# Cabin Boy Jim. R.I.P.



## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

The ship lie at her berth, beside Cliff Quay, in Ipswich. Her yards were all askew, to make it easier for the dockers to load her. She was loading cargo for New York, with a stop-off at Tenerife, in the Canary Islands, to drop off mail and ten tons of general cargo.
The two young boys looked across the River Orwell from the Orwell Yacht Club, at Bourne Bridge, and marvelled at this beautiful old square-rigger. They had just left school, the week before, but there was little prospect of them finding work. The world was still caught up in the recession of 1929, but was slowly coming out of it. There could be hope for the future, yet.
They decided to borrow a rowing boat and row across the River Orwell for a better look at the sailing ship. The very idea of setting sail on a square-rigger out into the world filled them both with intense excitement.
Once they'd rowed over to the ship, they laid on their oars to admire her. She was a beautiful old sailing ship, one of the last of her time... and here she was loading cargo at Ipswich. This was a scene straight out of the history books at school.
The two young lads decided to moor their borrowed dinghy up to the ladder leading up on to the quay, and climb up for a better view of her. There was much toing and froing, with men moving about in all directions. They decided to go for it, and climbed down the ladder leading to her deck from the quay-side. With hustle and bustle going on all around them, they walked over to the smartly dressed deck officer, in charge of the loading of cargo.
Jim asked him if they could speak to the captain, and he was pointed out to them up on the quarter-deck. They swallowed their intrepidation and climbed the companion-ladder to speak to him.
Alan Villiers was a young man in his early twenties, and appeared to be in deep discussion with two suit-wearing members of the town council. They were unhappy about the captain being so young... to take this beautiful old sailing ship across the Atlantic Ocean with only a small crew... and tried to prevent him from leaving. In the end, the captain had heard enough, and had the deck-officer take the two men down below and lock them in the brig.
Jim swallowed his fear and approached the captain, asking him if he had any crew vacancies, so they could begin their adventure of a life-time. Alan Villiers looked at the two scruffy young lads and told them they could serve on board as cabin boys, if they returned to the ship within the hour to sail on her.
Jim Fuller smiled up at the captain and made an attempt to salute him. The two young boys then turned, and climbed up on to Cliff Quay, on their way back to their borrowed rowing dinghy.
With only a few minutes to spare, and both completely out of breath from their haste to catch the ship from their homes to collect their few possessions, the two young lads stepped on deck of the fully rigged square-rigger, the Joseph Conrad. They presented themselves to the officer of the watch on deck, and were taken down below to their future quarters in the forecastle to deposit their gear.
Standing open-mouthed on the main-deck, they watched in awe as the steam tug pulled the square-rigger off Cliff Quay, and give her room for the crew to start setting the sails. First, the main-lower-topsail was set and squared away for the following wind, then the fore-lower-topsail was set. The upper-topsails were then set on these two masts, before the foresail was hauled up the forestay and sheeted home. The captain and the pilot stood on the quarter-deck to supervise getting this beautiful old square-rigger underway.
By the time the Joseph Conrad had made it down to the southern end of Cliff Quay, the tug slipped her tow, and the rope was hauled back on board. Cabin boys, Jim Fuller and Midge Goodchild watched in awe as this beautiful old sailing ship set her sails on the port tack, to reach down the River Orwell to Harwich Harbour, and beyond.
They looked back in amazement as the yachts of the Orwell Yacht Club slipped by, and the town of Ipswich disappeared behind them. They both wondered when they would see them again.
The Joseph Conrad was the last square-rigged ship to sail from Ipswich with cargo... in the late summer of 1932. Captain Alan Villiers wrote a wonderful book of his two year voyage around the world, 'The Last Voyage of the Joseph Conrad.' In it are all the photographs taken of the voyage, including one of cabin boys, Jim Fuller and Midge Goodchild. After dropping off the two town councillors at Tenerife, along with some mail and general cargo, and loading yet more along with fresh provisions and drinking water, she sailed across the Atlantic Ocean to New York and beyond.

