# Confession of a First Tripper



## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

Confession of a First Tripper. (Aged 16 . Liverpool Pilotage Apprentice, sailing as Blue Funnel Middy.)

2359 hrs 5th October 1959. At Gladstone Dock, Liverpool

SS Jason. Liverpool to Sydney. Stand-by, fore& aft.

I was ordered to the Poop, to assist the Second Mate. Perched on the docking-bridge which ran athwart the poop deck-house and above it. In Gladstone Lock we let go the stern tug. The Second Mate (Peter Beckett, a quietly spoken gent of the old school ) asked me to tell the Bridge, via the telephone. (Long before portable VHF.)

Cursed with a loud voice, I pressed the tit and bellowed into the phone “Hello, Bridge?”

On the deck below, the Lamptrimmer (Johnny Rowan) called up “ “Hello Bridge”, who the F&L do you think you’re talking to? The Moon?” (Even I , aged 16, could recognise the taking of the pixx. What I did not realise was that Lampy had probably spent most of the evening in The Caradoc. Such is youthful innocence.) I then reported that the stern tug was gone and clear.

We cleared Gladstone Lock and swung downstream for sea, via Crosby Channel. After about ten minutes, Mr Beckett said something to me which I did not catch and therefore did not understand. He then left me on the docking bridge and disappeared.

After about another twenty minutes we passed Crosby Light and I read (for the first time in my life) the word CROSBY on the side; and it was emphasised in my own mind that we were on our way to sea and I had no idea why I was standing on the docking bridge on the poop. It seemed absurd. Aware of my utter insignificance, I had visions of standing there until we reached Sydney, unless I did something.

So I left the poop and turned in!

Breakfast time: WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT? WHY DID YOU NOT STAY ON THE POOP? WE SEARCHED THE SHIP FOR YOU AND FOUND THAT YOU HAD TURNED IN! NEXT TIME THAT YOU ARE TOLD TO STAY ON THE POOP, YOU STAY ONTHE POOP!!!

I was, however, forgiven at the time and nothing more was said.

Fifty-four year later and after a further thirty years of experience in Liverpool Pilotage I can say that never in any other company did I hear of anybody remaining stationed on the poop all the way out to the Bar (which I realised was expected of me that night). What I could possibly have said or done (as an ignorant youth) in the event of any incident that night remains unclear to me to the present day!

Thank you, SN, for the confessional!

Anybody care to follow?


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## John Campbell (Aug 30, 2005)

Leaving Royal Albert Dock, on my first trip, on the eve of Coronation day I too was sent to assist the second Mate on the poop of the Southbank. It was raining and near midnight and I was on the docking bridge with Me Van **** an excitable Dutchman to put it mildly. He never used the telephone himself as he had difficulty in speaking clear English .
It did not help having the ship's master Captain Bob Smith shouting and bawling through a megaphone and from the bridge wing to the poop- it was very hard to hear. His Geordie accent was difficult for me being used to the soft tones of Northern Scotland where the most accentless English is found. 
Being a young very green first tripper shouts of "hang on to the after back spring" struck terror into me as I had only a vague idea what they meant. Tugs were all around and locking out of the Royal Albert Dock was quite an adventure until we were in the River Thames and the last tug and line let go. I was told "tell the bridge "All clear aft"" I had no idea what was meant or if I had heard the 2/m correctly so rather than repeat the order I kept silent. Then the telephone rang and it was the old man asking why we were taking a time getting the ropes in and why was he not kept informed. This conversation escalated into a right bawling out for the 2/m who in turn correctly blamed me. 
Result I was sent to the bridge to look after the movement book for the rest of the voyage - when leaving or entering ports- a much better job . 
Like you Barry - the memory of that first time on the Poop deck docking bridge remains clear to this day and has stood me in good stead when working with first trippers and asking them to do jobs for which they are not yet competent.


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## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

Many thanks, John!

Any more, anybody?


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## Hugh Ferguson (Sep 4, 2006)

I too found myself, on first trip, stationed on the poop with the 2nd mate for departure from Vittoria Dock, Birkenhead.
But we only got as far as the lock before returning to the berth we had just vacated! The Captain was worried by the list she took and became concerned about stability so, back we went.
Stability tests ensued during which they dropped two tons of pig irron just outside of our accommodation-we thought we'd been torpedoed!
Dockers worked all night discharging 500 hundred tons of war material.
Next day Lawrence Holt came down and we were all mustered in the captain's cabin where we were informed, if the ship was torpedoed she would capsize in which case we were told don't waste any time launching boats, go to the life rafts.
Laurence then asked each of us in turn starting at the end of the line with ME! My father's last words to me had been "always be truthful" so I said I was **** scared-or words to that effect.
There was a deathly hush, but Laurence went on along the line and everybody else said they were'nt scared to sail in her.
Years laterI learnt from Julian Holt that this episode had become a part of the Holt family legend and his father often referred to it, saying what a bad mistake he had made starting to ask that question at the youngest end of the line-up.
Fortunately we were not torpedoed.


