both from weather and enemy action, see footnote 118. We
signed on 21st August in Poplar and sailed that afternoon. It was a
pleasure to be serving under Percy Grant who handled the ship and his
crew professionally with minimal fuss. At this time he was suffering
from severe headaches and he told me he had very high blood pressure
and would not be continuing at sea much longer. We arrived in
Sunderland on 23rd August and paid off the next day and Percy made
good his escape. I had to stay on stay on for ten more days nominally in
charge during the period at the builder‘s yard. The regular crew returned
on the 3rd of September and I was instructed to go to Liverpool to join the
Rippingham Grange but I did manage to go via Bristol and was able to
see the flat.
I was delighted with Rita‘s choice, a fairly spacious first floor
apartment in an old Victorian House in Walsingham Road about a quarter
of a mile off the Gloucester Road and an easy bus ride form the city
centre. Unfortunately before I had time to enjoy it too much I had to go
off to Liverpool. Rita wrote to console me a few days later:
I went to bed almost straight away after you‘d gone last night, the flat seemed so
lonely, did you get any sleep? and how did you manage when you got to Liverpool?
about getting to the ship I mean, you can‘t have had much money216
…don‘t be sad sweetheart, its unbearable having to part, but there‘s lots of time
ahead of us. I‘ll try and keep cheerful so don‘t worry about me, just look after
yourself and come home when you can. We‘ll get some money soon then we‘ll be
able to do more and not have to think of it all the time. I read Ulysses while I was
eating my lunch! Only the first two pages this seems the sort of book that needs to
be read in small doses. No ‗dirt‘ as yet, only the occasional ‗bleeding‘—nothing at
all new to me! The Judge said ‗The words which are criticised as dirty are known to
almost all men and, I venture, to many women‘!217 I have got the wireless on and
they‘re playing an Elgar symphony, I was listening just now but I‘ve stopped—
reminded me too much of you.
I wrote a week later with an idea for a new play:
215
Later named Ovingdean Grange, see page 182
I would have walked to the docks from the Lime Street station
217
I lent her my copy with the obscenity trial reported at the end. I was keen that she should
share my passion for Joyce.
216
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I have had this idea for a comedy but I don‘t suppose much will come of it. Imagine
a ship‘s officer going into the Captain‘s cabin to meet him for the first time
MASTER
Did you know Capstick?
MATE
Yes, I did my first voyage as Mate with him on the old ―John
Bunyan‖
MASTER
Are you still sane?
MATE
Well he was little warped I suppose
MASTER
Warped! He was evil, I hated his guts.
MATE
Where is he now sir?
(The Master goes to his wine cabinet and produces a small polished casket)
MASTER
Right here mister
(He shakes it)
Hear him?
MATE
Hear what sir?
MASTER
His bloody ashes, right here, they‘ve had him cremated and
I‘ve got to dump the bastard at 4 degrees North and 25 degrees
west!
From the Collection of J & M Clarkson
Plate 108: Houlder Line Vessel Thorpe Grange(1954, 8695 GT)
If the above fragment was indicative of my play writing talents it‘s
just as well I gave up. My old friend from the Argentine Transport, Frank
Joplin, came aboard and told me he was hoping to transfer to a ‗Home
Trade‘ career as soon as he could manage it, he was now third officer of
another Houlder ship and was on his way to Manchester to sign on. It
seems that everyone was trying to leave the service! I left the ship on 16th
September and went straight to Bristol for nearly two weeks leave.
During this time we settled ourselves into the flat collecting together all
our worldly possessions for the first time. I was introduced to the Payne
family and had the privilege of meeting Captain Payne, now quite old
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and chair bound. I found him a remarkable and most interesting old sailor
who began his career in sailing ships before WW1. He suggested that I
might try for a berth with his old company Bristol Steam Navigation who
ran a weekly service to Dublin to import Guinness. However Houlders
didn‘t leave me alone for long as I was posted back to my old ship the
Urmston Grange in Liverpool for a short run to Germany. For a week I
was in charge of the vessel as deputy first officer but just a day or so
before we sailed I was delighted to find that Captain Grant was in
temporary command and he agreed that Rita could stay on board with me
until we sailed. She came up to Liverpool and shared my cabin for a few
days. When it was time to sail Percy told me to take Rita to the station
and rejoin the ship at the ‗pier head‘, he was so considerate. After
Hamburg, which remains a complete blank in my memory, we returned
to Swansea and I was paid off on 27th October. Then on the 7th of
November I was sent to Rotterdam to sign on the SS Charlbury, another
Houlder line ship which needed a relief crew to bring her to Newport. I
was home in Bristol on 19th November but a few days later I was
appointed ‗permanent‘ second officer of the MV Hornby Grange, once
the pride of the Houlder Fleet but now No. 2 since the arrival of the
Duquesa.
I was pleased, in one way, to get this appointment but it meant
sailing to South America again, so mixed feelings. I remembered this
ship both as an apprentice in her in January 1950 and as a relieving
officer a year ago in London. Just before we sailed Rita came to Hull
with me and we stayed one night in a ‗theatrical‘ boarding house; it was
heartbreaking to leave her but we needed the money. We signed the
articles on 7th December and sailed for BA on the 9th. In my diary letter I
wrote:
Friday 10th December
We sailed at 3PM yesterday afternoon. I stood on the poop, aft, for two hours and
was frozen and not a little miserable and longed for you… I arrived on the bridge at
midnight and found that we were still in the North Sea and in a howling gale; what a
life! The Master, Captain Kent was still up, he is new to this ship too and seemed
very puzzled by the attitude of the other officers who have been used to the last
Master, a man by all accounts with abnormal habits who drove his crew half mad.
Mr Kent who appears quite normal and decent to me told me he couldn‘t make out
what was bothering them! I am sure this will pass as we get used to each other. He
soon went below leaving the watch to me and by 4 AM I was glad to go below for a
few hours sleep before going to the bridge at 8.30 AM to check the ship‘s position
and relieve the third officer, a certain Mr Twistleton, to get his breakfast. ‗Twis‘ as
we call him is a tall smiling boy whose father is a maths Teacher in London. A
likeable chap if slightly bigheaded who tells me stories about the last skippers
continual sarcasm, ‗It was like water off a duck‘s back to me‘, he said. Off watch I
am studying Maths and making good progress. The fourth engineer, John Godfrey,
is a kindred spirit; he likes music and is quite bright academically. He showed me a
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cable just received from his wife, which read, ‗Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage‘
love from Mendelssohn.
Saturday 11th
Today‘s afternoon watch went pleasantly the gales having moderated I think we
have been lucky to slip through the bad weather. This ship rode the rough sea well in
yesterday‘s gale. We are now well into the Bay of Biscay and at 4.30 we had our
first boat drill and I‘m in charge of No. 4 life-boat and I spent a tiresome 15 minutes
sorting things out this was followed by Fire Drill and for this I am in charge of the
Smoke helmet and gas mask party—we do have fun.
Sunday 12th
The night watch went by quickly as I spent much of time checking our charts. We
are now passing the coast of Portugal at 15.3 Knots. I have a confession to make
concerning money; well I had to buy a new sextant in Hull. I did not tell you at the
time but to help the money situation I sold my old one in Southampton over a year
ago. I was lucky on the Urmston Grange in that I was able to borrow the Mates (he
never took morning sights) but in this ship that is not possible and so I had to buy
one quickly before sailing; so you will notice £20 withdrawn from our account. I
feel acute embarrassment over this.
Monday 13th
We arrive at Las Palmas tomorrow so I will post this letter.
Tuesday 14th
We have left Las Palmas and now bound for BA. I received two lovely letters from
you. Didn‘t see much of the Island as it was dark and by 2.00AM we were ready to
leave and I spent the rest of the watch in navigating the vessel out to sea and laying a
course for South America.
Wednesday 15th
Weather getting very hot now. You remember Mr Braithewaite the Chief
Refrigeration Engineer. He was relieving on the Urmston Grange when you stayed
aboard in Liverpool—a short paunchy man with a cheerful manner. Well he‘s on
this ship and as we have no cargo the refrigerators are not in use and his staff (7
men) have nothing to do. I passed his cabin today and all 7 were engaged in painting
his cabin out! what a life?
Thursday 16th
One week at sea and I don‘t half miss you. I am working flat out in my spare time
on teaching myself the ‗Calculus‘ and will finish this book by the time I get home. I
have now decided to have a go at a science degree and get myself fixed up with a
course for the Higher General Certificate of Education when I get back as I have to
achieve that first. Perhaps you could write to Bristol University and inquire about
external students.
Friday 17th
Serve me right. I have been placed in charge of the Apprentices education; we have
4 of them aboard, all quite dumb with little desire for study. I usually go along to see
John Godfrey before dinner and today he showed me a drawer full of presents from
his wife beautifully wrapped and labelled not to be opened until Christmas day.
How can you conjure up the Christmas Spirit on the hot humid sea I damned if I
know.
Saturday 18th
One week to Christmas, I hope you receive the flowers I sent. One day is like the
next and I mix my time with study and sleep. The energetic play deck golf, this is a
game in which you knock a piece of wood around the deck with a mallet.
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Sunday 19th
We cross the equator today, 3,522 miles from Hull and our average speed has been
15.25 Knots—somewhat faster than the Urmston Grange.
Plate 109: MV Hornby Grange (See page 176)
Monday 20th
We are now approaching the coast of Brazil and I have been reading ‗Wood Magic‘
by Richard Jeffries a lovely story about Bevis a very small boy in the Wiltshire
countryside long ago. It is amazing how much detail Jeffries sees in the landscape
that passes most of us by—it reminds me of the Wiltshire tales told by my father of
his own childhood.
Wednesday 22nd
This evening I received your cable bless you my darling.
Friday Christmas Eve
Christmas at sea is rather a sad affair. The stewards had a drinking party and the
galley boy came staggering up to the bridge; he was in hysterics and couldn‘t speak
coherently. We eventually gathered that he had been hit by the second cook who
then had urinated into his bear can and then tipped it over his head. Such things
break the monotony I suppose.
Christmas Day
Happy Christmas darling, feeling too depressed to write more
Monday 27th December
We docked here in BA at noon and I found seven letters waiting. One from Dad
saying he is planning to marry Brenda in the New Year and that they have now
bought the hairdressing business in Boscombe. We now expect to leave here on 16th
January and be back home in Liverpool on 3rd February. I was very sorry to learn
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about the death of Mr Payne, please give my sympathy to Mrs Payne and to
Marjorie; he was a fine old man and the salt of the earth!
This would be my last sea voyage to South America and indeed my
last visit for 42 years. I remember very little about this visit as my mind
was now firmly focussed on study in order to qualify for a shore career
once I was 26. Unfortunately there was little spare time for me to study in
port as we worked in shifts supervising the loading and continually
updating the cargo plans. All the available surfaces in my room were
covered with the big sheets of paper showing the disposition of the cargo.
Several different owners of the cargo are involved and the stowage in the
holds has to be checked and this meant climbing in and out of the seven
holds through many decks and hundreds of meat chambers. The change
in temperature is unpleasant as it is very hot on deck and freezing below
in the holds.
