As a Catering Boy on the Olivian Coast, I had a pretty cushy job. The cook didn’t require me in the galley which was great as he was an alcoholic, and a nasty bastard! There were two of us boy ratings on board and I figure I had the easiest job. All I had to do was to clean three Engineer’s cabins and their dining room. The other boy rating had the Captain and two Mates to look after, as well as any passengers we might have, and surprisingly, they were quite frequent. Their dining room was midships so all meals had to be carried over the open deck to the mid ships accommodation, which in filthy weather was an embuggerance!

Nobody bothered to wear uniforms on board, and we boy ratings only ever wore T shirts and jeans when serving meals. It was a pretty laid back set up, and we all enjoyed our weekly run from London to Guernsey and Jersey in the Channel Islands.

The Olivian Coast had a flat bottom to accommodate the loss of water in the Channel Islands during the low tide. Jersey had a rise and fall of about 30’ and during low tide we sat on the mud. That was all very well, but in filthy weather she was  a cow of a sea ship, tossing and turning, doing figure eights, we were never really too sure where she was going or what she would do next!

I was never a good sailor in anything under about 3,000 tons, and I suffered Mal De Mare several times while on board. Foolishly, while returning from Jersey one week I decided to see if I had acquired the taste for sardines! We were in a following sea, and continuously surfing down huge waves then labouring up the next. Standing at the after end, outside the galley, that had once housed the coal hatch, you could be excused for imagining that the next wave would surely swamp us. Sardines on toast, was the entrée, and I threw one down my neck between courses. It wasn’t destined to remain with me for very long, and within minutes, my eyes began to glaze over. I suppose that I should have realised that sardines in olive oil wasn’t really the best thing to be eating just at that particular moment in time, considering the weather and all, but you learn by your mistakes don’t you!

As previously mentioned, we were in some mucky weather, and the sardine wasn’t inclined to give me very much warning of its impending return to the sea! I went from feeling a tad queasy, to being in desperate need of somewhere to throw up, in nanoseconds! Well, I can’t remember what else I’d eaten that day, but I was pretty certain it hadn’t been carrots, yet there they were, headlining amongst the other ingredients that I expelled from my stomach! This is when I learned another very important lesson. When calling for Huey, it is always a very good idea to do it on the lea side! I discharged my sardine, carrots and all, and was immediately warmed by the contents of my stomach, as they spread surprisingly quickly around my face, neck and shoulders! After wiping my face, and changing my T shirt I still had to continue serving lunch, although I am reasonably sure that I wasn’t exactly smelling of roses!

One weekend while we were at Canary Wharf, the alcoholic cook decided he’d had enough of the ship, and shot through without notice! I was called to go see the “Old Man” and informed that from that moment and until such time as a replacement cook had been found, the galley work was down to me! GULP! I had one six week trip on the Egyptian Prince as Galley Boy as my Culinary Experience, plus a couple of weeks camp as a Boy Scout, I wondered if that would help. Fortunately the cook had skinned out after lunch so I had a few hours before I was expected to present the Officers with a meal. The only thing I could think of was a mixed grill, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the easiest thing I could have dreamed up, but I was stuck with it! I think I came up with the grill because I wouldn’t have to peel any spuds! I had never cooked for anyone other than myself before this time and even then, I had usually only had to heat stuff up. Anyway, I had a quick look through the fridge, and found some chops and bangers, eggs, bacon, tomatoes and some kidneys, and I managed to rustle up a reasonable meal. For a seventeen year old with bugger all experience that is. But I was more than happy to see a new cook come aboard that evening.

Another time, again at Canary Wharf, I was serving lunch to the Chief and Second Engineer. There was a loud crash from around the midship area, but outside the ship. When I returned to the galley and placed my next order, I stepped outside and looked up at the wharf to see the Second Officer on the top of the wharf. He was in the process of removing his trousers, and I remember his wife calling out to him, “ You can’t go in there John, your underpants are dirty!” Another man on the wharf was in the process of throwing a lifebelt into the river, between the ship and the quay, and after sticking my head around the after end of the accommodation, I saw the Third Engineer in the oggin, splashing about and generally showing signs of panic. It was obvious he couldn’t swim and that he was in serious trouble, and with no-one else looking like they were about to do anything to help within the next few seconds, I realised that if I didn’t, we could be looking for a replacement Third by the next day!

I stepped onto the bollard and then on the bulwark and jumped in. My first thought upon surfacing was that I had foolishly jumped in and I was still wearing my Dad’s watch. It wasn’t waterproof, so that was it buggered. I swam up to Jim who by now was really starting to panic, and as I reached him, he began to try to clamber onto me, I said, “Don’t panic Jim, its Bill, I’ll help you,” and luckily for me, he seemed to settle down a little. With Jim stable I had time to look around and wonder how we would get back to the wharf. There was no ladder nearby and the wharf was solid concrete.