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## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

My salutes, Hugh!

Thank you for what you did!

B


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## borderreiver (Oct 11, 2008)

I wonder what the Holts would of modern day practices in Navigation, seamanship and all other Life at sea .


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## Pat Kennedy (Apr 14, 2007)

Jason was one of my old ships Barrie, I was in her when she was rammed amidships by the Anchor Line's Circassia while alongside in the Clyde at Meadowbank Quay. Six weeks in Barclay Curle's Elderslie Drydocks ensued.
I sailed with Johnny Rowan too, but not on the Jason. I think it was on the Peleus, a good seaman.
Regards,
Pat


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## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

Hi, Pat,

Later I sailed with Johnny on the Memnon, too.

A good hand. Never at a loss for a word of advice!

B


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## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

A further epic of my first trip was my starring role at Central Wharf in Sydney at about 0730 one morning as scores of wharfies were swarming aboard. Quite how I managed to avoid either maiming or killing several of those splendid fellows, I remain unsure to the present day. Read on, gentle reader, read on!



FLIP-FLOPS

It was a busy morning,
A callow youth was I,
Apprenticed in Blue Funnel Line,
A bright Australian sky.
As I was working on the ship,
Alas! Alack! I made a slip!

We lay in Sydney Harbour
At Central Wharf - the quay.
Attending to the life-boats
Were some other chaps and me.
A routine washing-out and cleaning,
With, so it proved, a greater meaning.

Our ship, a handsome liner,
Rose some fifty feet in height,
Up to the Boat-deck where we were,
The boats pristine and white.
We were alongside, starboard-side,
Where I was in a boat, inside.

My fellows had the hose-pipe.
The washing-out complete,
And I was standing in the boat
With flip-flops on my feet.
And chaps were passing-in to me,
The oars, preparing all for sea.

Imagine, then, the busy scene,
With dockers on the quay,
All queuing for the gangway,
Fifty-feet below. D’you see?
For them their day was getting started.
A hundred of them – all stout-hearted.

And then it happened! In the wet!
I took an oar and slipped and fell!
The oar slipped, too – I see it yet!
Where has it gone – Oh, Effing Hell!!
“Below!” I roared with baited breath!
How many dockers done to death??

With fear and dread I gained my feet:
Flip-flopped! Foolish! What to see?
Relief! My heart had ceased to beat,
Until I saw upon the quay;
What joy, unto this day, I utter!
My oar was in a case of butter!


A pallet-load of butter-cases
Stood adjacent to the gangway.
I, with reddest of red faces,
Watched the oar go twing-way – twang-way.
The oar was perfect! I, the clown!
The oar a pendulum, upside-down!

Retrieving, then, the lethal oar,
Not guilty (just) of gross manslaughter,
I knew that I must learn much more
Of common-sense and ships and water.
The moral? Mark well. Double-check.
Wear only proper shoes on deck.

BY
29.10.09


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## Farmer John (Feb 22, 2012)

My memory is, for various reasons, very imperfect, but I seem to remember that on my first trip (Menestheus, voyage 22), we, as middies, turned to with the crowd and so were handling ropes and so on. We certainly did deck work. I certainly chipped plenty of rust, slapped red lead all over the place and topped derricks, I remember night watches and worrying about the lines ashore as the tide came in, told to call crew to help let out slack before it got bar tight, and so on. Then I also have memories of doing cargo watches and tallying stuff in and out of strongrooms.

I did a trip on the Glenogle when I spent time watch keeping, and seem to remember being moved from 12:4 to 4:8 and to 8:4. Does this seem right? 

My memory is screwed, due to medical problems that caused me to leave, so I would love to get my memories squared away.


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## Pat Kennedy (Apr 14, 2007)

Barrie Youde said:


> Hi, Pat,
> 
> Later I sailed with Johnny on the Memnon, too.
> 
> ...


I did a voyage in the Memnon in 1960, Radar Robb was the master, Harry Hands the bosun, but Johnny Rowan wasn't in her that trip.

My first trip faux pas was in that Achilles, outward bound in the Red Sea, I decided one afternoon to chill out for a few minutes in the fridge room, which was below the main deck in the 'A' class. I helped myself to a chunk of cheese and a big red apple and sat on a case of butter to enjoy them.Then suddenly the heavy door swung shut when she rolled and the light went out. In a panic, thinking I would freeze to death, I set about finding a light switch. I found a big push button and pressed it, and all hell broke loose... it was the alarm! a couple of minutes later the door opened and there was a posse of engineers, stewards, cooks, and various other interested parties staring at me as I stood blinking in the bright light with a stolen apple in my hand.
A series of bollockings and weeks of torment by the crowd followed and I was called Eskimo Nell thereafter on that ship.(Jester)
Regards, 
Pat


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## Barrie Youde (May 29, 2006)

#11

Well done, Pat! Scrumping apples at sea takes some beating!

My Memnon trip was June to October 1960, immediately after yours. Radar Robb was still in command. The bosun was Mike Brabander.