I went ashore on New Year‘s Eve with the Doctor, Sparks, and
Twiss. We took one of the crowded ‗Collectivo‘ busses from the docks
and we stood and sweated blood as the driver, emulating the famous
Argentine Grand Prix driver Juan Fangio, drove his clapped out vehicle
like a man possessed. We were pleased to alight in Plaza Mayo more or
less in one piece and to walk among the people out for fun on a balmy
summer night. The girls, some provocatively dressed, soon had the
doctor twitching. By the time we reached the hub of the city, the Obelisk
in Avenida 9th Julio, the Doctor was desperate for female companionship
and wanted to call the British Hospital to see if there were any nurses that
would like to come out for a party. I was regarded as an expert on the
nurses as I had been a patient in this hospital several years before. I
advised against this but the Doctor, edged on by Sparks found a pay
phone and called the Nurses home. I had to take over, as my ‗Spanish‘
was better than theirs in the spirit of the ‗one eyed‘ man who is king in
the kingdom of the blind. I did managed to get the call transferred to a
English speaking sister who told me in no uncertain manner that all their
girls were already fixed up—it was New Year‘s Eve! So we did the next
best thing and wandered into a nightclub and began drinking. Already
well under the influence sat four officers from the SS Charlbury and so
we were now a party of eight. A band of sorts played tangos followed by
a heavy breasted woman who sang a powerful song of passion. Sparks
and the Doc were ogling a pair of high-class tarts sitting nearby but the
look on their faces was saying‘ ‗you couldn‘t pay us enough‘. I told the
Doc this and he loftily denied that he‘d ever paid for it, in his life.
Apparently his father was a wealthy New Zealander. As it was now
nearly midnight someone suggested we go to Helen‘s Bar, near the docks
in Passeo Colon as she was giving free champagne to herald the New
Year. As we walked along the street we started singing ‗Auld Lang Syne‘
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but the noise of the sirens, fireworks and bells everywhere overwhelmed
our efforts and I could only think of home—as we approached Helen‘s
Bar I felt a strange feeling of hope for the future. Twiss picked up a half
extinguished firework and threw in the air and it went off bang and we all
shouted.
What mock joy was this?
A bang and spasm of pain
Taking one back to those we love
Apparently it was now 1955 and as we entered the very crowded bar I
spotted Frank Joplin. He said ‗How‘s Rita?‘ It is strange how he has the
habit of turning up at times of crisis in my life. We greeted each other
and wished ourselves well for the future. We sat and talked quietly
together away from the others and I told him of my plans to study and get
a job ashore.
I wrote to Rita on Thursday the 6th January looking forward to our
departure for ‗Eva Peron‘, the politically renamed city of La Plata some
30 miles along the coast and a major meat processing port. I was now
tired of Argentina and wanting to come home.
We leave for ‗Eva Peron‘ tomorrow and I am glad, I have had enough of BA. We
have been loading meat continually and I am heartily sick of it. The letters we post
here will be delayed I am convinced as I the public services are in a parlous state and
only work intermittently. I have remained on board since Sunday when I went
ashore to hear some music with John Godfrey, which turned out to be rather
amusing. I noticed earlier in the day a small advert in La Prensa which said that
there would be a Grand Concert in an open air arena at some public park given by
the ‗La Banda Municipal‘. My first thought that this was obviously a ‗Brass Band‘
so not too interesting but then I saw the programme; it said works by Verdi, De
Falla, Tchaikovsky and the Eroica Symphony of Beethoven. John and I thought that
this didn‘t look like Brass band music so we decided to go. The park was someway
outside BA and it took us about an hour to get there by train. The park turned out to
be a patch of ground in the centre of a suburb, which had a raised wooden platform
on one side with rows and rows of hard bench seats. My heart sunk when we saw
that there were hundreds of kids milling around including screaming babies. It sunk
even further as we watched a long file of men wearing uniforms came on to the
platform. Most of them were carrying woodwind and brass instruments though there
were a few double basses and cellos but no violins or violas. The conductor got up
and they tore into the ‗Force Of Destiny‘ overture but the kids were running wild
and everyone was talking so it was impossible to appreciate the music. We waited in
discomfort until the beginning of the Eroica but despite the audience noise the lack
of fiddles became intolerable to our ears so we left in disgust.
What awful musical snobs we were? I now regret not taking more notice
of the scene in general which was a colourful and happy occasion for the
local people. John bought the LP recording of the Misa Solemnis and
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tried to persuade our Captain to let us play it on the new Gramophone
installed in the passenger lounge. He reluctantly agreed but I think was
not to displeased when we couldn‘t get the machine to work—we thought
him a bit of a philistine.
The ship sailed for home on Sunday 16th of January and I was
delighted and had no regrets about leaving Argentina. I now spent hours
in trying to master the Calculus and I discovered a new world. The study
of curves representing physical data with the calculation of gradients on
the one hand and next the inverse process of determining the shape of a
curve from the gradients on the other. The text I was using enabled me to
learn the technology of these dual procedures, differentiation and
integration, more or less by rote but it was the fine popular book by W.
W. Sawyer, Mathematician’s Delight that gave me the deeper insights,
which I avidly devoured218. I was no longer just fascinated by the esoteric
symbols used (  dx etc.) and I began to appreciate the concepts of limits
and continuity by analogy with examples drawn from everyday
experience. One of Sawyer‘s examples sticks in my mind and that was
how a round cylindrical disk (for a primitive wheel perhaps) is
successively approximated by chopping the corners off a square
sectioned block; thus leading to a polygon and eventually to as near as
required to the circle. Thus the rolling ‗log‘ successively rotates about
each vertex of the polygon forming a sequence of instances The key
phrase is, ‗as near as required‘ and without me realising at the time this
phrase would dominate my future as no other—the trade off between
accuracy and cost. Another influence and a source of many happy
reading hours was the wonderful book about the great mathematicians of
the past by Eric Bell219, Men of Mathematics. Professor Bell was a
remarkable writer as well as being a creative mathematician with the gift
of being able to humanise the subject. In more recent times his approach
has been out of fashion much to the loss of many modern students who
have been discouraged in reading him by trendy academics. For me the
book was a revelation and gave me a real feel for what great
mathematicians do. He lays out the lives of the great innovators and their
contributions from the Greek geometers through the Calculus of Newton
and Leibnitz and on to the great periods of consolidation, expansion and
rigour with Euler, Lagrange, Laplace, and to the ‗Prince of
Mathematicians‘ Gauss himself. Finally the incredible period of the
nineteenth century in which much that was new and revolutionary was
discovered leading to both confusion and clarity. Bell selects his key
218
First published by Pelican Books in 1943
E T Bell (1883-1960), first published 1937 and reissued under the Pelican Format in two
volumes in 1953.
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players by adopting two criteria: the importance for modern mathematics
of a man‘s work; the human appeal of the man‘s life and character. Some
qualify under both headings, which makes for splendid reading. My
knowledge was only at the very beginnings but already I could see by
reading about Archimedes, Fermat and Newton how the methods of the
Calculus evolved. I arrived home in Liverpool on February 4th and went
on leave to Bristol the next day.
I was delighted to be home and I told Rita about my enthusiasm for
study but she did not have very encouraging news from Bristol
University about me doing a part time courses to qualify for a University
Course. I wrote to the Seafarers Education Service for advice. By return
of post I received a very helpful letter from the director Dr Ronald Hope
(see Plate 110). He said that for a science degree I needed to take three
subjects at GCE (Advanced Level) and that one option would be to take
Pure Maths, Applied Maths and Physics but for the Physics I would need
to sign up for a course ashore for the laboratory work. I liked this option,
as it seemed to offer the greatest flexibility for a future career. The
important news was that the College of the Sea could help by
correspondence tuition for the A Level examinations except for the
practical and this would be a good start. I immediately wrote back to
enrol. A day or so later Dr Hope wrote again:
Dear Mr Trowbridge,
Thank you for your letter of February 11th enclosing your completed enrolment form
and fee. We are asking tutors in physics and mathematics to write to you as soon as
possible and I hope we shall be able to send the books they recommend before you
leave home. I am sure they will do their best to give you all the help you need, and I
hope everything will go smoothly. If any difficulties arise, however, please let me
know at once.
Your student number is 7197, and we should like this quoted on all correspondence
and work. I enclose a paper giving some instructions for students and it would help
if you would follow these as closely as possible.
Yours sincerely,
Ronald Hope
Director.
Hope indeed. He was even more hopeful in his next letter to me:
As far as taking the examination itself is concerned, this will, of course, depend on
your present knowledge and the progress you are able to make. I would suggest June
1956 is the earliest date you could contemplate and you may want to leave it until
November of that year…
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It was soon time for me to return to the ship in Liverpool and I
arrived back onboard on February 20th to learn that we were being sent to
Cardiff to be used as a store ship for meat. As this meant a prolonged
period at home it was very good news. Rita refused to believe in our
good fortune at first, as the notion of a ship in port for two months
seemed highly unlikely. Apparently there was a ‗meat mountain‘ in the
UK and as we were the largest refrigerated vessel available other ships in
Liverpool were to have their cargo transferred to us.
Plate 110: Letter from the ‘College of the Sea’
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In Liverpool I received a letter from my Tutor in Mathematics a Mr
M. D. Walters who was a lecturer at the Malayan College in Kirby. As
this was not far away he invited me to come out to the college to meet
him. At this stage I was very much in awe of academics but he put me at
my ease and we discussed the books I should need. He recommended two
books, one on ‗Pure Maths‘ and the other on ‗Applied Maths‘ and
suggested I read each chapter in them and send my answers to the
exercises at each stage to him for correction and comment. We also
discussed the books I had already studied and he approved my
enthusiasm for Sawyer and Bell but was less than happy about my rapid
progress through the ‗Teach Yourself Calculus‘ as he soon realised I had
not mastered the basics very well though he didn‘t object to the book
itself. He said that the books by Dakin and Porter on ‗Analysis‘ were
designed to give the student a thorough understanding and though I
would be going over ‗old ground‘ to some extent it would pay off in the
end. I believed every word and immediately sent off for the books, which
were made available to me through the Seafarers Education Service as
part of the course. During the next fifteen months I enjoyed a very
special relationship with Mr Walters who was patient, thorough and
extremely considerate. I also received a letter from a Dr Grunzweig who
had agreed to be my tutor in Physics. He told me he was taking up a new
appointment at the National Physical Laboratory in Jerusalem in
September and would contact me again from there but in the meantime
recommended that I study the Physics Text by Starling and send him
answers to former examination papers published by the University of
London. I again obtained the book and began reading; I also wrote to the
University for copies of the examinations set in 1951 to 1954. I did not
develop quite the same type of relationship with Dr Grunzweig as with
Mr Walters though his comments on my answers were helpful but I often
had to wait many weeks before receiving his comments.
In the meantime everything was happening at once because on
February 25th Dad and Brenda were married in Bournemouth. This meant
an over night dash to Bristol with no time to rest as Rita and I had to be
at Dad & Brenda‘s flat in Boscombe by mid-morning in time for the
wedding at noon. We only just made it going by train to Bournemouth
West Station with barely enough time to buy an ornament as a gift before
a mad dash by taxi to Boscombe. I was delighted to see Dad happy and
settled. After the ceremony we had a fine lunch, but as soon as this was
over I had take Rita back to Bristol and then catch another over night
train back to Liverpool.
