Port Germein: Preparing to Leave

Sunday 26 March 1939:

Visions of a never ending jetty, three shops (all sadly needing paint) and stacks of wheat and a tiny railway engine.

That was my impression of Port Germein and there, lying alongside at the end of the jetty – my ship!

She looked very smart as we approached her; newly painted black with white waterline, great masts and yards and a maze of rigging – halyards, sheets, tacks, traces, bunt-lines and countless others.

Step by step we reduced that two mile to one , those masts growing higher at each step until finally we were alongside – I still “admiring” the masts.

A few of the crew were swimming from the half deck – others lounging about smoking and others “wandering” apparently aimlessly about. We are introduced to another apprentice – Ian McRae and shown over the ship. “Mac” has served nearly two years in these ships I learn over dinner and this is to be his last voyage in sail, from which he goes to steamers and a career at sea.

His home is in Melbourne, Victoria. Quiet modest, efficient he was to prove to be a great shipmate and we became very close friends during the voyage “hitting it off” from the beginning.

Had final farewell during the afternoon which left me feeling pretty blue but (doubtless knowing this) the crew came down to the apprentice fo’castle during the evening and soon we were all – er “singing” hard. Selected an upper bunk with a porthole - “Mac’s advice” - and slept soundly my first night in the fo’castle of a wind-jammer. The apprentice fo’castle – or rather deck house – is aft of the amidships – having six bunks, four of which are used – others for storing sea chests etc.

Thus we are separated from the crew who bunk forward in a large deck house.

Monday 27^th March:

“Rise oop – Rise and shine there”, I woke to find myself being shaken vigorously by the watchmen.

I watched “Mac” get a similar dose, but with a curse he crawled back under his blankets. I look at the watchman but he knew his stuff, did this chap.

Taking a firm grip of the bedding he pulled it off suddenly – dashed outside on deck and laid the bedding on the hatch. “Mac” rose up!

We were awakened every morning in Port at 6.30 am – had a drink of a potent black liquid misnamed coffee and at 7am turned to. I spent the day greasing wire rope in the rigging. 8 am till 8.30 am is breakfast and 12.30 to 1.30 pm - dinner.

I had heard many tales of shocking food and was agreeably surprised at what we received – but “Mac” warned me “Wait till we get to sea”.

I spent the evening cultivating the friendship of the crew. They seemed a very decent type generally: one Irish chap “Phillips”, an Englishman named Peter Ayliffe and two Pauls – the rest Swedes and Finns – 18 in all.

Tuesday 28^th March:

brought three more South Australians aboard – Bob Coventry, Keith Rutherford – apprentices - and Norman Hanlon who signed on as ordinary seaman. Hanlon has done some 3 voyages in sail already on Moshulu, Herzogin Cecile and Passat besides numerous short trips around Finland on other vessels. We heard many fascinating tales of the seas from “Mac” and Hanlon during the nights and many theories are put forward as explanations of the disappearance of some of the old wind ships.

“Mac” who served on “L’Avenier” (the ill fated Admiral Karpfanger which was lost last year with some 50 odd hands) was very interesting.

Wednesday 29^th March:

Bob Coventry and I were told to heave and carry coal – the dirtiest and most detested job on the ship.

The coal bunker is down the Fore Peak from where buckets are pulled up and thence dragged along deck to the donkey room.

We were soon black with coat dust and aching in every muscle – the “wharfies” sniggered and the crew grinned at our misfortunate. Fortunately, we both got the giggles – we were worse than a couple of schoolgirls. Up and down the deck we went, shrieking with laughter and joking the whole time. One by one the crew came up, eying us anxiously and looking puzzled. Bob’s trousers kept dropping down and on every occasion a roar of laughter would come from the wharf. This put us in good humour and we survived the day - just.

Thurs 30^th March:

The fifth & last pig came aboard today & as the loading of wheat seems nearly completed so we should be ready for sea shortly.

Friday 31^st March (From original diary):

Slush of yesterday does not taste so good today – ate only spuds. Boiled potato appears to be the main diet.

One passenger arrived – a medical student and seems a very decent chap – but with the traditional English reserve.

Working aloft all day and liked it. Recalling these very dubious and mixed feelings when I first studied our 160 ft masts and feeling thankful that heights have no bad affect. I was caught by the Steward throwing stale bread overboard during afternoon and as we are expected to eat all bread, stale or not, before obtaining more, he was I suppose righteously indignant.

“What do you?”

“Throwing old bread overboard”

“What hell, I tink you crazy – not do, not do” he exclaimed excitedly.

“OK Pal – I’ll wait till its dark next time” I told him. He looked a little suspicious and wandered off cursing beautifully.

Port Germein to Cape Horn

Saturday 1^st April:

Worked around deck greasing wire rope and polishing brass until 3.30 from which time we are free. Our tug the “Uraidla”’ arrived at 5 pm and we make ready to go out to “the Roads” – some eleven miles off. A little crowd gather at the end of the jetty, we cast off – give a cheer – the crowd respond and out we go – the tug puffing and wheezing and making a hard slow tow. We scrape the bottom on a bank as we proceed and wait anxiously to see if we can get off – which we do without much delay. We have to set staysails and spanker to assist the tug, which Hanlon says “could not pull the hairs out of my chest”.

Sunday 2^nd April:

Sunday being a free day I fixed up necessary bunk attachments – lamps etc. All hands turned out to haul the motor boat aboard – it astounded me how long it took to do this. “Mac” enlightened me later.

It’s just the crews’ way of letting the officers know that they do not like to work in free time he explained. The breeze is set making it impossible for us to get out of the Gulf – we are forced to wait for a favourable wind. Climbed to the very top of the rigging during the afternoon for the 1^st time. The ship’s deck seems a terrible distance away when you are up on the “Royals” but no qualms.

Monday 3 April – 3.15 am:

Pitch dark, warm mellow land breeze. Three whistles, “All Hands on deck”.

We turned out and start turning halyard winches hoisting the sails – I slowly reckon out the wind to be coming from the North. What’s this? Breeze dropped away. We can go below? Goddamn – what the hell is this anyway!! Hauled out at 3 am and back at 4 am. The crew curse savagely.

4.15 am. Three blasted whistles and does “Mac” curse. “Can’t that b——— mate make up his mind”, but again and we set all sail with exception of gaff topsail and mizzen Royal. Cocoa and cigarettes are brought to us at regular intervals. I have time for a moments study of the scene – orders being shouted – unintelligible to me – men dashing in all directions – the great billowing sails drawing the ship silently thro the water and the moon – a rich orange setting in the West.

What a scene

And so we start.

Free from 8 am to 1 pm – when I start my 1^st week as “Backstairs” – or “Percy” – ie dish-washer, lavatory cleaner etc. I am given two dirty brown cloths, thick with grease, a kerosene tin and told to wash up.

I wondered where they keep the soap – ah here’s Ayliffe.

“Ah Peter, where’s the wash up soap?”

“What wash up soap?”

“Y’know the wash up soap” indicating the dish and cloths.

“What wash up soap”

“The b— wash up soap blast you” I screamed.

“Well! For Gawd’s sake – you can’t use soap like that man”. “Ekonomise Fi Fahn Ekonomise”

Had 2^nd wheel during afternoon watch and so I learned the terms applying to the compass known as “Boxing the Compass” – took 10 minutes to grasp.

On Tuesday 4 April:

I had 1^st wheel turn, 2^nd Police and 3^rd Lookout. The hour at wheel was quite pleasant – she steers nicely when no sea is running. Police hour I spent on our fo’castle writing diary and 5 minutes before hour is up, went to rise up the next man to the wheel who invariably is asleep and finally to Lookout for 1 hour. Much depends on the Policeman – actually when a watch is on duty they should stay aft on deck, but as this exposes them to wind and wave, they are allowed the privilege of remaining in the fo’castle unless called out by two whistles. Once in the fo’castle, however, they climb into their bunks and sleep soundly – and the responsibility of waking them in the event of being called out by two whistles is left to the Policeman. This arrangement was very satisfactory, enabling the chaps to get many extra hours sleep and only fell thro’ when the Policeman himself fell asleep. This was a terrible offence in the eyes of the crew, as when this happens, the mate often makes the whole watch stay on deck for the remainder of the voyage. All this, of course, is only at night –during the day the whole watch is busy working on deck or aloft.

At night, all hands muster aft at 7pm, midnight and 4am – when the watches change. Of our fo’castle “Mac” and I were in the starboard watch and Bob Coventry and Rutherford were on the Port watch.

At the change of watch tonight 4 am, when Phillips (Police) hauled out Coventry, Bob cursed him like a real seaman and five minutes later remembered nothing of it.

Still sailing down the Gulf –Spencer’s and this morning was taught how to overhaul buntlines. On reaching deck I saw “Mac” grinning.

“Do you know how to overhaul buntlines now do you?” he inquired. I nodded. “They’ll be the curse of your life from now on” he informed me and departed chuckling.

Wednesday 5 April:

brought a freshening N.W. wind necessitating bracing twice at 2am and 3 am in the morning. Daylight reveals Kangaroo Island away to Port some 7-miles away and we make good headway going almost due South 7-knots.

We sighted a steamer coming up aft, which is an excuse for all Hands to stop work and watch. She passed us 200 yards distant and inquires “Whither bound”

We run up our signals “Falmouth for orders”. We could see many cameras amongst her crew, our ship under all sail must have been a pretty sight. Wedge, Neptune and Thistle Islands we pass in that order leaving them to starboard. Coventry was sea-sick last night at wheel and during today on three more occasions – he’s not feeling too happy.

Timpa – ship’s carpenter - is going around muttering to himself. I used his bucket for washing dishes and its covered with slime and grease. We use salt water for washing dishes now – conserving all fresh water for drinking and washing.

Thursday 6 April 39:

Feeling terrible myself now – the ship is rolling slowly in the swell and its having a disastrous effect on my stomach. I was feeling splendid until I went to clean and wash up in the “big” fo’castle. (We know the crews quarters as the “big fo’castle”). The stale tobacco, food refuse – on table and floor, thick smoke haze, spit and every other form of filth imaginable – coupled with the odours peculiar to any quarters where men eat and sleep and dress – Lord what a stench and I beat a hasty retreat to the scuppers, where I am nearly sick – but not quite. God I feel ghastly. But there is no relaxation from duties.

2^nd mate, evidently wanting a little amusement, sent me to overhaul the buntlines on the Royal.

I was furious; he could see how I was feeling – everyone told me to lay up until I was better, but I stubbornly refused to do so. Just ridiculous pride and so up I went – too far gone to care whether I was 16 ft or 160 ft above the deck – made fast and came down. The rolling of the ship sends the mast tops thro’ an arc of some 50 – 80 ft every few seconds and this movement finished me.

I just managed to reach deck and was violently sick.

“Who will sell their farm and come to sea?” Watch on deck was a bit hazy during the night but apparently I got thro’ it ok.

Friday 7 April – “Good Friday” – “Aw Yeah!”:

Cook turns on special breakfast – eggs and bacon – I see it from bunk and heave again.

Today is holiday, except for us mug apprentices. I pump and carry water for all purposes until I nearly drop – I can only just lift a bucket of water. At each bucket I think “Well! This is the last one – I simply can’t carry any more – surely they can see I can’t – I won’t anyway”.

The mate appears – you carry water. It is now 48 hrs since a thing passed my lips – on the way in – I mean. Coventry, who was considerably worse than I has laid up for two nights and is beginning now to take notice again. The crew all offer advice – all different – but to eat plenty seems the main idea. Huh! They almost make me laugh! However tonight I try a little bread soaked in hot water and marmite and manage to hold it down. Very much better immediately and having this regularly.

No smoking for last 2 ½ days – saving one way anyhow!

Hauled out 3 am to brace – at the slightest change of wind this is necessary – but it seems a hell of a waste of sleep. Raining tonight but feel better on

Saturday 8/4/39

Spent morning washing white paint on the fo’castle with strong caustic soda. My hands already blistered and raw, suffered greatly but nothing seems to matter. Coventry had a relapse and is ill again. The Cook is helping me wash up, something which no-one else has ever offered to do and I am accordingly grateful and will reward him suitably when an opportunity comes. We are running down the Easting – that is going South to reduce the distance we have to go East. (Yes – that’s right!) The wind is very light from abeam and we roll heavily in the swell making barely 2 knots. Sea birds are plentiful and I see my first albatross – later a number of them. The skipper is shooting at everything he sees, but so far has failed to score a bull. Opened private supplies and had preserved peaches for tea – first solid food for 60 hrs. Am very weak.

The fo’castle next door, which accommodates the Donkeyman, Bosun and Sailmaker, has a gramophone and we listen toKarlek’s Barometer[Love’s Barometer), Fireman’s Waltz (also Swedish song) and Gracie Field’s singing “He’s dead but he won’t lie down”, besides many others. Quite an interesting story in the song “Fireman’s Walz”.

It tells of a young man going to sea and who goes to chip rust in the Donkey Boilers. The fireman comes along to use the boiler, closes it up and begins to stoke up the furnace. The young seaman is trapped inside and it unable to make himself heard thro’ the double plates of the boiler. However, there is a Scottish engineer, whose chipping hammer the young seaman had borrowed and he misses the hammer. Of course he searches and the young seaman is rescued in the nick of time. This song appeals to the Finns greatly. We are getting further South fairly rapidly now and the weather is becoming much cooler. I am feeling much improved and stay tonight on lookout to the accompaniment of five grunting Pigs. No longer “Backsturn” my washing up duties are over for 2 weeks.

What Ho!

The crowd in next fo’castle with a few additions, “Mac” amongst them, are celebrating Easter on Rum & Gin. I noticed they are did not ask for any tea. As the night progressed they got really drunk and when “called oop” at midnight, “Mac” pushed Steffan all around the fo’castle and then went to sleep on our 4′ x 3′ table. Freddie Johansson went looking for new places to be sick and Hanlon passed out. Somewhat as expected ,4am muster on

Sunday 9 April:

Was ten minutes late and Coventry came down from the wheel and inquired ominously of our fo’castle who was late, as Rutherford was usually the guilty part – but this time had a good alibi.

Hanlon arrived at muster with the remark “Well – I’m walking by myself by Crooks” and staggered away again.

He is irrepressible, a gem and a tonic when things are not too bright. He has a host of experiences which he relates to us frequently, causing much amusement. We were discussing the frequent differences between the chaps on board and temper generally and his advice was to go and give the pigs a beating with a broom.

“I always do” he said “it helps no end – you try it; don’t let the mate see you of course”.

I am completely recovered from sea sickness and feeling great.

Cool sunny weather but almost no breeze. The Captain issued rum to celebrate Easter and each man received a terrific piece of cake – an unexpected luxury. Later in the day some of us amused ourselves doing gymnastics on the life line and I had time to study the bodies of the Finns. They all have beautifully developed torsos and shapely arms but their legs spoil them. Thick and without shape, they are obviously badly developed which leads me to believe that life on board ships does not exercise the legs sufficiently or correctly.

Easter Monday 10/4/39:

Becalmed during the morning, but a gentle N.W. breeze sprang up later in the day.

When Coventry was at wheel, we wandered right off the course, and the 1^st mate roared out that if the ship got any further off the course the jib boom would hit him in the back of the neck. Rutherford also object of the mate’s wrath when he wandered from the course. The first mate is quite a wit. Ayliffe, who was suffering from badly blistered hands, asked his advice on treatment for them.

“Sir what do you think is best for my Hands?”

“H’m! Well you can – yes – you shall go and put them in warm water”

“Thank you Sir” replied Ayliffe and made to go.

“Er Iliffe” (never Ayliffe) “I theenk you shall overhaul mizzen Royal buntlines”

“Royal Buntlines?” Oh Hell – er yes sir!

Overhauling Royal buntlines necessitates going the last 12 ft of the distance to the Royal yard hand over hand (with no foothold) over a rusty chain.

Tuesday 11/4/39:

Back to work. Last two nights I have been free from wheel etc, have only been called out twice to brace during watch on deck. God! How I hate the sound of those two whistles calling us out at night. Brisk N.W. wind blowing – steadily freshening and we drive along amid clouds of spray at 10 knots; carrying every stick of sail. The sky is clear, the sun out, really delightful weather.

Before dawn this morning I was aloft on buntlines on T’Gallants and Topsails. Making chafing gear all day – this we continue to make right until Cape Horn – the whole watch at it. We work under the shelter of the fo’castle head. It is practically the only work that can be done on deck – once we reach 50° South working on deck is almost impossible – the seas sweep the decks and ships rolls in such a fashion to make ordinary work about deck dangerous and impracticable.

Wednesday 12/4/39.:

Sky overcast but wind still fresh from N.W., our course being E by S approx.

I hear many tales of the ship which is reputed to be haunted.

When she was a British owned ship fifteen men were swept to their deaths from the fo’castle head by a terrific sea. Among Erickson’s men she is known as a death ship as more lives have been lost from her than any other sailing vessel in service today.

Many years ago a nigger member of the crew knifed a white man and that night he was lynched on the fore-yard buntlines. The crew were arrested on reaching Port and duly imprisoned but the native’s ghost still walks the fo’castle head. (I’m told). This tale was told to a superstitious Irish lad who jumped ship (deserted) in Port Germein during the journey to Australia and apparently he was a little worried when he went to relieve Lookout. By a co-incidence the lookout who he was to relieve had fallen asleep under the staysail and he found no-one at the Post.

This worried him a little more and after ten minutes along in the inky blackness of the fo’castle head he was feeling horribly jittery.

Then the sleeping Lookout awoke and stood up dressed in big black great coast and seaboots.

The nervous boy emitted a shriek and dashed aft screaming out in terror.

It was some time before he was induced to return to his post for’ard. Made splendid progress today and now we are almost due South of Tasmania.

