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38 SHIPPING - Today & Yesterday | July 2018
In 1955 I was appointed third mate ofthe twin screw M.V.
Irisbank on whatwas to be an unforgettable voyage. She was a real
old timer, built in
1930, and a war survivor, with twinscrews and a decent turn of
speed at 14knots when both engines were workingsatisfactorily,
which was not always thecase. I was the proud possessor of
arecently obtained Second Mate's certifi-cate, and this had
propelled me up intoan elevated status of officer, far removedfrom
the bilge cleaning, paint scraping,and rust chipping four years
spent in aBank Line apprenticeship. I joined the oldgirl in
dry-dock in Birkenhead and shewas a typical Bank Line pre-war ship
withwood sheathed decks and open rails.They had a certain charm of
their own,and the clunking of the steam winchestoiling away could
be heard at some timein remote ports all over the globe. Wewere
destined to circle the world twicebefore this voyage was over and I
couldproceed to sit for a First Mate's certifi-cate.
Four vessels were ordered fromWorkman and Clarke (Belfast) Ltd.,
andall four were a great success, giving anaggregate of 124 years
service. It wassome record. They sailed uninterruptedright through
WW2 and on into the1960s. The three sister ships wereLossiebank,
Taybank, and Tweedbank,with the Lossiebank taking part in theCrete
campaign in May 1941. Theseships had distinctive lattice type
derricks,and steel deck houses abreast of themain mast to house
toilet blocks and gal-ley for the Indian crew. It was a feature
ofBank line ships which gave out a recog-nisable profile. A series
of 18 twin screwvessels built in 1924/5 called theInverbank class
had been built byHarland and Wolff (Govan) and the sur-vivors plus
the Irisbank class shipsformed the heart of the post war BankLine
fleet. None of them would win amaritime beauty contest, but they
weretrue ʻgypsies of the oceans'.
The choice of twin diesel engineshad consequences good and bad.
Therewas a good turn of speed, and addedreliability, but conversely
spares andrepairs were doubled up. The engineersoften struggled at
sea when one engineneeded new rings or liners, and theydangled the
parts from a hoist while theship rolled. This happened on our trip
alltoo frequently.
Soon, we were on our way lightshipto the U.S. Gulf ports for
loading. For thecompany, this ballast leg was a hugecost, but was
necessary for the vesselsto get on the regular loading berths
alongthe U.S. Gulf Coast. This was the usual
Bank Line pattern for the start of a voy-age, and only eased
when loading rightsfrom Europe eastward to New Caledoniaand
surrounding destinations started in1961.
Conditions on board were very basic.No fresh water was available
unlesshand carried in by the apprentices fromthe pumps. Cabins had
a wooden unitwith a fold down basin, hand filled, andwhich dumped
the water into a containerin the bottom section for emptying
whenthe basin was tipped up. Included abovewas a mirror and these
units were calledʻcompactumsʼ . It was all primitive andamusing to
young lads, game for any-thing, or so we thought.
Another chore which the apprenticeson older vessels undertook
was to super-vise the water rationing twice daily.Usually a cast
iron pump was situatedabaft the accommodation and the pad-lock was
removed for an hour morningand night in order for the crew to fill
avariety of containers and occasionallyslaughter a chicken. The
throats wouldbe cut and the chicken dumped in a wick-er basket to
croak its last breath away.
It soon became clear to me that theMaster on this voyage was a
strictauthoritarian of the old school. He stayedaloof and critical,
and was difficult toplease, but slowly I learned how to keepout of
trouble. Sixty years later I mentallysalute him. For one thing he
had comethrough the war at sea, something whichwe youngsters tended
to overlook. Also,he had qualities that I cherish very muchtoday
like reliability and dependability. Atthe time however, I was
disappointed tobe told firmly that my place on watch wasout on the
wings of the bridge, i.e. in theopen, unless I had a good reason to
beinside. This is laughable by today's stan-dards, but that is how
it was. I could onlystay in the chartroom or wheelhouse if I
was working sights, or needing to altercourse, or signal etc.
Despite this egodeflating development, life settled into amore or
less comfortable routine, and I soon adapted.
