A Commodore in the Making

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 454, 8 September 1928, Page 26

A Commodore in the Making

Sir Bertrram Hayes, ex-Commodore of the White Star lAne’s Atlantic fleet, writes of early days at sea ...

■ WENT to sea in 18S0 when steamers were beginning to oust sailing ships from the carrying trade of the world, but I wa3 fortunate enough to see some of the more famous of the latter before they finally disappeared. Calcutta, the port to which I made my first voyage, in those days, was a sight to gladden the eyes of anyone who cared about the sea. Tier upon tier of fine sailing ships, three and four deep, stretched along the river from Garden Reach up to the Howrah Bridge, moored bow and stern to buoys specially laid down for their accommodation. The men who commanded the sailing ships then were important per-1 sonages, though the days had passed when they considered it beneath their dignity to go on shore in anything less formal than a frock-coat and top hat, wearing tan gloves and carrying a silk umbrella, no matter how hot the weather might be. It was considered the correct thing in those days for boys who took up a sea life to remain in sail until they obtained their master’s certificate, and then to go into steam. The leading steamship companies would not engage an officer unless he were the possessor of one, and on joining one of their services one had to start at the bottom of the ladder again as fourth officer. Compared with life in the presentday ships, the lot of an officer then was a pretty hard one, during che winter months, at any rate. The ships were comparatively small and of low free-board, and it was a common thing to put off one’s oilskins and sea-' boots when leaving the Irish coast and not venture on deck again without their protection till one got well over to the other side of the Atlantic. It was a common occurrence for the steering-gear to break down. I have recollections of lying flat on my stomach on many occasions in the after wheelhouse, getting the chains that led round the quadrant connected again, the deck covered with the black oil that seemed tb be inseparable from steering engines. I made my first voyage in a new, full-rigged ship named the Laomene, sailing from Liverpool to Calcutta. It was the custom in those days for most of the sailors to join the ship drunk on sailing day—a custom which has practically died out now, I am happy to say. Conditions at sea in sailing ships, hard for men, were harder still for boys in those days. But we soon got used to them. Our menu was not at all extensive, either. The biscuits, commonly called “Liverpool Pantiles,” were so hard you could break them only with a hammer or on the corner of a chest, and they became full of weevils after a short time at sea. “The salt beef and pork I could

never eat and envied those who could. The beef was called “salt horse," and rumour had it that in some ships it was so hard that the sailors used to cut models of ships out of iL We got a small loaf of soft bread

twice a week, unless the cook decided to make doughboys out of the flour and put them in the soup together with tinned Australian meat —beastly stringy' stuff in those days—a mixture known as “sea pie.” Life on board for passengers in those good old days was far from be ing a bed of roses, too. It used to be said then that before they embarked, their friends would gather together and pray that they might reach the other side safely, and again return thanks when they had arrived. Emigrants, especially, had a rough time. The ventilation was not so good as it is now, and chloride of limd seemed to be considered the best substitute for fresh air. Anyway, it was scattered freely about- Emigrants brought their own straw beds for the voyage, and tin plates aud pannikins. The Great War brought the merchantmen’s stock up toward parFor many years the merchant ser- • vice had been a matter of small account in the public mind. It was a thing of boys’ tales, part of a lower stratum of life than that of every-day doings on land. Sailors, in the P-P u ' lar view, were drunkards and "**' trels, and only those who could n«t cjobs ashore took jobs afloaL TlHf were the world's beachcombers. Things are better to-day. lbb British Merchant flag honoured centuries throughout the world, “ now beginning to be honoured ax home. . Whatever the future of our wort# trade, British ships, manned W Britons, will, by reason of their e»* i ciency, courtesy, service, and gr e * traditions, always occupy a foremo* t place among the merchant navies the world. * I am proud to have belonged to su a service.