Best,

Barrie


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## Hugh Ferguson (Sep 4, 2006)

Farmer John said:


> My memory is, for various reasons, very imperfect, but I seem to remember that on my first trip (Menestheus, voyage 22), we, as middies, turned to with the crowd and so were handling ropes and so on. We certainly did deck work. I certainly chipped plenty of rust, slapped red lead all over the place and topped derricks, I remember night watches and worrying about the lines ashore as the tide came in, told to call crew to help let out slack before it got bar tight, and so on. Then I also have memories of doing cargo watches and tallying stuff in and out of strongrooms.
> 
> I did a trip on the Glenogle when I spent time watch keeping, and seem to remember being moved from 12:4 to 4:8 and to 8:4. Does this seem right?
> 
> My memory is screwed, due to medical problems that caused me to leave, so I would love to get my memories squared away.


 Not 8:4, Farmer John, but 8:12, usually the 3rd mate's watch.


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## Farmer John (Feb 22, 2012)

Hugh Ferguson said:


> Not 8:4, Farmer John, but 8:12, usually the 3rd mate's watch.


Slip of the brain


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## Hugh Ferguson (Sep 4, 2006)

Hugh Ferguson said:


> I too found myself, on first trip, stationed on the poop with the 2nd mate for departure from Vittoria Dock, Birkenhead.
> But we only got as far as the lock before returning to the berth we had just vacated! The Captain was worried by the list she took and became concerned about stability so, back we went.
> Stability tests ensued during which they dropped two tons of pig irron just outside of our accommodation-we thought we'd been torpedoed!
> Dockers worked all night discharging 500 hundred tons of war material.
> ...


 Frank Widdows was the unfortunate mate who collected some of the blame for this negative GM. He was an awfully nice man who had already been having a bad war: sunk twice-Ixion and Mentor.
In the Mentor he had had an alchoholic captain to deal with and he had to be relieved of his command, but Frank did not take his place.
(One of the middies in the Mentor had been Peter Jackson who was destined later to command the QE2).
After sailing from New Orleans the Mentor was sunk but the crew were all rescued shortly after by the Antilochus which had come, conveniently sailing, over the horizon.
Extraordinary to account that on boarding her Peter Jackson was greeted on deck by Bob Arnott; little could they ever have imagined that some thirty years later one of them would be passing the command of the QE2 to the other! 

(Frank Widdows, I believe, died before achieving command).


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## Varley (Oct 1, 2006)

Hugh, any idea if this was the same Julian Holt that lived a few doors down from here with his boyfriend (at Burleigh now offices and upmarketted to Burleigh Manor).


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## Hugh Ferguson (Sep 4, 2006)

I'm quite sure, Varley, that there could only be ONE Julian Holt! He died some years ago but if I recall correctly he lived in Mariners' Park, Wallasey with his man friend.
I sailed with him once in 1947 in the Stentor; he was 3rd mate.
He's the one capless and black shoed.


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## Varley (Oct 1, 2006)

Hugh, I only met him once. I understand that he emigrated to San Francisco/Los Angeles after being prosecuted for soliciting obscene publications in the Royal Mail - a rather unfair 'nab' but one I suppose better than it could have been, his chosen predilection being still illegal here at the time.

We had a mutual friend who acted as their mistress of ceremonies and I delivered misdirected mail - I think Father made sure she was there when I did - his boyfriend was always thought to be a pleasant, if utterly camp, opinion of himself was not as generous.


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## Pat Kennedy (Apr 14, 2007)

Varley said:


> Hugh, I only met him once. I understand that he emigrated to San Francisco/Los Angeles after being prosecuted for soliciting obscene publications in the Royal Mail - a rather unfair 'nab' but one I suppose better than it could have been, his chosen predilection being still illegal here at the time.


You believe that homosexuality is a lifestyle choice?
I doubt if any gay people would agree with you, nor would several groups of eminent scientists throughout the world who are researching the origins of homosexuality, and have come to believe that it very definitely has a biological basis. Gays are born that way, the do not choose to be gay. It appears to be as natural as left handedness.
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-e...r-psychology-says-sharon-kingman-1555359.html


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## Varley (Oct 1, 2006)

Mea culpa. Please substitute "...his inevitably allocated delectation..." for my original wording, otherwise I might have to "come out" myself. How you think this reflects on the bravura of one who moved here from a more heterophobic jurisdiction I cannot imagine.

There is nothing "wrong" or "reprehensible", in my view, with being other than heterosexual but your careful use of the word "natural" instead of "normal" might be taken as indicating that the "normal" (ie the bulk, by the curve of natural distribution) is other than M&F when it comes to sex, that would be wrong. The proof is all around you and is far more compelling than that for climate change.

Did you argue against section 28 or did you take the view that sex of any kind should not be promoted amongst those unable to practice the art? Making sex illegal between consenting peers (the peerage including mental and developmental equality) is, of course, ridiculous. Promoting sex at any age is just as illogical. Providing information upon demand should be a right. Forcing it down the throat should be a criminal offence.


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