We had the Gulf ports to look for-ward to however and the usual
hecticprogramme of loading. TheSuperintendents ashore, who ordered
theloading pattern, were inclined to sail theship at nights and to
use these hours forpositioning the ship in the morning justalong
the coast. There was a big numberof ports that might be involved,
fromBrownsville, on the border with Mexico,all along to Mobile, the
other side of theMississippi delta. This meant of coursethat sleep
was a problem and was usual-ly taken in catnaps. We duly wended
ourway through the oil platforms that aredotted around the Gulf of
Mexico, andstarted the loading of bulk potash in thelower holds. In
Galveston, one of myfavourite ports, during time off, we spentsome
time cruising the bars and stockingup on denim and to my eyes,
beautifulcotton shirts and shorts for the tropics. Atthat time, the
main street was very muchlike those in the cowboy movies, com-plete
with hitching rails, and swing doors. Loading went smoothly, and we
toppedoff in the crescent city of New Orleans,reached by the long,
and carefully pilotedMississippi River, always fascinating
toexperience. In addition to the big paddlewheelers at that time,
there were the longstrings of barges, usually being pushedby a
distinctive coloured tugboat or two.
The pilots brought with them an air ofirreverence and a no
nonsense approachwhich radiated to us youngsters. Theiroften
flamboyant shirts, and ʻcan doʼ atti-tude left a lasting
impression. It was ahuge contrast to the discipline on board.
After the canal transit which wentsmoothly, the long Pacific
crossing from
FEATURE - by Alan Rawlinson
A CLASSIC LONG TRIP IN THE BANK LINE
M.V. Irisbank 1955/6
The 5,627grt Taybank was built in 1930 by Workman Clark at
Belfast. On 6th February 1961 shearrived at Hong Kong to be broken
up by Sigma Shipping Co.
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Alan Arthur Rawlinson
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SHIPPING - Today & Yesterday | July 2018 39
Balboa to Auckland in New Zealand gaveme a chance to improve my
standingwith the Master, but it was hard work.Nothing seemed to
please. I was sus-tained by the Second Mate, who hadbecome a
friend, and who was a rebel inhis own right. We stood together on
thebridge for the noon day sights, and whenthe Master joined us
there was always areverent silence. Anything else wasfrowned upon.
We often got our revengeby ganging up on him when the timecame to
compare positions, somethinghe must have been aware of. Twoagainst
one made him tut tut, and con-cede that his calculations might not
beaccurate.
Engine breakdowns meant that wespent some time steaming along on
oneengine some days, helm hard over tomaintain a reasonably
straight course.but the speed fell away as the awkwardsteering and
loss of power took its toll. A strange event also occurred one
nightin mid Pacific when I was on the eveningwatch from 8 to 12 and
we were passingone of the many so called uninhabitedislands. It was
dark, and we were steam-ing along at the usual 5 miles distantfrom
this small unlit island near theGalapagos islands.
Pacing up and down the bridge wingI saw a small white light
ashore, and itbecame clear it was blinking SOS. I wait-ed and yes,
there it was again. I calledthe Captain up to the bridge and
hestood silently looking. Nothing happenedfor a while, but then the
light resumedand he grudgingly acknowledged to mehe had seen it,
and disappeared into thechartroom to study the sailing
directionsfor that area. We sailed on, and his com-ments were, "Oh,
well, there is a tradingschooner that calls here every sixmonths".
Readers might feel critical of
this non action, but I have asked myselfmany times what I might
have done in hisshoes. No doubt he was weighing up thedelay and
displeasure in Head Office,coupled with the fact that we only
hadcumbersome heavy wooden lifeboats topass through any surf around
the place.We didn't have a large scale chart, ifthere was one, of
such a small island.Nothing could have been attempted untildaylight
anyway, which meant drifting orsteaming up and down until daybreak.
Itwas a difficult call, but I still had that nig-gling feeling we
should have responded. Soon we passed through the twin islandsof
Bora Bora in the Society islands, notfar from Tahiti. First the
peaks lifted out ofthe ocean, then the water shallowed andturned
light blue as we progressed.Pleasure craft were sailing off the
shore.It doesn't sound very exciting, but whenthere were weeks of
nothing but emptyocean all around, any change of sceneryis
welcome.