Thursday 13/4/39.:

Wind strengthening but we are still under all canvas. Roof of our quarters leaking badly now but “it is neffer mind”.

Drizzling rain – visibility 150 yds – a heavy fog. I was first to use the foghorn which is antiquated box like contraption and I should think wholly inadequate for the purpose intended. Keeping dinner bully beef for now as it is rumoured we are to get Ling fish, which is about worst food on board. Have not had a square meal for days. Cannot reconcile myself to the stinking food – salt beef, salt port; and am very tired of potato diet.

Existing on bread and margarine with raisins, nuts and honey on it but these supplies won’t last long.

Everything – clothes and bunks damp.

Afternoon watch and 1^st wheel – 24 knots in 2 hrs. ½ a gale blowing with rain and sleet. Seas much bigger and rising rapidly and solid water tumbling over deck. Fore Royal started to blow out – Steffan and I told to make fast.

With the ship heeling right over, climbing the ratlines much easier, wind almost holds you flat against the ropes. Half way up when ominous cracking and shaking above; we glance up and see the Royal splitting to blazes. Up and up – now faster under the mates shrieked order “save the bloody sail there!” We make fast what is left of the sail and then I noticed the mizzen Royal coming in also to balance the sail spread. I shout to Steffan and point aft. He looks and yells “Hoory like Heel Mister!”

We redouble our efforts and then Steffan whipped off his beret, wrapped it around the back stay and with a grinning challenge slid 160 ft to the deck. I followed suit but a little more sedately.

We bend on new Fore Royal – I was left to overhaul buntlines when the yard was hauled up.

It was a nasty experience with the Royal cracking and jumping around like a young colt. The T’Gallant mast was behind and shaking and the Royal Yard jumping in all directions so that many times my feet were thrown off the foot rope and I was suspended 160 ft up by one arm. When clad in seaboots and full oilskins one weighs damn heavy too!

Suddenly this evening the wind dropped off as quickly as it came and fog crept over the sea once more.

All sail set again.

Poor old Freddie (Johansson) has a spot of bad luck with the cat which is not yet accustomed to the ship. Hearing it “mee-owing” about the decks last night, he brought it in and put it in his bunk today, but the ungrateful beast repaid his kindness by doing what cats will do and so Freddie spent his Free-watch washing his blankets.

“By Crooks – if I catch dat Goddamn cat”! he moaned.

Friday 14/4/39:

Wind still light and fog during the morning.

Wind freshening – Tonight as hard as ever and fog cleared off.

11pm - Two whistles? Yes. “Those damned Royals again” cursed Mac. He’s right. “Horwood – Steffan - take in der bloody Mizzen Royal”.

By God I cursed. “What the Hell is this anyway? Does he think we are a bloody two man chain gang?”

“Fi – Fahr” muttered Steffan.

But it’s “up and make fast”.

In the inky blackness the ratlines to which we cling are not even visible & you feel your way up comparatively slowly I could not see Steffan but could hear his curses .

We reach the bucking yard and lay out along it, one each side.

Knowing Steffan to be a fast worker I went at the sail madly and lost a couple of finger nails for my trouble. Twice I was thrown off the footrope but clawed back frantically on to the jackstay and yard.

When a man is aloft and unable to make an impressions on the sail, despite all his efforts, a strength beyond that of his normal self seems to come to him. He becomes almost super human.

So it was with me on this occasion for I made record time.

I discussed this with Hanlon some time later and he said the best thing is “to do what the Finns do - ‘do your block’ and go at it crazily – you do things which later you realize were madness – but 99 out of 100 times you get away with it.”

This just about sums it up!

When the sail was fast, I found my eyes had become accustomed more or less to the darkness. I stepped aloft for a moment to study the scene below.

For’ward the ship is churning great masses of spray and water and throwing it far into the air and away to the side – the fo’castle head is rarely visible – being covered by the seas & plunging jibboom

The outline of the ship can be seen by the phosphorous on the foam along the bulwarks and very faintly the fo’castle lights glimmer thro’ the Portholes on the reflecting wet decks.

And aloft the sails and rigging straining and groaning and two puny figures vaguely visible on the main Royal yard fighting to make fast the sail. It was a magnificently exhilarating scene.

Saturday 15 April.:

“Rise oop – Rise oop”.

5.30 am. A drink of potent black coffee.

6 am. “Two Whistles” - turn out on deck for morning duties.

I notice the wind had dropped away considerably and fore Mizzen Royals set once more. (Main Royal blown out apparently).

It is quite dark. “Horwood?” The 2^nd mate looks for me. “Yessir” (what is it this time?).

“You shall go oop overhaul Fore & Mizzen buntlines and clean oop der Godddamn gaskets”

“O.K. sir”.

I waste ten minutes obtaining stopping twine and my knife (This was always worth at least 10 minutes) and start climbing.

It’s freezing cold – everything is wet and my hands and arms soon are numb. I heat my hands against the rigging and blow on them and climb the last 12 feet to the Royal hand over hand on chain. I took two hours for this job and by working hard at unnecessary things managed to get comparatively warm.

8 am and 8 bells – watch below.

Rutherford was the object of the 1^st mate’s wrath last night. He was asleep in his bunk during watch on deck and when the Policeman called him out at 2 whistles turned over and went to sleep again.

Down came the mate and dragged him out and proceeded to knock him from one end of the ship to the other. However the incident closed without any really bad feeling – it was generally accepted - Rutherford himself acknowledged that he had asked for it and got it! I am feeling pretty tired and knocked up after the work of the last 48 hrs and all done on an empty stomach. The wheel turn was terribly hard, the wind aft and seas sending her all off the course.

Hanlon came down to our fo’castle tonight looking for reading matter. After making a few caustic remarks about our “Wests” and other cowboy novels, magazines to told us some of his experiences on “Moshulu”.

“I was the only English speaking chap on board” he told us “but finally found a “Womens Mirror””. “It was the only English book on board and I read every word of it, advertisements to “pearl one – plain two” or something”. “These cowboy yarns are all the same” he complained. “A stranger comes to town with a cloud over his name, out shoots all the local gun men, makes good and marries the sheriff’s daughter, Ah they give me a pain in the neck.”

And further –

“Yeah, Moshulu was the ship – we had a mate there we used to call ‘Rosie’, one of these pansy little guys y’know, when we used to brace he would stand by the ratlines watching to see when a wave came over the side.” “When a wave did come over he’d shim up the rigging while we got thoroughly soaked and then, when the water have subsided, come down and inquires ‘Vy you run eh, Vy you run?’ ”

“He used to blush easily too,” continued Hanlon, “hence his name Rosie.”

“Whenever we wanted a laugh I would go and get my camera and ask him to pose for a photograph. He used to love it.”

“He’d stand there trying to look unconcerned. I’d say ‘Just a little this way, no not so far, that’s better,’ hold it and click and a beautiful blush.” “How I wonder what he would have said had he known that there was never a film in the camera!”

We have now got hardened to Cape weather and there is little we can do but steer the ship and stand and work during our watch on deck. Most of our clothes are wet thro’ and the only change is from wet to more wet. It is in vain that we try to read or work in the fo’castle; we are far too tired and uncomfortable and cold. We come in from watch, climb into bunks and sleep until the watch is called out again. A sailor can sleep anywhere – no sound of wind, water, sail, wood or iron can keep him awake, and although never did we gain more than 2 hours sleep during a watch below, it was a heavy and fairly refreshing sleep. It simply had to be!

Sunday 16 April.:

Rain and drizzle all day and very heavy fog. Very cold. Food tonight edible – fried bully beef and potatoes best we get. Wind veered to South but very light. Big swell.

Monday 17 April.:

Breeze freshening a little, now due South and much colder. The Yards braced up and we stand fairly close to the wind – are now almost due South of N. Zealand but too far away to sight land. Rained all day.

Tuesday 18 April:

During the morning the wind swung to S.E. and is blowing very hard and hellish cold. We are now close-hauled going ten knots. I tried for a cup of coffee during morning watch on deck but caught by 2^nd mate who inquired “Wat hell – you think this is der bloody coffee time?” I tried being polite and explained that I was very cold but beyond advising me to climb up to the Royals to get warm he relented not at all.

So I did not get me coffee..!

Spent day chipping rust for’ard – quite a tolerable job.

I am the only apprentice allowed to take the helm now. Rutherford, Coventry have been taken off wheel turn, being unable to keep the ship on the course. They have to stand two hours at Lookout instead of trick at wheel of 1 hr and 1 hr at Lookout. Tonight whilst we are watch below the wind has increased to ½ gale force and at the last of Port watch do some work. They take in all Royals and T’gallants and Gaff topsail. The wind no longer howls in the rigging – it roars, a dull monotonous note that sounds deadly. Freezing cold.

Wednesday 18 April:

Terrific seas – the waves are crashing over the ship and the “Old Man” was drenched on the Poopdeck. It’s a real gale and we take in staysails. When helping Ayliffe with Fore T’Gallant Staysail my hands turned quite blue and I suffered acutely from “hot burn”. “All Hands” called out and we wear ship at midday – it is blowing too hard to tack ship. Wind swinging ahead but still blowing like hell. Wheel very hard to manage. Crew sleeping every minute of free time as the work during watch on deck is exhausting. Nobody washing. Coventry complaining about the conditions and moaning generally. Rained and hailed all day.

Sure enough the swinging of the wind drops out tonight and we wear ship once more – now going about S.E.
“Mac’s” birthday today and we celebrate on a bottle of whisky and we all have a nip and although “Mac” has some rum, no one touches it after the dire consequences of the last orgy.

Thursday 19 April:

Gale blown itself out and again we set all “Rags”. Very nearly on 180° Longitude . Being International time we were wondering if we shall get two Sundays – something unknown on Sailing ships – Sunday being a free day. When we cross the line the clock goes back 24 hours.

During our watch below we lie in our bunks and listen to the wheezy old gramophone. Gracie Fields does a fair job in “He’s dead but he won’t line down”, but the effect is rather spoilt by the fact that owing to a crack or blemish in the record one line is often repeated 10 – 20 times. The Captain shot an albatross this morning and within ½ an hour we are completely becalmed. Now laugh at the superstitious sailor! The Steward has been the object of the crew’s sporty inclinations during the last few days.

Great fat bloated piece of humanity thought he is, he always manages to escape getting wet when “en route” to the galley or returning.

They have strung a rope across the deck to trip him up. But 14 years a Steward has developed an uncanny cleverness in this chappie and so far the rope has been quite ineffective – beyond tripping a few of the forgetful members of the crew.

The Steward is always able to produce some unsuspected agility and never fails to negotiate the trap successfully.

Friday 20^th April:

Red letter day! We have smoked herring for breakfast, Pancakes for dinner and fried Potatoes, and Onions for tea. During the day a breeze arrived from the quarter and we square up doing a steady 6 knots. Tonight when we were all yarning in the fo’castle I told the story of the two drunken skippers, who meeting the local inn discussed uncharted Islands. One, in a moment of alcoholic enthusiasm marked up a mythical Island in the Pacific on his colleagues chart. Some years later the other skipper was in the vicinity of this “Island” marked on his chart and although dubious as to its reality, he altered course just in case. He was just in time to effect a rescue of some score of lives from a sinking vessel. This story opened “Mac” up and he related to the gathering some very fascinating stories of the sea.

Saturday 21 April:

Crossed 180° Longitude 11 am this morning. Captain issued rum to all Hands. By bribing the Cook with 6 Capstan cigarettes – to him a luxury – I gained access to the galley and cooked a good meal of Potatoes and onions. The wind abeam and we log 8 knots but after the calms we have had,it begins to look like a long slow passage to Cape Horn.

When returning from Lookout last night an amusing incident occurred. Immediately you are relieved at Lookout, it is your duty to report to the mate aft advising that the lamps are burning and the horizon is clear. This you did by shouting up to the Poopdeck “All’s well!” The mate would then reply “Allright” and that finished your lookout duties.

Last night I was gingerly making my way aft to report “All’s well” when I tripped and fell over the cross jack sheet. I cursed loudly and soundly; then ,in the silence as I regained my feet the mate’s voice came out of the blackness “Allright!”.

Saturday again;

Seas rising from the quarter, breeze is aft and we do steady 7-8 knots but with the ship rolling heavily a lot of water is coming over. Still as cold as ever and have not seen the sun for days except perhaps for two or three minutes.

Sunday 23/4/39:

Supposedly a free day but we are hauled out at 8 bells (noon) to tighten up everything. It strikes me the Starboard watch sail this ship. We spend most of the day yarning on the fo’castle ……………………….

Hanlon told us of the occasion when he saw St Elm’s Fire. It was when he was on “Herzogin Cecelie” in 1935 in the tropics. He was at Lookout for’ard when suddenly saw 3 balls of fire glowing red at the peak of the Foremast and at each end of the Royal Yard.

The big seas which are running give evidence of much wind in fairly close proximity but our wind is only light Westerly. Celebrated “Mac’s” birthday of a few days ago tonight. Menu was –

Soup: vegetable and tomato (all in together)

Baked beans on toast and fried bully beef

Sweets: Plum pudding and cream, black chocolate , dried fruit and nuts and ginger.

Finale: Tailor made cigarettes

Boy! What a feast! Afterwards we leaned back with ponderous satisfaction and discussed what Theatre we would attend. What we do to amuse ourselves!

Monday 24 April:

The clouds drift away slowly and we have 6 hours sunshine. The crew wash clothes during free watch. At midday today the entire personnel of the “big” fo’castle went off and demanded more food and better food from the steward. The Stewart prevaricated but finally allowed them about a half of their demands. I have been carefully cultivating the friendship of the Cook and have been getting plenty of the better food: a few cigarettes judiciously handled brings amazing results.

Flat calm tonight but the waves coming from aft, enable us to keep steerage way.

Tuesday 25 April:

Breeze sprang up about Midday and we lower the courses which had been clewed up to avoid wear.

Wednesday 26 April:

Practically no progress during the past 48 hours but we manage 3-4 knots this afternoon amid steady rain.

The Cook having burnt his hands, I am instructed to wash his dishes for him, and thus avoid heaving and carrying coal except for 1 hr at the close of the day. Everyone dreaming at night when sleeping. “Mac” and Coventry in particular. Considering the food this is not surprising.

Thursday 27 April:

With so much calm the voyage is beginning to look like a long one.

Our allowance of sugar was stolen this morning by someone from the big fo’castle but after a devil of a fuss we got more from the Steward.

Have noticed how anti British the Finns are lately – they go out of their way to decry anything British and of course everything Finnish is best. All this has been the subject of many passionate arguments between the crew for’ard and the Britishers aft and has led to bit of bad feeling amongst a few of the Finns. Hanlon who is quartered with them and can speak their language gives them a lot of abuse and apparently gets away with it.

Friday 28/4/39:

Good breeze and intermittent rain squalls. Heaving coal for 3/4 hr tonight but only managed 4 buckets. As Paul said “Plenty time till Christmas Mister Yack!”

Hanlon came down for a yarn tonight and became involved in a furious argument. I have noticed of late a tendency for everyone to snap at one another for the most trivial little cause – we are all jittery and bad tempered and tonight’s argument is as good an example as any.

Coventry suggested – as only Coventry can suggest – that the Oldsmobile car was the best and prettiest in S.A. specifying a certain model.

Hanlon, whose family runs a similar model, came back at him, asserted that Oldsmobile cars were no good, never were any good and probably never would be any good and that Coventry’s car in particular was work out and ugly.

And so they raged on, the rest of us laughing, but it almost came to blows.

Saturday 29/4/39:

Breeze moderate light - steady 6 knots. Occasional drizzle. Cook very drunk tonight and I have to wash his dishes.

I reflected “It’s no good washing his dishes unless he appreciates who did them” and so proceeded to rouse him from the floor of the galley. “Cookie Fi Fahn, the ship is sinking – rise up you damm drunken sot” but finally I had to throw water over him.

He cocked a bleary eye at me. “I wash your dishes Cookie eh? I wash your dirty shiny greasy filthy rotten stinking dishes eh!” He finally understood, nodded and subsided to the floor again where I left him.

Weather improved and is now tolerable during the hours of daylight but at night it’s as cold as ever. Had an unpleasant experience with the wheel today and bruised and cut my hands badly.

The swell was swinging or trying to swing the wheel first one way and then the other. I let the wheel come up by letting go to the correct course but it spun back immediately with terrific speed.

I jumped at it and tried to stop it – like a fool – and thus damaged my hands.

The 2^nd mate hearing the thud-thud as the wheel hit my hands dashed up and cursed “don’t let der wheel go”. I was blowing on my frozen hands and muttered “No, by Crooks I won’t!” We are now about ½ way to Cape Horn.

“Mac” has resurrected his “Primus” stove and we have cocoa at change of watch at midnight. There is only one drawback to this arrangement – it smokes out the upper bunks. But it is worth while breathing smoke for ½ an hour to have a cup of hot cocoa and “Mac” says that we’ll be used to the smoke within a week.

Yeah!!!

And as it is Saturday afternoon when we are free after 3.30 until 7 pm we all climb into our bunks and read. Even at midday to read you need a lamp – sun rises at 9 am and sets again at 4 pm. It began to rain steadily at midnight and on …….

Sunday 30/4/39:

We were put to casting rain water at 4 am – the whole watch at it.

Johansson, Haula and the Donkeymann told the 2^nd Mate that they could not work on the food that they were getting and wandered for’ard to the galley for warmth.

Strictly speaking this was mutiny but the mate, who was getting the same tack, with perhaps a few trimmings, sympathized and did not say a word.