I called up to those above us and asked for one of the crane drivers to lower a cargo net. It didn’t take us long to get a grip of the net and we were soon on our way up. However, the ship, having been driven away from the wharf in the first place by the wash of a passing ship, had now reached the limit of stretch of its ropes, and was on its way back to the wharf. Around the ship was a one foot wide timber rubbing strake, with a steel band around it. At the rate we were being hauled up, the rubbing strake would squish our heads, which wasn’t a very pleasing prospect! Desperately we called for the crane to stop, and as we hung in mid air, we waited for the ship to come back in, and bounce back off the wharf. It was pretty scary, thinking that we would soon be crushed between the ship and the quay, and there was bugger all we could do about it! The ship came closer and closer. I could feel my left arm, which I had around Jim’s chest to help hold him onto the net, being touched by the side of the ship. There was a little give in the netting and for the moment we weren’t being hurt, but the rubbing strake was now up against the concrete wharf and was beginning to compress! The one foot thick rubbing strake compressed down to about nine inches. The side of the ship was just beginning to squish my nose and chest, and our immediate prospects weren’t looking real flash! Just at the time we started to feel some pain, the ship began to bounce back out into the river! Boy, the Third Engineer was an Irishman and he was chucking out Hail Mary’s as fast as he could form the words!

We were taken to a local Hospital by ambulance, and I made a desperate attempt to assure the staff there that I hadn’t swallowed any of the “London Brown Ale” from the Thames, before they shoved a total of five injections into me. At the time the Thames was so filthy, that it was almost possible to walk on water, or at least, all the crap floating on top of it. Jim wasn’t so fortunate and got the full treatment, but after a few hours, we were discharged and immediately went to the local pub, where the contents of Jim’s wallet, were dried on the pulsating breast of one of the local ladies, and as the notes dried, they were handed over to the publican, who exchanged them for several glasses of his finest medicine throughout the rest of the afternoon.

On our return to the ship, the Captain’s only comment was that we had managed to stuff up his afternoon and caused him to fill in copious amounts of paperwork, about which he was suitably unimpressed! Well, you can’t please all of the people, all of the time.

One time when on the crossing back to London, we were experiencing some particularly mucky weather, a force ten, which on a ship of any size would not have posed too much of a problem, but to our little 1,300 ton coaster, it was a  little irksome.

The old ship would pitch a number of times, then suddenly, and without warning, change to a roll, or a figure eight. I was serving soup to the Engineers and with two bowls of hot veggie soup in my hands, was being particularly careful. Climbing over the after storm step from the galley into the alleyway, was no problem and I pretty much had a handle on the very steep pitching movement. One minute I was climbing an enormous hill, the next putting the brakes on as we hurtled downwards. At the end of the alleyway, just before the for’ard storm step, I had to make a right turn into the dining saloon. I waited until the ship was about mid-way through it’s pitch so that we were on a fairly even  keel, and made my turn. Right at that very moment the ship decided to change its dance to a figure eight, and I was thrown off balance. I hurtled through the door of the saloon, through the other side, through the open door of the Chief Engineer’s cabin, and crashed into his wardrobe which unfortunately was also open! I ended up in a tangle of dirty dhobi, shirts, socks, scungies, and two soup plates, the contents of which had been evenly distributed throughout the clothes hanging up!

By the time we reached the White Cliffs of Dover, it was mid afternoon and with nothing better to do than to feel sick, I had gone to my bunk. Suddenly we suffered a huge roll to starboard. I was in the Port side bunk, and was rolled out of my bunk, landing inside the drawer that had my lifejacket in it. I wasted no time in putting it on. The TV in the dining saloon had crashed to the deck having broken free of its fiddles. All the plates in the racks in the galley had crashed to the deck as had every other thing that hadn’t been sufficiently battened down. It was obvious that we were in serious trouble and had gone way beyond the point of no return. Looking out of my port-hole that faced for’ard, I saw that the sea was half way up the hatch cover. The starboard wing of the bridge was well under water! Total chaos was the order of the day and my mind was racing as to how to get out of the accommodation, considering that there was every likelihood that the ship might be upside down by the time I would have to do it. The ship shuddered again and slowly righted herself. I discovered later that the sailor on the wheel had been hanging off the wheel and was parallel with the deck. It was fortuitous that another wave came back upon itself and pushed us back upright!

I freely admit to having been scared, and as we were only coasting, I was able to tender my resignation, giving one week’s notice! My cabin mate Ginger, was also convinced that we had been as near to God as we wished to be for two seventeen year olds! It was time we found ourselves something bigger to bob up and down in!