After a few weeks on this transit ofthe Pacific, we finally
approached thepilot station off Moreton Island whichserves the
Queensland port of Brisbane.It had taken us the best part of
fourweeks. The weather was too rough forthe pilot to board and we
waited whilethey signalled furiously with an extremelybright light
and which I found very difficultto read due to it being so close
andstrong. In exasperation, the Master sentbelow for my pal, the
Second Mate, whowas roused from his sleep! Ignominy!The signals
whizz kid from sea schoolhad struggled and failed to read a
signalin time of need. It just added to my feel-ing of inadequacy
which was beingrelayed to me on an almost daily basis. We worked
our way round the coast, dis-charging the usual mix of tractors,
gener-al cargo, including lamp black, hickory
handles, drummed oil and additives, andassorted pallets,
together with the bulkcargo. This had to be discharged
usingshoreside grabs, but on the ships gear. Itwas common for the
sulphur dust tosometimes ignite on these occasions.Sparks from
metal brushing on metaloften triggered blue flashes which couldbe
spectacular.
Bill Haley and the Comets were attheir peak at this time, with
'Rock aroundthe Clock' and other hits and we were tosee him on
trips ashore as he toured thecities in New Zealand and Australia.
Mymemory is of crowded dance halls, anelectric atmosphere with the
loud beat,and a haze of blue smoke bobbing upand down in unison
with the dancers.There were nasty scenes reported as theseats and
fittings were flung around byover hysterical and drunken revellers.
Little did we realise we were viewing aniconic band!
Life on board was good, and therewas a camaraderie between the
deckand engine room officers, not forgettingthe Sparkie, or radio
officer secondedfrom the Marconi company. He was awild card with
very independent ideasand a challenging streak which made
lifeinteresting, given the stern Master wewere under. There were
variousmoments of rebellion - coloured hair,mohican hair cut, and
raucous trumpetplaying around the ship, all received
withequanimity, partly due, I suspect, to thefact that Sparkie was
a Marconi employ-ee at the end of the day, and slightlyinsulated
from normal discipline. He wasalso a strong traditional jazz fan
and Irecall him arranging tickets to see LouiseArmstrong on stage
in Sydney. We alsocelebrated my 21st birthday in port,which at
least allowed us to have somecelebratory drinks, away from the
rather
FEATURE - A Classic Long Trip in the Bank Line
The 5,627grt Irisbank was built in 1930 by Workman Clark at
Belfast. On 1st June 1961 she arrived at Osaka to be broken up by
Sangyo Shinko.Malcolm Cranfield
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40 SHIPPING - Today & Yesterday | July 2018
FEATURE - A Classic Long Trip in the Bank Line
muted atmosphere on board. Orders came that we were to take
a
full cargo of grain for India and to sailaround to Fremantle in
Western Australiato load. Someone back in Head Officedecided in
their wisdom that they couldsave money by getting the ships staff
toerect the necessary shifting boards.These were a statutory
requirement withbulk grain cargoes. This work, normallycarried out
by shipwrights, involved erect-ing large wooden partitions to
preventgrain from shifting in adverse weather,particularly when
rolling heavily. Hencethe name. A diagram was produced
fromsomewhere, and the officers and appren-tices, aided by the
Chinese carpenterspent several days swinging around theholds
precariously at sea, finally produc-ing a credible version of the
drawings. Itwas the first time I had done any manualwork since
signing on in the elevated sta-tus of Third Mate and I enjoyed
thechange.
Arriving in Fremantle though, all hellbroke loose. The wharfies
who were incahoots with the shipwrights and in par-ticular their
union, took a very dim view ofus robbing them of what was their
work,and they swiftly condemned our efforts.For good measure, they
engineered adetailed survey of our wooden boats, andI remember
watching the surveyor goingto work on the planking with a
pointedtool, finally, triumphantly, springing theplanking away from
the stem bar. Theboat was condemned and as there wasno replacement
available in Australia wewere stuck in Fremantle on a lay up
berthuntil a replacement could be shipped in.The long sandy beach
was only 100yards away across the road and wespent several more or
less idyllic weeksthere, swimming and playing cricket etc.in the
day, and visiting the bars at night.It was tough. Once again, in
later years Icame to think about the loss to the com-pany, but any
sympathy was tempered bythe knowledge that the shifting boardfiasco
ordered by them had been the ini-tial cause.