We left Liverpool on March 4th full of frozen meat and went to
Cardiff to begin our long stay as a store ship. As Bristol was close by I
could come home frequently; we worked out a schedule so there was an
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officer on board at all times. I could essentially live a normal life only
spending occasional nights on board. During the next two months my
studying intensified and we began to explore our surroundings in Bristol.
Rita got to know the people next door, who were American and very
friendly and also we had three nurses sharing the ground floor flat below.
Mrs Payne and her daughter Marjorie were frequent visitors. Marjorie
was a teacher working for the Bristol City Education authority and Rita
began to try and get a teaching job in Bristol. Unfortunately, the City
seemed to be operating a ‗closed shop‘ with no jobs for outsiders. March
and April rapidly sped by and the dreaded day came when the Hornby
Grange was ordered to London to discharge our cargo. We left Cardiff on
May 4th arriving in Victoria Docks on the 5th.
Plate 111: The Wedding of Dad and Brenda
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I had now tasted ‗home life‘ and I liked it very much, also my
studying was progressing well and I felt that I was reaching a defining
moment in my life. We heard that we should be sailing on 19th of May
for South Africa and would be away several months and the prospect
filled me with gloom. I wrote to Rita saying I could resign from Houlders
and apply for a job on the coast. This would keep me away from the
army call up until I was 26. I also said that I would ask Brian for his
advice. Her reply was not encouraging; the poor girl was worried about
money and also rather suspicious of Brian‘s advice. In the event Brian
thought that a job on the coast would not give me the time I needed for
study so he in fact sided with Rita. We were given a few days leave
before sailing and I went home to Bristol with a heavy heart but resigned
to carry on at sea. Then fate took a hand. My old shipmate Frank Joplin
called me saying he was on a coaster tied up alongside the town quay. He
came up to the flat to see us and told us he‘d left Houlders, inspired by
our meeting in BA on New Year‘s Eve. He had applied and obtained a
third mate‘s position on a ship belonging to the English Steam
Navigation Company trading regularly between Spain and the UK and
that he was enjoying it tremendously. Later in the evening he invited us
to visit his ship and we made up a small party including the three nurses
living below us and then all repaired to Frank‘s little coaster. We had a
merry time onboard and with the addition of a few beers I resolved to end
my association with Houlder‘s too, despite Rita‘s worries. The next day
after a long discussion Rita agreed that I should resign and I sent a letter
immediately. Captain Allen replied by return, accepting my resignation
with regret. My seven-year period with the company had come to an end.
During the next few days I immersed myself in writing to all the
coastal companies I knew asking if they had any vacancies, I must have
penned thirty or so letters but to no avail. The message from them all was
the same—‘…at this time we have no vacancies for Deck Officers but we
will keep your name before us …’. So there was nothing for it but for
both of us try and get jobs in Bristol. Rita was immediately successful;
she got a position as a sale‘s assistant in Brights, the department store in
the city. I thought this a terrible ‗come down‘ for her but she was resolute
and of course this was a tremendous spur for me so luckily a few days
later I saw in the paper that one of the local tobacco companies was
signing on casual labourers for the summer. These jobs were meant for
students primarily but other layabouts were welcome. The firm was
called Edwards, Ringer and Bigg the makers of the popular ‗A-One
Light‘ roll your own tobacco. I went along and joined a mixed crew of
students and other casual labourers. We each had to see the doctor, a prod
or two and a quick cough and I was in at around £10 a week with bonus
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and overtime. This experience turned out to be quite enjoyable. We were
divided into teams of about four and our role was to spread the damp
tobacco, after it had been shredded, on to a conveyor belt, which moved
the weed into a drying machine. From the drying machine the tobacco
was then transported to another machine for packaging. My co-workers
were a mixture, a Canadian around forty who claimed to have done
everything, an Australian around twenty-five who claimed to have drunk
everything and a chemistry student who claimed modestly to have done
nothing.
Lawrence Dunn Collection (Ships Monthly, July 1999, page 39)
In the Bristol City docks the 11-knot motor ship of 1,330 tons dead weight, built locally at Hill‘s
Albion Dockyard in 1949.
Plate 112: MV Juno
Over the next two months I saw a lot of these three and at one point
Rita wondered if we were in danger of not making a profit as visits to the
pub in the evening became rather frequent. The medical student turned
out to be a really nice man and he came up to the flat a few times. He
suggested that we go to the Bristol Hippodrome to see Vic Oliver in a
show called ‗Pardon My French‘ (twice nightly). He brought his girl
friend and the four of us went together on 28th June; the show was
basically a leg show following a ‗Follies Bergere‘ revue format with Vic
doing his stand-up comedy routines between the acts. The evening gave
us a pleasant respite from our labours! My experience working in a
factory showed me an unpleasant side to men in the work place in those
days. One young man had a problem of BO and soon the other lads
ganged up on him; the doctor was called in to examine the unfortunate
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chap but the ‗Doc‘ just shrugged his shoulders. The upshot was that he
was ostracised and despite our offer to have him on our team he had to
leave. I also experienced the agony of having a tobacco spine removed
from my finger by the foreman who used his penknife to do the job.
Towards the end of August we were paid off and I was out of a job again.
Plate 113: James Joyce’s Tower (1954)
Almost immediately a job offer came up on a Dutch Coaster sailing
out of Swansea; this came from the shipping federation whose ‗books‘ I
had to remain on in order to avoid ‗call up‘. Accordingly I went to
Swansea but when I met the rest of the crew I decided not to sign on
partly due to the language problem and but more because they were a
most unfriendly bunch and frankly I was nervous about sailing with
them—or was this just a Freudian reaction? Anyhow I called Rita and got
her to telegraph me enough money to pay the rail fare home. It is an ill
wind! The very next day I had a call from the Bristol Steam Navigation
Company offering me a two-month relieving job on a ship called the MV
JUNO. This vessel was engaged on the ‗Guinness Run‘ between Dublin
and Bristol; sailing out on Monday morning returning Thursday evening.
This was good news so I accepted at once. We sailed for my first Dublin
run on Monday 29th August and I thoroughly enjoyed the trip down the
River Avon passing the splendid Custom House and chugging through
the Clifton Gorge under Brunel‘s magnificent suspension bridge. The
weather that day was superb and, in any case, the master of the vessel
knew the Bristol Channel and Irish sea waters well and as a Home Trade
master no Pilot was necessary. The smallness of the ship I found strange
at first but my little cabin was adequate and there were only about seven
of us on board. We passed between the two little islands of ‗Flat Holm‘
and ‗Steep Holm‘, off Weston Super-Mare and then ‗Westward Ho‘ to
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the Irish Sea. The distance to Dublin is about 220 nautical miles and so
the trip would take about 20 hrs, which meant we would arrive in the
early hours of Tuesday.
This was my first visit to Ireland and I eagerly explored the city as
soon as I could, and being an avid Joyce fan I wanted to see the city that
he wrote about in Ulysses. I managed an evening bus trip to nearby
Dalkey and wandered round outside the Martello Tower where ‗Stately,
plump Buck Mulligan came…‘ that remarkable day, ‗Bloomsday‘ of June
16th 1904 created by Joyce (Plate 113). The Joyce museum had not then
been opened though plans were being made but I found the building
securely locked, a great thrill nonetheless. I also absorbed many other
landmarks from the novel including the Sandymount strand, the beach
just south of the city by Dublin bay where Leopold Bloom fantasizes
whilst watching Gerty MacDowell and she him and then later his
compassion as she limps away. Throughout Tuesday and most of
Wednesday we discharged and loaded cargo, the huge empty aluminium
tanks were taken ashore to the Guinness factory and replaced by full ones
for Bristol where the stout was bottled for the UK market. We left for
home late Thursday night. I didn‘t realise it at the time but we all had a
perk from the company of a crate of bottled stout and my allowance was
placed in the small wardrobe in my cabin; I had no idea it was there until
halfway home on the return trip I was awoken by a series of loud ‗pops‘
and on investigation I found my clothes drenched in Guinness—the corks
had blown out due to the excessive pressure caused by the hot weather.
The smell was disgusting and put me off Guinness for life. Rita was
pleased to have me home from Thursday evening until Monday and so
was I. I studied hard over the weekend and didn‘t mind going back to
Dublin again the following week. This pattern repeated for nearly two
months but then the regular crew came back and I was again without a
job. Also Rita was getting fed up with her job at Brights and felt that she
would never get a teaching post in Bristol.
We reluctantly decided that I had to go back to sea again as there
were no prospects of a coastal position and it was not fair or even
possible for Rita to provide for us both on her own as I continued with
my studies. I now started to look for a post in a company that did short
voyages and after some research I decided that Manchester Liners Ltd
who traded from Salford on the Manchester Ship canal to Canada and
USA was a good option as their voyages appeared to last about six
weeks. I wrote to the company and was asked to go for an interview on
8th November. In the meantime we decided to move to Frome, as the flat
that Rita shared with Eva was now empty and available, as Eva had
moved out into lodgings. Rita also felt she could get a teaching job in
Frome. Our plan was that I would do a few voyages with Manchester
302
Liners and then with Rita in stable employment I could complete my
study in Frome during the spring of 1956 and take the examinations in
June. I was successful in getting a berth as second officer on the
Manchester Port and had to sign on 21st November but in the meantime I
would be relieving on the Manchester City. We moved back to Frome on
5th November after living in Bristol for just one year. The top floor flat
owned by Denis and Norah Mitchard (see page 264) proved to be an
ideal place for us to live; the Mitchard‘s whom we knew well were
extremely nice people and the flat itself was very comfortable.
Plate 114: SS Manchester Port (1935-1964), 7170 GT
I joined the Manchester Port on 16th November and we departed for
Halifax on 22nd. We felt the separation keenly and our letters make
depressing reading but I managed to settle down to the job. The Master
Captain John McClaren was amiable but tended to delegate; looking at
the logbook and articles of the voyage, of which I now have a copy, I see
that the entire log for the voyage was written by me and signed by him! I
also had to do the accounts and deal with immigration matters. We were
carrying 15 or so passengers, which ensured quite decent meals in the
saloon. At the Captain‘s table the guests included a Professor and his
wife going to Philadelphia (brain drain!), a young-good looking
unattached Scots girl on her way to Florida, and an elderly spinster bound
for Montreal. On our table we had a young American lady wearing funny
shirts and bright blue cords (this was 1955!), a pretty women with a baby
going to join her husband in Halifax who was an officer in the Royal
302
303
Canadian Navy. The mate said he fancied her until she showed us a
photograph of her husband, a tough looking and a giant of a man. We
also had a charming older lady; she was well travelled and very chummy,
she called us all ‗dear boys‘ and thought we were wonderful, not unlike
Margaret Rutherford. I had a very supportive apprentice on my watch
with me, a useful and competent fellow, he made me tea and toast at
regular intervals and listened attentively to my romantic twaddle.
