Off to sea

 

“Saab—Saab”. I heard this voice in my ear. “It’s quarter bell”. “Thanks”, I said to the purri-wallah leaning over me to make sure I was awake. “I’m up now”. The Indian lookout disappeared, and I checked my watch. 2345, so quarter bell means quarter to the start of my watch.

As I stood up, I noticed that the deck kept moving and I was having trouble keeping my balance as I struggled into my still sticky oilskins. Not only that but there was a background noise of water rushing aft and now and then the ship shuddered as she shouldered a wave. Wow, we must be at sea now.

Still a little sleepy after only a couple of hours “kip” the slang word I heard Colin use to mean a short snooze I opened the door to the deck, and it was ripped from my hand and slammed into the bulkhead. “Damn”, hope it did not waken the others”!! The wind was strong, and I could see nothing in the pitch blackness of the night, no stars, no moon, just black everywhere. Door shut I staggered forward along the boat deck from one handhold to the next as the deck constantly heaved up in front of me, slid to port and then to starboard. Then I remembered the advice my grandfather had given me, “one hand for the ship and one hand for yourself”, he said. Definitely needed two hands for myself here, I thought, bugger the ship! Every time the ship rolled the sea seemed to come and meet the ship and then I saw huge waves with breaking tops. Oi this must be a gale, I thought.

Found the bridge ladders and clambered up to the bridge. Searched for the door to the bridge. No handle so with eyes only inches from the door I came across a a sort of brass recess set in the door and tugged it. Nothing happened so tried again and the door started to slide aft. Ah, it is a sliding door, must remember that. Opened it and stepped inside.

“Shut that bloody door”, I recognised the Glaswegian accent of the Second Officer as I bumped into the

engine telegraph. Not a good start to my watch. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness on the bridge an elderly man with grey hair and 4 large gold stripes on his uniform jacket came up to me and said in a gentle voice,” you should always enter the bridge through the leeward door, that is the door on the opposite side to the wind”. “Yes sir, sorry”, I replied thinking this apprentice had a lot to learn on the job!

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see out of the bridge windows that spray was flying up over the deck and the ship was rolling quite slowly from port to starboard as well as pitching up and down. Every time her bow went into a wave there was a loud bang, the ship shuddered, and spray shot up over the bow. The second officer was stationed in front of a circular rotating glass window that gave him better visibility outside. Having trouble keeping my feet and not knowing what to do I stood by the engine telegraph noticing it indicated that we were going full ahead!

The second officer had disappeared through a curtain into a room behind the bridge when he shouted” make yourself useful and make some tea”. “The kettle is on the shelf beside you, and you fill it from the bathroom behind the chartroom, there”! So that room is called the chartroom. Duly picked up the kettle and staggered across the bridge and through a curtain into a room with a large table facing the bridge on which was a chart and a low light over the chart. OK onto the bathroom and fill the kettle, back to the bridge and plugged in the kettle and waited. Some minutes passed and then a broad Glaswegian voice Was heard; Well, where is the tea?” “The water hasn’t boiled sir”. “You need to switch it on here, you stupid boy!” “Sorry sir I said feeling absolutely despondent and useless. After all I came from Yorkshire and making tea is second nature to us!

“OK, that is enough, get yourself up on the monkey island and keep a lookout”, ordered the second mate,” and use the leeward door”!

So, I was been sent outside into to the wind and rain to some place called a “monkey island”! Outside on the bridge wing it was difficult to keep my feet and see. However, he had said up to the monkey island, so I scouted around and found a vertical iron ladder behind the leeward bridge door. That must be it, so I started to climb up being alternatively hanging on for dear life as the bridge seem to topple over me and then on the next roll the ladder approached the horizontal. Hang on, hang on I thought.

Over the top of the ladder was a platform with a large round object surrounded at waist height by a wooden rail. Not a lot of protection from the weather but at least a rail to hang on to. I peered at the object and through a small window in a brass cover I saw it was a magnetic compass and the compass card was swinging wildly around. So, this is the monkey island but why “monkey”.

Later I found out that there is no real explanation for the term although in sailing ships it was often placed high on the fore or main mast and sailors climbed like monkeys to reach it! Thankfully although I was above the bridge, I was not that high in this weather!

Keeping a lookout seemed impossible as every time I poked my head above the rail my face was stung by salt spray and rain and I could see nothing!

Suddenly there was a muffled whistle from the side of the binnacle housing the compass. There was a brass tube with a cover on it. Lifting it gingerly I peered down it, nothing to see so I said “hello” and there it was that broad Scottish accent again. OK, keep a lookout for lights and report them by blowing down the tube and then telling me what you have seen. OK? OK, sir as I replaced the voice tube cover.

No lights out there as far I could see but anyway this was my duty so braving the driving rain and spray, I searched the blackness for any sign of life out there in the Irish Sea.

Peering over the monkey island rail I could see very little but soon learnt that by squinting with half shut eyes I could bear the constant battering on my face and see a black sky!

I had my oilskins on but had forgotten my sou’wester and in no time water was trickling down my neck inside my oilskins and I started to feel cold. Only four hours to go!

The motion of the ship up here so high was frightening, rolling from port to starboard and then pitching into waves with a shuddering jolt. Before long I started to feel unwell. What to do if I am sick? Should I climb down the ladder to the bridge leaving my post and search for a toilet? Circumstance decided the issue and I was sick on the monkey island! What will the second mate think? Should I tell him? Then suddenly I had uncontrolled sickness that went on for the rest of my watch. All thoughts of lookout were forgotten as cold and miserable I tried to contain my retching to no avail.

After what seemed a very long time, I heard someone climbing the ladder and Ralph, the other new apprentice appeared to start his 4-8 watch.

Not saying a word, I fled from the monkey island and reported to the second officer who was handing over the watch to the chief officer.

“Well, what a sight you look”, he said. “Get yourself to your bunk”.  Dutifully I staggered along the boat deck into our accommodation shivering and soaking wet. Shed my clothes, cleaned myself up and snuggled into my bunk promising myself that this was the first and last voyage I would do!!