Since joining the British Merchant Navy Friends social media I have noticed many members have written and had published either non-fiction books, fiction novels, or articles, mainly on nautical themes and I have enjoyed reading them. For example; Michele Callan’s ‘Forgotten Hero of Bunker Valentin – The Harry Callan Story’ was bought today on Kindle and I’m looking forward to reading it, especially as I have written about shipwrecked Merchant Seamen being interred in a POW camp in Vichy Morocco in one of my novels.

It seems life at sea, between the long periods of boredom, can also be terrifying, exciting, dramatic, funny, and worth writing about. As the sayings go, ‘Everyone has at least one good story to write a book about’ and ‘Only write about things you know’. Michele’s book is written after many hours of interviewing Harry Callan. Below I’ve written of the experiences I have had at sea and the men who I have sailed with that have contributed to my published novels.

Some news reporters or authors say, ‘Never let the truth spoil a good story. I must admit I have used journalistic licence from time to time, however, experience, research, and a good knowledge of the subject is essential when writing about fiction or non-fiction, and as far as possible, I believe my novels are historically accurate and believable.

My first novel ‘Diomed’s Ghosts’ is based entirely on one ship I sailed on, the ‘SS Sapho 1’ built in Denmark around 1945, for Hamburg Amerika Linie, seized at Flensburg by the British in 1945 and renamed ‘Empire Lune’. I have often referred to the Sapho in articles on this forum, one being, ‘Christmas on the SS Sapho 1 - 1966’ published in Articles last Christmas.

The Sapho 1 was a decrepit tramp steamer, crewed by a ragtag motley crew of Colombians, Mexicans, Sudanese, West Indians, Greeks, and Spaniards. The captain was married to the daughter of the tight-fisted owner, an American/Greek from New York, who had, like Aristotle Onassis, made his fortune by gun-running to war zones. The owner had a younger daughter by his much younger second wife, who was a precocious little madam. I met the owner and his other daughter when they visited the ship in Duluth. These four people made good characters for the novel, but it was the antics of the Colombians and Mexicans that gave me the most material for the story.

While in the Great Lakes, the skipper asked me to go around the crew with a sub-list, telling me to inform the crew there would be only one sub given in the Lakes, on no account would any further monitory advances be issued after that. I made it clear to the crew, only one money issue would be given while in the USA, and that the crew could not take out more money than they had in their accounts.

Well, the South Americans discovered that in Superior Wisconsin, just a short taxi ride from Duluth, one could buy a revolver, over the counter, for as little as $35, no questions asked. So that’s what they did, they all bought 2 or 3 guns in Superior, that is, except one man who had only enough cash to buy one revolver. He knew that a pistol bought for $35 in the USA would sell for $100 in the Caribbean and Central America and for $100 a cartload of drugs could be bought in Venezuela or Columbia for resale in the USA making him a good profit. So, as he had $80 dollars in his account, he wanted to draw out that money to buy two more revolvers.

He came to me demanding more money from his wages, and as directed by the skipper, I told him, “Sorry, mate, no more advances”. He was not happy and made a big fuss over it, demanding more money. The cantankerous Captain Chronis told him to ‘go forth and multiply.

Next news, this Colombian, now blind drunk on Ceuta Cognac, came after Chronis and me with his revolver. As I stepped out onto the deck my mate Sullivan Robinson shouted, “Watch out, Marconi, he’s got a gun!” I looked up and saw this ranting seaman lift the revolver and shoot at me. I kid you not, If I’d been 6’ tall instead of 5’8” I’d have caught a bullet in my forehead. I screamed like a little girl and disappeared back into the officer’s accommodation, a bullet followed me, punching a big hole through a solid wood door. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Then the irate sailor shot at the captain through the frosted glass of his bathroom porthole. The rounds pinging around the metal bulkheads missing the skipper’s bare backside by a fraction of an inch. After shooting off 6 rounds he disappeared back to his cabin, collapsing on his bunk, dead drunk. The Duluth police arrested him and took him ashore. All the Colombians and Mexicans were sacked and deported.

The age and history of the ship, the brash New Yorker owner and his precocious daughter, the shady crew, and the episode with the drunken Colombian gun-toting seaman gave me the outline of the novel. I have included modern-day piracy and ghosts to embellish the story.

