The Silvertown Kid

[graham mcglone]

Fifty seven years ago today (15th November 1963) I left the training ship Vindicatrix and joined the cargo ship Port Pirie as a peggy. And so began my long sea-going career, from deck boy to captain. This is an extract from my book, The Silvertown Kid.

I arrived at Hull Docks in the late afternoon. My first sight of the Port Pirie filled me with apprehension. She was high out of the water and I guessed that she had discharged most of her cargo. I took a few moments to look her over. She was a big 10,000 tonner. Her hull, as with all Port Line vessels, was painted a light grey, with red boot-topping around the waterline. The upper-works were white and she had a red funnel bisected by two black bands and a black top. I climbed the gangway with my suitcase and decided to have a quick look around.

The decks and cargo hatches were a jumble. Cargo derricks were topped up vertically with cargo runners, lifting gear, chain preventers and wire topping lifts (all terms that I would come to know intimately), laying in great coils. Resting on any spare piece of deck space were huge hatch-beams, weighing over a ton each. At each end of the cargo hatches were stacked 10-foot long heavy wooden hatch-boards. These were used to seal the hatch closed and make them watertight. They would have to be manoeuvred into place manually. Mountains of canvas tarpaulins, long steel battens and wooden wedges were littered across the decks in addition to the piles of timber and rubbish. It was a mess.
I made my way inside the accommodation and found the bosun’s cabin. He was a soft spoken Yorkshireman in his mid-50s whose face was covered in grey stubble. I introduced myself and he told me where I would find the deck boy’s cabin.
“Once you’ve got into your working gear, get your dinner from the galley. Then I’ll get you signed-on. We sail on the evening tide.”
The deck boy’s cabin was fitted with two bunk beds. There were also two clothes lockers, and two chests-of-drawers. A brass porthole looked out over the ship’s side. My cabinmate was already in residence. Arthur Greenway was a dark haired lad who was also a first trip deck-boy.

The Port Pirie had been built in 1947 by Swan Hunter & Wigham Richardson at Wallsend on the River Tyne. She was named after the town of Port Pirie in South Australia. She was some 10,535 gross tons and nearly 530 feet long. With six refrigerated cargo hatches and plenty of cargo equipment, she needed a sizeable crew to handle it all. She had a total crew of 62 from captain to deck-boy. The deck crew alone numbered twenty; Bosun, Carpenter, Bosun’s Mate, Lamp Trimmer, eight Able Seamen, four Quartermasters (helmsmen), two Ordinary Seamen, and two deck-boys. The deck crew were mainly Scottish, a majority from the islands of the Outer Hebrides. They had a slow and indistinct way of talking which sometimes made them difficult to understand; but they were excellent seamen.

At last it was time to secure the ship for sea and batten-down everything so that she was shipshape. Arthur and I stood on the deck, not daring to touch any tackle or wires. The crew were clearly experienced from long years at sea. They knew what to do. The heavy hatch beams had been slotted into place and the AB’s were now busy lifting the fifty or so cumbersome hatch-boards into their numbered positions. Two layers of green tarpaulin were then stretched across the entire length of the huge cargo hatch and secured into place with steel battens and wooden wedges. It all looked very watertight. The bosun called Arthur and I over. “You boys stick close to me, okay? We’re going to stow the cargo derricks any minute, and it can be a bit dangerous. Just watch and learn.” He called for the AB’s to secure the ship for sea, and they set-to with a will. It was pitch dark on this cold November evening and the crew were working with the aid of powerful arc lamps that cast an eerie glow over the open decks. The huge 50 foot long derricks, festooned with their multitude of wires and tackle were each gently lowered down into their stowage crutches so that they were horizontal fore and aft. The clutter of wires were coiled up, and slowly the decks began to look shipshape and tidy. “Where’s the ship bound for, Bosun?” I asked.
“We leave shortly, and sail to Antwerp in Belgium,” he said. “We should arrive tomorrow evening. From Antwerp we sail to Bremerhaven in Germany. We offload the last of our cargo of butter, then head back to London.” I nodded. It would be my first time abroad.
The crew steadily worked their way from hatch to hatch. The bosun let us coil up some guy-ropes and hammer in some hatch wedges. They were simple tasks, but it was the first time we had ever worked with a crew, and it felt good to be participating. Arthur caught my eye and gave me a huge grin. Finally we were ready for sea. The ship’s giant twin Doxford diesels started up with a great chuff...chuff...chuff and red sparks shot out of the funnel as the engines were brought up to their working speed.
The river pilot came aboard. He was a certified Trinity House Corporation Pilot, and because of his local knowledge, he would guide the ship from the docks and communicate with the tugs. He would safely pilot the Port Pirie through the pitch dark; down past Grimsby, Immingham and Cleethorpes. After a two hour run down to Spurn Head at the mouth of the River Humber, he would disembark.
The bosun called us to harbour stations. My station was to be on the fo’castle head. Arthur would be back aft at the stern. I watched as we attached the tug’s tow line and singled up our thick mooring lines. At last we let go the remaining mooring line and the tug took the strain. Up in the wheelhouse I could hear the ship’s telegraph ring “dead slow ahead” on the engines, and we were finally underway. I felt a great elation. This would be the start of my travels around the world. This is what I had been born for.

