31st January 1964 to 8th May 1964 as a Deck Apprentice with a Maltese crew.
This was my first ship after completing a two-year pre-sea education course at H.M.S. Conway, the shore based Merchant Navy training college located at Anglesey, North Wales. It was here that I gained my G.C.E.’s and a Conway ‘passing out’ certificate, granting one year’s remission of sea-service. This was deducted from the four years sea time normally required before sitting for the written and oral examinations for a Board of Trade 2nd Mate (Foreign Going) Certificate.
Having obtained the above basic qualifications I was ready for sea, although only 17 years of age and rather unsure of what lay ahead. I received my first joining instructions through the post from the Deck Department ‘appointer’, a civil servant at Empress State Building, (RFA Head Office), in London. From my home near Hastings, I caught the train to Plymouth where my ship would, I thought, be waiting for me with open arms! I had sent a tin trunk off in advance, with most of what I expected to need. (I was soon to be informed that this was a very risky thing to do and never did it again). On arrival at Plymouth I hired a taxi to Devonport Dockyard, but there was no sign of my ship. The taxi driver thought we should try Millbay Docks and on arrival I was relieved to see a grey tanker lying at anchor out in Plymouth Sound. Climbing down the steps at Princess Royal Pier, I boarded an MFV that was about to take liberty men out to my ship. As we proceeded across the Sound I noticed that my first appointment was starting to look older and rustier the closer we got and I began to wonder what I was about to let myself in for! I was met at the top of the gangway by a rather severe looking duty officer, who showed me to my cabin and to where my heavy trunk could be found. I later discovered that this was to be the Wave Knight’s final voyage before being taken out of service and laid up for disposal. But what an interesting voyage this was to become.
The other apprentice, who had already been aboard a while, was a Plymouth lad who had an older brother already serving as an engineer in the RFA. With his own short experience aboard and guidance from his brother, my fellow apprentice seemed very worldly wise and began to show me the ropes.
We sailed the next day and I recall seeing harbour dolphins jumping ahead of the ship as we passed out of the Western Entrance of Plymouth Sound. A good omen I hoped! As we steamed steadily across the Atlantic I got to know my way around the ship. We were heading for the oil refinery at Pointe-a-Pierre, Trinidad, to load a full cargo of Furnace Fuel Oil (FFO) and Diesel Oil (Dieso). Both were the lifeblood of British warships and auxiliaries. The February crossing of the Atlantic was the first test of my suitability for this life and fortunately I passed! I was lucky not to succumb to the unpleasant effects of seasickness in the many storms that were to follow during my career.
As the junior apprentice, I was detailed to work with the Maltese bosun and crew on ‘day-work’, i.e. 0800-1200hrs and 1300-1700hrs. I then had to keep the evening watch with the 3rd Officer. I found that these were long hours and hard work, which often involved a lot of chipping rust and painting. Occasionally, I recall, I would sneak off to snooze in one of the lifeboats during the afternoon, when I knew that the Chief Officer was also having a nap! Some afternoons I would be given time to catch up on my correspondence course, for the seemingly far distant 2nd Mate’s exam. The 1st Officer supervised our studies from time to time and helped with our many questions.
After loading our cargo and a brief run ashore to the nearby town of San Fernando, we sailed from Trinidad bound for the South Atlantic and the Falkland Islands. Somewhere off Brazil we met and refuelled the frigate HMS “Jaguar”. After an otherwise uneventful passage we arrived at the Falklands and anchored in the Outer Sound at Port Stanley. The purpose of our visit was to discharge some of our diesel cargo to replenish the stocks held there for the ice patrol ship HMS “Protector” and the British Antarctic survey ships, which occasionally called in to refuel and take on stores.
The only way to discharge this cargo was to pump it into a 500 ton barge, which made daily trips to and from the ship. The poor weather made things difficult and we later moved into the Inner sound which made it more comfortable for the barge to lie alongside the ship.
When we were off duty, the other deck apprentice and I were invited ashore as guests of the Port Stanley Harbour Master. I remember bouncing around in the back of his Land Rover as we toured the island, viewing various beaches populated with seals and Gentoo penguins. In several inlets we saw rotting wooden and iron hulks of beached and abandoned sailing ships. They had apparently come to grief in some of the many southern ocean storms, or been driven ashore when calling at the islands for a cargo of wool. One of the hulks we saw was the SS “Great Britain”, now recognised as of historical importance and carried back to the U.K. for restoration as a museum ship at Bristol Docks.
Whilst at the Falklands I recall being led, (not unwillingly), astray by some of the junior officers and getting quite merry and eventually sick, on a cocktail of alcoholic generosity. That event had the lasting effect of putting me off whisky for life! During our stay we made one or two visits to the pub in town, which I think was called the “Upland Goose”. It nestled amongst a collection of pastel coloured, timber walled and corrugated iron roofed houses, built on a gentle slope down to the sea inlet and harbour. On the opposite hill and facing the town, visiting ship’s crews over many years had proudly marked out their ship’s name on the grassy slope, using white painted stones.
We found that all the islanders were extremely pro-British, very friendly and hungry for news and information about life or events back in the U.K. The British influence was to be seen everywhere. They even had red painted phone and letterboxes. Small shops and stores sold British goods. I recall buying my first electric razor in one of those little shops!