Soon after leaving Fastnet in the western approaches of the Atlantic
we ran into very bad weather but the ‗Port‘ turned out to be a superb bad
weather ship and rode the waves in fine style. Our noisy passengers all
but disappeared from the saloon except for an obnoxious boy whose
father unfortunately spent most of the voyage in his cabin so couldn‘t
control him. We arrived in Halifax only one day late on 1st December and
I found letters from Rita and all was well. The third officer, Ed Andrews‘
fiancé lived in Montreal and he hoped that she would come back with us
to the UK. He called her but told me that she was having second
thoughts. Ed was understandably quite upset but was hopeful she would
change her mind eventually. I liked Ed, he was old ‗Worcester Cadet‘
and so we had had similar training and shared much the same attitudes. I
discovered that his sister was a teacher and worked in Frome (now that
was a coincidence).
I wrote to Rita from Saint John, New Brunswick our next port of
call where we arrived amid heavy snow on Sunday, December 4th.
…it is snowing heavily and it is very cold. We leave here on Tuesday and hope to
arrive in Philadelphia on Thursday. We are not working cargo today so I have a
clear day, its quite a change to sit back and write to you in peace my love….we have
only three passengers left now and one of them, the elderly eccentric lady (M.
Rutherford) tried to drag us off to church this morning! Have you got the cake back
yet, I‘m sorry but it must have been the fog that delayed the parcel post. I am trying
to study and I have posted off some work here to Mr Walters, but I have been
reading Joyce again and came across this lovely poem:
All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is, when going
Forth alone
he hears the winds cry to the waters
Monotone.
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them blowing
To and fro.220
220
Chamber Music, No XXXV
304
Plate 115: First Voyage on SS Manchester Port, December 1955
Sad and moving, I like it well I think he must have felt the loneliness of life at sea.
Many of our crowd got very tight in Halifax. The second engineer slipped up
because when asked by one of our apprentices if his men were aboard for sailing
from Halifax he said yes, and as we were pulling away three of his engine room
ratings came staggering along the quay and we had to tie up again to get them
aboard. The ‗Old Man‘ said to me later, ‗We shall have to put a stop to this drinking,
but not your side of the alleyway‘, he added. He evidently thinks that we deck
officers are sober—we do our job properly, at least. I enclose a chart of the voyage,
so you will know where I am going? 221 .
As we sailed south to Philadelphia the weather grew steadily
warmer. After only one day we were on our way again and by the time
we reached Charleston on December 12th we had shed the cold miserable
northern winter. The rest of the voyage passed by pleasantly though it
was the busiest for me that I can ever remember. Several ports in quick
succession, Savannah (Georgia), Jacksonville (Florida) then back up the
coast to Baltimore. Letters from Rita kept me in touch with home; I had
good news and bad. Rita had her interview in Frome on 15th December
and was successful and could start work at the Methodist School in
January. The bad news was from my father who wrote to tell us that my
maternal grandmother, Alice Sherrell had died in Dover. This news was
over a month late to me and I felt at a loss, as I would have wanted to
write to my Grandfather though I was sure he would have understood.
They had had a great marriage and had recently celebrated their diamond
221
See Plate 111
304
305
jubilee (See page 43). We loaded a cargo of steel and grain in Baltimore
then moved south again to Norfolk to load a final consignment of
tobacco. Then just two days before Christmas on December 23rd we left
for Manchester arriving there on 5th January 1956 the day Rita began
teaching in Frome. After a blissful week together in Frome I had to return
to Manchester to sign on again.
My second voyage on the Manchester Port was shorter but I was
now feeling the strain of separation acutely. Matters were made worse by
not receiving any mail in Halifax when we arrived there on 27th January.
As usual I overreacted and wasted £3 on a phone call but hearing Rita‘s
voice was such a relief. Ed Andrews heard from his fiancée in Montreal;
he opened the package that came only to find his ring returned. I tried to
commiserate but he was in fact much more self-reliant than I could have
been222. From Halifax we moved to Saint John (NB) to load grain and we
left for home on 5th February. The voyage home was one of the worse for
gales that I can remember; also the sky remained overcast throughout so
we had no ‗Sun Sights‘ to confirm our position and correct our course. It
took all our skill to navigate by ‗dead reckoning‘ and the master‘s
experience of the North Atlantic in winter. Even our Radio Direction
Finder failed us; somehow we made the usual landfall at Fastnet and
found our way to Liverpool. We tied up at Eastham at the entry of the
Manchester Ship Canal on Friday 16th February to await clearance to
proceed at the end of my watch at 4.00AM. It was also my last
transatlantic crossing by ship and virtually the end of my Merchant Navy
career. We celebrated our homecoming and relief by drinking the
contents of the Mate‘s ‗docking bottle‘ of Scotch before breakfast—such
stupid bravado. We arrived in Manchester the next day but had to wait a
day more before signing off. I travelled to Frome on Sunday and after
discussing our situation for most of the night we decided I should return
to Manchester immediately and resign.
We rationalised this decision mostly by the need for both of us to be
together. I was not studying effectively at sea so jeopardising our longerterm future and time was running out if I were to be ready to sit the
exams in June, now just three months away. In order to take the Physics I
needed to attend a laboratory somewhere to cover the experimental part
of the course. Also in three months I would be 26 and therefore free of
the liability for National Service. In the meantime I could remain on the
Shipping Federation Books and hopefully avoid actually going to sea—
that is I could be selective. So accordingly I returned to Manchester on
Monday, resigned on Tuesday and returned to Frome on Wednesday. I
had to bite the bullet as the local Marine Superintendent told me I was
222
I later heard that he had married a girl from Manchester
306
betraying a trust by walking out with such short notice. Rita now was in
full time professional employment as a teacher and with the little we had
managed to save we felt we could survive. I had a strong conviction that I
would pass the exams in the summer and would then be able to apply for
some kind of job associated with Science and hopefully then be able to
become an external student at London University and read for a degree in
Physics. I had neglected the study at sea and had only been sending off
work to Mr Walters intermittently. He wrote to Dr Hope expressing
concern:
..your maths tutor Mr Walters has just been enquiring about you; he says that he has
not heard from you for two months. He hopes that you have not given up your work
for him, as he thought you showed promise.
Do let me have your news and tell me if there is anything further we can do on your
behalf. Yours Sincerely R Hope.
Plate 116: Studying—Spring 1956
Such consideration and concern by Dr Hope and the fact that Mr
Walters thought I should continue gave me great encouragement at the
right time. My contact with Dr Grunzweig had also been minimal but that
was mainly because he had not sent me any comments except once at the
beginning. I wrote to both of them at once and began bombarding them
with work. For the Physics practical I wondered if Bath Technical
College would be able to offer me the facilities; I decided to ask Aldridge
Lyon in Bath for his advice as he was well known in the city and would
surely have contacts. This proved to be the case and Skip gave me an
introduction to Mr Yates the director of the college which in those days
before the college became a University was situated in the city centre
(Plate 116 b). Skip‘s introduction did the trick and Mr Yates offered me
limited facilities of using the apparatus in the Physics Lab in the evenings
306
307
and some afternoons if there was room for me. It was all very casual and
friendly—just what I needed. Rita and I escaped to Mosterton for
weekends and there I studied in the garden (Plate 116a). Rita adopted the
role of my taskmaster and was very persuasive in keeping me at it and
indeed helpful in the learning process itself, particularly in the Physics
for which a lot of half understood material had to be memorised. I think
now looking back that this period was vital to my development as a
future scientist; for the first time I was relaxed and felt my foot securely
fixed to the first rung of the ladder. On the 7th March I received another
encouraging letter from Dr Hope:
…I see nothing wrong with your decision to take pure and applied mathematics in
June, and of course you are safe in planning to take the physics at the College of
Technology in Bath, if this is possible, though it does seem to involve a long period
ashore during which you are not earning. You are safe too in taking the physics
separately from the pure and applied mathematics. Do keep me fully informed about
your plans and let me know if I can help further.
We were not entirely finished with my sea going friends as Maurice
Jenkins and his wife Eileen came to visit us in Frome. Maurice and I had
got to know each other in Buenos Aires both as an Apprentice on the
Kingsbury and later as Third Officer on the Rippingham Grange. He was
now second officer on the Duquesa and about to depart for New Zealand.
He took a photograph of us, which Eileen sent on to me with their best
wishes for my exam.
Plate 117: Rita, Bill & Eva April, 1956
308
I started the practical in Bath and made rapid progress with the set
experiments; anomalous expansion of water, the compound pendulum,
conductivity measurements, plotting magnetic fields from bar magnets
just to name a few. I particular enjoyed the analysis of results, drawing
graphs and making tentative deductions and coming to grips with
uncertainties in the measurement process both personal and systematic. I
soon realised that my sea training and experience was an excellent
preparation for a lot of this as I could relate much of the Physics syllabus
to my daily professional duties at sea. I realised, in the normal course of
events, I would have done all this some ten years ago, particularly as the
other students in the college seemed to be mere children! But I also
realised I had a significant advantage in that I was strongly motivated.
For Mr Walters I had been submitting my answers to old exam papers
and he had been systematically correcting them. Just before the actual
exam in June he wrote me an encouraging letter:
Tuesday
Good—there is absolutely no reason why you should not pass in both papers and
have every chance of reaching a very high level.
All the best,
M D Walters
I went to London for the examination, which was spread over four
days, two papers in Pure Maths and two in Applied, and sat in a vast
University Examination centre hall somewhere near Tottenham Court
Rd. It was the proverbial steamy week in June but I managed to survive. I
sent the papers to Mr Walters with an outline of my answers and he
replied writing that he was quietly confident. My 26th birthday passed me
by and I was now free of the ‗Army‘ and rather ironically I was
immediately offered a summer job by Bristol Steam Navigation on the
sister ship to the Juno, the MV Pluto. I accepted and once again enjoyed
the Dublin run for a few weeks. The Master of this vessel was not so
congenial as last time as he insisted on going ashore with me in Dublin
and drinking himself silly. I signed off finally on September 3 rd and
formally retired from the Merchant Navy for good with profound relief.
Later I came to realise that my ten-year adventure had not been a waste
of time as it taught me many valuable lessons but now was not the time
to dwell on these matters. When I returned to Frome a letter was waiting
informing me that I had been successful in both subjects, so Mr Walters
and Rita‘s faith in me had been justified. I now had a month or so to
concentrate on the Physics. Unfortunately I had lost contact with Dr
Grunzweig but providentially, with my contacts at Bath College of
Technology, I was able to make the necessary progress and in any case I
could get most of what I needed from the books.
308
309
Plate 118: Letter from Mr Walters
I also began to think seriously about future employment. We saw an
advert in the paper for vacancies at the Atomic Energy Research
establishment (AERE) at Harwell in the Heath Physics Division. These
posts were for Scientific and Experimental Officers and whilst I could
not match the qualifications demanded it gave me the idea of writing to
Harwell to see if they had other openings. I had been interested in
Atomic science ever since reading the book, Why Smash Atoms, see page
207, and the establishment was often in the news because of the great
hope that atomic power would solve the world‘s energy problems. I also
had rather a romantic view of the ‗Atomic Scientist‘ and my hidden
agenda was to try and become one. So I wrote the following letter rather
‗tongue in cheek‘:
Dear Sir,
Could you please advise me on the prospects open to a person of my qualifications
at the Atomic Energy Research establishment at Harwell.