We sailed to India with bulk grain.First port was Visagapatam
where I had
the satisfaction of leaning over the bridgefront after we rang
'Finished with engines'to see the hold below opened up and thebulk
grain filling the space, right up to thetop of the coamings. An
amazing sightwas the swarm of dock workers who setto. As it was
bulk grain, the techniquewas to bag it there and then, before
mak-ing up sling loads for swinging ashore. Aman with a scoop stood
with his back tothe open bag held by another, his legsapart, and
then frantically scooped awayuntil each bag was quickly filled.
Anotherworker stood ready with needle andthread and quickly secured
the top ofeach bag as it filled. The swarm of antsanalogy came to
mind watching this, butit was efficient in a labour intensive
way.
It sounds a bit mawkish now, butrightly or wrongly, I did feel a
sense ofpride coupled with satisfaction that wehad successfully
steered this cargo intotheir hands, all the way from Australia.
About this time, some of us were intoship visits. A Russian ship
astern of usproved to be extremely hospitable. It wasthe middle of
the ʻcold warʼ but seafarersgenerally are not into politics, and
theyentertained us all royally, with vodka andbeer, but in rather
bleak surroundings.The messroom where we partied had ahuge picture
of Lenin, and best of all, abattered piano as the centre piece. It
wasa very basic, but friendly affair, and westaggered back along
the quay, well sat-isfied.
After Visagapatam, we made thealmost inevitable trip up the
windingHooghly river to Calcutta and dry-dockingbefore loading the
ubiquitous gunny bagsfor African ports. They had an
almostinsatiable demand of bags for exportedproduce. In the fast
flowing river, and inan awkward spot just outside of the lockgates
we suffered a loss of air for startingthe engines, and made an
emergencyanchoring, something which didnʼt helpthe Captain and his
heart problem! It wasa feature of these ships that the air
bottlefor starting the engines was capable ofonly a dozen starts
before running out.This weakness led to the Master routinelyasking
pilots to keep the engines ticking
over, dead slow, rather than stopping andstarting. Not all of
them listened or cared. We discharged along the West Africancoast,
calling at all the ports, sometimesonly to discharge a few tons.
Most of theports were served from an anchorage,and so called Kru
boats, big and seawor-thy, skilfully handled, took our cargoashore.
In Freetown, I had occasion togo ashore with some pals, and I
wasbowled over by the beauty of all theyoung topless girls walking
unconsciouslyalong often with baskets perched on theirhead.
The difference in the style and layoutof the port cities was
very noticeable too,the French towns being the smartest byfar in my
opinion. Dakar in Senegal beinga perfect example. Neat squares
withpalms, and boulevards as in MetropolitanFrance. Ditto, Abidjan
in the Ivory Coast.For some reason I always felt thatAfricans
speaking fluent French was a bitincongruous, especially as a few
milesalong the beach, an imaginary line sepa-rated Colonial France
from ColonialBritain. This is most noticeable atCotonou in Benin, a
few miles from theNigerian border.
After discharging the last bale ofgunny bags in Dakar, Senegal,
wereceived orders for Point Fortin, Trinidad.This meant a lightship
voyage of aroundten days, and we anchored off ready toload bitumen
in drums. Nearby was thefamous bitumen lake with its uniquegooey
surface being worked by lines ofmechanical cutters. We also enjoyed
thefacilities at the Shell Club nearby, whichwere much appreciated.
Sadly, the pooland patio occasionally were trashed byvisiting ships
crews who were thenbarred for a period. We were lucky onthis
visit.
The passage through the PanamaCanal was fairly uneventful, and
thencame the long Pacific journey lasting sev-eral weeks, the
monotony only punctuat-ed by passing the many remote islandsen
route. The first of these was nearlyalways Matu Hiva in the
Marquesas,where waterfalls could be seen tumblingdown the high
ground. Apart fromimpromptu stops for engine repairs, andsome
island spotting, it was routine allthe way. Some nights, and in
favourableatmospheric conditions, the USA radiostations would be
heard loud and clear,thousands of miles away. WOAI. SanAntonio,
Texas, WASB, Nashville,Tennessee, and KOHA, Oklahoma
wereprominent.
