# Voyage of Walkendick.



## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

After the quandary of what to do with my life following the Cuban Missile Crisis, I decided not to return to the Civic College to further my education, but to go out and explore the world before the powers that be blew it up. Following my old school chums exciting stories of their adventures at sea out in the Far East, I came to the decision to join the British Merchant Navy. Unfortunately, I'd left it too late to enrol in the training college, and couldn't join as a deckie-learner until I turned eighteen.
When my child benefits stopped I got a job as a sawyer's mate at William Brown's timber yard on New Cut East, on the dockside at Ipswich. The money wasn't much, but I saved every penny that I could while learning all I could about timber, and the various skills required to cut it up under the watchful eye of the sawyer... Freddie Brett.
After saving enough money to fund my adventure in sailing the Walkendick across the North Sea to Holland by the start of November, 1963, I quit my job to make my preparations. I was assured by my boss... Ted Cullum... that my job would still be open for me on my return to England.
With what little money I'd been able to save, I bought the provisions I thought necessary to last me for a month. It consisted mainly of tinned food, with Ryvita crisp-bread in place of bread. With ample tea, sugar and coffee, and with plenty of paraffin for cooking, I was ready for the off.
A new friend of mine... Lyndon Cox... who lived with his parents on Wherstead Road... down by Bourne Bridge near the Orwell Yacht Club... gave me a tow down the River Orwell as far as Harwich Harbour with his open, converted ship's lifeboat. He had been a fellow Tower Ramparts boy himself, but in the year ahead of me. Since leaving secondary school, he'd been employed as a trainee sailmaker and rigger at Whitmore's Sail Loft, down on the Ipswich Wet Dock.
I cast off, then waved to him as he headed back north across Harwich Harbour towards the mouth of the River Orwell. Now that he was gone, I was on my own, with only the sounds of the gentle wind in the sails and rigging, and the swish of the water as Walkendick pushed her way through the calm sea.
By the time I had cleared the outer approaches of Harwich Harbour, the gentle afternoon breeze had dropped off to a flat calm. The raft gently bobbed in the slight swell, as the ebb tide took me out of Harwich Harbour, then north-east towards the Cork Sands... with the Cork Lightship standing guard at the northern end of the long sandbank.
Watching the sun go down over the town of Felixstowe, I decided to brew up some tea and make myself something to eat. There were a few slices of ham to go with my crisp-bread, along with some cheese, Branson Pickle and salad. After sheeting home tight the sails to stop them from slatting, I sat on the fore-deck in front of the wheel to eat my supper... but my peace and quiet didn't last for long.
Coming towards me at high speed from the direction of Harwich Harbour was the Harwich lifeboat. I sipped on my cup of tea and chewed my evening meal as I watched them approaching. When they got nearby they slowed their approach, and I stood to accept their mooring lines. They were a little uncertain of what to say to me... hardly believing their eyes of what lay in front of them.
Apart from the raft itself, obviously made from beer barrels and telegraph poles, with a kind of garden shed on the deck for a cabin, I must have looked like the scruffiest bugger on earth. My hands were black from handling the sails and rigging, even though I'd washed them to eat my evening meal.
The dirt, oil and grease from handling the sails and rigging was so ingrained into them that washing made very little difference. My hair was an un-combed tangled mess, and I wore my old Post Office coat from my poaching days proudly, along with my stained jeans and Tough work-boots. What an apparition I must have looked to them!
The captain on the lifeboat coughed in embarrassment, as he made his way from the wheel to the side-deck near me. I doubt, in all his years as the skipper of the lifeboat... let alone the many more years that he'd spent as deck-crew... that he'd ever before seen such a sight that lay before him now. All the crew of the lifeboat stood on their deck looking in wonder at the strange craft in front of their eyes.
The captain of the lifeboat coughed again, then asked me if everything was okay. Sipping from my steaming cup of tea as I chewed on my supper, I replied that everything was just fine. When he asked me where I was heading for, I told him Holland. He enquired if I was alone, or whether I had company inside the cabin... and I told him I was the only person on board the good ship, Walkendick, on my voyage of adventure across the North Sea.
The captain of the lifeboat informed me that there was some bad weather arriving during the night... rather tongue-in-cheek, I might add... and suggested that he tow me into Harwich Harbour and anchor me behind the harbour breakwater overnight until the storm had passed. He said I could then be on my way first thing in the morning, after I'd had a comfortable night's sleep.
I thought about it for a moment, then kindly accepted his offer of a tow. One of the crew of the lifeboat stepped on board to secure their towline, then asked me if I could steer the raft alright... or would I like him to stay to help out. I told him that I would be just fine on my own, and he climbed back onto his bobbing craft beside me.
By the time the lifeboat had pulled ahead, then swung round to head back to Harwich Harbour with me in tow, it was all but dark. With the lights of Felixstowe twinkling beside me on my starboard side, the lifeboat gradually increased the throttle and towed the Walkendick towards Harwich Harbour... the sea water swishing through the oak Madeira wind casks beneath my feet.
One moment we were in the complete darkness of Harwich Harbour, with only the navigation lights of the distant ships moving in the background, and then the flood-lights of Harwich dock-basin engulfed me. Within minutes, my raft was made fast to the dockside, and the lifeboat took in her tow before mooring up on my port side. One moment I had been on my own on board my raft, then the next I was surrounded by a crowd of people all asking questions at once, and flashing away at me with their cameras.
A news reporter stepped in front of the cameras with a raised microphone in his hand. He fired one question after another at me, before I could hardly reply to the question before. Once he had satisfied himself that he'd got his story, he moved away, directing his camera-man to take film shots of the raft around the deck, then inside the cabin. Another reporter soon took his place before me with another... if very similar... series of questions about my raft, and my intended voyage out to sea with her.
I was glad when the barrage of questions finally stopped, once the journalists had got their story and had gone off to catch the next printing of their particular newspaper. The captain of the lifeboat invited me on board his boat, then ushered me down into their cabin. Within minutes, I was seated at their mess-room table with a glass of neat Lamb's Navy Rum in my hand... to warm the cockles... as one of the deck-crew told me as he handed me the glass. To be continued. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## tsell (Apr 29, 2008)

You've got me giggling again, Dick!

Cheers

Taff


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For tsell.*

Good to hear from you, Taff, I'm glad you liked the first part of Voyage of Walkendick. I promise you that you will enjoy the second part! All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## ccurtis1 (Aug 16, 2007)

Yet another terrific Yarn begins. Well done Cap'n


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For ccurtis 1.*

Good to hear from you, Curtis 1, I'm really glad that you liked the story of my 'Voyage on Walkendick. Part I.' I hope that you enjoy the rest of my voyage, when I was seventeen, back in 1963. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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