NOT A MAN DIED

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume 52, Issue 3269, 28 May 1943, Page 3

NOT A MAN DIED

1000 MILES TO SAFETY BOY SAVES 15 OTHER MEN TASK OF MERCHANT NAVY Seldom a day passes but some incredible story betrays the resourcefulness of the merchant seaman in high degree. “No, sir; I’d never sailed a boat in my life. You don’t get much chance to learn the trick in hard-run freighters,” said a survivor to Captain Frank H. Shaw. h “But you sailed your boat over a thousand miles in winter and made port,” I protested. “How?” “A Bit of common-sawy,” he replied. “Common-sawy,” the ability to apply one’s reasoning to any problem that might arise. The learnt art of making shift with inadequate resources. Back Broken The survivor had been an apprentice in a torpedoed steamer. The attack came at midnight; the torpedo struck amidships; destroyed the officers’ quarters, plus the captain’s sea-cabin, plus the two watch-keep-ers on the bridge. The ship sank in four minutes, her keel tom in two and her back broken. “There didn’t seem to be any officers about,” the boy told me, “when I landed on deck. I think I was blown through the half-deck skylight; I don’t remember.” He’d been asleep in his bunk—watch below—when the catastrophe occurred. “I felt the ship was for it,” he continued. “No one was giving orders, but the stokehold crowd were pouring up and a bit feverish. So I took charge.” “You found the men obeyed you?” “Oh, yes; we apprentices are sort

of half-baked officers; we give orders at times—mouthpieces for the afterguard. So I had two boats lowered. Weather wasn’t too good. “One man—look-out at the aftergun—said he’d spotted the sub., and might he have a shot at it? I warned him he’d probably have to swim, but he though it was worth it. The boats were in the water; though one went through the hole in the side where the mouldy had hit; that wasn’t too good. But we shoved her clear on the roll. “There wasn’t a lot of time to see to the food and water—but I nipped down and collared all the blankets I could. The gunner was loosing off at the submarine—we’d only got a 12pounder. He swore he hit him; but I doubt it. It was dark as the hobs of hell. “So we got the boats away. I hung on to the ship as long as I could; but she was going fast; and I found that what I was hanging on to was a hatch-cover —don’t know how it got over the side, but it did. We used it to make sails, after the real ones blew away. Crazy Plan “The look-out had to swim for it, as I told him—through oil most of the way. Fortunately it hadn’t taken fire; but what a job cleaning out his mouth and nose! He’d have suffocated else.” “You thought of that?” I demanded. “There are a lot of things to think about, but I was mostly thinking that if the Hun surfaced and shot at us, what would we do?” “Did he?” “We heard him questing around, but he didn’t spot us. I’d got a plan—it was a bit wild—to drift down on him if he started any silly tricks, and board him. Quite crazy"; but one thinks that way. The was a grand ship and Captain Smythe tophole. We all hated that Hun’s guts. “Still, he didn’t show up. So I started making the men comfortable. A lot of spray was swishing aboard; but that wasn’t so bad; it kept men

warm baling. 'Some hadn’t their boots on. I told them to cut strips off the tarpaulin and use them as wraps; they felt the benefit.

“I tried to remember everything I’d heard of castaways and what I’d read, too; but the cold slowed down my brain. Still, there’s such a thing as instinct.

“We heightened the gunwales, too. Our boat, at least; I didn’t risk signalling the other, in case the Hun was near. Strips of the tarpaulin did that, propped up on bottomboards and stretchers. It made quite a difference; even a foot of weatherboard helps. “We stayed where we were—just on the fringe of the oil, because I reckoned Sparks would have got off an 5.0.5., giving position, and if anything came looking for us we’d be better where he expected to find us. But nothing came. “At dawn I had them light a fire; there was a sand-bucket aboard, and we burned a few bits of the bottomboard. I’d to wait till daylight, so the glare wouldn’t give us away to the Hun. On the fire we boiled water in a baler and made scalding cocoa—it did us good. We could see to adjust ourselves, too. I warned all hands against keeping their feet in the water in case of frostbite. “It wasn’t till the sun was up that I knew how to steer; the compass had got unshipped. We were more than half-way across, going west, when we got it. But the wind was from the west; I reckoned that was the prevalent breeze at that time of the year, so told them we’d better steer east and take advantage of it, even if it were further. They agreed.” “Who were in the boat?” I asked. “Three deckhands, most of the stokehold crowd, and two engineers, with a steward and the lamp-trim-mer.” “All of them older than you, of course.” “Yes, but I was a bridge ornament;

anyway, I told them that if any of them had better ideas we’d use ’em. But they seemed satisfied. So we established our discipline—l was to be captain. ‘‘No sign of the other boat—never has been. I fancy she sank; we nearly did. It was blowing a snifter, you see. But I cliucked out a sea-anchor, with the mast and oars tied to it, and we rode it out.”

They rode it out for a matter of 30-odd days. They endured everything. But not a man died. This boy—he was aged 18—took competent charge of 15 grown men, rationed them so that there was still food and water aboard when they were picked up, kept them amused and as active as circumstances allowed; rubbed their swollen limbs with colza oil; started a Brains Trust to vary the eternal monotony; held boisterous sing-songs; put the men to the oars when calm fell; rigged new sails when the old ones blew away. At 18! And, as he said, opportunities for boat-practice had been limited.

He is just one example of the knackiness of the Merchant Navy. Without preliminary training he handled the situation completely. Then you get cases like the secund mate—his first voyage in that rank —whose ship was bombed and fired. 'He wasn’t satisfied with a boat voyage; he boarded his blazing ship at dawn, extinguished the seething flames and contrived to get the ship to safe port. He sailed her when the engines seized through the heat. He tended his sick—there were many—and he fought off another air attack before he was salved.

It is this versatility that is winning the war. The Merchant Navy rises to every emergency, no matter how unique or bizarre.