I first met up with Jim Fuller in the winter of 1964, after buying my first ship, Blue Bell. She was moored in a mud-berth at the Orwell Yacht Club, and I became a member. It was at the end of January... a week after my eighteenth birthday. Jim Fuller was also a member of the club, as were many members of his family.
I met up with his son, George Fuller, at the time, who I'd gone through both primary and secondary school with... both of us finishing our school education at Tower Ramparts Secondary School. I went on to the Civic College in September, 1961, with the intentions of becoming a draughtsman... on my way to becoming an architect.
George followed in his father's footsteps and went to sea as a deckie-learner on the old wooden trawler, Yellow Tail, sailing out of Lowestoft. Another deckie-learner who sailed with him, Lardie, lost a finger when he fell into the open cogs of the trawler-winch, east of the Dogger Bank, and they had to steam towards Denmark until they were in range of a helicopter for him to be lifted off. George then joined the merchant navy, and went deep-sea out to the far east.

It was around 2005, when I was walking through the docks at Ipswich, on my way home from my night-shift at Lynden House... the Salvation Army Hostel in Fore Street for homeless men. Across the still water of the docks, with the swans still swimming around, was a fishing trawler that I recognised as one of the Renovia class of trawlers, of 189 feet overall length. My last ship was Debut, the original Renovia, and the first of that class of trawlers, built in 1948, after The Second World War.
The trawler lying on Tovel's Wharf still had the original layout, with a tall vertical funnel from when she was powered by steam, and the lifeboat was mounted in davits on the port side of the boat-deck. Debut had been remodelled when she was re-engined in 1964 with diesels, having a more streamline modern funnel, and the lifeboat was mounted amidships on the boat-deck under a large deck-crane.
Later that day, I went along the dock roadway leading to Tovel's Wharf, to look her over. It was while I was standing on the quay-side that I got into conversation with some of her crew. They had just brought the ship over to England from Norway, and were taking her to Mystic, in Connecticut, in the United States, and had called in at Ipswich because of engine trouble.
I told them that she was of the Renovia class of trawlers, and that I'd bought the Ross Resolution in Hull in 1978... the original Renovia of that class. I told them of my wonderful twelve year voyage around the Tropical World, where I had been shipwrecked in the Coral Sea off Australia, and spent three years castaway on Emily Reef. I had spent more than two years alone, after getting a lift for my young Samoan wife, Mariana, and our baby son, Robbie, to Australia. There was no food on board the ship suitable for weaning a baby.
They offered to show me around their ship, and I asked them what they were going to use her for. During our perusal around the deck, the young guy told me that they were from the Mystic Maritime Museum in Connecticut, and had just bought the ship to convert her into a square-rigger as a sail-training ship. He explained that their tall-ship, the Joseph Conrad, had rivet sickness, and was now a static museum exhibit. As this class of trawler was the last modern-type vessel to have a hull suitable for a sailing ship, they considered themselves lucky to be able to acquire one of the last in existence.
I told them that I knew of the Joseph Conrad, and had read the book written by her master, Alan Villiers. My guide took me to their mess-room, where he introduced me to all their crew. They were absolutely speechless when I told them that I knew cabin boy, Jim Fuller.
They were eager to know of his whereabouts... and if he was still alive. I promised to bring him down to visit them the next day. They were speechless and completely dumbfounded that he was still alive. I told them that cabin boy, Midge Goodchild, used to be a drinking friend of mine, but I thought that he'd passed away, as he disappeared from our drinking circle in the Steamboat Public House by the time of my return to England in 1990, after sailing all over the world on my two last ships, the Dauntless Star and Debut.
That evening, I phoned Jim Fuller at his house in Cardiff Avenue, on the Maidenhall Estate, and arranged to meet him in the morning down by the Wet Dock of Ipswich. We walked along the toe-path on the northern side of Newcut East , and I told him all about this Norwegian fishing trawler, and her crew from the Mystic Maritime Museum.
We stepped down from Tovel's Wharf on to her side-deck and walked aft to the entrance to the mess-room. There didn't seem to be anyone around on the ship. On hearing voices, I walked down the interior passageway inside the aft accommodation to the mess-room door. Looking inside, I saw all the crew having their morning tea break.
After saying hellow to them all, I introduced Jim Fuller to them, then stepped inside the mess-room, to leave him standing in front of the doorway. A young girl, who was part of the administration of the museum, stood up to shake his hand. They were all completely stunned by his presents before them, and all started to ask questions at once. He was bid to be seated, and we were offered cups of coffee, and he told them his story. They were all spell-bound as he went over the last voyage of the Joseph Conrad around the world, and his part of it when he was cabin boy, Jim.
Completely out of character, I sat quietly with them without interrupting, and listened to his spell-binding story. I had heard much of it before as a young man during our Friday night drinking sessions at the Orwell Yacht Club... some forty years before... but it was still wonderful to listen to his account of his voyage of a lifetime.
I never saw him again after this visit, and was told a couple of years later by his son, George, that he had passed away. You had a wonderful life, Jim, and we will keep your memory alive. May you rest in peace. Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## tsell (Apr 29, 2008)