We discharged all around the NewZealand coast, ending up in the
verysouthern port of Bluff, famous for oysters.They were not my
taste, but they wereimmensely popular with the ships offi-cers,
washed down of course with suit-able quantities of local beer.
LeavingBluff to load in Australia, we roundedStewart Island at the
southern end ofNew Zealand. We then lost a man over-board. The sea
was rough and cold andhe was engaged in helping to dumpslings of
dunnage wood over the side, aAnother view of the Irisbank.
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SHIPPING - Today & Yesterday | July 2018 41
common practice then. The rails hadbeen removed and a full sling
gentlynudged him over the side as the shiprolled slowly. It must
have been a slowmotion nightmare for him. The next 4hours were
spent looking over the oceanwhich had angry whitecaps and a
heavyswell running. The sea was inhospitablethat afternoon.
I chose to climb the mainmast withbinoculars to better scan the
horizon, andI sat uncomfortably for a long timecramped up and
gripping the round truckat the top for safety, but without
spottinganything. To make matters worse, theCaptain for some reason
was reversingthe engines occasionally, presumablybecause they had
seen something fromthe bridge, and this vibrated the top
mastviolently, whipping it backwards and for-wards. I was like the
fly on the end of aswatter, but managed to cling on, scaredas hell,
saved only because the reversalof the engines stopped. No one on
thebridge had noticed my predicament. As itgot dark it was decided
to resume ourcourse, and then just when the searchhad been called
off, and I returned to thebridge, we all spotted flocks of sea
birdsfeeding on something in the water. It wasour shipmate. One of
our clumsy woodenlifeboats, the motorboat, was preparedand several
of us volunteered to go. It'sthe sort of thing you do when young
andwithout a thought. After some difficultywith an engine room
discharge floodingthe boat as it was lowered, we set off inquite
heavy weather with my pal, theSecond Mate, at the helm. He did a
greatjob, skilfully preventing the boat fromflooding or broaching -
not an easy task.We had rushed to get in the boat, andthe rather
perilous situation dawned onme as we cast off It was my first
experi-ence of a smallish boat in the openocean and the Irisbank
disappeared com-pletely when we were in the troughs ofthe waves. I
started singing my head off,later attributed to nerves by folk
whoknow about these situations. When wegot to the body, it was
relatively easy toroll the poor young seaman straight intothe boat,
aided by the fact that we werelow in the water and partially
swamped.First we had to use oars to beat off theinsistent birds
feeding on his face. Theyhad pecked out his cheeks. I helped
rollhis body onto the thwart, and wasshocked to see the condition
with all theteeth exposed, and even eyes dislodged.On return to the
ship, things got worse.The ship was rolling heavily, andalthough we
managed to engage the lift-ing hooks, we swung wildly out and
thencrashed back hitting the hull, severelydamaging our planking.
The body cameclose to shooting out of the boat, butworse than that
I had trapped my fingersbadly in the lifting block when hookingon,
and as a result of the lifting andcrashing around. I must have
beenscreaming, because someone with anaxe started to swing at the
rope falls torelease my hand, when suddenly it wasfreed by the
action of a passing wave,lifting the boat high and causing the
ropes to slacken. Out came my crushedfingers, and we continued
up the ship'sside, relieved to be free of the turmoil.Once up in
the davits I was shocked tosee the boat side completely stove in
andthe copper buoyancy tanks, hanging out.These are normally stowed
along thesides below the side thwarts. The boatlater needed
replacement, our secondone on this trip.
Glad to be safely back, we then gotorders to apply artificial
respiration to thepoor seaman! It was long past the stagewhere any
chance of life remained, butorders are orders. Eventually our
Asiancrew prepared the body for a burial atsea, which they were to
carry out. Thisalso turned out to be a sad fiasco, as theplan was
to lower the body, now in a can-vas shroud, down the ships side on
stag-ing with attendant seamen either end.Due to the adverse
weather, the staginggot halfway down when a huge waveswept along
the side of the ship and thebody disappeared into the wake . As
itwas now dark, we resumed the voyage,leaving matters to fortune.
