# Whoa damm you whoa!



## zebedee (Dec 19, 2010)

The title of this post is a quotation (possibly apocryphal) attributed to a Mid-West farmer as he drove his nice new Ford Model T through the gates of his farm. Nothing whatever to do with matters maritime, but a rather contrived lead-in to stopping ships.
When I first went to sea, i.e.. became a Marine Engineer, the engines were operated by engineers responding to telegraphed orders from the bridge. I have a vague recollection that if “Stop” were ordered; no further moves were available until the shaft had ceased rotating. However, this would have been over ridden by a “double” ring. i.e. moving the indicator from extremity to extremity. If this were rung while under power ahead it meant that emergency braking was needed. NOW! There would have been many such demands during the many stand-bys in which I participated and four of them are etched into my memory after more than fifty years. The first one I have covered in some detail already. (See my post “Historic Ramblings’, August 1st 2013).
The second one was in 1959 when I’d been appointed Third Engineer on the M. V. Trevaylor; then in the last few weeks of fitting out at Barclay Curle’s shipyard on the river Clyde. 
In due course acceptance trials were run with all the necessities being provided by the shipyard staff while we, the Hain’s personnel were there purely as observers. After completing the measured mile runs we were returning to the shipyard when the telegraph ordered : “double full astern”. By sheer coincidence I was ideally placed to watch the proceedings, The controls were at the middle of the engine on the starboard side and I just happened to be on the starboard middle platform, above and behind the (presumably chief) draughtsman at the controls {from here on known as Alf, from: A Leading Figure} Alf answered the command which set off the wrong-way alarm, This in itself was a new experience for me; on the older Doxfords on which I’d served the wrong-way alarm involved a slipping clutch at the forward end of the back camshaft and the associated wiring was so saturated in oil that it put an unhealthy earth on the switchboard. With the limited contemporary materials and expertise available the solution was to withdraw the fuses! After all, the poor Third Engineer had to double as electrician. Alf applied astern air and the engine turned over but did not fire. A second attempt fared no better and nor did a third! The fourth one was a minor disaster as all this time the pumps were delivering slightly, presumably ready for the next start but as it didn’t materialise the pressure in the common rail crept up and up, when it reached twice the normal running pressure the pressure relief valve opened discharging into a dedicated funnel just aft of the control station. Well, that was the plan and intention but the funnel had been made by brazing a cone to the outside of the drain pipe and the braze was what the jet hit. It promptly bounced back covering Alf and the controls in hot black bunker “C”. Two acolytes sprang into action one cleaning Alf’s rimless spectacles and his face while the other cleaned the most important gauges etc..
After a few more attempts Alf succeeded and this farcical episode was, presumably, accepted as satisfying the statutory regulations. 
The third one was at the end of my first trip as Second Engineer: back on the M.V. Treleven! As I did not see eye to eye with the relatively junior Chief Engineer I decided to leave her: and consequently remained on board during discharge, dry docking and cargo loading for the succeeding voyage a was customary. Having part loaded cement at, I think, Tunnel wharf somewhere near the Thames estuary, we left the berth after tea one evening to proceed way up river. As soon as we’d left the jetty a real pea-soup fog descended. We could not return because “our” berth was already occupied. Our Radar which was primitive even by the standards of the day had a minimum range of about 50 miles was obviously of no use under the cir***stances. I understand that we were the largest vessel moving that evening. I would imagine that the movement book contained many pages of “dead slow ahead, stop”.
Eventually we arrived at our new dock entrance and as we entered “double full astern” was rung nevertheless we just touched the wooden dolphin. The contact was so slight that it wasn’t felt in the engine room. We had a graphic and poetic description of events from the Chief Officer at breakfast next morning: “The jetty was so rotten that it collapsed as soon as we touched it and the navigation lights glowed briefly underwater before the whole thing floated away downstream hotly pursued by a PLA tug, throwing a writ on to our deck in passing”. ( PLA = Port of London Authority ) Further details I don’t know!
This brings me to the fourth “Crash Astern”, having part loaded in the Vancouver area we proceeded more-or less due West to finish loading forest products. By now 1962, I think, I was Second Engineer on the M. V. Trevalgan. the company’s newest ship and their first Sulzer engined vessel. On one of my morning watches I got a genuine “Crash Astern”.It was slightly misty but even so were proceeding at full speed with the most junior captain in the company on the Bridge: the original captain had been left in hospital in Vancouver. The radar scanner was on the Starboard side of the monkey island and the main-mast cast a shadow off to the Port side.By an incredible combination of cir***stances coming along this “shadow” was a tug with a timber raft in tow. As the sea was like a mill pond our course was, for once, perfectly straight so the tug remained invisible until it suddenly emerged from nowhere on our Port quarter. The natural reaction was “Double Full Astern” and “Hard to Starboard”! Steering to Starboard was incontrovertibly correct as the threat was from the Port side, but “Full Astern” would, with hindsight, reduce the flow over the rudder and make it less effective. I presume that I answered the telegraph and shut off the fuel before dashing to the starting air reservoirs on the Port side middles and opening the outlet valves before rushing back to the controls and starting up astern. As the controls were right at the forward end of the engine on its Starboard side I may well have stood to one side to avoid being crushed in the anticipated collision! Clearly no such event happened as I’m sure I would remember it. Zebedee


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## TOM ALEXANDER (Dec 24, 2008)

Can't speak for the engine room compartment, but on the Pacific Northwest (Furness Withy) docking under the Oakland Bay Bridge in San Francisco, there was a large flood tide running past the end of the wharf. Under pilot's recommendations we approached at speed against the tide and turned hard a'port to enter the docking area. Needless to say as we entered the "dead" water of the docking area, we were going gangbusters to take out the buildings at the end of the dock. Triple expansion Parsons steam turbines with a double reduction gear on the HP. emergency full astern. You guys down below think you had it tough? The forward wire spring was run ashore and was used as a brake wrapped around the bits just under the foc'stle head. The friction of the wire on the bits was causing the paint to smoke and flame. As soon as we ran out of wire, the longshoremen ran the end further forward along the dock and the process continued. I think we had about 30 feet to spare when we finally got stopped and the telelgraph rang "Stop engines". Needless to say it was one of those times when life and limb hung in the balance, and certainly not the only one. A bit of an "underwear job" for all involved.


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