This left five of us dragging barrels of water along the deck to the tanks – all in teaming rain and a freezing wind. I know of no worse job than carting water on board the ship. It is a duty hated by the crew and is if anything worse than heaving coal. If you have to work in rain - and heavy rain it always if, you can safely depend on it that before you have finished you are soaked. This is in spite of oilskins and sea boots. This we did until 6.30 am with 1/2 an hour break for the usual coffee time 5.30 to 6 am. Then I was detailed off to clean the pigsty. That was a suitable climax to a foul morning and so I belted hell out of those dammed pigs.

Just before 8 am - 8 bells and our free watch I stole two loaves of fresh bread – an absolute luxury and this put me in slightly better humour.

And to think this is a Sunday – a free day.

Since 2 am this morning a steady wind has been blowing a little West of South and we are making good progress.

At 8 bell – 12.30 pm “Rise oop – Rise oop” and we turn out to see a glorious sight.

Fried bully beef, potatoes and – AND, prunes and custard and with no delay we set to and eat and eat but are unable to make an impression on the vast quantity provided. “Whew” said Mac “I’m going to turn in and sleep this off”. We were all uncomfortably full and I thought incapable of action.

2 Bells – change of watch –our watch on deck but it’s Sunday and a free day. “Three whistles”. We groan and stagger out All Hands.

“Take in T’gallant, Staysails and Royals; it’s beginning to blow very hard from S.W. but the sea has not have time to work up”. We lower away mizzen Royal Yard. “Phillips, Ayliffe, make fast”. I breathe a prayer I won’t be sent up – my dinner is protesting even at this comparatively light work on deck.

Proceed to Main Mast - “Karrianann and Steffan” make fast Main Royal. Up they go to clew up – my hopes are raised, we have only the Fore Royal left now. The Fore Royal Yard comes down. “Horwood, Haula make fast there!” Ten thousand curses!

I jump for the ratlines and just then a big sea comes over. Up I go, thoroughly soaked, feeling like murder and as Haula set a fast pace, I was labouring to keep with him.

We lay out along the yards, make fast very smartly although the sail is very wet. I had time to watch the precision and ease with which Haula worked – he’s an old hand.

When finished, Haula seemed quite excited and pointed aft where the other four were still fighting their sails. “Two, three minutes more quick I think” he shouted and started down again grinning.

On reaching deck I was promptly sent aloft again, this time to lash the main T’Gallant Staysail. This proved much harder than the “Royal” and I was a good 10 minutes struggling with it.

However all this exertion made me quite warm and dinner subsided comfortably.

During the afternoon the wind almost redoubled in strength and the ship is plunging crazily along amid clouds of spray and sleet and leaving a wide white trail of foam in her wake. But this is sailing! Fourteen knots in a sailor with cargo but it’s too good to last. Sure enough the Port watch take in the upper T’Gallants at six bells.

The sea is white, the foam and crests whipped up and carried hundreds of yards in the air. Above the sky is as black as “the Earl of Hells Riding boots”. These are the real West winds at last. Analysing my feelings and general contentedness I believe I’m beginning to enjoy the life. We are all pretty well happy and have become accustomed to ship’s food.

Monday 1 May:

May Day and a holiday. The wind has moderated to a really good sailing breeze but we do a good 11 - 12 knots.

This wind is what we expect and is seasonal for these latitudes 50° South. All Sail (except Fore, Mizzen Royals) sent up again.

We occasionally see the sun thro’ the low scudding clouds and “Old Man” shooting sun to get position. Most ships carry several Chronometers to avoid error in time but I understand we carry but one. This has been put forward as one of the possible reasons for the loss of the “Admiral Karpfanger” last year. The theory expounded was that clouds continually prevented her from gaining a shot of the sun and the Patent log, a fairly undependable device, recording wrongly thus confusing her position, causing her to carry on in the prevailing wind and crash into the rugged rocky coast of South America, where she would quickly go to pieces. “Mac” served on this ship two years ago when she was known as “L’Avenir”.

Tonight Karrianann got horribly drunk and turning quarrelsome tackled Paul in the Galley. Paul held him at arms length and being a big powerful fellow was not unduly worried whilst Karrianann cursed and slobbered in a horrible manner – his bleary baleful eyes spelling murder. Fortunately he lost consciousness soon after so we were troubled no further. It is now colder than we have had it so far and with a freshening wind we tear along at ten knots. The wind has swung a little North of West and great seas are now crashing over the decks every few seconds.

By 10 pm it is once more blowing a gale and once again we are sent up to take in sail Royals Upper T’Gallants and T’Gallant Staysails. On deck it is dangerous – the ship heaves and rolls – tons of water from bulwark to bulwark and if you are caught you stand every chance of going straight over the side. We use the life-line to make our way along the deck. Everyone in full oilskins day and night and it is cold! I am now wearing 6 pairs of trousers, 2 flannel singlets, 2 sweaters, a coat, an oilskin short coat, sea boots and this lot is covered by an oilskin great coast. Then there are woollen mittens, woollen gloves covered with leather gloves, a Balaklava cap, beret and scarf and Sou’ wester. You eat, work and sleep in most of that lot – washing being a thing I can but faintly remember.

Our fo’castle floor and cupboards flooded tonight whilst I was at the wheel. Rain squalls every 15 minutes, mostly a clear starry sky in between. A tremendous circle around the moon for ten minutes tonight. I noticed it whilst refrigerating on Lookout – it extended half way across the Heavens.

Tuesday 2^nd May:

Still blowing very hard, but as the Captain evidently does not anticipate the wind strengthening further we set the upper T’Gallants once more. The Cook gave to our fo’castle a tin of kippers this morning – what with bribes and friendly overtures, we have become his favourites. “Who says it does not pay to crawl?” During afternoon watch we set the spanker and then returned to make chafing gear.

Two whistles? Yes, By Crooks! And I notice a complete blackout to weather – a terrific squall. On way to poop deck and I grab an oilskin coat – already clad in other oilskins.

We had just begun to brace when the squall hit us.

Snow, rain and hail came thick and the wind was almost impossible to stand against.

We completed bracing and by putting heart and soul into the heaving, I managed to keep warm. Tonight we set Main Royal, the ship is being driven hard, and when the Port watch come on duty at Midnight, they were ordered to “Stand By” ready for immediate action.

How they cursed!

It snowed and hailed intermittently during the night.

For the past week, Lookout has been posted day and night – the “Old Man” very worried about ice-bergs – we have heard rumours that they are very close.

Wednesday 3^rd May:

The sun shone thro’ the clouds for a few moments this morning but it rises and sinks right away to Port. All sails set again.

Crew reckoning on 15 - 20 days to the Horn.

I had last wheel during our watch on deck and at 6 bells three whistles were blown and all Hands assembled aft.

We learn that a barrel of Stock fish – one of our most distasteful dishes – has been thrown overboard, and the Skipper inquired unsuccessfully for the culprit.

Personally I was all for it. In fact the “bloke wot did it” deserves the V.C. It means that for a week at least we won’t have Stock fish thrown at us.

At night when the moon it out it is nearly as bright as day.

From Lookout the scene is very beautiful. The ship rises and falls to the swell as she forces her way thro’ the water at a steady 8 knots.

I never tire of gazing up at the sails at night – seems so much more – er more romantic at night with the stars making a softly lighted background for those massive masts and spars and billowing sails. But my freezing feet bring me back to earth. The warmer air inside the sea boots causes moisture to form inside the boots on the rubber and after ten minutes in the icy air, ones socks are saturated and consequently painfully cold.

Outside the temperature is just above freezing point.

Note: Our allowance of 1 tin of condensed milk for 3 weeks has lasted 3 days.

Thursday 4^th May:

Cold clear weather and the sun comes out for a little while. I celebrate by having a bath. Whilst so engaged, the first mate wandering around for’ard poked his nose in the wash room, saw me and nearly had a fit. “You very sick in the head I think” he exclaimed.

“Nay Nay a wash a day keeps the grime away!” I told him. “Ya, Ya, but I do not think you wash every day” – this with a grin.

“Ar – go jump in the lake – anyway how long since you had a bath?”

“I haf bath every day” – another grin.

“Allright Admiral, have it your own way”

“Admiral? Wat hell is Admiral?”

“You know the British Navy? Well the Admiral is the Captain of all the navy.”

“Saaten! Saaten! For Helvita!” and away he went.

A pretty stout chappie, the “First un”

The ship is bowling along splendidly on a good sailing breeze from the S.W. Another fortnight and Cape Horn!

We have all given up hope for a fast passage. We have experienced too many calms in latitudes where good West winds are reputedly consistent and time lost there is time lost irretrievably. However once past Cape Horn, conditions will be much better and the life will be very tolerable. Our progress East has so far been along 50° latitude, and tonight the sun goes down at 4.30 am. We have a chart in the fo’castle and each day plot our position and thus follow the days progress.

Friday 5^th May:

Wind still holding – little North of West now and we are averaging a good 9 knots – 12 knots in the squalls which are frequent.

We are now out of cocoa (private supplies) and are onto tinned coffee (“private supplies”).

Made some coffee bread last night – a rare delicacy. Stale bread with coffee milk spread on it and sugar sprinkled over – ½ hour in the oven and out it comes – hard as wood but different from everything else. Confound the luck! The breeze dropped at Midday and we flounder in the swell with just steerage way.

Another furious argument tonight – happily I was not involved!

Saturday 6^th May 39:

Still becalmed but at midday breeze came out of the S.E. and we now stand close hauled on the Starboard tack. “By the wind”.

The breeze freshens nicely.

Of late I have noted a definite feeling of antipathy to us apprentices from the crew.

In this respect I am very fortunate in that my fellow members of the starboard watch now regard me as an equal.

In the Port watch Coventry and Rutherford has fared far worse. This, to some extend has been brought about by their own indifference and slackness. They refuse flatly to do any duty or work when requested by a senior member of the watch and this attitude has been fatal for them, as now the whole of the Port watch are up against them.

Another reason for this feeling it that neither Coventry or Rutherford take their wheel time – thus reducing the number off the watch to six (who do take wheel). This has the effect of cutting down Free nights from three or four in a week to one and a half, whereas we of the Starboard watch have almost every 2^nd night free from wheel and Lookout.

And, day by day their – the Port Watch’s - resentment rises.

Coventry was involved in another argument during our watch below. Hearing shouts and curses I dashed out and there for’ard saw two men at Lookout – one each side – Mensabe, with his usual vacuous grin and Coventry very red and angry. As Lookout is kept night and day and is quite – or comparatively pleasant duty in daylight as compared with work on deck under the fo’castle head, it is a break quite looked forward to. As Coventry and Rutherford have a two hour period at Lookout during night watches, they maintained that this should apply during hours on deck during the day. Thus they escape duties about deck, whilst the other members of the watch, having no Lookout, have to work the full watch.

Personally I considered Coventry and Rutherford had a good case but “Mac” and other members of both watches condemned their attitude. However Coventry finally won out!

Have been studying the crew of late and learning a little of their characteristics. The type which predominates on board is the “Swedish Finn”. Actually these chaps are of Swedish descent but their part of the country has come under Finnish rule by conquest and so, racially inaccurately, they are called Finns. The true Finn is a Mongol and is very easily distinguished from the decidedly Nordic Swedes etc. He has slant eyes and higher cheek bones and generally speaking is an unpleasant, untrustworthy type. When drunk they are really dangerous and I have been warned to keep clear of them. As Johannsson says “they use der knife – not good – not good”.

Rain sets in at 2 bells and wind strengthens – just our luck to get head wind when about 10 days good sailing distance from the “Horn”.

At night it is decidedly unpleasant when sailing “By the Wind” or whenever the wind is for’ard of abeam. The rain and sleet comes beating in your face which must always be upturned to watch the upper sails and not so slowly and very surely your face and arms lose all feeling and become absolutely numb with cold. When the wind is aft the wheel house protects the helmsman but when close hauled it is fairly “Hells Delight”. The wind is gaining strength every hour – I had wheel from 3 am to 4 am on

Sunday 7^th May., and at 4 am (8 bells) 3 whistles and the Port watch take off the Royals.:

I was relieved at wheel at 10 past 4 am and on reaching fo’castle – our watch below, noticed Coventry and Rutherfords’ oilskins on their chests in the spare bunk. I learned that they had not expected to be called out and, being free from duties, had not bothered to get into oilskins.

The three whistles had taken them unprepared and they were up aloft in the freezing wind and rain in underclothes and jackets. They came below soon after, wet and dripping and cursing volubly. I was washed from the fore braces when on deck during the morning and soaked thoroughly.

The wind has grown to full gale force and seas are crashing over – decks are flooded.

Monday 8 May:

Our first real gale from the West and being favourable the “Old Man” is driving her hard. The rain has cleared off except for intermittent squalls, but the seas have risen and the crests are a quarter of a mile apart – terrific. Tonight we take in T’Gallant staysails off all masts – I was sent to make fast on “Main”. It was cold and wet – raining again – but exhilarating work.

Tuesday 9 May:

Woke to find the Fo’castle flooded and sea boots and clothing swirling around on the floor. The seas crashing over the decks are worse than ever before – there being several feet of water continuously over the deck and higher than mans waist in lee scuppers.

One great wave crashing over tore the water tank away from the fastening at the break of the Poop and smashing it with terrific force against the lee scuppers, completely wrecked it. It is blowing the hardest I have ever known it and the seas have risen to unbelievable size. The rolling and pitching of the ship makes it difficult to sleep as it requires effort to stay in your bunk.

This is the real Cape Horn life. Eat – Work and try to sleep. Conditions are very bad generally – the food is always cold – the cook labours under difficulty when the ship is rolling so. I was very anxious to know what the wheel turn would be like. Two members of the Port Watch needed the assistance of a second person last night but being free I did not know what it would be like. With the ship slithering down the troughs of the seas amid clouds of spray and half submerged – swinging first hard to Port – then to Starboard I figured I’d be coming in for a lot of abuse from the mate.

However one incident occurred which may have saved my skin. Paul had wheel before me – I was at Police when I heard one whistle – the Policeman wanted – that’s me! I snatched oilskin, great coast and sou’wester and dashed to the Poop. There was the 2^nd mate arguing furiously with the Captain. His voice was trembling and shaking with rage. Paul stood at the wheel – fairly fighting it and I soon guessed what had happened. He had either lost control or got off the course badly and the mate had lost his head and gone for him. Paul’s hair was awry – his cap and sou’wester lying on the deck, - collar turn open – he stood there very pale and quiet. He had evidently called for the skipper when the mate had attacked him and now the skipper was abusing the mate, who had completely lost self control and was shouting and cursing freely. My arrival caused a lull in the verbal combat, and the mate motioned me to assist at wheel. I did so, and immediately the Captain had gone below, the mate turned on Paul, and although the lingo was Greek to me, the gist was obvious. In a low tone he cursed and threatened Paul and informed him that he would “fix him”. Paul was pale and excited but nothing he could do would help him and he said nothing.

The mate stood by so that Paul could volunteer no information, even if he wanted to.

I had next wheel, but managed quite OK.

All the English speaking chaps gathered aft in our fo’castle tonight, but no-one had a word to say. “Come on someone – has not anybody a yarn to tell”.

Rutherford grinned and started. “An experience I had in Port Germein” he said, “we were knocking about the town one evening about 7 o’clock – I was with that chap Joe – y’know – the fella who said he was going to stow away on the ship”.

“Well y’know what sort of a bloke Joe was – just a loafer on the dole and I saw a chap – positively repulsive bloke stagger out of the Pub quite drunk; dirty unshaven individual. I said to Joe ‘what a nasty bit of work.’ Joe turned round and looked. ‘Aw yeah – that’s me father.’ ”

“Well he didn’t seem to mind my remark and about 2 minutes later saw a nut – y’know – quite mad – tongue hanging out all that sort of thing and I said to Joe ‘that sort of bloke should be put in the asylum.’ ”

“Aw yeah” said Joe “that’s me brother.” Well I looked everywhere but at Joe and damn it if we didn’t see a girl sitting drunkenly on a doorstep just past the Pub. “Look at that Joe – isn’t that disgusting?”

“Aw yeah –that’s my sister”.

“Well, I suddenly remembered an engagement and with ‘I’ll be seeing you Joe’ I bolted.”

Wednesday 10 / 5:

Yesterday being our best days run for the trip so far we all celebrate by having a wash I began to clean my teeth under the break of the Poop – usually the safest place when a big “Dollop” came over and washed me along the deck. Toothbrush and paste disappeared over the side and I was left sitting on the deck in several feet of icy water – soaked thro’. Ten thousand curses!

When I was at wheel we braced and altered course turning more South for rounding of the Cape. The gale is still increasing – the wind is roaring with a deadly note and the sea is covered with madly flying spume and foam. We take in all Upper T’Gallants and T’Gallant staysails.

The wind is very squally and during one bad puff the record 15 knots. The skipper watches the masts and shrouds anxiously.

We sit around the fo’castle tonight – all hands are ready in full oilskins – it is not safe to try and get into your bunk as, should 3 whistles go, we must be ready. Sure enough – 3 whistles!

A mad scramble out, all hands to take in the mainsail. The seas are breaking completely over the deck houses and poop and galley is swamped and deck is half submerged. And yet, when sweating at the clewlines and turnlines everybody happy and chanting. What a sight!

Twenty shining wet faces around the lines – wet oilskins gleaming in the pale light of the mates torch – water and foam swirling around thigh-deep and spray and water hurling over the bulwarks 30 ft above our heads.

Truly a picture no artist could paint.!