The canvasshroud was weighted, so would havefound a resting place
at the bottom of theocean. A really sad affair, and we
laterallypacked up his belongings for return torelatives in
Calcutta. A lifebelt laterwashed up on the shore of South
Island,and the finders, curious, contacted theowners back in
London.
Arriving in Australia, we had the goodfortune to be in Melbourne
for theNovember 1956 Olympics, and in ourusual cheeky way, managed
to gain entryfor a day without paying. Also in port wasthe royal
yacht Britannia and some of uswandered along the quay to admire
theglossy blue hull and beautiful whitesuperstructure. She was a
handsomeship with a classic profile. I was to seeher again in
different locations before sheand I both went into retirement.
Next stop was Chittagong loadingjute bales here and at Chalna in
theSundarbans, one of the largest Mangroveforests in the world. We
were then off toa long list of ports in East, South, andWest
Africa. When we had arrived offChittagong harbour on the
Karnaphuliriver we had struck a sand bank duringmy watch. The
action appeared to me tobe in slow motion but we were at fullspeed
on a clear day around noon.Looking ahead, the water
suddenlyappeared to be rippling ahead in astrange way. Alarmed, I
had switched onthe old paper sounder which clackedaway as the
stylus whizzed round andround. While I watched mesmerisedalmost,
the line marking the bottom of thesea came up steeply towards us,
and Irushed back into the wheelhouse, just intime to witness us
thumping the bankbeneath the waves. We heeled right over,and a wave
created by the collisionswept up and over the boat deck, withwater
swishing down to the engine roomvia the skylights which were open.
Thistriggered a frantic call from the engineersasking what the hell
is going on! In themeantime, I had rung down to stop the
engines and sheered off to port, callingthe Master to the
bridge.
Protest was noted when we berthed,and it later transpired to my
relief that thebuoy supposedly marking the shoal hadbeen dragged
away by a recent hurri-cane to a false position. No serious dam-age
had been done, but we were not toknow this until dry-docking later
in thevoyage.
Some happy days were spent mid-way through our coastal hopping
aroundAfrica when we arrived in Durban to dis-charge some Far
Eastern goods tran-shipped from Colombo. It was a raretaste of a
modern city and we made fulluse of the short port stay. There is
amemory of the port workers too, dancingand singing their way
ashore after a shift,all bedecked out in Japanese silks andfancy
shoes gleaned from the holds, andworn to evade the tough guards on
theport gate.
This voyage was near an end. Welearned that we would be flown
homefrom Bathurst in West Africa and whenthe day duly arrived, we
boarded a Vikingtype aircraft for the flight home toBlackbush
airport. The replacement crewhad flown out on the same
charteredplane, but we were destined not to meet,as we passed to
and fro the airport. Therunway was military style, with metalmesh
sheets laid on the grass and it wasmy first flight. I recall there
was some dif-ficulty with the amount of luggage we hadaccumulated
over the two years away.On board the Viking type aircraft, therewas
a huge beam running across thecabin, a strange feature on this
model. Isoon noticed sweating hands after takeoff, which the
stewardesses explainedwere the result of nerves. The pilotschose to
buzz the ship after take off andwe swooped down in a stomach
churningdive, which didn't help things much. Wethen set off to
follow the African coastnorthwards. I did notice the pilots up
frontlooking ahead through binoculars whenthe cockpit door was
open. In those daysthis journey had to be broken halfwayand we all
spent a glorious night in theRock Hotel in Gibraltar, wallowing in
hotwater baths, and enjoying the delights ofthe dining room.
There was a further refuelling stop atBiarritz in France in the
morning, andthen we arrived safely at Blackbush asnight was
falling.
All the lights were twinkling onapproach and as the coach swept
us upto London we passed all the picturesquepubs with fairy lights
and welcoming fore-courts. It was pure magic to my mind,and the
contrast from our previous twoyears of primitive living could not
begreater.
I was a bit overwhelmed emotionally,but already becoming wistful
for my oldlife on board!
A full account of the author's time in theBank Line and later
career is contained inthe recent ebook entitled "Any
BuddingSailors? "
FEATURE - A Classic Long Trip in the Bank Line
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Alan Arthur Rawlinson