Until recently I have been a navigating officer in the Merchant navy but I now wish
to find suitable employment to enable me to start a scientific career. Since February
310
I have been studying for the London GCE (Advance Level) and have so far obtained
a pass in both Pure Mathematics and Applied mathematics. I sit for the Physics
examination in November. I hope to continue studying with the object of obtaining a
London External degree in Physics.
I am 26 years of age; I attended HMS Conway (School Training Ship) from 1946 to
1948. I hold the ‗Conway‘ leaving certificate and the Second and First Mates
certificates of competency.
I should be very grateful for any advice or help you could give me. I enclose a
stamped address envelope for your reply.
Yours sincerely
C W Trowbridge
Plate 119: Advert for Scientific Posts at Harwell
Hardly a CV in the modern sense and I have often wondered since
why it was not tossed in the wastepaper basket. I received a reply on
October 16th thanking me for my enquiry and enclosing a form to be
completed and returned without delay but was this just a formality? I
filled in the form ‗without delay‘ which added little to what I had already
said in my letter but it did ask for references so having obtained
310
311
permission from Captain Allan at Houlders I was able to give the
company‘s name as well Tom Browne, the headmaster of HMS Conway.
This was acknowledged by AERE on 25th October with the bland
statement that my application was being dealt with and a caveat saying
they would be grateful if I would avoid making enquiries about the result
of my application. I continued studying Physics and thought that would
be that. Not a bit of it!
On 6th November I received a letter inviting me to attend the
establishment for interview on 15th November. So with some trepidation
on that day I took a train to Didcot; there was not much time, as I had to
be there by 10AM so I hailed the lone taxi waiting outside the station.
The young driver223 said, ‗Where to mate‘, and I said ‗Harwell please‘,
‗You mean Aere‘, and for the first time I heard the mouthful ‗A.E.R.E‘
articulated as one word sounding like ‗airy‘. He soon whisked me
through the town and in a mile or so Harwell Village and Rowstock
Corner to the A34 Newbury road. He talked all the way and gave me
some information on the establishment; he said it was an old airfield used
in WW2 by the Airborne Regiment who ‗took off‘ from there for the
Arnhem raid in September 1944. He dropped me off at the main gate and
I realised immediately that this place was a high security establishment.
In the Guard House were several ‗police‘ types taking particulars from a
small queue of visitors. Eventually I got my turn and handed in the letter,
which amusingly directed me to report to a ‗Mr Boffin‘224, but as I soon
discovered this was not a ‗joke‘ it was indeed the name of the
administrator looking after the interviews that day.
After obtaining my day pass to let me in I was escorted to a building
not far from the main gate. I found several ‗chattering‘ graduates waiting
to be interviewed, we sat in a small anteroom and I felt very nervous. A
young women came out breathless and bewildered; she said, ‗watch the
chap sitting in the middle he wanted know all about magnetic
hysteresis‘225, this made feel awful as I now knew I was outclassed. I was
shown into a kind of conference room with four men behind a long
polished oak table waiting to quiz me. The chairman 226, a smallish
compact man aged about 40, welcomed me and invited me to sit facing
the panel whom he introduced. At the time none of their names
registered, as I was busy pumping up my adrenalin. After reviewing my
223
His name was Harold Swanborough and he was driving his father taxi. The firm known as
‗Swantax‘, and later ‗Harolds‘ were a household name in Didcot for many years.
224
a scientific expert, especially one involved in research and who appears unconventional or
absent-minded (informal) [Mid-20th century. Origin unknown.]
225
a delayed response by an object to changes in the forces acting on it, especially magnetic
forces
226
Dr W D Allen
312
career at sea he gently explored my reasons for wanting to work at
Harwell. I cannot remember now what I said but he finally sat back and
asked me the connections between Navigation, seamanship and Physics.
This gave me chance to shine a little and I explained how elementary
Physics and Mathematics formed the basis of so much of the work of a
Deck officer. He then wanted to know in detail how one determined ones
position at sea. He also asked me to define the astronomical units and
here I was fortunate as apart from the ‗Light Year‘, I knew about the
‗Parsec‘227 and was able to draw a diagram showing how it was defined.
We then got on to astronomy and he wanted to know if I had ever seen
the ‗Magellan Clouds‘, well any second mate worth his salt would have
spent hours gazing at the southern sky on route to South America and
would have noticed, even without the aid of a telescope, the two
irregularly shaped small galaxies near the south celestial pole and closest
to the Milky Way. He seemed satisfied and turned to his colleague on his
left, a much older man, who asked me how much it would cost to run a
1KW electric fire for six hours, I suppose he gave me the unit cost, I
cannot remember, but he nodded when I gave him my answer. There
were other questions too but all I can now recall is that I was gently
dismissed and escorted to the anteroom.
I found the same lady who had been asked about hysteretic materials
arguing with one of the other graduates and busy drawing pictures
showing magnetization curves on a blackboard. The ‗heady‘ atmosphere
of Science! I had barely sat down when the panel asked to see me again.
The chairman said without any preamble that I obviously did not have
the qualifications for the scientific grades advertised though he noted that
I intended to continue with my studies but however there was a post for a
Scientific Assistant, for which I could be considered. I asked what this
entailed and it seemed from his reply it was ‗Lab Technician Grade‘. He
added that I would even need some training for this but they had a
training school on site, which ran courses in the basic skills needed. I
asked about promotion and he said that if I made good progress he
thought that within six months I could apply for an assistant experimental
officer post (a slightly superior lab technician?). I thanked them and said
I would be very interested in this but it was essential for me to study for a
degree in Physics and so I asked could I receive help by being allowed to
attend a ‗day release‘ scheme. His answer was encouraging so I took the
plunge and said I would indeed be prepared to give it my best.
I went home much encouraged. Three days later I was back in
London to sit the Physics examination. This took three days, as there
227
an astronomical unit of distance equal to 3.262 light years. A parsec is the distance from
which the Earth‘s distance from the Sun would subtend one second of arc..
312
313
were three papers, two of them written and one practical. I was well
prepared and felt quietly confident as many of the ‗bankers‘ had come up
and in the practical I had to determine the focal length of a lens by
measuring its conjugate points and calculate the magnification for a
range of image distances. The other assigned experiment was to build a
standard ‗Daniell cell228, and measure its internal resistance. I returned
home very hopeful that I had done moderately well.
I had another communication from Harwell on November 30th
asking for a copy of my Birth Certificate and asking me to attend for a
medical examination on 12th December. Then later in the month I
received a visit in Frome from a tough looking man from the security
services. I had been expecting something of sort as I had been told at the
medical by the administration people that I would have to obtain security
clearance and sign the official secrets act. I had to give several names of
people of good standing that knew me well and accordingly I had
supplied the names and addresses of Skip Lyon from Bath, Brian
Greenhalgh who was still studying at St Marks College in Chelsea, and
Tom Browne my old Conway Headmaster. Brian in fact called me the
very morning of the security officer‘s visit to warn me he had already
been interviewed at St Marks and was worried as his Uncle, a School
master at Muswell Hill, was a ‗fellow traveller‘229 and maybe on ‗their
books‘ at MI5. At this time there was still a lot of paranoia with regard to
secrets, especially Atomic Secrets as in 1950 the theoretical physicist
Klaus Fuchs supplied Soviet agents with details of wartime nuclear
weapons research being carried out in Britain and America and was
arrested and convicted. Fuchs was a member of theory division at
Harwell when he was charged and given a 14-year sentence.
I found my interlocutor, a charming man who sat in our lounge in
Frome sipping tea discussing my books. He spotted some suggestive
titles, Joyce, Shaw but as these were balanced by Kipling and Eliot I
don‘t suppose I showed any particular left wing bias; but in any case this
was just fancy as I think his idea was to get me talking. He waited until
Rita came home from school and turned his attention to her probing our
family background and future aspirations. I needn‘t have worried as on
the 4th of January I received a formal offer of appointment as a Scientific
Assistant at a starting salary of £460, less than I could command as a
Second Officer (~£600) but with much better prospects for us as a family
for the future (Plate 120). I accepted and it was agreed that I would start
on 21st January. I wrote asking for reassurance that there would be
adequate opportunities for promotion and further education and I
228
A cell which maintains a small current for a long time. Copper anode, Zinc cathode,
Electrolyte dilute Sulphuric acid , EMF –1.08 Volt, Resistance ~1 Ohm.
229
A communist sympathiser without being a member of the party
314
received an encouraging reply. It was agreed that I should start by going
into single accommodation lodging which the Harwell housing
department would arrange and that I would sign the official secrets act on
my arrival.
Plate 120: Letter of Appointment at AERE, Harwell
To add to my confidence I received the results for the Physics exam
and was delighted to learn that I had passed with distinction. I wrote to
Dr Hope telling him the result and about my new career about to begin at
Harwell. He replied as follows:
Heartiest congratulations on your excellent results in Physics and indeed your
success last June since I have sent you no personal word since.
314
315
I am very interested to hear that you are taking a job at Harwell and hope that, once
there, you will find opportunities to complete your degree. I would strongly
recommend you finish the degree now since I am sure that it will make a great deal
of difference to your work in the future…
I am glad we have been of some assistance to you and that you want to keep in
touch with us through ‗The Seafarer‘.
With kindest regards,
Yours sincerely,
Ronald Hope
I had been very fortunate with those who helped me on this first
stage of my life, these include Basil Fletcher Jones, Skip Aldridge Lyon,
Tom Browne, Brian Greenhalgh, Mr Walters, Dr Hope and most of all,
my wife Rita. There were to be many others to add to this list in the
future but that part of my story must wait for Part 2 of these memoirs. I
set out to Didcot on January 21st with the high expectation that I would
make something of myself in my new profession.
Thus sang the uncouth swain to th‘oaks and rills,
While the still morn went out with sandals gray;
He touch‘d the tender stops of various quills,
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay.
And now the sun had stretch‘d out all the hills,
And now was dropp‘d into the western bay;
At last he rose, and twich‘d his mantle blue,
Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new.