And then “Oop and make fast there.” The Port watch lay out aloft to Port; the Starboard watch to Starboard and in comes one thousand square feet of sail. “Tree Voch” – free watch and we return to shelter of our fo’castle. Wet and dripping – dirty and heavily bearded we grin at one another “Shut the door – shut the ….” Crash! Water pours in above the 2ft break, and we curse, Crash! Another one – the deck house shakes and shudders beneath those tons of water and suddenly thro’ the skylight, which is constructed of steel and wood, and battened down with further lashed canvas cover, comes pouring water – floods the lamp – breaks the glass and we are left staggering in darkness. The door opens suddenly and in comes the 3^rd mate with a torch and bottle of rum. All Hands are served with a tot of rum and as “Tria” is having a glass with each fo’castle, he’s in pretty good spirits. “Dis is not storm – ver calm – perhaps tomorrow wind come” he tells us.

Having been told it was in order for the Free watch to turn in and get some sleep we all did so and at 11.40 pm we are awakened by the Policeman “five minutes – 3 whistles”. We learn that two headsails, Fore and mizzen Lower T’Gallants are to be taken in.

And so we crawl out of our nice warm bunks and climb into those confounded oilskins and seaboots again. The weather is becoming worse every minute. We struggle for’ard listening to the 1^st mates undecipherable curses and orders and start sweating on the buntlines and sheets. One sheet breaks and immediately two buntlines snap, making it impossible to clew up the sail properly – 5 men promptly ordered aloft to take in the sail but too late. The great sail – Fore Lower T’Gallant – threshing and cracking madly lasts about 30 seconds and then is torn to pieces by the wind and disappears to leeward. The men make fast what is left of the sail.

When I had finished aloft taking in sail, I find that I had kept comparatively dry under the oilskins, and went with Johannson and the Donkeyman to coil rope ends on the pins.

We gingerly made our way to the lee scuppers, trying to peer thro’ the darkness to see any big waves coming. We just avoid one, and then dashed to the rail to make a quick job of it.

But the ship rolled quickly and buried her lee rail, and over the rail and us comes tons and tons of water.

I was washed completely over and along the deck together with Johannson, who, however, went feet first. The water was icy and I gasped with it’s sudden chill and saw a ropes end – grabbed frantically – missed – grabbed again and heaved upright – soaked to the skin – the water pouring out of my seaboots. I dimly made out Johannson who could be indentified by one arm protruding thro’ the water and clawing around in circles.

I know now what the knight friend of King Arthur saw when tossing away the sword “Excalibur” but am sure the language which followed was vastly different on that occasion.

Poor old Freddie. I laughed as he camp up – gesticulating furiously (when he was able) and cursing but then he saw me and stopped. Even in the darkness his face brightened visibly and after inquiring and learning that I also was really soaked, he staggered away a much more satisfied man. Sleep quite impossible.

Thursday 11^th May:

Breakfast decorated the floor when the ship rolled and we were caught off balance. The floor is very shiny with food and it is impossible to stand without support. The sensation is something like one’s first try on roller skates – only worse! You fall into black shiny water. The food consequently did not taste so good; likewise the tea which had a most unusual flavour. After we had finished, Rutherford confessed that when he was carrying the tea from the galley, a big wave had come over and he thought that possibly a little had found it’s way into the tea pot which had no lid.

How we abused him!

No work done on deck today - the watch “Stands By” – the crew are exhausted. Two men at wheel continuously now. The wind has died a little as compared with the last 12 hours and at midday we set the mainsail. A keen lookout for ice is being kept – the skipper is very worried. The cook is in a very bad mood – his galley was flooded and it is now filled with drying clothes.

Friday 12^th May:

The wind had died to a slight breeze with an overcast sky.

Inside our fo’castle everything is wet and damp. The painted wood linings of the walls are all sweating and water drips and runs continually from the roof and walls. Our bunks are all wet.

During early watch 4-8 am this morning all sail set again – we spend the morning replacing the blown out T’Gallants etc.

The distance from Cape Horn is only 800 miles, but we are well North of it. The gale of last 3 days has blown us off the course, as we were forced to run before it, and thus are back to latitude 500 South. The crew are cursing the weather, we are all anxious for a good breeze to put us past Cape Horn and up into warmer weather.

Saturday 13^th May:

Wind swing out of the North at 2 am this morning and inclined to go East. The wind coming from the North is a Godsend, as we have 80 South to go and so we set course straight for the Horn. During the latter part of the morning the freshening wind caused the Royals, upper T’Gallants and T’Gallants staysails t come in. We were all surprised at the amount of sail taken in – the wind is not that strong but the “glass” must be low. The ship is fairly well “By the Wind” but as the wind is directly against the swell brought up by the gale just passed, the sea is fairly quiet, but working up rapidly. We kill our first pig today and looking forward to fresh meat tomorrow – tho’ general opinion is that Cook will ruin the good meat.

We have ‘Pig’ blood Pancakes for tea tonight – a delicacy to the Finns but I was unable to eat much of mine. Blood mixed with flour is the recipe, the greater part is the Pigs blood and they taste pretty terrible. They are a dark brown colour after frying. Also had another Finnish dish – rice boiled with chopped up Pigs innards sprinkled about. I ate the rice.

Rutherford found all his clothes wet in his tin waterproof trunk. The moisture in the air condenses on the inside of the trunk in the cold conditions and his clothes are thoroughly soaked. This was a calamity to him. This prompted me to examine all my gear but found everything in good condition.

Lookout tonight was an ordeal. Hail and rain squalls and a strong wind from fo’ward of abeam throwing up drenching spray makes the job a miserable one.

This is real Cape Horn weather. The old dogs grin to themselves but are as miserable as everyone else. Mensabe reported ice tonight but was evidently a false alarm – everybody turned out in case of danger and got nicely wet before the truth was known. Mensabe was suitably dealt with by the crew. In a particularly hard squall the outer Jib and stay were blown away – we are in danger losing our masts with the stay gone and sail is promptly reduced.

Rain becoming heavier and conditions generally lousy.

Sunday 14/5:

Rain sleet and snow and freezing cold – bad weather but we draw on to Cape Horn.

We gather for a short while in the fo’castle and with all pipes going listen to Hanlon and Ayliffe spin yarns. Ayliffe, who spent some years in Trawler North of Iceland, has been thro’ many interesting experiences. The two Danes – Steffan and Bustholm – are sadly equipped for such cold weather as we are experiencing and are always wet thro’. They have one suit of oilskins and sea boots between them. But by God, they can take it! We work most of the day – in spite of Sunday supposedly being a Free day - making repairs to Fore stay etc. Wind has swung due from the East and we have now almost a head wind – the crew are in a savage mood. The shocking condition of the rigging is becoming apparent as we strike the bad weather. Its dangerous aloft – no rope – steel or manilla can be depended on. I had a thrill tonight at 11 pm when taking in T’Gallant (mizzen) staysail 120ft above deck. The gasket broke and I just managed to grab the flapping sail by an edge. I was tossed about but finally managed to make the lee stay and slid down to the half-moon foretop and safety.

We stand close hauled under shortened sail on the Port tack, but with the heavy lead seas we make very slow progress. As one racing wireless announcer has it “… just keep going up and down without getting any place”.

Monday 15 May:

The wind suddenly swung to the South West at 3 am this morning and the Port watch wear ship. It’s a real southerly buster and howling.

During a short lull the Port watch set the Lower T’Gallants and 1/2 an hour later we are forced to take them in again. Was thoroughly soaked during the work aloft but too exhausted to change clothes and turned in and let them dry on me. Anyway it’s a waste of time changing. The change of wind has allowed us to lay the correct course once more and again we plough thro’ the mountainous seas to Cape Horn.

What a life!

Steffan’s hands have packed up so I take his wheel for him. Tonight the wind goes due South and develops into full gale and spent another exhausting 2 hours aloft taking in sail.

Tuesday 16 May:

The wind is impossible to sail against and is worse than any previous storm. At Midday – change of watch – all Hands called out to take in Upper Topsails. This is the first time sail has been reduced to Lower Topsails. We go up up in screaming squall, accompanied by hail sleet and snow. Fore upper Topsail blown to shreds and does the sailmaker curse. And so we “sail” on under almost bare poles – going due East 180 miles from Coast of South America. The old ship is trembling and shaking when the seas tumble and crash over her from stem to stern and the rigging is straining and groaning above the roar of the wind. Impossible to keep food on the table so we eat out of our hands. The crew are praying for a North West wind. Everyone sleeping whole of Free watch as best they are able.

Wednesday 17 May:

Wind dropped to almost flat calm – ominous.

We spend day bending on new sails and repairing damage done by the gale. Washing a thing of the past – the crew are bleary eyed, dirty and bearded. The strain of the last 10 days is showing itself on their faces. Its every man for himself now. We are close hauled on the Starboard tack. Sailing close hauled is very difficult to gauge, and in any case it veers 2 points with monotonous regularity. My small boat training is proving invaluable. Tonight we gather in fo’castle with Coventry playing old songs on the mouthorgan. He starts to play “Home Sweet Home” but is promptly stopped – it played hell with us all. The less one dreams on these dammed Hookers, the better!

Thursday 18 May:

Still messing about and getting no place. We wear ship twice during the morning – breeze swinging all the time but still ahead. We are within 80 miles of the South West Coast of S’ America – dangerously close, for in the event of a S.W. gale we would be caught on a lee shore and the ship is hardly capable of getting out of any such position. The rugged barren coast of S. America has been the scene of many untold sea tragedies.

The Second Mate seems to be heading for trouble.

At change of watch we were just going on deck after 2 bells when he ordered Mensabe, a member of the other watch, to overhaul buntlines – aloft. Mensabe replied that he was now free and was going below, whereupon the second mate leapt at him and knocked him down.

Mensabe jumped to his feet and promptly knocked the mate down. Drawing his knife like a flash the mate advanced on Mensabe but at this juncture Norm Hanlon came on the scene. The mate then pocketed his knife and asked Mensabe whether he was aware of the penalty for striking an officer. He was invited to go to hell! With Hanlon on the scene, the mate had not a chance as he would or could have been punished for drawing his knife and furthermore could lose his ‘ticket’. The mate is amazing chap. Rather quiet unless roused, fine looking with a flawless complexion - does not drink or smoke but he is a typical Mongol and is cordially detested by the crew.

Friday 19/5:

The whole of the Port watch are put to scrubbing teak this morning – cruel work in such cold weather. The crew must dip cloths in strong caustic soda sand and chalk and finally wash with the icy salt water.

Everybody’s hands are already raw and blistered and the caustic soda causes much pain – then to have to plunge them continually in sea water a few degrees above freezing point – they curse horribly.

We of the Starboard watch jeer and criticize their efforts enunciating at great length the far superior quality of workmanship on the starboard side of the Poop deck. They grin and bear it with frequent curses.

Our turn will come tomorrow morning and so they tell us with relish “It is neffer mind – you shall scrub tomorrow Fi Fahn!”

When at wheel tonight the wind swung suddenly 3 points and as we were By the Wind, the ship nearly caught a tack, but I had kept sufficient steerage way so was able to steady her again on course. We are going almost due South. Broke stem of pipe today – “Satan!” However made repairs promptly and soon back to “old reliable”. Verily a pipe is a great friend when at sea; tobacco seems an absolute necessity to sailors – they smoke incessantly. When “risen oop” from their bunk they invariably reach for and light a cigarette before getting out. We have a new moon tonight and the “salts” prophecy a strong wind – from somewhere!

At present the sea is fairly calm – strangely so in fact – the horizon no longer has the appearance of the tooth edged blade of a saw but is leveling out.

We are now almost on a level latitude with the Horn and expect that soon we shall be squaring up and easing away to the East for the rounding. Then with the S.W. wind on the quarter we should be around in 24 hours and heading for those glorious warm Trade winds.

And to think that for a week when we have floundering about but 2 days of good sailing distance away!

Saturday 20^th May:

Wind swung a little more West 11 am this morning and we steady on the course South by East. We will be around Cape Horn in 24 hrs if the existing wind holds – if!

Just waiting for order to square up. We discuss the passing of stage one almost incessantly. The weather really remarkable; sun has been out for a third of the day. A heavy bank of clouds passes over and a thin drizzle accompanies it – then out comes the sun again in the clear frosty air.

Two whistles? Yes. The Port watch turn out and we listen for the orders. “Square oop” and we are running to the Horn. The watch brace happily – singing and chanting. The wind freshens during the night to a brisk Westerly.

Rounding Cape Horn

Sunday 21^st May:

The wind freshened very hard, the sea coming up quickly. We are squared up and going due East – expect to pass the Cape about midnight tonight. Wind still harder during afternoon when Port watch bracing at 4 pm this afternoon, Coventry and 3 others suffered a thorough wetting. Coventry came in cursing and moaning and was just ½ way thro’ changing into dry clothes when again 2 whistles go and he is called out once more. He clambered back into the wet clothes amid a fresh volley of curses and out he went.

We all shriek with laughter – it’s always a joke to the other chap! Our coldest day for the trip today – snow and hail regularly and when these hailstones hit you – they hit you!

Wind goes more Southerly – we make ten knots. As we have only 15 miles allowed to South of Diego Ramirez, we should pass very close tonight, allowing the natural drift to leeward.

We all cheer! At midnight – just before – we pass Cape Horn doing 12 knots amid snow and rain squalls but the skipper is driving the ship along beautifully. At 2 am we square up a little and head more North to pass the Falkland Islands, where, according to tradition, we will go thro’ the customary tortures and rites as approved by Father Neptune.

Three days of this wind and warmer weather is promised by the old hands.

Are we happy!

47 days out from the Roads in Spencer Gulf.

Cape Horn to Cornwall

Monday 22 May:

Bowling along merrily at 10 knots going N.E. Snowing heavily this morning and we bend our new Upper T’Gallant sail, which blew out in a squall during the night. Terribly cold aloft – snow and ice in the rigging and hands seem useless but all things are possible to God and Sailors and up she goes.

12 noon. Big swell following almost makes the old Hooker plane along – visibility quite fair now – hail and snow let up.

1.30 pm. We sight land 45 miles away on the Port beam. Staten Island, a rugged barren uninviting coast. The whole crew turn out and everyone in state of excitement. Our course will take us past the Falklands on the East side.

We set the main upper T’Gallant and the Spanker and the ship responds with an added knot.

She is dipping first weather, then lee bulwarks under as she rolls with the seas, and shoots like an arrow in the next trough.

Today no work done – we “Stand By”.

Tonight at 11 pm when I was at Police, sent up to unfurl Main Royal. I lay aloft and work from lee to weather side of the yard. It was my worst experience aloft. As soon as I had freed the lee side, the sail began to shake and flap furiously. Repeatedly my foothold on the rope was lost and I was left suspended by my left hand frozen on the Jackstay until my feet had found the shaking footrope again. The yard itself was jerking thro’ the truss on the Parrel 6" each way with terrific force, besides the bucking and shaking caused by the antics of the sail and there I was trying to unfasten some damn stupid complicated knots some farmer had made fast the sail with – probably a man of the Port watch! I looked for something to grab hold of in case I lost my grip but being right at the peak of the mast, there was absolutely nothing.

I shouted, cursed and screamed with rage and pain and threw all caution to the winds and went at it furiously – using both hands on the knots. After what seemed an eternity, probably but 4-5 minutes – I finished – shouted to 2^nd mate “all clear” and waited to overhaul the buntlines. This done, I descended to the deck to start bracing. I felt somehow I had achieved something and for an unexplainable reason was in extraordinary good humour for the rest of the watch.

Tuesday 23^rd May:

Ship going splendidly with following sea and wind.

We sighted land again today away to Port and 25 miles distant. On our course we expect to pass within 7-8 miles from the coast. Beauchise Island – a French possession just off the South East Coast of the Falklands.

Tonight when at Police two bells rung and I dash out to see the 2^nd mate rushing for’ard along the Flying Bridge.

2 Bells – a light sighted to Port. There it is – very dim - the Lighthouse on the N.E. coast of Falkland Islands (North Island).

We watch the light grow brighter as we draw level, but can see no land in the darkness.

The Skipper has been lucky with his landfall and consequently has been able to check his Chronometer. The weather is becoming decidedly warmer day by day and our progress is most satisfactory.

Suffering with bad feet. The continual wetness of socks has caused skin to go soft and is peeling off in great blisters, leaving a horrible mess to walk on.

Wednesday 24^th May:

Scrubbed teak most of the day. Ship doing steady 10 knots going N.E. and we cross 50° South.

Bend on new big Cro’jack to replace the small tri angular one used in the West winds. The smaller tri angular sail has a big advantage over a square sail, in that it can be furled much more quickly and easily in a crisis.

Carrying every stitch of canvas

Thursday 25 May:

No change in weather.

The cook is seeking a new pair of trousers and is offering wonderful opportunities to obtain supplies of condensed milk and other luxuries to obtain a pair but the ones we hastily offer him are not suitable.

Confound the luck!

Feet still bothering me – sore as hell!

The wind lightened at 3 am on

Friday 26/5:

The weather becomes more favourable – sun appears. When at wheel this morning saw a whale about 50 yards from the ship to leeward – spouting and causing a disturbance in the water. This is the third whale I have seen on the trip but I think I failed to record on the two other occasions. When aloft last week was rebuked for taking risks in furling sail by the “Old Man”.

We took in all staysails and I was told aloft to make fast Jigger T’Gallant Staysail.

When the sail was lowered the wind was fresh from abeam and the sail wrapped itself around to lee of several of the braces and the Lower T’Gallant halyard.

This prevented the sail from being properly hauled in and I was expected to do the rest.

I tried for some minutes without success and was fast becoming “hot about the collar” and decided to climb around the sail itself and pummel it with my feet.

I quickly worked around to lee hanging on to upper canvas and kicking the sail below – a maneuver which was proving eminently successful when I heard two frantic voices shrieking from the Poop.