A captivating tale Dick, thanks for posting it!''

Taff


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For tsell.*

It's good to hear from you, tsell, and that you liked the thread about Cabin Boy Jim. After I posted the thread about Jim Fuller, and his adventure on the Joseph Conrad, I phoned his son, my old school-mate George Fuller, up in London to tell him about it. He is also an aspiring writer, though he spent most of his life as a bricklayer. I hoped it might inspire him to add a thread to the story. I purposely never went into any detail about the voyage of that wonderful ship around the world in 1932, as he has his father's journals of the voyage, and wants to write a book about it himself. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## Bill.B (Oct 19, 2013)

I believe I met Jim Fuller when they had a showing of the film in Ipswich Corn Exchange about 1976 or so. Great movie. I know there were two of them one nicknamed "stormalong" but can't remember the other. The docks were so interesting then. Can hardly bear to go there now.
Keep them coming.


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For Bill B.*

Hi, Bill, good to hear from you, and that you liked my thread on Cabin Boy Jim. I've just been in touch with my old drinking buddy, Lyndon Cox, who spent the first half of his working life as a sail-maker and rigger at Whitmore's Sail Loft on the waterfront of Ipswich. He spent the later half working as a chief engineer on one of the Harwich tugs, and now lives at Shotley Gate, spending his retirement in his metal workshop in his back yard. He still has a treasured copy of 'The Last Voyage of the Joseph Conrad.'
He assures me that Jim Fuller was nicknamed 'Hardcase' while on the Joseph Conrad, and that Midge Goodchild was called 'Stormalong'. Midge was part of our drinking circle at the Steamboat public house, on the waterside of New Cut West, back in the early 70's. The corner of the bar where we all stood to drink is now known as 'Fisherman's Corner', after us. 
It is now a lunchtime drinkers pub for the office workers of the converted maltings nearby, and one of the major live music outlets in Ipswich. I haven't been there for many years, although I live nearby, as I like to talk with people when I'm in a boozer, not have my eardrums blasted out. I last went there with my old drinking buddy, Johnny Martin, who crewed for me many times on my tall ship, Biche, some eight years ago. About six years ago, I went to his funeral after he died from cancer at 81 years old, and recited the famous poem, 'Under the Wide and Stary Sky', the epitaph for Robert Louise Stevenson. It is cast in bronze and attached to his sarcophagus on the summit of Mount Via, in the heart of Apia, in Western Samoa. I have chosen that poem for myself... a long way off, I hope. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## Bill.B (Oct 19, 2013)