My second novel “Blue Sea Brown Rivers Red Blood” is set during the Vietnamese Tet Offensive (1968) and the Biafran War (1967-1970). The role models I used for this novel are based on the officers I sailed with on the MV Azadeh (Iranian Shipping Services).

The captain and chief engineer were both ‘Old China Hands’ having sailed on the China coast for many years. Both men would wax lyrical about the far east, Vietnam, Japan, and China. “Saigon is the languid Paris of the Orient, a perfect fusion of French and Asian cultures,” Captain Wilson would reminisce. “Bars, Boulevards and Brothels. The nightlife being fantastic. Sex, fumeries (opium parlours) and brothels specialising in ‘caresses delicieuses’” They described the cyclo-girls waiting outside bars waiting for customers, young girls wearing traditional ao dai dress with a white orchid in their hair, riding side-saddle pillion on small Honda motorbikes, with their legs demurely crossed, Asia’s answer to ‘La Dolce Vita’ and little girls selling jasmine, the colonizing French influence in contrast to the American war mission and opium being the only solace from war. They said the ladies of the orient are exquisite and the beds of the orient are the softest.

Regrettably, I never visited the languid Paris of the Orient, however, I was off the Vietnamese coast the day the Tet Offensive began January 1968. A nearby American ship’s radio officer, who had been trying to raise Saigon Radio all morning, asked me if I could act as a relay to Saigon Radio, unknown to us both the radio station was under attack by ‘Nigel the Nog’ (An Australian euphemism for the Viet Cong). I also met many Aussie and American servicemen in the bars of Hong Kong and Japan, they were eager to tell me how hellish the war in Vietnam was, and none of them wanted to be there. Merchant ships carrying cargo to war zones and getting caught up in the crossfire is grist to the mill.

I was in Apapa and Lagos during the Nigerian-Biafran civil war so I had first-hand knowledge of that bloody conflict. During this civil war blood bath, General Gowan used starvation as a weapon, his warships blockading the Biafran ports, even refusing the Red Cross access to the country. Some brave men risked their lives breaking the Nigerian navy’s blockade of Port Harcourt and Calabar. All this information gave me enough material for the second novel.

Kevin Fife, the main protagonist of my latest novel, ‘Fife’s Tin Box’. Kevin is based on one of my school pals, also called Kevin, who was a proper rascal scallywag always getting himself (and me) into trouble, playing truant from school to go apple scrumping, or playing with the rude naughty girls in the park woods, etc. And secondly, the story is based on the ‘Jail or Sail policy’ as I was at the TS Vindicatrix with lads who had been sent there by the magistrates.

The book's back cover tagline for this novel is, “Kevin Fife,” his teacher started. “To look at you, you wouldn’t think butter would melt in your mouth. You look much younger than you are, with freckles and glasses. A cheeky little boy's face. But for all that, you are always getting into trouble. Always up to some mischief. It was you who put that cat in Mr Olney’s cupboard, nearly gave him a heart attack when it jumped out onto his head and clawed off his wig,”

This statement just reminded me of my pal Kevin, who just would put a mangy cat he’s picked up from the street in the classroom cupboard waiting for the teacher to open up the cupboard to investigate the commotion inside and releasing a terrified screeching cat that bounded over the desks desperate to escape.

The blurb I put on the back cover; ‘In January 1940, when 14-year-old Kevin Fife gets into bother with the law, the Juvenile Court Magistrates disagree that the offences are only minor boyish mischief. They say he is beyond parental control, and, as an alternative to being sent to Borstal, they order that he join the Merchant Navy as a boy seaman. For the next 12 months, Kevin faces the dangers of the sea and the violence of the enemy.’

I’m the world’s worst at self-publicity, refusing to do book signings in local bookshops, I’m reluctant to talk about my novels on this forum, however, if folk doesn’t know what Merchant Navy stories are available, they may miss a good read and people who have read my books, including serving Merchant Navy Master Mariners and Chief Engineers say they really enjoyed the stories. So, if any reader of this article, who may be interested in reading my nautical stories can go to petercopley.com or Google ‘Peter Copley Author’ for further information.

It would be interesting to hear about experiences others have had and written about. Are there any more writers out there with experiences to tell us? Until next time so-long for now, from PC R710198.