Glancing down I saw the 2^nd mate and the “old man” gesticulating wildly and shouting a lot of unintelligible orders and advice and gathered I was to return to the safety of the footrope. This I did and another man was sent aloft to assist in finishing the job. Upon reaching the deck the Captain called me up –

“Saaten – You shall be careful – you shall be careful for your life for Helvita (For Hell’s sake) Alright” and dismissed me.

The second mate also received a wigging for sending only one man to do this particular job.

This sail is the worst to furl on the ship – invariably trouble is experienced when the wind abeam. However …!

Everybody happy – the weather is great – passed 45° South today. (Lat.)

Being 40 odd days since my hair has been combed and about 2 months since last shave I am, with all the others, going to clean up tomorrow. Shaving and haircutting is the topic of the ship at present.

Saturday 27/5:

Good weather still prevailing but sure enough I was caught in clean clothes and told to heave and carry coal. We were 3 hrs at it and with the mate watching the whole time, had no chance of a let up. We smoked down in the forepeak the whole time – Phillips and I did the shoveling – a black, wet, burnt out cigarette butt drooping from your lips makes all the difference.

Washed our fo’castle out today – thus working hard for 10 hours without a break except for “meals” – “Pigs blood Pancakes” again.

We brace twice following – the 2^nd mates fault.

After a very tiring day we come to

Sunday 28/5:

With the weather a little cooler and cloudy but any conditions seem pleasant these days.

Wind light S.W. – 4-5 knots.

Traded 100 cigarettes for ¼ lb tobacco with the cook.

Everyone has bath and shaves today.

Bos’un, carpenter and Donkeyman spent all the morning cutting hair.

Remarkable to see the difference in the crew – they all look a dirty hard boiled lot of bums, but a bath shave and haircut rehabilitated them to the status of human beings. I could scarcely recognize “Mac” – he looks but a boy of 18 – Coventry much the same; whereas with a beard they might be anything from 20 yrs to 35 yrs.

Wind freshened ahead tonight and we do 11 ½ knots ‘by the wind’ – full sail.

Monday 29 May:

Risen up at midnight to come on deck and found it raining heavily but free night and n whistles I turn in again.

At 8 am we come on deck once more to find conditions fairly rough, the wind is howling like a thousand devils and the sea white with foam. The Port watch have evidently furled the Royals during the night.

We take in upper T’Gallants in rainsquall and I was soaked again, but there is a very pleasant difference in the temperature these days making work aloft much more enjoyable. Rutherford “went on the wheel” on Friday night last. It has taken him since then to swallow his pride and tell us of his experience. He started taking wheel only last Wednesday with Coventry and on Friday went over it – pretty fast work!

Going over the wheel is a nasty and sometimes dangerous experience and the helmsman is lucky if he escapes with only a few bruises.

Rutherford was lucky!

He evidently had a slack grip on the spokes of the wheel when a sea kicked the rudder, spinning the wheel. He quickly grasped the spokes to stop the spinning but went like a flashover the top and was hurled against the steel roof and wall.

We jeer at him!

Coventry rang two bells in error last night when at Lookout and the Hands turned out thinking a ship had been sighted. He was duly cursed.

Tuesday 30/5:

Breeze dropped away to a flat calm during the night and leaves us rolling heavily in the oily swell which however is rapidly going down. Rather miserable day – rain all morning but mixed blessing, as this enabled us to replenish washing water supply which has been exhausted for some time. After we had all shaved on Sunday and since then all eyes were turned critically on one another to see what we really looked like. I was agreeably surprised to see how all our complexions had improved. Whether this was due to the extreme cold weather or freedom from shaving I don’t know, perhaps a little of each but we all now possess clear pink faces with the real apple cheeks.

Another thing now apparent – the growth of ones beard is astonishingly slow.

Wednesday 31^st May:

We scrubbed white paint all day and gradually the ship is becoming a thing of beauty. At night, when the moon comes out shining on the freshly washed whiteness everywhere, the great old with the crowding sails looks very romantic and attractive, specially when the sea is bit up with a full moon.

We have been practically becalmed all day with the sun out most of the time, very pleasant conditions prevail generally.

With the coming of the warmer weather the crew lounge and wander about the decks at night, and social life improves wonderfully – everyone friendly and showing good fellowship.

Tonight when bracing I was suddenly sick and spent the next 12 hours in my bunk feeling deadly, until on

Thursday 1 June:

About 9 am the passenger – medical student – came down and diagnosed the trouble as due to sudden change from cold to warm weather – quite frequent on ships so he informed me.

Anyway, with some medicine and sleep I soon recovered.

My recovery so quickly rather disappointed the 1^st mate – that great tall stringbean of a sailor. He’s a great chap and inquired twice after me – each time bringing with him a large bottle of Castor oil. This is his remedy for all ills and he hovered about me until I went on deck at midday.

With no wind, we clew up the courses and on the Jigger mast alterations and repairs are being effected – stays and shrouds and braces are being moved as the mast has been found to be badly cracked and weakened about 80 ft from deck. As the Captain anticipated a blow, this work is being rushed.

Verily the rigging on this ship has a day to day existence – its rotten from truck to keep and absolutely unsafe to work aloft. Even our chain sheets are breaking and worn out. We can’t take in sail without buntlines breaking. Hands packing up with the continual use of Caustic Soda.

Friday 2^nd June:

Our expected blow arrived – from the North with a little West in it.

Midnight: 3 whistles. All Hands.

Sail comes in rapidly : Royals, Upper and Lower T’Gallants, mainsail and Cro’Jack and T’Gallant Staysails all come in. Although it’s blowing like hell, working aloft is a joy – marvelously bracing and exhilarating and no frozen fingers or icy rain to impede your work.

We laugh joyously as we fight the great Sails up there 160ft aloft. The satisfaction of pitting yourself against a seemingly impossible task, the joy of physical perfection and the risks involved make a sailors life a happy one.

We go below singing and smoke and sleep. Three whistles? Yes. We go out again to find the ship plunging madly into the terrific seas – the wind has risen to cyclonic force and is whipping the tops of the waves – the sea is a blurred white mass heaving and descending dangerously. No Lookout is kept – she is dipping her fo’castle head right under the seas which comes crashing over and sweeping along the decks and anyone on the fo’castle head would be in danger of being swept overboard. Before Lookout was abandoned, the chaps had lashed themselves to the pin-rail.

We learn later that it is the edge of a South Atlantic cyclone. The Fore staysail comes in – the Port watch begin to return to their fo’castle – their watch below. But they were not yet to enjoy the comforts of the Free watch below. With a terrific report a shackle breaks on the fore Lower Topsail weather sheet and the Sail begins to shake in all directions. Three whistles again. The Port watch return for’ard and all Hands jump aloft and take in the sail. The wind pinned me to the ratlines and my clothing seemed as if pulled at by a thousand unseen Hands. This is ‘wind de luxe’.

The Captain estimates it at over 60 mph.

The ship heaves and pitches under practically bare poles.

At 3 am on Saturday 3^rd June:

It began raining in torrents and I expected the wind fell away. We catch rainwater.

By 4 am the wind had dropped to a mild S.W. breeze and we commence setting sail again. By 8 am practically all sail set – the Jigger mast left bare as not safe.

Making 4-5 knots again the left over swell of gale, which however, should soon be knocked back now as the wind has veered. Once more everyone saying the S.W. wind will swing to S.E. and we will get the warm S.E. trades. I wonder!

This has been prophesied so often now that until they arrive I’m not worrying but in spite of trying not to anticipate, if as good as tales told, they will certainly be Heavenly.

What the hell does it matter anyway? Smoking again after 2-3 days abstinence – sure sign of recovery from sickness a few days ago. Breeze left us midday and we lie becalmed. Spend watch chipping rust.

Sunday 4 June:

Dawns a promising day but with a mere drift of air – until 10 am when wind freshens and we sail by the wind about 1 point west of North with an ominously black horizon to windward. Captain not happy about the weather so in come the Royals. I took Main Royal single handed – first time. Getting pally with the cook – he’s a nitwit but, well – tact and diplomacy and all that sort of thing !!

Last year he tells us he was ordered aloft (he was then ordinary Seaman) to take in Fore Royal.

He refused, stating that the rigging was not safe and got away with it. After the recent blow, our rigging is looser than ever.

What a ship! Everybody predicts this voyage to be her last unless she is re-rigged. However, the Captain is showing rare good judgment and is nursing her along very well – that’s obvious.

Cookie made us apprentices a “cake” ‘under the lap’ today – this ‘crawling’ racket has its advantages. He also lets us have 3 tins of condensed milk weekly – for which we give him cigarettes and clothing. It is fast developing into a National backscratching Competition.

As soon as we come on deck at 7 pm tonight we take in Upper T’Gallant amid rain and a hard driving wind which however strikes moderately warm. The Port watch tack ship as the wind later veered to N.W. by W – having gone right around the Compass in the last 3 days.

Further signs of a cracking up ship were found yesterday – two or three plates for’ard – fortunately above waterline have been pounded open and the Jib-boom has been the subject of a close scrutiny – the rivets have been torn off at the base and apparently it weaves around when she dips heavily.

Ah well! She may get us to England!

Haula came down from the wheel tonight and informed us that if we continue with the present wind we will call at the Island of Trinidad where skipper wants to shoot some game. Thus far he has been concentrating on the poor inoffensive albatross – with indifferent results happily. Started third period of “Percy” – back to the slimy greasy dishwashing and filth for a week.

“Who will sell their farm and come to sea?”

But I am enjoying the life. The good is bad, the work harder but now I’m used and toughened to it, find everything quite enjoyable. There are times of course ……!!

Monday 5^th June:

Light drizzling rain all the morning – we catch rain water and chip rust in the rigging. Upper T’Gallants still furled although we have been practically becalmed all day (since daylight).

This afternoon rather late, the weather cleared over more or less but left great banks of grotesque looking clouds which made a spectacular sunset.

“A Sunset at night – the Sailor’s delight.”

We all wonder!

‘Glass’ still fairly low and we continue to flounder in the doldrums.

We are now right between two recognized wind zones; the Westerlies which we have just left and the S.E. Trade winds for which we wait. Tonight an absolute flat sea with mild air and a lazy swell which makes a perfect night at sea – the best experienced on the trip thus far.

It was in similar conditions last year on this ship that the vessel was struck by a gale or squall of wind known as the Pamperos.

This wind originates in the Pampas Mountains and is very destructive to shipping near the coast and is felt for many leagues at sea. As the wind (usually from S.W.) can develop a velocity of 90 mph, somewhere about force 12, it will be understood what a menace it is. However the ship weathered the storm at the cost of a few blown sails on this occasion. We set Upper T’Gallant and Royals tonight – I had a hard job loosing the fore Royal, as with continual rain of the past 36 hrs, the gaskets (rope lashings) around the sail had shrunk and the knots tightened to a very high tension.

A perfect night and on

Tuesday 6 June:

as perfect a dawn.

We chip rust on Turnbuckles in sunshine and light West by N. wind.

By 11 am however clouds had appeared thick up to weather at 2 pm blowing hard and raining – Royals and T’Galants furled.

The wind swings farther ahead and we brace accordingly “By the wind”. Wind changes several times more during the night and again we brace in a brisk breeze which

By Wednesday 7^th June:

Had dropped to a gentle steady S’Wester and up go the T’Gallants and Royals and we move steadily Northwards.

I am being used a lot for work aloft and liking it – in brilliant sunshine the work up there is a great improvement and I do not hurry down to deck to “Knacker Roost”:- (chip rust).

Thursday 8^th June:

We chip rust. Are now on the steamer route from Rio de Janeiro to Cape Town and hoping to sight one and hear some news. Is Hitler dead? No, that’s too much to expect! Are we at war? Or is everything the same as ever?

Little we care or worry – isolated as we are nothing seems to matter. But it’s a grand life!

The 1^st mate, Johannson, Donkeyman are Idlers (Daymen) from today. This means that they work normal working hours 7 am to 5 pm and have the nights entirely free. The watches are thus reduced to six men a watch.

Friday 9^th June:

Clear sunny weather – light W by N breeze. We chip more rust. Crew working in shorts and shirt – quite sufficient clothing in the pleasant conditions prevailing.

Cigarette paper stocks have risen to unbelievable heights. The crew are desperately short of Papers and high prices are being offered for every one packet. The shortage of papers gave rise to an amusing incident.

Rutherford telling the passenger how short we all were asked him if he was able to spare any. Shaking his head dubiously the passenger offered to find out, with the remark “I’ll check my calculations (that’s rich) and see!” After spending 5 minutes below he came up:- “I have checked my calculations and find that I can spare six”.

Rutherford, thinking what 6 packets meant to us, thanked him enthusiastically and took the tine containing the six packets and came into the fo’castle to share them out. Opening the tin he found six – yes you have guessed it! – SIX papers! That would last us about 10 minutes. Rutherford then returned the tin, thanked the Passenger gravely and bursting with laughter came below. Haw – guess the passenger would not appreciate the joke!

Saturday 10^th June:

More glorious weather. Had 1^st haircut today on ship and a bath – 3 baths in 3 days. Simply had to record this!

The wind ahs swung almost due North and we are on Port tack going only a little better than East. The wind varies frequently.

This swinging of the wind makes the helmsman’s job a hard one when “By the Wind”. I am always trying to come up closer to the wind as it means much over a days run but it is extremely annoying and not a little fatiguing after much careful effort to see the Royals blown abrace and the Upper T’Gallants aquiver.

Most of the chaps set a compass course allowing a variation of about 1 point in the wind – this saves much trouble but does not always get the best out of the ship.

We laze about the after Hatch on sails during the afternoon and try feats of strength etc and yarn and smoke in the warm sunshine. Our only clothing is shorts and sandshoes.

Sunday 11^th June:

When at Lookout watch 4-8am saw the most glorious sunrise I can remember. From 5.15 am when a light glow appeared to the East until 7 am, I – we all - watched the transformation of the sky from semi darkness to a marvelously delicate tint of pink in the high semi circle of streaky clouds which slowly developed to the full blood red of a perfect dawn. No art can reproduce such colours as these.

Having had but 4 hrs sleep in the past 28, I turned in quickly at 8 bells and wake to find sky overcast and wind freshening. Sure enough just after I get to wheel it rained as it can only rain the tropics. I had a glorious shower for an hour and revel in it, clothed in shorts only. We carry rain water and also replenish the ships tanks from a great canvas water catcher.

Watch below and I turn in. I write my diary and suddenly note the ship leaning to what was windward. I learn that the helmsman has put the ship in Irons. The Captain, 1^st and 3^rd mates are tearing around in circles and is Mensake popular? Much!!!

He must have fallen asleep at the wheel in the rain which is still coming down fairly hard.

The Cook made us a huge cake today – on return I give him a packet of Lifebuoy soap which he has coveted for some time.

It is remarkable the interest we take in every trivial little event. I expect this is natural after being so long at sea which no outside interest – we live a carefree day to day existence – nothing matters.

By nature I am indolent so that lack of excitement and social life worries me not in the least, although I had anticipated missing the humdrum city life left behind. But No…!

Great scott! What’s going on outside? I go to the door of our fo’castle and listen.

Things are in a hell of a mess! The ship is flat aback, the wind has increased and is very hard and it is raining heavily.

The Skipper is really drunk and falling all over the deck. The 1^st mate is little better and the 3^rd is useless anyhow.

God, how that wind howls! The Skipper is shouting orders – the 1^st mate promptly contradicts them and bedlam reigns.

Sails and Yards swing dangerously above, groaning and creaking under the terrific strain.

She’s caught aback alright – will the masts hold?

It is pitch black outside and to a long story short, the crew take charge and get her back on the course after 3 ½ hrs but she’s under shortened sail – Royals and Upper T’Gallants tucked away. ‘’Mac’ and I chuckle to ourselves – we are free watch and in our bunks and enjoying the Port watch’s’ misery.

Coventry and Rutherford (Port watch) come below cursing that the starboard watch were not called out to assist in the emergency. I told them that if the Port watch had such “farmers” for helmsman they must expect such work.

As the subject of steering is rather a sore point with them (for reasons previously diarised) “Mac” and I found ourselves quickly involved in a furious argument as to the merits of the two watches but with the usual climax of “Go to Hell” from both sides. (Just one big happy family !!!)

It rained all night and wheel turn was just another bath but ship nice and easy to handle.

Monday June 12^th

brings a grey wet dawn and we drag water barrels for’ard. Most unseasonal weather. By 1.30 pm the weather had cleared a little but the day closed with the sky still overcast.

Today we officially enter the Tropics – passing over 23 1/2° South latitude – the Tropic of Capricorn and from today we are entitled to lime juice allowance and jam is also substituted for margarine. This applies until we cross Topic of Cancer 23 1/2° North latitude.

Spent tonight in arguments generally.

Tuesday 13^th June:

Came Tuesday 13^th June with improved weather – the wind has fallen off tho’ and we are full & by on the course. Sun breaks thro’ at 2 pm and weather clears when light N.W. breeze arrives – we square up a little and set the Royal - I had a glorious hour aloft in the sunshine.:

Ayliffe was enthusing about his approaching home coming and made me feel quite homesick.

Wind continues swinging and I suspect we are at last going to feel those belated S.E. Trade winds. We shall know within 48 hrs anyway.

Wednesday 14^th June:

Clear sunny morning with brisk S.E. wind and we brace accordingly going North. This wind is believed to be the beginning of the Trades and everybody jubilant.

This is the weather – reminds me of our glorious S.W. winds and sunshine in South Australia.

Our watch further reduced today – ‘Mac’ and Haula are now Daymen. Although the watch has been reduced, it will throw little more hard work on us, as both ‘Mac’ and Haula, being old hands, rarely worked aloft and invariably got the soft jobs – the privilege of long service.

Furthermore we do not expect to touch the braces for any period up to 21 days, something not uncommon. Just imagine it! Sailing over thousands of miles without touching the sheets.