The next morning found us rolling violently from side to side in the cold and grey North Sea. Because of the lack of cargo onboard, the rough seas were trying their best to send the ship reeling this way and that. There was nothing that could be done, and we would simply have to lump it. However, as day-workers, at least we didn’t need to stand duty watches. We were roused at 07:00 and the bosun explained our duties. We were to clean out the seaman’s messroom, bosun’s cabin, petty officer’s messroom, toilets, showers, bulkheads, and deckheads. All of it was inside work. We would also scrub – on hands and knees – hundreds of yards of wooden alleyways, passageways, and ladders.
The crew came in from the deck, where they had been washing down with fire hoses. It was breakfast time. They ate a hearty meal of eggs, sausages, bacon, fried bread and baked beans. I couldn’t face it. I just wanted to lie down on my bunk and die. But I knew that I couldn’t. I needed to work. I didn’t feel very well at all, and I’d almost lost the will to live. As the ship rolled and pitched incessantly, I mechanically scrubbed and mopped the decks - all the while wanting to be sick, but not able to manage it. I felt awful. I knew I’d feel better if only I could vomit. Even the pungent smell of Jeyes Disinfectant did nothing to help.
One of the older Jocks came into the mess. He had a cheeky grin. “What’s up, lad? Feeling a bit queasy, are we?” I could only nod my head miserably. He went off to the galley and returned shortly with a greasy piece of belly pork to which he’d attached a length of string. “This’ll sort yae out, laddie” he laughed, and proceeded to lower it up and down his throat. That did it. I raced for the toilet followed by his raucous laughter. I count myself very lucky that in my entire sea-going career, I have been seasick only twice.
Later that afternoon, the swells had calmed down and the ship tended not to roll so much. We picked up our pilot, and after a two hour run up the River Scheldt, the Port Pirie tied up in the Belgian port of Antwerp. Ken, the ship’s young carpenter, known as “Chippie,” decided that I would accompany him and a few lads ashore for drinks. We headed straight for Danny’s Bar.

Danny’s Bar was an eye-opener. It didn’t appear to have any closing time. It was open all night and the place was buzzing. All booze was served by beautiful waitresses who expected, and received, a tip. They were dressed in frilly low-cut blouses – sans brassiere, with short black skirts and fishnet stockings which always managed to show an inordinate amount of their sexy thighs. Whenever they bent over – which was quite often – one either had a delicious eyeful of their lovely pert breasts or a pair of
cheeky frilly knickers. The girls spoke excellent English and cracked jokes with the sailors in the bar. They seemed to be making a great fuss of me and nothing was too much trouble. It was wonderful; and as I sipped my Stella Artois, I was in seventh heaven. The music was loud and the girls were swaying their hips and singing along with The Chiffons “He’s so fine.”
A strange sight in the toilets was the cleaning lady – an old crone – who kept the place clean and tidy. She stationed herself at a small table upon which were tablets of soap and hand-towels for the use of her patrons. For this service one was expected to drop a few centimes into her collection plate. When I used the toilets, this lady, who was aged about sixty, was mopping the floors. We chaps carried on having a slash as if she wasn’t there. Not to be done out of her simple pleasures in life, she blatantly stared into each urinal to size up the men’s wedding tackle!
As we weaved our way back to the ship in the wee hours of the morning, the chippie asked me if I’d enjoyed myself. How could I answer that one? What an experience. It had been a wonderful evening. He said, “What did you think of the girls?”
“They were fabulous. Some of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said laughing. “Every last one of them was a man!”

[Tony Taylor]

Fifty seven years ago today (15th November 1963) I left the training ship Vindicatrix and joined the cargo ship Port Pirie as a peggy. And so began my long sea-going career, from deck boy to captain. This is an extract from my book, The Silvertown Kid.

“Every last one of them was a man!”

My first trip, first run ashore after a month, to a tee. Dannys bar, big eye opener for a young lad.

[David Williams]

I well remember Dannys Bar.Went ashore
with the second steward whos name was Danny,so we had
to pay Dannys a visit.Some of the "girls" were really pretty.
Went to Antwerp on the British Resource way back in 52/53.
Dave Williams.

[Des Taff Jenkins]

First time in Danny's bar, I changed a large denomination note and this gorgeous thing behind the bar said "Ill give you a few of those Darling." though all my birthdays had come at once; until my mate said," that's a bloke." jees saved me a lot of embarrassment.
Des

[John Arton]

Ahhhh, Danny's bar, what a place, spent many a drunken hour in there as a cadet, always getting out intact. In Canadian Pacific we tied up at shed 20/21 on the river and across the road was Ermars bar where every surface was covered by seafarers names who had put them there whilst having the odd beer or 10.
Rgds
J.A.

[Doc Vernon]

Here is a good list of the old Bars around the World that i am sure many of you have visited at some stage in your Sea Going days , many bring back memories both good and scary too LOL

List of Seamen's Bars from around the World, Rhiw.com

The title of this Thread also brings to mind the place Silvertown in the London Dock Area, which i recall somewhat in those days around 1958.

Very narrow Streets as was many around London , with the cars of those times having to squeeze past each other, but somehow there were not many accidents! Good Driving i guess LOL
But near the Docks all those narrow streets , some of which one had t keep a really good Eye Open after dark, as there were those who took advantage of both the Female Sex in one way, and the Mae in the other (Now now John in Oz behave LOL)

I sometimes wonder in amazement how so many of us got to where we are now days, after all the escapades we went through. Coming out some of the then Toughest Bars around sozzled, with no cares at al and not been seriously hurt. Oh yes a few bruises and scratches at times, but then that was after falling over LOL.

Oh yes the Joys of life when young and free!
Cheers


Nice Story here Graham. Thanks

[Des Taff Jenkins]

I just got a e-mail from my cousin, she lives in one of those posh places on Canary Wharf, I told her I used to park my yacht there everytime I came into London, said I used to have some big ones, around ten thousand tons.
Des

[happy daze john in oz]

Was there a couple of years ago, hardly recognised the place it has changed so much.