Jon Milton - Closing lines from Lycidas
D‘Arcy‘s Field
Oxford
15 January 2001
316
Appendices
Appendix 1: List of Voyages
Ship
Sign On
Sign Off
Voyage
1
Cerinthus
20-Apr-48
London
31-Dec-48
Barry
Foreign
2
Cerinthus
25-Jan-49
Newport
07-Aug-49
London
Foreign
3
4
Cerinthus
Hornby Grange
23-Aug-49
30-Dec-49
London
BA
16-Nov-49
16-Feb-50
BA
London
Foreign
Foreign
5
6
Ovingdean Grange
Ovingdean Grange
09-Mar-50
22-Jul-50
London
London
11-Jul-50
03-Dec-50
London
Liverpool
Foreign
Foreign
7
Ovingdean Grange
04-Dec-50
Liverpool
16-Apr-51
London
Foreign
8
9
10
11
Malmesbury
Malmesbury
Malmesbury
Malmesbury
01-Aug-51
19-Dec-51
24-Mar-52
29-Apr-52
Liverpool
Newport
Liverpool
Newport
16-Nov-51
23-Mar-52
07-Apr-52
29-Aug-52
Liverpool
Liverpool
Liverpool
Newport
Foreign
Foreign
Home
Foreign
12
13
Argentine Transport
Condesa
18-Sep-52
03-Dec-53
Antwerp
Avonmouth
25-Apr-53
14-Dec-53
Avonmouth
Liverpool
Foreign
Home
14
Urmston Grange
01-Jan-54
Hull
02-Jan-53
Newcastle
Home
15
Urmston Grange
13-Jan-54
Newcastle
17-Feb-53
London
Home
16
Urmston Grange
18-Feb-54
London
04-Jun-54
Hull
Foreign
17
Thorpe Grange
21-Aug-54
London
23-Aug-54
Sunderland
Home
18
Urmston Grange
09-Oct-54
Liverpool
27-Oct-54
Newport
Home
19
20
Charlbury
Hornby Grange
08-Nov-54
07-Dec-54
Rotterdam
Hull
19-Nov-54
05-Feb-55
Newport
Liverpool
Foreign
Foreign
21
22
23
Hornby Grange
Hornby Grange
Juno
04-Mar-55
04-May-55
26-Aug-55
Liverpool
Cardiff
Bristol
05-Mar-55
06-May-55
02-Sep-55
Cardiff
London
Bristol
Home
Home
Home
24
Juno
03-Sep-55
Bristol
30-Sep-55
Bristol
Home
25
26
Manchester Port
Manchester Port
21-Nov-55
17-Jan-56
Manchester
Manchester
05-Jan-56
18-Feb-56
Manchester
Manchester
Foreign
Foreign
27
Pluto
21-Aug-56
Bristol
03-Sep-56
Bristol
Home
Note: This list only includes ships in which voyages were made
316
Appendix 2
317
Appendix 2: Genealogy
1. The Direct Descendants of Thomas Trowbridge
Thomas
Trowbridge
Born: Abt. 1695
Died: Abt. 1757
Jane
Born: Bef. 1703
Married: Abt. 1719
Died: Aft. 1728
Hester
Chown
Born: 1732
Married: October
12, 1751
in BerwickSt John,
WIL
Died: 1797
Thomas
Trowbridge
Died: Abt. 1788
Mary
Trowbridge
Born: 1723
G eorge
Trowbridge
Born: 1724
in Donhead St
Mary , WIL
Died: 1802
Jane
Trowbridge
Born: 1754
Died: 1830
Thomas
Trowbridge
Born: 1759
Anne
Trowbridge
Born: 1766
William
Trowbridge
Born: 1752
Bethia
Trowbridge
Born: 1772
James
Trowbridge
Born: 1800
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Died: Decem ber 28,
1864
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Mary
Trowbridge
Born: 1728
G eorge
Trowbridge
Born: 1775
in BerwickSt John,
WIL
Died: Aft. 1821
in Australia
Susanna
Trowbridge
Born: 1802
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Joan
Trowbridge
Born: 1731
Anne
Trowbridge
Born: 1777
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Married: April 6,
1799
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Died: 1817
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Ann
Trowbridge
Born: 1805
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
William
Trowbridge
Born: 1809
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Lott
Trowbridge
Born: 1811
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Died: 1818
Notes230:
(a) The first and second generations lived in Donhead St Mary, the
third in Berwick St John and the fourth in Ebbesbourne Wake
three neighbouring villages in southwest Wiltshire in the Chalke
Hundred. Thomas‘s grandson George married Ann Trowbridge
descended from a co-lateral branch, see the next family tree.
(b) George Trowbridge was transported to Australia in 1814 for
‗Deer Killing‘ for seven years and is believed to have died in
Van Diemen‘s Land sometime after 1821. He is described in the
convict indent for the transport ship ‗Somersetshire‘ as aged 38,
9½ feet tall, fair-pale complexion, dark brown hair and with
hazel eyes. By ‗virtue‘ of being a convict we know more about
George‘s vital statistics than for any other of our remote
ancestors. See page 1.
230
See C. W. Trowbridge ‗The Trowbridge Family History 1690-1990‘, D‘Arcy Publications,
1991, 1993, and 2000 for a more detailed genealogy.
318
Appendices
2. The Direct Descendants of John Trowbridge
John
Trowbridge
Born: Abt. 1690
Died: Bef. 1760
G race
Fford
Born: Abt. 1695
Married: October 6,
1714
in Sem ley , WIL
Died: Bef. 1765
Thomas
Trowbridge
Elizabeth
Hardiman
Born: Abt. 1720
Married: April 8,
1735
in Donhead St
Mary , WIL
Died: 1742
James
Trowbridge
Died: 1786
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Susanna
Trowbridge
Born: 1767
Mary
Trowbridge
Born: 1769
James
Trowbridge
Born: 1771
Joan
Trowbridge
Born: 1774
Mary
Scamel
Born: 1745
Married: October
18, 1766
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Died: 1817
Anne
Trowbridge
Born: 1777
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Died: 1817
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
G eorge
Trowbridge
Born: 1775
in BerwickSt John,
WIL
Married: April 6,
1799
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Died: Aft. 1821
in Australia
William
Trowbridge
Born: 1779
Martha
Trowbridge
Born: 1786
Notes
(a)
(b)
231
232
The first generation lived in Semley, the second in Donhead St
Mary and the third and fourth in Ebbesbourne Wake.
The Ebbesbourne families in both this tree and the collateral
tree in Appendix 2.1 appear to have been supporters of the
dissident church activities as their names appear in meeting
house records231. It is also possible that the young men from
both branches indulged in deer hunting, which after the
gaming act of 1803, became proscribed as deer killing232.
Ebbesbourne Wake Nonconformist records for Wilts, Catalogue No RG4 2368, PRO
William Chafin, Anecdotes and History of Cranbourne Chase, 1813
318
Appendix 2
319
3. Descendants of James Trowbridge
Lot
Trowbridge
Born: 1824
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Jane
Trowbridge
Born: 1825
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Died: 1825
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
John
Trowbridge
Born: 1827
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Died: January
27, 1900
in 3 The Terrace,
Bowerchalke,
WIL
G eorge
Trowbridge
Born: 1830
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
James
Trowbridge
Born: 1800
in Ebbesbourne
Wake, WIL
Died: December
28, 1864
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Mary
B urton
Born: 1803
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Married: July 21,
1823
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Died: May 23,
1887
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Joseph
Trowbridge
Born: 1833
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Charles
Trowbridge
Born: 1834
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Ann Maria
Trowbridge
Born: 1831
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Susanna
Trowbridge
Born: 1835
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Elisha
Trowbridge
Born: 1837
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Died: 1838
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Elisha
Trowbridge
Born: September
4, 1839
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Died: February
5, 1919
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Mary
Trowbridge
Born: 1844
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
James
Trowbridge
Born: 1847
in Bowerchalke,
WIL
Notes:
Georges‘s son James with his wife Mary raised a large family in
Bowerchalke. Bowerchalke is the neighbouring village to the west
of Ebbesbourne. James seventh son Elisha who became a shepherd
was the author‘s great grandfather. His descendants are shown
below.
Elisha
Trowbridge
Born: Septem ber 4, 1839
in Bowerchalke, WIL
Died: February 5, 1919
in Bowerchalke, WIL
Henry
Trowbridge
Born: Abt. 1867
in Bowerchalke, WIL
Died: Novem ber 1952
in Bowerchalke, WIL
Ellen
Trowbridge
Born: 1869
in Bowerchalke, WIL
Died: Bef. 1940
Morgan
Trowbridge
Born: 1871
in Bowerchalke, WIL
Died: Abt. 1939
in Patcham , SSX
Charles
Trowbridge
Born: August 18, 1874
in Bowerchalke, WIL
Died: October 19, 1935
in Harneham House, Ly m ington, HAM
Constance Winifred
Sherrell
Born: March 9, 1902
in Littleham pton, SSX
Married: July 30, 1924
in Ringwood, HAM
Died: Septem ber 13, 1950
in Ly m ington, HAM
Peter Maurice
Trowbridge
Born: March 8, 1925
in Woodside, Water Lane, Totton, HAM
Eliza
Shergold
Born: 1844
in Broadchalk, WIL
Married: Novem ber 10, 1866
in Bowerchalke, WIL
Died: May 22, 1907
in 8 Woodm inton Cottages, Bowerchalke,
WIL
Charles William
Trowbridge
Born: July 10, 1930
in Totton, HAM
Dinah Mary
Trowbridge
Born: March 31, 1960
in Radcliffe Inf, Oxford, OXF
Notes: See page 11
Ellen
Vincent
Born: May 3, 1876
in Fordingbridge, HAM
Married: February 4, 1899
in Methodist Chapel, Milford Str.,
Salisbury , WIL
Died: August 17, 1958
in Ly m ington, HAM
Maurice Cecil