No wonder sailors go into rhapsodies about the S.E. and N.E. Trades winds these warm but brisk winds which send you half way across the world.

We now begin to change the sails – the good sails used thus far are taken off and replaced by older and lighter sails – the rain and heat quickly rots the canvas.

We changed the Foresail today.

Thursday 15^th June:

Bowling along with weather unchanged – 8-10 knots.

Painting and chipping rust during morning. Early morning watch I had 1^st wheel and so was at Lookout at 6am but as was Daylight came down. 2^nd Mate came up –looked at the pigsty, looked further for Ayliffe or Philips (both free at coffee time until 6.30) and after glancing first at me and switching back to pigsty several times, suggested, almost apologetically, that I clean it out.

He has avoided giving me the filthy jobs of late, for some reason. Was nearly caught aback when at wheel tonight at sudden veer of wind but got her back O.K. Have a horror of being caught aback, having visions of the dismasted ‘Huogomont’ still vivid in my mind. Making 3° Northwards each day and can no longer see the Southern Cross in the Southern Heavens.

Once past 18° South (going North) the Southern Cross disappears finally. Steffan came up to Lookout with me tonight and yarned.

“You see new stars you haf neffer seen now” and he pointed out them – the brighter ones to me. “There you see Venus – very red you see. I haf many times rang the bells I think it was steamer on the horizon.”

He is quite an authority on the constellation in the Heavens.

Friday 16^th June:

Braced this morning – now “Fuel & by” – noticed the difference when bracing with the smaller personnel of the watch – perfect weather.

Saturday 17 June:

Making same steady progress Northwards.

Changed all sails on Foremast today – starting with the Royal.

Feeling very fit.

The work aloft is glorious in this weather. I searched the horizon for steamers in vain.

Sunday 18^th June:

Another day in flawless weather. This is the life!

We are braced somewhat differently now we are in the Trade winds – the Royals almost square and the courses braced fairly hard up. So although the wind may veer 1 or 2 points bracing is not necessary. Tonight All Hands gathered on the Main Hatch lying on spare sails and indulged their musical talents – such as they are in uproarous chanties and songs.

The versions of the majority being necessarily omitted from our conventional Song Books.

“Maid of Amsterdam”, Rolling down to Rio; Around Cape Horn in 90 Days; Billy Bay and countless others – with perhaps the “Tinkers Song” taking pride of place even with the Finns.

It was a perfect evening – the warm mellow breeze – the ship ghosting silently thro’ the water – above the massive spars, yards and mast and rigging thrown into pleasing relief

against the starlit sky and those great masses of billowing sail appearing in the moonlight to be carved from marble. Gradually the singing dies away – we meditate with our pipes and finally sleep.

Monday 19^th June:

We are all very happy and contented with our lot, for which I think the weather is largely responsible.

I think we would all be happy to go on sailing like this forever…!

How man changes with his environment.

Bent on new Cro’Jack today and when free we set about catching rates – the only real amusement on board. A plate is secured, filled with rum and placed on the wheat in the hold. (Hatches now opened). Along come the rats sniffing – we have also placed a lantern below and can see everything going on. They have a quick drink of the rum, that terrible potent Fire water, and go away about 6 ft – return and have another drink. It is now safe for us to descend into the hold and although in full sight of the drunken rats they CAN NOT RESIST HAVING MORE RUM AND RETURN TO THE PLATE for more.

They are then quickly dispatched to their cheesy Heaven!

But it’s funny to see them look up at your – quite drunk and not a bit afraid – ‘Dutch’ courage! We are now washing the decks down every night to prevent the planking shrinking and warping in the heat of the day.

Tuesday 20^th June:

We are now at latitude 3°20.5 – about 3 1/2° N to go and we cross the Equator and on to Stage two of our voyage. The weather is now typical of the Doldrums – the atmosphere inclined to be sultry and hot, but not unpleasantly so. The sea water is quite warm and we lower ourselves over the side for a swim at night – this strictly forbidden, but …..

Last night Paul slept on Police and the whole watch called out and warned that the next time it occurred would be the last and thereafter the whole watch would be forced to remain on deck during night watches. The breeze dropped very light at midnight, fickle airs coming from all points of the compass but after 2 hours the breeze came again and slightly stronger as if guilty and wishing to make amends for leaving us. We slept free watch on deck

Wednesday 21^st June:

The crew are informed that we have another man amongst us – Coventry being 21 today. Celebrations to be held Sunday next. We expect to pick up the S.E. Sister winds, the North East Trades soon but present breeze is still very favourable on the quarter. The days pass as most days do in this weather – quickly and pleasantly.

An amusing incident occurred late this afternoon concerning Rutherford. He was working on deck and four men aloft were using him as a messenger boy to bring them tools they had forgotten. Now climbing the rigging is alright once, tolerable twice but the third time he rebelled and shrieked back in a fury, curses which with his newly acquired knowledge of Swedish oaths, blended with a highly creditable number of Australian masterpieces, caused the mate to gaze at him with obviously mixed feelings of admiration and envy.

Invoking “Saaten” three times in rapid succession he concluded in a hoarse voice “What the hell do you think I am, a b……y ape?” The day finished with the crew fishing and rat catching. Lookout late tonight was a revelation; I have read of ships ghosting along but tonight could really appreciate just what the implied. I serenaded the Stars! And so we ghost on silently until on

Thursday 22^nd June:

Between 6 am and 6.30 am we “Cross the Line”. Contrary to expectations we do not get a holiday.

During the freewatch we set fishing lines and catch two fish of the mackerel family – a beautiful streamlined fish with retractable upper and lower fins; the skin hard and leathery and almost devoid of scales.

They appear capable of great speed. Flying fish also very numerous. Most difficult to stay awake during night watches. Writing this diary is main occupation, but tonight I went to extremes to stay awake – necessary extremes. I paced the deck, tried singing, washed, drank lime juice, but was still horribly drowsy. At length I snatched a blanket and went for’ard on the fo’castle head, told Lookout to waken me in the event of any whistles being blown and slept until 5 am.

The wind dropped just before daylight and on

Friday 23^rd June:

We find ourselves almost becalmed.

However at midday a light breeze arrived and we brace.

We had almost finished bracing when Phillips came dashing aft shrieking “Steamer – Steamer”. Within 30 seconds the whole crew, from Captain to Cook, were leaning over the lee (Port] rail and gazing over the fore quarter, where the two masts of a Steamer could be just seen in relief against the horizon. Having just previously been told aloft to overhaul buntlines, I quickly lay aloft and made out the grey hull of a Steamer some 5 miles distant to lee and apparently hove to. We alter course but in the light breeze barely make 3 knots – the crew pace up and down impatiently and suddenly there comes a cheer. The other boat has turned and is steaming fast straight to us. The Captain and mates dash about sorting signal flags, whilst the crew argue about the Nationality of the other vessel.

Much speculation goes on – until finally she rounds up – we read “Argentina” Stockholm on her stern. So she’s Swedish – and a neat ship too – motor ship – Diesel driven.

The signals fly fast – we learn that Europe is in Peace, check the Chronometer and position – request her to report us to Lloyds and after the first awed silence, cheer her enthusiastically.

Suddenly our chaps give another frantic cheer – a few girls have appeared on deck and are waving scarves and handkerchiefs Gosh are the mob making a row – whistling – “see you in Stockholm” etc.

Freddie and Turipa look at the girls – look at the water between the two vessels, scratch their heads and mutter “Saaten, saaten”. Past us she rushes and with a final cheer veers off and resumes her course. Much discussion goes on and no work’ we all are grinning and feel like slapping each other on the back.

I was at wheel 3-4 pm when suddenly the 2^nd mate rushed up, snatched the telescope and there, behold, another Steamer on the horizon aft. However she finally dipped and disappeared about 1 ½ hrs later, amid our curses.

Ah well, one Steamer to talk in one day is another!

And next Monday in Lloyds gazette will appear “M.V. Argentina” spoke Barque “Archibald Russell” – Lat 2°23.9 N Long 29°27.6 W, X days from S.Australia. Heavy rain tonight.

Saturday 24^th June:

Raining and we are becalmed. It would!! Today you see is full Holiday – “Midsummer day” Free night tonight – only risen up 4 times between 9 pm and 4 am – good going.

Sunday 25^th June:

Weather cleared and with the sun right overhead, as hot as fire. Breeze picked up from aft – 4-5 knots.

Tonight wind fell off again – we clew up the courses.

The subject of tonight’s furious argument “The Safety of travel by Steamer as compared with travel by Sailing vessel”. Results about 50-50.

Monday 26^th June:

An absolute flat calm and by God it’s hot.

A shark circles around the stern of the ship which Tria and the Donkeyman attempt to catch – unsuccessfully. By 9.30 temperature 98°F and rapidly getting hotter.

Wheel, which I took from 9-10 am, was an ordeal. Sailing “By the wind”; you look up for an hour at those upper sails, made an eye burning white by the sun. The rays from the sun also come pouring thro’ the Porthole immediately above your head and the metal wheel house, too hot to touch, sends out searing waves of heat to complete the baking. You stand there steering, sweating and swearing and at the end of the hour step out of the puddle of perspiration at your feet. I leave the wheel and check up on the temperature – 102°F – on the sea and in the humid tropics.

Yes its hot!

Then to painting & scraping-exposed to the sun of course

Drinking water warm; everything’s warm. Damn!

We come off watch feeling very disgruntled to Salt Buffalo and peas for dinner.

Suddenly thro’ the skylight a puff of wind comes, cool and pleasant. Within half an hour a good N.E. breeze has worked up with tropical squalls and rain and we surge along 6-8 knots braced up hard on the Starboard tack. Everybody talking N.E. Trades. How we hope!

At 2.30 I hear from my bunk where I write my diary, the crack and loud reports of a blown sail – the 1^st and 3^rd mates’ voices sound urgent. It’s a squall and she’ groaning and quivering under the pressure of full sail – burying her lee rail far under.

I dash for’ard to see the Fore Upper T’Gallant blown to hell and pieces of sail careering over the sea. Its ‘up aloft and make fast’ and six men string out along the yard and take in what’s left of the sail. The masts are heeling far over the sea making progress aloft easier. Two berets go howling away to lee – torn off by the wind; their owners pause for an instant to curse.

I climb around aloft, camera slung around my neck and finally obtain several good shots. Within ½ an hour wind eases and we steady at 8 knots.

Tuesday 27 June:

Flying fish still accompanying us in large numbers. Their grace and speed in flight is very fascinating to watch. These are the N.E. Trade winds without a doubt – we surge steadily along at 7 ½ knots with the weather much more pleasant. The ship is becoming ship shape slowly – the painting is making a vast improvement in the appearance and when we reach Port she should look great. When!!!

Wednesday 28 June:

Weather unchanged – making 2° Northwards daily. With the hatches off, rats are becoming a pest – they are even invading our fo’castle.

Thursday June 29^th

Still plugging along steadily. Was at wheel 6-7 pm tonight when shackle on Mizzen Royal sheet snapped with a loud crack – like a pistol shot. I thought the T’Galant mast was coming down – it swayed horribly, but the mate lowered the yard in time. He was quite pale afterwards – he too thought the mast was coming down.

Steffan made fast the sail.

Friday June 30^th

Sheet and shackle repaired on Mizzen Royal and sail set again. Now on level latitude with Cape Verde Islands.

Sighted steamer which crossed our bows well away, going West to East. Still rolling Northwards – life is a yachting cruise these days.

Saturday 1^st July:

Another good day with wind strengthening. Tonight all Hands muster aft and demand to see the Steward.

Stanlund and Timpa (brothers) acting as spokesmen angrily demand better food and hot words rock back and forth but as usual nothing further is done about it. For a short while after 4 bells (10 pm) the wind strengthened hard and we tore thro’ the water 12-14 knots with the rail constantly disappearing beneath the boiling foam. The deck was at such an angle that it was almost impossible to walk it.

The old sails rip and tear but hang together and daylight reveals many great holes.

Sunday 3^rd July:

I practice wire splicing and sail sewing and make letter satchel.

Monday 3^rd July:

Wind swings two points more East – is it the end of the N.E. Trades?

We clear out our fo’castle and begin painting and scrubbing thoroughly.

This necessitates sleeping on deck and I bunk on Main Hatch with Steffan. Some of the crew sleeping in the Hold on the bags of wheat but after seeing two rats chased from one bunk, I decided to risk a rain squall and brave it on deck. However at 3.45 am on

Tuesday 4^th July:

Seven of us were caught by a sudden rain squall. The others dashed aft under the break of the Poop, but after a glance at the sky, I decided to stay, as it did not appear more than passing shower and so it turned out.

Crossed Tropic of Cancer last night – 23 1/2° N and so emerge from Tropics. Wind very puffy but still quite strong.

Wednesday 5^th July:

Not a cloud in the sky and wind very light. Thus the N.E. Trades die away.

We paint ship and argue how many more days to England – we run a sweepstake on it.

Thursday 6^th July:

Becalmed! The N.E. winds have finally deserted us and we lie clewed up in the Doldrums – the Horse latitudes.

Food terrible – salt Buffalo every day and brown beans. Very hot. We now wait for the prevailing ? West winds.

Friday 7^th July:

Flat calm. We swear. This morning a large shark was seen lazing around the stern of the ship and we promptly put out a line.

The two striped Pilot fish – parasites that live on the shark itself – left the shark and after inspecting the bait swiftly returned to the shark and guided it to the hook, where it snapped simultaneously with the linesman’s pull. All Hands hauled the shark out of the water – we quickly passed another loop-line around the threshing tail. We just finished this when the hook parted from the line and the shark was suspended ½ in and ½ out of the water – head down.

After much struggling at both ends of the line around the tail we get it aboard, stun it with Capstan bars. Ten minutes later barely a bone is left in the carcass.

The opening up revealed 5 perfectly formed young sharks which as soon as released struggled hard.

We tossed one over and away it swam in great style – keeping around the ship. The heart of the mother shark was still beating some hours later. Perfect night – but still no wind.

Saturday 8^th July:

Gentle drift of air from S.W. this morning – about 1 ½ knots. Very hot – clear sky.

The carcass and blood from the killed shark has evidently attracted others, as we count a score of dorsal fins cruising about 100 yds astern – but we still have our evening swim.

Sunday 9^th July:

No wind – but we move almost imperceptibly forward with the drift at about 1 knot.

We braced 4 times during day to catch every little rare puff – it is terrible work in the heat.

Rutherford failed to rise up at 8 bells (8 am) this morning and Starboard watch helmsman kept waiting 10 minutes at wheel. Paul, who had woken Rutherford, abused him and cursed the Port watch generally, when Hanlon came on the scene and took up the argument for the Port watch and in turn, abused the Starboard watch. The argument rapidly became personal and Paul, becoming enraged, like a flash knocked Hanlon to the deck with a terrific blow to the head. Hanlon was dazed for a few seconds but he’s certainly got “guts”. Built lightly and possessing nothing of Paul’s magnificent physique, he came back furiously, and by clever hitting and dodging crashed Paul into the pin rail.

However, by this time, being the nearest to them, I thought it best to end the unpleasantness and with the aid of a belaying pin separated them. Both stalked off in a fury. This goes to show what state of mind we are in – 97 odd days at sea and sick of each other – intolerant and generally grumpy. And yet we might one minute be yarning pleasantly together and the next minute ….

Monday 10^th July:

Bent on new sails on Foremast and main mast – replacing Trade sails. Had foul time going to peak right to the truck of the Foremast, unlashing a heavy block and going to deck and then taking it to the truck of the Mainmast. The weight of the block caused the rope around my shoulders to tear the skin and I was bleeding freely when I ultimately returned to the deck. This brought about my first argument with the 2^nd mate –honours about even.

Weather exhausting – over 100°F.

Moved back into our freshly painted fo’castle today.

Tuesday 11^th July:

A light breeze from North – we tack ship at 8 bells during morning watch. Wind swings again an hour later and we tack ship once more.

Heartily tired of calms and praying for a blow – we have made practically no progress for a week.

Tonight I was free but at 3.30 am two whistles go – out I go in shorts to find the ship flat aback and rain pouring down.

Only 4 of the watch turn out – McRae and Steffan were not woken by Ayliffe (Police) (actually not supposed to be asleep) and the 2^nd mate, already in a rage with the helmsman, dashes off to find them. We, Haula and I, find Steffan for’ard and, unfortunately, the mate found “Mac” aft.

He shook him, and as soon as “Mac” sat up, struck him on the face hard. “Mac” grabbed the mate’s arms and held on and then all Hell let loose.

Hearing the yells and curses, we dash aft, Haula arming himself with a belaying pin, as soon as we come on the scene, the mate jumped for the ½ deck companionway and safety, where he reviled us as never before in a voice vibrant with passion.

God! What a temper!

“Mac” usually so quiet was not at his best on being so suddenly awakened and on an empty stomach and he gave as good as he got. However, the ship aback, we cannot afford to waste time arguing and the whole watch, muttering angrily, go to the braces.

The Skipper suddenly appears and a deadly quiet reigns.

Eight bells, 4 am, change of watch we go below. Since in the fo’castle the watch decide the course to be followed the next occasion the mate attacks any member and as “Mac” said “He’ll get his!”

Wednesday 12^th July:

One hundred days at sea.

We tack ship twice during the morning but wind very light and fluky that we make no progress.

Once whilst in the middle of tacking operations the wind died and we are left in “Irons”.

Crew discussing the incident of last night – it appears that the best course is to wait until Port is reached – at sea such action is or could be taken as mutiny unless it could be definitely established that the mate attached first – which thus far has been the case on each occasion. This being our ninth day of calm we decide we have a “Jonah” amongst us.