After a few days, and followed by fond farewells, we sailed south east towards and past the South Sandwich Islands. Soon we ran into loose ice dotted with ‘growlers’, where we met up with the British ice patrol ship HMS “Protector”. In poor visibility and biting cold weather we replenished her fuel requirements using our stern RAS (Replenishment at Sea) rig. Unfortunately our radar had packed up, so, steaming in line ahead, we relied to a certain extent on “Protector’s” guidance from astern to avoid any large icebergs. Smaller ice and ‘growlers’ had to be searched for by lookouts posted on the forecastle and bridge wings. They were particularly hard to spot amongst the white-caps blown up by the constant wind. I recall spending several cold watches out on those bridge wings, peering through binoculars and looking for ice until weather conditions improved.
Departing from HMS “Protector” we thankfully headed north to warmer climes, with our next port of call being Cape Town. I still remember seeing the top of Table Mountain becoming visible above the early morning mist, whilst we were still many miles from land.
Every new port of call was amazing to me. New sights, new smells and new cultures. I recall riding the cable car to the top of Table Mountain, but unfortunately the ‘table-cloth’ was laid that day and the cloud made it quite cool up there, spoiling what must have been a wonderful view.
On leaving Cape Town, we steamed around the Cape of Good Hope to the ex-British and now South African Naval Base of Simonstown. I recall seeing the dry-dock there, the walls of which were decorated with painted ship’s badges. Grabbing a couple of hours ashore, I bought myself a desperately needed pair of soft leather sandals. They had to be more comfortable than the cripplingly hard pair I was issued from the ship’s clothing store, and they were, thankfully!
The next stage of our voyage took us up the east coast of Africa, towards the port and British staging post of Aden. During one of my evening watches on the bridge, we passed a brilliantly lit passenger ship heading south. Being keen to practice my signalling skills on the aldis lamp I called her up with the usual enquiry, “What ship and where bound?” It turned out to be the almost new P.&O. liner S.S. Canberra. After giving her our name “Wave Knight” and exchanging pleasantries she signed off to me bidding us “Good Knight”. Amazing how a little detail like that stays in your memory.
Aden was my first real experience of Arab culture and as a ‘first tripper’ it hit me like a cloth in the face! The intense heat and brilliant sunlight reflecting off the calm waters of the harbour, the stark and barren hills surrounding this seething mass of waterborne activity, the noise and shouting coming from every direction, including the bumboats lying alongside, where traders were frantically trying to persuade you to buy their goods; everything from binoculars and radios, to alarm clocks and stuffed camels. As newcomers to this environment, we apprentices were told to make sure that anything of value was locked away, portholes closed securely and cabins locked, otherwise things would probably go missing very quickly.
The visit to Aden was quite short, with just time to load our cargo and fresh water from the refinery at Little Aden, located across the bay from the main town. We were glad to get away to sea again and open up our accommodation areas and cabins. “Wave Knight” had no air-conditioning so we tried to keep our cabins cool at sea by fixing an air scoop through the porthole. This device was useless in port or in a following wind and was supplemented by a rickety portable fan, whirring away day and night. We seemed to get used to the heat after a while, taking a daily ration of salt tablets with our meals.
After a passage up the Red Sea our next landfall was at Suez, to be followed by the canal transit. It was at anchor here that the local barterers were so persistent that my colleague and I were ordered to keep them away from the ship with fire hoses and the threat of dropping a heavy shackle into the bottom of their flimsy boats. It was all quite exciting and great fun! The canal transit of about 100 miles through the desert was very interesting. Ships went through in a daily convoy, pausing at the Bitter Lakes to let a southbound convoy pass in the other direction. Every so often along the canal there appeared a signal station surrounded by a small oasis of vegetation and palm trees, beyond which there was nothing to see but sand and more sand. A road and railway ran alongside the canal, linking the signal stations and the north to the south. Occasionally a lorry or train would thunder past kicking up a minor sandstorm. On long straight sections of the canal I noticed that it was possible to detect the gentle curvature of the Earth’s surface.
At Port Said, the northern end of the Suez Canal, we dropped off our pilot, as well as the two Arab mooring boats which had been suspended on either side of the ship. They had to be carried in the event of us having to stop and moor to the canal bank for any reason. We also had to carry a special searchlight mounted on the bow during the transit. (The searchlight had a split beam, in order to see both banks of the canal ahead whilst moving at night). Now released into the Mediterranean Sea, we steamed for the island and British military base of Malta. We sailed into the Grand Harbour to much excitement from our Maltese crew. This was my first opportunity to see other RFA ships and I recall seeing another ‘Wave’ boat, the “Wave Baron” as well as the old “Olna”, which was sitting in a large floating dock. Our berth was at the ‘dolphins’ by Corradino Hill, where we discharged our entire cargo and commenced tank washing. This operation took a few days and the off-duty crew were happy to get a few nights at home. Time was running out for this old ship and we started to dismantle the replenishment rigs, laying the derricks out horizontally prior to the vessel being laid up for disposal when she got home.
Finally we sailed back to Devonport in ballast, berthing at No.1 Jetty where the ship was to be de-commissioned. The Captain instructed us apprentices to find accommodation ashore. We would be paid full subsistence, whilst helping the Chief Officer with de-storing the ship. My colleague’s home was at Ivybridge, which was just a few miles from Plymouth. He kindly invited me to stay with him so we both commuted daily on the bus. His Mum looked after me very well and she wouldn’t take much for my keep. We saved what seemed to me at the time to be a small fortune, but the ‘bonanza’ only lasted about three weeks or so before we were finally paid off for some leave. After just four weeks at our homes we were both ordered to join our next ship, the “Hebe”.