Trowbridge
Born: June 25, 1901
in Laverstock, Salisbury , WIL
Died: Septem ber 5, 1983
in Salisbury , WIL
Rita May
Creed
Born: October 7, 1929
in Mosterton, DOR
Married: June 19, 1954
in Mosterton, DOR
Brenda
O'dell
Born: July 19, 1923
in Luton, BED
Married: February 25, 1955
in Bournem outh, DOR
David
Trowbridge
Born: February 23, 1938
in MilbrookNS, Southam pton, HAM
Simon Albert
Trowbridge
Born: Decem ber 20, 1961
in Radcliffe Inf, Oxford, OXF
Frances Vera
Trowbridge
Born: March 5, 1905
in Salisbury , WIL
Died: July 11, 1961
in Cottage Hospital, Ly m ington, HAM
Evelyn Freda
Trowbridge
Born: January 4, 1908
in Salisbury , WIL
Died: Decem ber 12, 1995
in New Milton, HAM
320
Index
Index
A
B
Abadan, 133
Aberdovey, 112
Aikman
Wilfred, 51, 203
Air-raids, 60, 71
Aldershot, HAM, 38
Aldridge‘s Dairy, 45
Allan, Captain (Marine
Superintendent, Houlder
Line), 125, 176, 311
Allen
Dr W.D. (Leader, Tandem
Generator Group, Harwell),
311
Alton, HAM, 38
Andrews, E (Third Mate, SS
Manchester Port), 303, 305
Antwerp, 222, 223, 224, 225,
267, 268, 316
Argentine Transport (SS), 220,
222, 223, 225, 226, 229, 235,
266, 269, 272, 286, 287
Arnold, Malcolm, 257
Auld, Captain J F (Master of SS
Cerinthus), 126, 129, 131,
137, 140, 149, 152, 156, 158,
171
Australia, 108, 128, 134, 135,
136, 140, 142, 146, 151, 155,
181
Van Diemans Land, 136
Avonmouth, 249, 250, 253, 265,
266, 283
Bach, J S, 109, 216
Bahrain, 131
Baltimore, 123, 230, 231, 232,
233, 304
Bangor, 89, 94, 97, 101, 108,
109, 112, 117, 118, 214, 277,
280
Barbirolli, Sir John, 258
Barletta, 243, 244, 247
Barrie Lewis
Peter, 90
Barry Docks, 29
Basrah, 132
Bate, Betty, 137, 138
Bath, 307, 308
Bath and West Show, 20
Bath Technical College, 306
Beecham, Sir Thomas, 163
Beethoven, 56, 117, 197, 207,
214, 218, 228, 234, 267, 284,
292
Belton, Charles (Master of
Ovingdean Grange), 180,
190, 191
Bennell, A.C, 117, 199
Bermondsey, SRY, 36
Bilfeldt, Dr, 166, 167, 175, 183
Bishop Wordsworth‘s School,
27
Blake, William, 70, 220, 227,
229
Bodleian Library, Oxford, 14
Bombay, 153, 154
Bone
David, Sir, 164
Bonick, Martha, 33
320
Index
Boston, 140, 143, 148, 223, 227,
228, 231
Bowerchalke, 12, 13
Baptist Church, 14
Misselfore, 23
Parish Paper, 14
school log-book, 14
Bradley
Harry and Ted, 66, 106
Brahms, J, 207, 217, 227, 233,
250, 258
Brill, Hans, 117, 120, 211, 224,
225
Bristol, 24, 28, 29, 182, 238,
248, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287,
289, 294, 296, 298, 299, 300,
301, 302, 308
31 Walsingham Rd, 285
Britten, Benjamin, 186, 211
Broadchalke, 12, 25
Brockenhurst, 53, 68, 69, 70,
72, 77, 83, 89, 97, 121, 211,
254
Brooke-Smith, 95, 111, 114,
202
Browne
Tom (Headmaster HMS
Conway), 97, 101, 102,
103, 105, 108, 109, 110,
111, 115, 117, 120, 150,
281, 311, 313
Broxbourne, HRT, 33
Buenos Aires, 31, 162, 163,
164, 165, 168, 171, 172, 173,
174, 175, 176, 177, 181, 182,
183, 184, 186, 188, 189, 190,
193, 196, 197, 198, 204, 207,
208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 214,
216, 218, 225, 226, 269, 273,
274, 288, 289, 290, 292, 298,
307
British Hospital, 162, 166,
167, 168, 174, 291
321
Teatro Colon, 174, 189, 190,
192, 193, 197, 207
Burdon
Gordon (Harry), 117, 118,
120, 150
Burton, Mary, 11
C
Capon, John (Mast. SS Urmston
Grange), 267, 269
Carnegie Hall, 149, 228, 233
Cerinthus (SS), 122, 123, 124,
125, 137, 145, 164, 175, 180,
204, 225
Ceuta, 248, 249, 250
Charlbury (SS), 288, 291
Charleston, 248, 249, 250, 304
Chelsea, London, 33
Census returns, 34
Chemistry, 69, 70, 108
Chiselborough, SOM, 23, 101,
199, 204, 212, 253, 278
Church of England, 36, 50, 52,
59
Collett, Rev. Edward, 14, 25
Compton Chamberlain, WIL, 23
Condesa (MV), 265, 266
Condon
Eddie, 149
Congregational Church, 36
Conrad, Joseph, 92, 112, 122
Convict ancestry, 136
Cook
Bob, 67, 80
Creed
Bernand, 221, 258
Bert (Rita's Father), 221, 259,
260, 278
Bill, 230
David, 221
Eva, 221, 222, 247, 253, 261,
263, 267, 271, 277, 283,
284, 301
322
Index
Rita (1929), 2, 23, 220, 221,
222, 223, 224, 225, 227,
230, 231, 232, 233, 237,
240, 241, 242, 243, 247,
249, 250, 252, 253, 254,
255, 256, 257, 258, 259,
260, 261, 262, 263, 264,
265, 266, 267, 268, 269,
270, 272, 273, 274, 275,
276, 277, 278, 279, 280,
281, 282, 283, 284, 286,
288, 292, 294, 295, 296,
297, 298, 299, 300, 301,
302, 303, 304, 305, 306,
307, 308, 313, 315
Crib Goch, 102, 246
Crippen, 27
Crook, Miss, 223, 224, 231,
238, 242, 243, 250, 262
Durman
Alice Maud (1872), 36
Richard Faulkner, 36
Richard Faulkner (1836), 42
William (1800), 42
E
Ebbesbourne Wake, 2, 3, 6, 11,
317, 318
Elgar
Edward, 56, 58, 228, 267, 286
Eva Peron (La Plata), 292
F
Faggots, 24
Farwell
Philip, 86, 109
Faulkner, Sarah (1803), 42
Faversham, KEN, 34
Fletcher Jones
Rev Basil (Tinker), 64, 65,
66, 67, 68, 80, 81, 82, 85,
86, 87, 88, 108, 137
Flint collecting, 23
Foleys, 59, 72, 87
Fordingbridge, HAM, 13, 23
Fordlands, 59, 79
Fort Athabaska, 79
Frome, 247, 250, 252, 254, 256,
263, 264, 265, 268, 269, 270,
283, 301, 304, 305, 307, 308,
313
Fuchs, Klaus, 178, 313
D
Dad‘s Army, 60
Dads Army, 75
Dakar, 162, 163, 164
Damerham, HAM
Old Smithy, 23
Dartford, KEN, 34
Denmark, 233, 235, 236, 238,
242
Denyer
Peter, 197, 204
Didcot, 311, 315
Dissenting religions
chapel cinema, 38
Littlehampton chapel, 36
Lymington chapel, 20
Dissident, 3
Dover, KEN, 38
pier, 39
Duncan, William Edward, 225,
236, 243
Duquesa (MV), 283, 284, 288,
307
G
Gale
Roly, 72, 73
Gallimore
Mr, 70, 71
Galveston, 240, 241, 242, 243
Gannaway
Norman, 63
322
Index
323
Gardiner
Fay, 74
Jeffrey, 263
Geelong, 137, 138, 139
Ghent, 224
Goddard
Captain T M, 95, 96, 119,
120, 121, 199
Godfrey, John (4th Eng MV
Hornby Grange), 288, 289,
292
Greenhalgh
Brian, 45, 117, 166, 167, 168,
173, 174, 176, 186, 190,
191, 193, 196, 197, 204,
207, 208, 209, 210, 214,
216, 217, 218, 248, 255,
256, 267, 277, 283, 298,
313
Gregory
Lewis, 67, 80
Grinter
Eva (Rita's mother), 221, 260
Groves, Charles, 256
Grunzweig, Dr, 296, 306, 308
Gunpowder factory, 34
H
Halifax, 302, 304, 305
Hamlyn
Frances, 23
Hardy
Mr (mineral water company),
16
Hargreaves, A B, 115, 116
Harrison, John (Sparks), 126,
135, 146
Harwell (A.E.R.E), 178, 188,
309, 311, 312, 313, 314
Haslett
Tony, 99, 101, 107, 108, 111,
118, 199, 203, 264
Hatfield, HRT, 33
Havant, HAM, 43
Haydn, J, 109
Hewitt
Elizabeth (1822), 12
George (miller), 12
Hill, Toni, 141, 142, 143, 146,
147
HMS Conway, 83, 88, 89, 90,
91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 97, 100,
106, 108, 109, 112, 113, 114,
115, 117, 118, 120, 121, 124,
156, 199, 214, 225, 261, 264,
280, 281, 282, 310, 311, 313
HMT Logician, 29
Hoare
Leonard, 50
Hoddesdon, HRT, 33
Holidays Hill, 66, 68
Holloway
Gerald, 96, 99, 101, 199, 203,
212, 215
Hope, Dr Ronald, 294
Hopkins, Sally (1813), 43
Hornby Grange (MV), 175, 176,
263, 265, 288, 290, 297
Houlder Brothers Ltd, 119, 124,
158, 164, 197, 198, 204, 205,
213, 214, 225, 284, 287, 288,
298
Howell, Sam (Master of SS
Malmesbury), 205, 206, 210,
212, 213, 214, 215, 218
Hull, 225, 266, 273, 274, 288,
289, 290
Hundred Pound Man, 12
I
India, 74, 123, 125, 144, 145,
149, 150, 152, 153, 154, 155,
156, 157
Iran, 131
Iraq, 133
Isted
324
Index
Bob, 76
Cliff, 69, 76, 90
Ken, 90
Peter, 76
Italy, 24, 79, 158, 184, 243, 246,
248, 255
Liverpool, 83, 89, 94, 114, 115,
125, 129, 194, 195, 205, 215,
216, 263, 266, 281, 286, 288,
289, 290, 294, 295, 296, 305
Llanberis, 97, 102, 105, 109,
111, 115, 120, 282
Logsdon, Elizabeth, 33
London, 23, 26, 32, 33, 35, 44,
57, 58, 74, 89, 107, 108, 109,
112, 113, 117, 118, 119, 123,
138, 144, 145, 154, 161, 163,
164, 174, 176, 179, 181, 182,
186, 189, 198, 211, 223, 241,
248, 254, 255, 256, 265, 267,
269, 271, 273, 277, 280, 283,
288, 296, 297, 306,馰308,
310, 312
Lower Buckland Farm, 20, 21,
46, 51, 52, 59
Lymington, 20, 21, 22, 27, 32,
45, 48, 50, 52, 59, 60, 63, 64,
71, 72, 76, 77, 80, 81, 82, 83,
84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 108,
119, 120, 122, 141, 144, 145,
147, 150, 152, 162, 173, 177,
191, 192, 194, 203, 204, 211,
226, 256, 257, 265, 268, 270,
271
Air raid, 74
Baptist chapel, 20
Church Youth Fellowship,
68, 80, 82, 86
dairy, 20
Lower Buckland Farm, 20
St Thomas's Church, 47, 62
Lymington magistrates, 72
Lyon
R Aldridge, 64, 68, 80, 82,
83, 85, 86, 194, 256, 306,
313
J
Jacksonville, 304
Jenkins, Maurice, 307
John Lofts (Apprentice SS
Ovingdean Grange), 181,
190, 191, 197, 204
Jones, Jane (1818), 34
Joplin, Frank, 225, 234, 242,
287, 292, 298
Juno (MV), 299, 308
K
Karachi, 151
Kellaway
Tilly, 12
Kent, Captain (Master of MV
Hornby Grange), 288
Kipling
Rudyard, 63, 139, 209, 313
L
Landholder, 136
Lane
Commander Douglas, 94, 95
Langdale, 115
Langdon
Angela (1853), 23
Charles (1823), 23
Langham-Browne
Peter, 83
Las Palmas, 289
LeBritton Family, 48
Leylands, 59, 71, 75
Littlehampton, SSX, 36
congregational chapel, 36
M
Madras, 155, 156
324
Index
Malmesbury (SS), 204, 205,
208, 209, 212, 213, 214, 216,