The Sailmaker (industrious bloke!) accordingly drew up 19 pieces of paper – one having “Jonah” written on it. We each draw a slip at a gathering of “All Hands” in the big fo’castle.

Poor old “Mac” was unlucky enough to draw the dreaded slip and looked quite embarrassed about it.

Thursday 13^th July:

An entire absence of wind, bringing on sultry stifling heat. Slight breeze from aft midday – we square up hopefully, hardly daring to breathe.

This afternoon saw a shoal of whales, at least a dozen, probably far more of them, swimming and larking about in the water 200 yards away.

Friday 14^th July:

Wind drops light again midDAY 1 ½ knots. Sighted masts and funnel of steamer some 10 miles away on our Port bow but too great a distance away to distinguish Nationality, even thro’ telescope. For the past week we have been passing thro’ weed from the Sargasso Sea off the Bay of Mexico – carried North by the currents. The weed contains many shells and small pink crabs.

Tonight we are treated with a brilliantly vivid electrical storm, such as only the Tropics can provide. From the time between the flashes and the thunder we estimate the centre of the disturbance to be some 5 miles distant.

With the grotesque formations of clouds in the sky and our sails and rigging thrown out sharply in the flashes and the rolling of the thunder, the scene is awe inspiring.

Saturday 15 July:

11 am steamer sighted coming up from aft. We alter course and signal and slowly she comes up and passes us 100 yds to Port – signals flying fast the while. A British tanker, the “Oliven” of London and we – the Britishers – cheer. Conversation is possible in the absence of wind and we answer their enquiry “103 days out” – “bound for the Lizard or Falmouth for Orders”.

We request them to send photographs which they are busy taking. They are to report us to Lloyds and wishing us a happy voyage steam away.

She (Oliven) is a British Tanker – Royal Navel Reserve crew – denoted by their Blue ensign with gold anchor inscribed. They can carry no foreigners in crew.

Note: On reached Falmouth, I met the 2^nd Engineers and the Wireless operator and we obtained negatives of photographs – excellent copies. Had a yarn over beer. Killed a pig today in spite of the heat. Wind dropped flat again and we lie motionless with drooping sails and scorching decks.

Sunday 16^th July:

An object sighted 5 miles away to Port – we make out a boiler from a ship adrift – burst.

Whilst everyone gazing at this I saw from wheel a ship coming from Starboard fore Quarter.

On her course she should pass about 400 yds ahead.

She is a Danish Tanker – we salute and she returns the courtesy but goes straight on.

Steffan and Bustholm jubilant at sighting a ship of their country.

Torrential rain tonight and very little wind – we heave to.

Consumed colossal quantity of Pork today and had to sleep it off. This after fast of 18 hours.

Monday 17^th July:

Wind arrives about 5 pm and we steady at 5 knots close hauled.

Tuesday 18 July:

Wind at last. We stand “full and by” N.E. by E. at 8 knots. The passenger is coming down to our fo’castle regularly each evening for a yarn. The officers evidently ignore him – showing none of the courtesies due him and he has not been having a very pleasant time.

Their attitude seems to be one of necessary tolerance but this has led him to fraternize more freely with us and he is proving a charming companion.

Wednesday 19^th July:

Wind and weather unchanged – we paint all day. Reckon on 12-14 days to England. Wind dropped 2 am on

Thursday 20^th July:

And we are almost becalmed. Sighted Steamer dead aft 11 am this morning and she passes to weather close. A Danish Fruit boat, either from Central American or Australia via Panama Canal.

Friday 21^st July:

Fair progress – N.E. by E. Lat 40.40N.

We work aloft chipping rust and oiling the metal chipped – work on deck almost completed.

Rain followed a 15 minutes squall tonight and then calm – 2 knots.

Saturday 22^nd July:

Midday wind allows us to make 8 knots. Sighted mast lights of large steamer 11 pm tonight away to Port. She disappeared 4 hours later in the darkness ahead.

Sunday 23^rd July:

Wind strengthened and steadied – we square up a little. The sky which has been overcast for past 3 days has cleared and the sea is a beautiful deep blue covered with sparkling white horses. This weather is very refreshing and invigorating after the humidity of the Doldrums.

Glass dropping very low Tria informs us – we expect some hard wind. On going below 8 pm I quickly fall asleep and when awakened 12 midnight for our watch from 12 to 4 am saw that the sky had become overcast and covered with low and fast moving clouds.

Having first wheel woke me up properly – the ship required handling squall after squall but no rain.

1 pm I finished wheel turn and break into the galley and have a cup of coffee and was just lighting pipe when a terrific puff hit the ship. The masts and yards groaned and creaked above the whine of the wind as she buries her lee rail and thunders thro’ it at 14 knots.

Ten minutes later all is still again and suspecting rain I unpack my oilskins. Thunder and lightening make the scene ominous and then down comes the rain. One whistle – that’s Policeman and me and I cart water for ½ an hr and then relieve Lookout 2 am to 3 am.

The wind lightened and we crawl along 4 knots. Visibility is limited during the heavy rain to less than 50 yds but the discomfort of this rain cannot be compared with rain in the West winds – lacking the deadly icy chill that numbs the whole body in a few minutes.

I pace up and down at Lookout thinking “10 more days” – “Ten more days”.

Continually the whole ocean is lit by lightening which is not confined to any one area but coming from all points of the compass. The thunder seems only a ships length away.

Tonight I bet “Mac” 4 cigarette papers (worth about 5p) that wind will swing to S.W. within 36 hours.

Monday 24^th July:

A white capped wind disturbed sea and we rush along sailing splendidly.

Another steamer sighted ahead at 2 pm and passes ¼ mile away rolling and pitching and taking over a lot of water.

The crew jeer “Goddam Steambox”. She flies no flag and does not salute us and we accordingly class her as a Dago or Greek Tramp.

Steamers are sighted almost daily now and although the chaps turn out to look, there is not the wild enthusiasm of our first 2 or 3. Many eels and turtles floating past carried North from the Bay of Mexico by the Gulf stream.

Tuesday and Wednesday 25 & 26 July:

Wind varying but we steadily make progress N.E. by E.

Becoming appreciably cooler, necessitating wearing a sweater.

Fog comes down when wind fell off.

Thursday 27^th July:

Sighted Steamer British Tanker “Yarraville” of Hong Kong. She’s in ballast and rolling and pitching. Salutes us as she rounds our stern and we notice her ensign upside down – signal of distress. However she steams away again – evidently some Chinese deck hand does not know how to fly the British flag. I’ll bet he was kicked from stern to stem for his ignorance.

The Finns are smiling to themselves and inquire sarcastically “New British flag?” “Ar – go and make yourself a square hat” we reply angrily.

But if we could just get at that man who sent up that flag – just for 5 minutes….

By Gad – it was humiliating!

Wind hard from S.W. and we log 10 knots for 4 hours – grey sky and drizzle – grey-green seas – big and much spindrift.

Friday & Saturday 28^th and 29^th July:

Wind drops. Confound the luck!

We make but 4 knots.

During the day we prepare ship for Harbour – everything newly painted and clean scrubbed decks – she’s a thing of beauty now.

The paint gives her the appearance of a stout well found ship but underneath she is weak and rotten.

Wholesale thieving of stores is rampant with only a few days to go. The Steward is due for a shock when he checks up his stores. For the past week we have benefited greatly – plenty of milk, tinned apricots, salmon and meat. The crew are feverishly working to finish their models and tools and good feeling prevails throughout the ship. Even the captain is feeling happy about our close proximity to port.

Hearing a bull like roar from the half deck when I was at wheel, I thought I must be off the course. A quick glance at the compass – “No dead on it – E ½ N”.

Around the chart room came the “Old Man” happily – well yes – I’ll call it singing.

The roar that disturbed me was his interpretation of the opening lines of “Rio Rita”.

I laughed – simply could not help it. He grins in the middle of a line reducing the volume to a mere double fortissimo and asks “You like that song?”

“What? Oh you mean Rio Rita Sir?”

A quick suspicious look.

“Seven bells Horwood.”

“Aye – seven bells Sir” and duly ring them. He wanders off giving the second verse a frightful hiding.

Sunday 30 July:

Brought rain early but sky cleared and we have an easy day. Sighted a Cunarder miles away to Port.

Monday 31^st July:

We keep at steady 7 knots. Two trawlers seen away to Port – my first sight of the famous Trawler fleet. They steam closer and pass 200 yds astern – I think they are of the French fleet. Half an hour later another Trawler sighted dead ahead and we draw up to her fast. Up goes our flag in salute and she gives 3 blasts of her siren – then a single blast – and finally up runs the Tri-colour of France on her foremast. She dips in salute and we leave her astern.

Our Captain, evidently as an afterthought, decides to signal and up runs the signal flag but the Frenchman does not respond – evidently not noticing our action or possibly she had a farmer for a skipper.

We get the anchor crane ready for use today.

Later in the day steamers are sighted all around us – very close to Land and Port now.

Tonight we are forced to alter our course – a cluster of lights from Trawlers a mile wide spread across our course.

Tuesday 1^st August:

Dawn comes on Tuesday 1^st August and just visible on the horizon is Bishops Rock Lighthouse. By 8 am we can see quite clearly the Scilly Islands on the Port fore Quarter – the Lighthouse itself stands about ½ a mile from the farthest Island out to sea on a small rock Island quite isolated.:

By 11 am we have drawn level and now passing the Islands on the Port beam.

The passenger has a look at the coast thro’ the telescope. “I can see a cow” he said a little proudly. “Nice work – can you see any bathing beauties on that little beach there?” I answered pointing. He made another prolonged study “Damme if I can” in a disappointed tone.

At 12.30 a cry comes from the fo’castle head where some members of the free watch are lounging and watching “England Ho”. There almost right ahead of our course is Lands End, the southernmost point of Cornwall.

We all dance up and down the deck with joy and cheer and shriek madly. Suddenly an aeroplane appears from over the Islands and flying low the pilot waves.

Surely we have reentered civilization! Skipper amusing himself by shooting at shoals of Springers which come leaping out of the water near the ships stern. He scored one bull – the great fish made a terrific convulsive leap high into the air and turned completely over backwards and lay motionless on the surface. A great red patch quickly spread over the sea and many sea birds were circling over the carcass within a few minutes. At 2 pm we sight Wolfe Rock – a large lighthouse off the coast. We have 50 miles to go to the Lizard, which we anticipate reaching about midnight.

We are now in the shelter of the Islands and running down the coast going approx. West.

The seas are appreciably smaller and we make a quiet 3-4 knots. We pass the Lizard at 10 pm but have received no orders – which means we proceed to Falmouth where we will wait for same. Another 15 miles to go!

Gradually the lights of that town loom into view at 12.30 am on

Wednesday 2^nd August:

We drift slowly the last two or three miles to the anchorage.

A Fisherman comes alongside and tries to do some trade; he does not know our Steward!

We ghost on – a perfect night – calm water – landlocked – gentle following breeze – we stand around talking.

At 1.30 am the Pilot boat appears and a live wiry looking seaman comes aboard. A brief good morning and he proceeds to the half deck.

The “Royals” come in and we “Stand by” – all Hands. Three whistles and we clew up the courses.

Then down goes the anchor with a terrific clatter.

Hoarse yells – orders and replies fill the night air – aloft the crew may be seen against the clear moonlit sky – puny figures taking in the great sails - for the last time?

Slowly the “Russell” comes to a standstill – 121 days from Port Germein.

Ropes cover the deck – the monotonous voice of the “Old Man” carries along thro’ the quiet air and suddenly he stops and only the mutterings of the men aloft can be heard. A glow in the East tells us that dawn is not far away. At 4.15am already almost daylight – we finish, climb down to the deck and survey those bare masts. “Well, well!”

The passenger comes in the fo’castle where we drink coffee and smoke – he’s very excited – home tonight.

We then turn in for 2 hrs sleep.

The Captain we see is in a good mood. Rutherford and I, being appointed Watchmen, are free during the day and ask permission to go ashore.

“Yes”

We spent the day ashore.

The News photographer photographs Rutherford and I as we read a newspaper and the early mail is read.

“Lawhill” came in during the day – 140 days from Port Lincoln and we go over her and argue with her crew regarding the respective merits of the two ships.

“Lawhill” came via the Cape of Good Hope.

Upon our return at 6 pm to “Russell” we find her overrun with visitors. I wandered aft to where a group of the crew are assembled and suddenly notice the Cook. He looks ghastly and is listless and paying no attention to the conversation.

I quickly learn the cause. “Just received his mail – his only sister is dead”.

Going home to see the sister he was so proud of and whose photograph he had showed me – he had not been home for 2 years.

I spent an hour with him and was happy to see him come to life. He cooked me Pancakes tonight and coming down to the fo’castle quietly put them on the table and after joining in with us, returned to the galley and showed me the place of everything kept there. He leaves ship 6 am tomorrow morning.

Bustholm, that baby faced, irresistible grinning young Dane – he’s 18 years of age – has lost a sister and his father is dying. He is rushing home tomorrow. He looks tragic.

We do not ‘turn in’ tonight.

Thursday 3^rd August:

Being on duty from 12 midnight to 7 am I was on deck when I saw lights approaching close and gradually made out another square-rigger coming in. This at 2 am. A three masted barque – must be “Winterlude”.

I stand and watch the spectacle. She comes in and anchors about 300 yds to Port and within 2 ¼ hours all sails tucked away and crew below. This was fast work considering the heavy rain and strong wind.

I am told by the 1^st mate that I cannot sign off but continue packing.

Finally go ashore, tackle the Captain and am signed off.

And so on

Tuesday 4^th August:

I prepare to leave my home for four months.

The crew crowd into the fo’castle grinning and cheerful. Tria (3^rd mate) comes in and helps with baggage.

“Well boys, she was a great voyage”. I shake hands all round, finishing up with “Mac”.

“You’ll write Jack”

“Sure ‘Mac’ – see you in London – have a good trip to next Port”

Climb into the launch, suddenly feeling lost and lonely.

The engine starts, we move away. I wave frantically – the boys cheer and wave and then noticed the Flag. They are saluting! I am amazed! But pleased. I turn to the boatmen.

“By God they are a fine mob”. He does not reply.

Some one goes running along the Flying bridge – out on to the end of the Jib room and a hat waved. Mac! I’d know that black sweater anywhere!

I wave back – feeling strangely empty and hollow.

And so to the wharf – the Customs and England and the future…

The 1939 Grain Race was won by “Moshulu” – another of Ericksons’ fleet – Captain “Big Mick” Shegrin.

92 days.

Two of the square riggers which left S.A. in 1939 summer have never since been heard of.

Now some 6 months overdue.

“Archibald Russell”

A Four masted barque of 2357 tons, built by Scott of Greenock in 1905. Her dimensions are 291′3″ x 42′9″ x 24′. Her poop is 41 ft in length with a 36′ forecastle.

Winner of Grain Race 1929 – 93 days (Melbourne to Queenstown)

Notes

Overhauling buntlines

lines used for clewing up the sails.

the hauling and making clack of the buntlines – in order to prevent wear and chafing of the sails – thus

Overhauling buntlines

Ropes used for lashing the sails when furled.

Third mate

Carpenter

The term is used loosely in this diary. The process of bathing is

Précis of a talk/lecture given by JBH sometime in the 50’s

1. Honour paid me – some of us mutual pleasure

2. Brother asking me after 5 days to lecture

3. One hurdle to be got over first of all – the way I’m going to get over it, is to tell my story. Farming in England – farm in Kent – muck spreading – sorting spuds

4. Please don’t accuse me of same facility (Levity)

5. Sailing in ‘39 Archibald Russell (mostly forgotten) Highlights – cold, food, Cape Horn Winter and coast, work aloft – 160’

6. Tropics – yachting cruise – trade winds. Crew.

7. Arrival in U.K. – discussions – Coventry’s better remark – shot by justifiably jealous husband.

8. London – extraordinary city. Amusing incident at Cumberland Hotel.

9. Eight months in Glos – shooting foxes in Aust.

10. War – Dunkirk

11. Patrol service – command – ignorance was bliss. Fishing trawlers – pounds – shillings – pence (Edinburgh – 6^th Div)

12. Tough crews – fishermen – rum issue

13. Minesweeping from Granton – home fleet “Live” bait patrol

14. Goodbye to sweepers – coastal forces – origin

15. Reaction to first slugging match – d/c Hun trawler – fire - all dead or wounded – best laxative I know

16. In heat of action – throwing tommy guns away etc

17. Visited in hospital by Admiral Evans of the Broke whose indifference rocked me. “Hurry back to give ’em more”. Silliest thing heard for years.

18. My cure for leg – lack of confidence fixed by whisky

19. Recuperation at Fort William “Ben Nevis” – Scottish Highlands – stag shooting – sloe gin 80 yrs old.

20. Return to coastal forces – 2 North Sea winters.

21. Big M.T.B.’s – fairmiles 115’ and 30 knots. Shortcomings.

22. Various actions. Ymdden – destroyer pursuit.

23. Destroyer and M.T.B. in circles

24. “D” Day – comparative indifference – shelling

25. Midget subs – Asdic flotilla

26. “E” boat menace – famous Hun S.O. – taken P.O.W. and handed to the Yanks

27. “E” boats – M.T.B.s – designs and speeds ‘E’ Boat superiority.