Hi Dick
Am doing well even though still working. Getting ready to sea trial a new U.S. Tanker "Texas" in early December. There is a lot of history in that area. I sailed with Derek (Spearo) Ling for years on Lady Daphne, Dannebrog and a few others. I spent a lot of one winter in Whitmores sail loft when Roy Woods was managing it and Percy Gladwell and Glenn Brunning were the sail makers. Fascinating to watch Percy sitting on that long low bench/stool literally pounding the needle through the canvas of a new barges mainsail. He must have had palms and wrists like steel. Sailed with many suites of Whitmores sails. We always used to say that Percy made his topsails too baggy as every new one had to come down for a recut. Never had that with Les George ones, Taylor's of Maldon or JImmy Lawrence. There are a lot of stories from that area too. Spearo came into possession of an old ships steel lifeboat and somehow, after a few pints in the Steamboat got a mate, Dicky Page, to cut it up as Spearo had got all out of it he wanted. He went away on a barge and came back and the lifeboat had gone. When he next saw Dicky he found out he had used a hacksaw to cut it up! Other time, 1953, when Spearo was unemployed they rounded up all the out of work workers and sent them off to plug the seawalls at Bawdsey. Spearo was living in the end one of the row of terrace houses next to the Steamboat . An old boy who lived a few houses down asked Derek if he could help bail the water out of his house. Derek said I will as soon as I have done mine. He said it took for ever to bail out what was a very small house. On finishing he went to his neighbors house and said he was ready only to be told the water had mysteriously gone. Poor old Derek had bailed the whole row out as they shared a common foundation. The gang on the Bawdsey seawalls also got taken to Ipswich police station in connection with a missing digger that was left on the sea wall. All of them claimed innocence about the supposed theft. Spearo told them that maybe it is still there. They ended up probing with steel rods and sure enough it had sunk into the mud. So if you ever need a 1950 era digger take a shovel about halfway between Ramsholt the Bawdsey ferry. 
Hard case. was the other one. There were several Fullers in the barge world. I knew Ernie Fuller who died young. I sailed with his widow this summer on Melissa in the Pin MIll race. I knew all the Polley brothers, Bill, Lennie and Tom. Superb seaman and some of the quietest skippers I ever sailed with. I was truly blessed to have sailed and learned from these men. Take care and thanks for getting back.


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For Bill B.*

It was really good to hear from you, again, Bill. You must be a little older than me, as I remember the 1953 floods as a seven year old. My parents talked about it in hushed voices. My old mucker, Kenny Hall, R.I.P. lived on the waterside of Wherstead Road, and his garden backed up to the River Orwell. They were all looking over their back garden walls as the water rose in the middle of that freezing cold night in January, when the water rushed into their front doors. It had come into the road at the Live and Let Live public house and swamped them out. They needn't have bothered, as a teenager he showed me the tide mark five foot up on his living-room wall where the flood water reached.
You may remember a crazy bunch of teenagers that built raft called the Wal-Ken-Dick, and sailed it up and down the River Orwell. That was me, Kenny Hall and Walter Sedgwick, who lived in a terraced house called the Railway Cuttings, set back off Wherstead Road near the railway track. You can still access the Patha News bulletins of my solo voyage out to sea from Harwich, under the heading, 'This Raft Stays Home', dated November, 1963... the exact week when President Kennedy was assassinated.
I worked as Lyndon Cox's labourer when we made the mainsail for Biche. It was of the best heavy flax, of 2,000 square feet... the same as the Thames Barges. The Head Master of Tower Ramparts Secondary School gave me permission to use their woodwork room during the evening to stitch it up, as we were both 'Old Boys' of the school. When we were ready to pull it out to stretch it and mark it out for the final cut, he gave us the forth year boys to help us pull it out into the playground and lay it out. Lyndon also made all the rigging for Biche, and I turned up the lignum vita deadeyes on a lathe at Foxes Boatyard on Wherstead Road.
Its great to hear from you, Bill B. I bet our paths crossed in many other ways. All the best to you, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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