219, 225, 283
Manchester, 85, 273, 287, 302,
304, 305
Manchester City (SS), 302
Manchester Liners Ltd, 301, 302
Manchester Port (SS), 302, 304,
305
Marconi Company, 31
Marylebone
St Mary's church, 33
Masefield
John, 88, 89, 92, 95
mathematics, 77, 83, 99, 206,
215, 283, 294, 307, 310
Mather
R P, 91, 94
May
Mr R H (Milky), 62, 69
Puffer, 50, 53, 62
Melbourne, 132, 136, 137, 138,
139, 141
Menai Straits, 89, 91, 92, 96, 98,
280
Merchant Navy, 27, 30, 31, 32,
91, 92, 106, 119, 123, 148,
153, 261, 305, 308
Merchant Venturers Technical
College, Bristol, 28
Mere, WIL, 12, 15
Mesopotamia, 25
Midhurst, SSX, 41
census returns, 42
Milton, John, 70, 82, 86, 315
Missions to Seamen, 153, 166,
208, 217
Mitchard, Denis & Norah, 263,
302
Montevideo, 182, 189, 190, 195,
197, 211, 212, 216, 270, 271,
273, 274
325
Montreal, 146, 158, 159, 160,
161, 302, 305
Morrison, Monica, 137
Morse Code, 28
Morton
Dick, 67, 77
Mosterton, DOR, 221, 240, 252,
253, 263, 267, 276, 278, 279,
283, 307
Mozart, W A, 190, 207, 226
Mr Humby, 28
Murray, Donald (Master of SS
Argentine Transport), 225,
235, 241, 269
Mutiny at Port Said, 1918, 30
N
Navigation, 97, 98, 111, 113,
130, 199, 201, 206, 215, 266
New Chums, 90, 94
New Forest, 48, 51, 65, 66, 70,
71, 76, 85, 195
New Orleans, 231, 232, 233,
234, 235, 237
New York, 148, 149, 186, 223,
225, 227, 229, 250
Norfolk, 305
O
Occupation
agriculture labourer, 13
army, 25
bird stuffer, 33
birdscarer, 15
builder, 12
carrier, 23
chapel keeper, 17
chapman, 42
dairyman farmer, 21
dressmaker, 34
hairdresser, 33
Inn Keeper, 43
326
Index
ironmonger, 36
licensed victualler, 42
malsters labourer, 23
Merchant Navy, 20
minister, 36
musician, 39
post boy, 43
postillion, 43
rabbit catcher, 24
rook-scaring, 14
schoolmaster, 34
scripture reader, 34
tanner, 42
whitesmith, 41
O'Dell
Brenda, 152, 203, 211, 216,
222, 240, 254, 258, 267,
276, 279, 290, 296, 297
Odense, 235, 239, 241
Opera, 84, 109, 190, 218, 255
Orff, Carl, 193
Origin of Trowbridge name, 1
Outward Bound Sea School,
112
Ovingdean Grange (SS), 179,
180, 195, 267, 286
Oxford, 14, 86, 87, 108
Physics, 69, 178, 200, 294, 296,
305, 306, 308, 309, 310, 311,
312, 314
Pike, Mr (First officer SS
Cerinthus), 125, 126, 127,
128, 129, 130, 131, 134, 140,
142, 145
Pluto (MV), 308
poaching, 3, 6
Port Dalrymple, 8
Port Lincoln, 140
Port Said, 30, 129, 130, 131,
132, 151, 158
Powell & Pressburger, 55
Pratt
Peter (Doyly Carte), 256
Public Record Office, 30
Q
Quebec, 159, 161
R
Ras -Tannura, 133
Ravel, Maurice, 228
Ridge Farm, 227, 266, 283
Ringwood, HAM, 42
Rippingham Grange (MV), 286,
307
Rivers
Lord George, 3
Rix
Brian, 162
Rockbourne, HAM, 23
Rogers
Ronnie, 214
Rosario, 181, 197, 210, 214
Rose, John (convict), 7, 8
Rotterdam, 288, 316
Royal Philharmonic, 40, 163
P
Palermo, 158, 159, 197
Parsons, Mr, 18
Patagonia, 167, 168, 180, 181,
183, 187
Percy
Mary (1820), 23
Peron
Eva Duarte, 184, 186, 218
President Juan Domingo, 167,
168, 184, 185, 210, 218
Persian Gulf, 128, 131, 132
Philadephia, 229, 303
S
Safaga, 132, 134, 135
326
Index
Saint John (NB), 146, 147, 303,
305
Salisbury, 12, 23, 28
market, 18, 24
Methodist Chapel, 12, 17
Sao Vincent, 271
Sargent, Sir Malcolm, 186, 255
Savannah, 304
Scafell, 116
School of Navigation
University of Southampton,
199
Schubert, F, 57, 216
Scouting, 63, 64, 67, 68, 80, 97
Snowdon Group, 108
Seafarers Education Service,
294, 296
sea-sickness, 30
Seybold, Bill, 121, 225, 261,
271, 273, 277, 278, 280
Shakespeare, William, 1, 70,
236, 242
Shaw, George Bernand, 151,
195
Shepherd
Isaac, 25
Shergold
James (1817), 12
Sherrell
Aunt Bju, 38, 47, 48, 50, 53,
173, 192, 194, 195
Aunt Vi, 74, 89
Constance (1902), 20, 32, 37,
47, 48, 50, 53, 54, 72, 74,
82, 89, 105, 122, 123, 130,
145, 189, 191, 254
Dinah Margaret (Aunt
Dinah), 36, 41, 48, 150
George James (1845)
minister, 36
schoolmaster, 34
George James Samuel (1870)
C of E minister, 36
327
hairdressers, 33
Harold (Uncle Boy), 39, 163
James (1795), 33
James Samuel (1817), 33
scripture reader, 34
will, 35
Madge, 48, 192
Marigold, 40, 163
Percy (1873), 33, 36, 38
corn miller master, 38
golden and diamond
wedding anniversaries,
43
pier entertainments, 39
valuer, 40
Samuel (1791), 33
Smith
Peter, 86
Snowdon, 97, 102, 103, 105,
108, 110, 111, 281, 282
Somerset
John, 90, 99, 101
Somersetshire, 7
Southampton, HAM, 43
SS Grelisle, 31
St Thomas Street, 45, 54, 56,
57, 59, 62, 122
Stagg
Harry William, 24
Stevens
Dinah (1849), 34
James (1819), 34
Stravinsky, Igor, 217
Streat, SSX, 12
Suez, 130, 132, 149, 151, 158
T
Target
William, 15
Taylor, B J C, 117, 124, 150
Tchaikovsky, 84, 227, 292
Tennant, Sir Edward MP, 19
328
Index
theatre, 58, 80, 84, 85, 87, 109,
115, 119, 120, 164, 169, 186,
208, 216, 222, 224, 230, 256,
263, 267
Thorpe Grange (SS), 284, 286,
287
Tidworth, HAM, 38
Tierro del Fuego, 181, 186
Titanic, (RMS), 27, 92
Totton, 48
Trade Directories, 33
transportation, 9, 106
Trowbridge
Charles (1874), 14, 18, 20,
26, 45
chapel keeper, 17
early occupations, 15
electioneering, 19
Hundred Pound Man, 12
Lymington activities, 20
music, 17
obituary, 21
tradesman, 18
David (brother), 82, 144, 164,
173, 177, 191, 194
Elisha (1839), 12
appearance, 13
gardening, 14
religion, 14
sons, 12
will, 14
George (ggg grandfather), 4,
5, 6, 7, 317
accused of stealing, 3
convict career, 8
convict transport ship
Somersetshire, 7
convicted of poaching, 6
landholder in Tasmania, 9
new family in Tasmania, 9
poaching, 3, 4, 5
poverty, 3
prison hulk, 7
sentence to 7 years
transportation, 7
Transported, 1814, 136
trial, 6, 7
Henry (1867), 12
James (gg grandfather, 2, 11,
319
Maurice (1901), 12, 13, 21,
23, 27, 38, 40, 47, 48, 51,
53, 57, 60, 61, 62, 71, 72,
73, 74, 75, 77, 79, 80, 81,
82, 83, 84, 87, 90, 106,
122, 123, 130, 144, 150,
151, 152, 155, 162, 177,
178, 189, 191, 194, 195,
202, 203, 211, 215, 216,
222, 227, 231, 240, 251,
253, 254, 258, 267, 276,
279, 290, 296, 297
Morgan (1871), 12, 14
Peter (brother), 48, 49, 51, 53,
54, 55, 69, 74, 75, 79, 82,
123, 130, 144, 160, 162,
177, 191, 193, 194, 247,
279
Reginald (1908), 12
Vera (1904), 21
Trowbridge family genealogy, 1
Tuckerman
Howard & Ted, 74
U
Urmston Grange (SS), 180, 266,
267, 268, 270, 274, 288, 289,
290
V
Van Diemans Land, 8
Veal
Evelyn Mary (1846), 42
Richard (1816), 43
Vincent
328
Index
329
Charles (1849), 26
Clem, 23, 25, 26, 133
killed in Mesopotamia, 25
soldier, 25
war letter, 25
Eva Kate, 24
handcuffed, 24
Frances, 24
Frank Isaac (1851), 13, 23, 25
flint collecting, 23
horses, 24
village carrier, 23
George (1813), 23
Lilian Theresa, 24
Maurice, 23
Nellie (1876), 13, 15, 22, 23,
26
Virgil Thomson, 229
Vulture (Mt), 243, 244, 247
W
Wakeford
Harry, 56, 57, 58, 67
Walsingham Rd, 284, 285
Walters, M D, 296, 303, 306,
308, 309, 315
Walton
David, 125, 126, 128, 129,
130, 134, 136, 137, 139,
142, 148, 149, 153, 154,
157, 165, 167, 171, 204
Sir William, 266
Warsash, 199, 200, 202, 204,
261, 262
The Rising Sun (PH), 199,
200, 202, 261
Webster
Fred, 66, 68, 80, 82, 83, 194,
202
Welsh Mountains, 93, 101
West Chinock, SOM, 23
White
Rev. David, 208
Williams
Rev J H, 105, 108, 110, 282
Wills, 14
Wilmington, 249, 250
Wiltshire
Regiment, 25
Workman
Mr Willie, 64
World War 1, 24
Z
Zabel, Mr (Second Mate of SS
Argentine Transport), 225,
234, 236, 241, 242, 243, 266
Zimmerman Dr, 113
Bill Trowbridge was born in Totton, near Southampton in 1930. He
grew up in the coastal town of Lymington and after attending the
local secondary school in Brockenhurst he joined HMS Conway to
train as an officer in the Merchant Navy. In 1948 he became an
apprentice with the Houlder Line, a shipping company specialising
in trade to South America. He served for nearly ten years as a
navigating officer but gradually developed a strong interest in
mathematics and science. Eventually, by private study, he was able
to come ashore and follow a scientific career. Joining the Atomic
Energy Research Laboratory at Harwell in 1957 he became a
member of a team involved in building particle accelerators for
nuclear structure physics. He obtained a degree in theoretical
physics from the University of London in 1962 by studying parttime. He later specialised in the application of computers to the
solution of practical electromagnetic field problems and
transferred to the Rutherford Laboratory in 1964. He became
leader of the newly formed Computing Applications group in 1970.
The group established a library of software, which was widely used
by industry and research laboratories. He co-founded a company,
Vector Fields Ltd, in 1984, successfully transferred this technology
to the private sector. He was made an OBE in 1993 for services to
science and exports.
This book is an account of his life in a small town in the 1930’s, his
early education, subsequent sea career and first attempts to
mathematics and physics.

So Long To Learn

Transcription

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