Nautical Terms

abaft

toward or at the stern of a ship; further aft

afterdeck

deck behind a ship's bridge

ahull

with sails furled and helm lashed to the lee-side

amidships

midway between the bow and stern of a ship

astern

at the stern of a ship

backstay

stay extending from ship's mastheads to the side of the ship

bee

hardwood on either side of bowsprit through which forestays are reeved

belay

to secure a rope by winding on a pin or cleat

bilge

lower point of inner hull of a ship

binnacle

case in which a ship's compass is kept

bitts

posts mounted on a ship for fastening ropes

bluepeter

blue flag with white square in centre used as ship's signal

boatswain

ship's crewmember in charge of equipment and maintenance

bobstay

rope used on ships to steady the bowsprit

bollard

short post on a wharf or ship to which ropes are tied

boltrope

strong rope stitched to edges of a sail

bosun

boatswain

bow

front of a ship

bower

anchor carried at bow of a ship

bowline

rope used to keep weather edge of a sail taut

bowsprit

spar that extends at bows of a ship

brails

ropes on edge of sail for hauling up

bulwark

the side of a ship above the deck

bunt

middle of sail, fish-net or cloth when slack

buntline

rope attached to middle of square sail to haul it up to the yard

burgee

small ship's flag used for identification or signalling

cable

heavy rope or chain for mooring a ship

cabotage

shipping and sailing between points in the same country

camber

slight arch or convexity to a beam or deck of a ship

capstan

upright device for winding in heavy ropes or cables

careen

to turn a ship on its side in order to clean or repair it

cathead

projection near the bow of a ship to which anchor is secured

chine

the intersection of the middle and sides of a boat

chock

metal casting with curved arms for passing ropes for mooring ship

clew

corner of sail with hole to attach ropes

coaming

raised edge around ship's hatches to keep water out

cocket

official shipping seal; customs clearance form

cofferdam

narrow vacant space between two bulkheads of a ship

cog

single-masted, square-sailed ship with raised stern

companionway

stairs from upper deck of ship to lower deck

cordage

ropes in the rigging of a ship

cringle

loop at corner of sail to which a line is attached

crosstrees

horizontal crosspieces at a masthead used to support ship's mast

davit

device for hoisting and lowering a boat

deadeye

rounded wooden block with hole used to set up ship's stays

deadwood

timbers built into ends of ship when too narrow to permit framing

demurrage

delay of vessel's departure or loading with cargo

dodger

shield against rain or spray on a ship's bridge

dogwatch

a short, evening period of watch duty on a ship

donkey room

engine room

downhaul

rope for holding down or hauling down a sail or spar

dromond

large single-sailed ship powered by rowers

dyogram

ship's chart indicating compass deflection due to ship's iron

earing

line for fastening corner of a sail to the gaff or yard

ensign

large naval flag

escutcheon

part of ship's stern where name is displayed

fairlead

ring through which rope is led to change its direction without friction

fardage

wood placed in bottom of ship to keep cargo dry

fiddley

iron framework around hatchway opening

figurehead

ornament or (usually female) bust attached to the bow of a ship

flagstaff

flag pole at stern of a ship

fluke

part of an anchor that fastens in the ground

forebitt

post for fastening cables at a ship's foremast

forecabin

cabin in fore part of ship

forecastle or fo'castle

short raised deck at fore end of ship; fore of ship under main deck; deckhouse

forefoot

foremost end of ship's keel

foremast

mast nearest the bow of a ship

foresail

lowest sail set on the foremast of square-rigged ship

forestay

stay leading from the foremast to the bow of a ship

frap

to draw a sail tight with ropes or cables

freeboard

distance between waterline and main deck of a ship

futtock

rib of a ship

gaff

spar on which head of fore-and-aft sail is extended

gaff-topsail

triangular topsail with its foot extended upon the gaff

gangway

either of the sides of the upper deck of a ship

garboard

plank on a ship's bottom next to the keel

genoa

large jib that overlaps the mainsail

grapnel

small anchor used for dragging or grappling

groundage

a charge on a ship in port

gudgeon

metal socket into which the pintle of a boat's rudder fits

gunnage

number of guns carried on a warship

gunwale

upper edge of the side of a ship

gybe

to swing a sail from one side to another

halyard

rope or tackle for hoisting and lowering sails

hank

series of rings or clips for attaching a jib or staysail to a stay

hawse

distance between ship's bow and its anchor

hawsehole

hole for ship's cable

hawser

large rope for mooring or towing a ship

headsail

sail set forward of the foremast of a ship

helm

ship's steering wheel

holystone

sandstone material used to scrape ships' decks

inboard

inside the line of a ship's bulwarks or hull

jack

ship's flag flown from jack-staff at bow of vessel

jack-block

pulley system for raising topgallant masts

jack-cross-tree

single iron cross-tree at head of a topgallant mast

jackstaff

short staff at ship's bow from which the jack is hoisted

jackstay

iron or wooden bar running along yard of ship to which sails fastened

jackyard

spar used to spread the foot of a gaff-topsail

jib

small triangular sail extending from the head of the foremast

jibboom

spar forming an extension of the bowsprit

jibe

to change a ship's course to make the boom shift sides

jurymast

mast erected on ship in place of one lost

kedge

small anchor to keep a ship steady

keelhaul

to punish by dragging under keel of ship

keelson

lengthwise wooden or steel beam in ship for bearing stress

kentledge

pig-iron used as ballast in ship's hold

lagan

cargo jettisoned from ship but marked by buoys for recovery

lanyard

rope or line for fastening something in a ship

larboard

left side of a ship

lastage

room for stowing goods in a ship

lateen

triangular sail rigged on ship's spar

laveer

to sail against the wind

lazaret

space in ship between decks used for storage

leeboard

wood or metal planes attached to hull to prevent leeway

leech

a vertical edge of a square sail

loxodograph

device used to record ship's travels

luff

windward side of a ship; forward edge of fore-and-aft sail

lugsail

four-sided sail bent to an obliquely hanging yard

lutchet

fitting on ship's deck to allow mast to pivot to pass under bridges

mainmast

sailing ship's principal mast

mainsail

principal sail on a ship's mainmast

mainsheet

rope by which mainsail is trimmed and secured

mainstay

stay that extends from the main-top to the foot of the foremast

manrope

rope used as a handrail on a ship

martingale

lower stay of rope used to sustain strain of the forestays

mizzen

three-masted vessel; aft sail of such a vessel

mizzenmast

mast aft or next aft of the mainmast in a ship

moonraker

topmost sail of a ship, above the skyscraper

oakum

old ropes untwisted for caulking the seams of ships

orlop

lowest deck in a ship having four or more decks

outhaul

rope used to haul a sail taut along a spar

outrigger

spar extended from side of ship to help secure mast

painter

rope attached to bow of a boat to attach it to a ship or a post

pallograph

instrument measuring ship's vibration

parrel

band by which a yard is fastened to a mast

patroon

captain of a ship; coxswain of a longboat

poop

enclosed structure at stern of ship above main deck

port

when facing forward, the left side of a ship

primage

fee paid to loaders for loading ship

purser

ship's officer in charge of finances and passengers

quarterdeck

part of ship's deck set aside by captain for ceremonial functions

quartering

sailing nearly before the wind

rake

the inclination of a mast or another part of a ship

ratline

small rope forming a rung of a rope ladder on a ship

reef

to reduce area of a sail by rolling or folding part of it

reeve

to pass a rope through a ring

roach

curved cut in edge of sail for preventing chafing

the roads

sheltered anchorage near a harbour

roband

piece of yarn used to fasten a sail to a spar

rostrum

spike on prow of warship for ramming

rowlock

contrivance serving as a fulcrum for an oar

royal

small sail on royal mast just above topgallant sail

scud

to sail swiftly before a gale

scupper

hole allowing water to drain from ship's deck

scuttlebutt

cask of drinking water aboard a ship; rumour, idle gossip

scuttles

portholes on a ship

sheer

fore-and-aft curvature of a ship from bow to stern

shrouds

ropes supporting the mast of a ship

sidelight

coloured lights on side of a ship under way at night

skeg

part of ship connecting the keel with the bottom of the rudderpost

skysail

sail above the royal sail

skyscraper

triangular sail on a ship above the royal

slipway

ramp sloping into water for supporting a ship

snotty

naval midshipman

spanker

sail on the mast nearest the stern of a square-rigged ship

spar

any ship's mast, boom, yard, or gaff

spinnaker

large triangular sail opposite the mainsail

spirketting

inside planking between ports and waterways of a ship

sponson

platform jutting from ship's deck for gun or wheel

sprit

spar crossing a fore-and-aft sail diagonally

spritsail

sail extended by a sprit

starboard

when facing forward, the right side of a ship

starbolins

sailors of the starboard watch

stay

large rope used to support a mast

staysail

fore-and-aft sail hoisted on a stay

steeve

to set a ship's bowsprit at an upward inclination

stemson

supporting timber of a ship

stern

back part of a ship

sternpost

main member at stern of a ship extending from keel to deck

sternway

movement of a ship backwards

stevedore

dock worker who loads and unloads ships

stokehold

ship's furnace chamber

strake

continuous band of plates on side of a ship

stunsail

light auxiliary sail to the side of principal sails

supercargo

ship's official in charge of business affairs

taffrail

rail round the stern of a ship

thole

pin in the side of a boat to keep oar in place

tiller

handle or lever for turning a ship's rudder

timberhead

top end of ship's timber used above the gunwale

timenoguy

rope stretched from place to place in a ship

topgallant

mast or sail above the topmast and below the royal mast

topmast

ship's mast above the lower mast

topsail

ship's sail above the lowermost sail

tranship

to transfer from one ship to another

transire

ship's customs warrant for clearing goods

transom

transverse timbers attached to ship's sternpost

treenail

long wooden pin used to fix planks of ship to the timbers

trice

to haul in and lash secure a sail with a small rope

trunnel

wooden shipbuilding peg used for fastening timbers

trysail

ship's sail bent to a gaff and hoisted on a lower mast

tuck

part of ship where ends of lower planks meet under the stern

turtleback

structure over ship's bows or stern

unreeve

to withdraw a rope from an opening

walty

inclined to tip over or lean

wardroom

quarters for ship's officers

washboard

broad thin plank along ship's gunwale to keep out sea water

watching

fully afloat

waveson

goods floating on the sea after a shipwreck

wear

to turn a ship's stern to windward to alter its course

weatherboard

weather side of a ship

weatherly

able to sail close to the wind with little leeway

wheelhouse

shelter where ship's steering wheel kept

whipstaff

vertical lever controlling ship's rudder

windbound

hindered from sailing by contrary winds

windlass

winch used to raise a ship's anchor

xebec

small three-masted pirate ship

yard

tapering spar attached to ship's mast to spread the head of a square sail

yardarm

either end of the yard of a square-rigged ship

yawl

ship's small boat; sailboat carrying mainsail and one or more jibs

zabra

small Spanish sailing vessel

The Cape Horners

The Cape Horners are a dwindling group of men and women united by their shared memories of the windjammers, the greatest tall ships the world has ever seen. Surprisingly, little is known of this remarkable part of Australia’s history.

By the 1890s improvements in the design of steam engines made the steamship a more efficient cargo carrier than sail. If it wasn’t for Gustav Erickson, an Aland Islander, the tall ships would have died out long before 1949.

“These great ships that were still sailing in the 1930s and 1940s were the culmination of hundreds of years of sailing ships. They were the last hurrah in the domination of steam for the world’s oceans.”

As the death knell was sounding on the tall ships, Erickson built up the last great cargo-carrying sailing fleet the world would ever see. During the First World War freight rates were extremely high for ship owners willing to take a risk. Erickson bought the Lawhill in 1917 and for him the risk paid off. After the War the Germans were forced to hand much of their shipping over to the Allies and Erickson was able to build up an impressive fleet of windjammers at scrap prices. At the same time Europe needed grain to feed its war-torn population and Australia produced more grain than it needed. The grain trade between Australia and Europe became the last trade left to the tall ships.

And so it is that the link between Port Victoria in the Spencer Gulf of South Australia and the Aland Islands, in the Baltic Sea, between Finland and Sweden, was formed.

Erickson’s ships mostly sailed in ballast from Mariehamn in the Aland Islands to South Australia. By the time the ships got to the small town of Port Victoria many of the Finnish crew had had enough of the harsh conditions on board and jumped ship. This meant that some young Australians could join up and fulfill their dreams of being a “Cape Horner”. They’d heard about the windjammers through the writings of people such as Allan Villiers, an Australian adventurer and writer whose books, “By Way Of Cape Horn”and “Falmouth For Orders”brought to life the romance of the sailing ship and inspired not just sailors but paying passengers, including women, to sail on a windjammer.

Port Victoria took on a new lease of life when the ships were in town, not only did they provide work for locals but they also boosted the town’s social calendar. Sometimes there were as many as eleven ships anchored four miles off port and the crews from these ships came into town to attend balls and suppers.

“It gave everybody an interest. People would come from far and near to see the ships because they were so rare, even in those days. They only came to two or three ports.”

As well, locals were brought out by motorboat to attend dances on board ship. The Finnish crews and the local townsfolk for the most part mixed together well during the six weeks it took for a ship to be loaded with grain and many local residents still have fond memories of this time.

In order to be competitive with steam the windjammers were forced to sail through the Roaring Forties and Howling Fifties on the road to Cape Horn. The young Australians who joined up in Port Victoria had little or no experience and certainly no idea of what they were letting themselves in for.

“The life nets were strung up and I remember thinking at the time, gee whiz that’s high, to have a life net strung up as high as that, you couldn’t jump up to get it. But I realized these experienced Swedes and Fins, they knew all about Cape Horn.”

The new sailors were given no concessions and were sent up aloft from their first day aboard ship. Standing on ropes 195 feet up they had to quickly learn their way about before they were expected to hoist and furl sails in the dark and wild weather down south. No doubt many of the young starry eyed sailors wished they could jump ship but this wasn’t an option and they had to accept the fact that they were on that ship for the next three or four months whether they liked it or not.

The food on board consisted mainly of salted horse, smoked cod, tinned goods and stale bread full of weevils.

“You could eat any amount of salt horse, but you couldn’t eat it, it was awful, very few of us could eat it. And we used to go down in the night to where the salt horse was stored and get it up on deck and dump it over the side but there was so much of it. You couldn’t win!”

For fresh meat there was often a pig on board that at some time would be killed which usually involved a comedy of errors as they tried to slit it’s throat until the pig was eventually shot. Most of the Australian sailors found it difficult to enjoy the Aland treat of blood pancakes although some didn’t mind it.

The ships rounded Cape Horn, the deadliest waterway in the world, where the wind roars through Drake’s Passage with no land mass to slow it down.

“The waves could be up to three quarters of a mile in-between the crests and the big swells, they have three huge waves on top of them.”

The sailors faced wild storms and the potential danger of icebergs, with undermanned crews, sometimes stripped back to half the usual number for such a difficult and dangerous voyage as Erickson tried to cut costs.

Many ships have been lost off Cape Horn, possibly from running into icebergs in the dark or else from being “pooped”.

“We’d been reading “Sea Breezes” and that showed all the vessels, from one book to another, how many men and how many ships had been lost there without trace. It was frightening. I said, stop reading those books will you, we can’t be depressed, we’ve got to keep our spirits up”.

However Erickson didn’t lose one of his fleet on this stage of the journey. No doubt this is testament to the crews and the skill of the Finnish Captains some of whom could supposedly smell ice.

The crew battled winds one hundred feet above deck, with helmsman being strapped down during hurricanes and wet weather gear torn to shreds by hailstones. They were expected to bring in two and a half acres of canvas in wild weather so that the ship didn’t get “top heavy”and sometimes they went for 24 hours without sleep.

“When you’re out on a yardarm furling a sail, it’s not like fighting a dead thing, the sail is fighting back and trying to knock you off the yardarm...sometimes you were over two hours up there, all hands.”

Not only were the men risking their lives to deliver cargo, they had the added challenge of ensuring that their ship made the fastest time back to Europe. Allan Villiers coined the term “the Grain Races”which saw ships compete for the best time between Port Victoria and Falmouth, England. The Grain Races ran between 1921 and 1949 with Erickson’s ship the Passat being consistently the fastest with an average time of 99 days, which wasn’t a bad time for a four thousand tonne, steel ship.

The ships, once around Cape Horn, made their way up to the Equator or “the line”which was a significant event in a sailor’s life and one to be celebrated. Fine weather and a relaxed crew meant that the “Crossing The Line Ceremony”could be enjoyed by all as the first timers were initiated by King Neptune and his courtiers.

The light trade winds meant the crews could relax and tidy the ship and wash themselves and their clothes in tropical downpours on deck.

“From day to day it was getting warmer all the time. What a wonderful experience to have a steady ship...you didn’t have to put your knees up on the bunk every time she rolled, we could just lie there”

However, this was sometimes the slowest and most frustrating part of the journey, with ships stalled in the “doldrums”without wind, for days and sometimes weeks at a time. Some of the Swedish captains could “troll”or control the wind, a valuable skill in winning a Grain Race.

Erickson lost several ships in the English Channel when they were run down in the fog by steamships, a real threat to even the most experienced of seamen. But those that made it safely to Falmouth in England or Cork in Ireland had their times recorded and compared their best days run with other ships and their captains. The one and only Grain Race Trophy was won by Erickson in 1928 for his ship the Herzogin Cecile. The Swedes, who sponsored the trophy, failed to sponsor another when they didn’t win the Grain Race. The 1928 Grain Race Trophy is still on display in Erickson’s Shipping Headquarters in Mariehamn.

Sadly, the Cape Horners Association is quickly dwindling. Many of the Australian sailors look back on their time in the windjammers as being one of the most important in their lives.

They all agree that it was an experience that shaped their lives and one they wouldn’t have missed for the world.

“I liked the sailing ships because they were clean, no waste, there was no air pollution, no noise pollution and the wind was free.”

Being a Cape Horner is a unique experience, shared by only a few people and something to be remembered and celebrated.

The Cape Horners recalls a time lost forever to the march of progress, never again will we see such glorious ships powered by wind alone sailing the world’s oceans.