ARIBA ARUBA!

m.s. “Willemstad” – KNSM

It was not until August 1951 before I was given a ship.

I had already passed my proficiency exams as a Radio Operator 2^nd Class in June 1950, however I could not go to sea yet, the company did not let anyone loose on the ships before completing an in-house practical course at the Radio Holland training school in Rotterdam.

After I finished the practical course I still had to wait a long time for a ship, not just me, but also most of my colleagues at the training school; I guess 1950 - 1951 must have been a slack period in Dutch shipping.

Whilst waiting to be called up I did odd jobs for people I knew - or rather my parents knew - to earn some pocket money and keep myself occupied. The best job I had was looking after a tobacconist shop, the owners were good friends of my parents and they went away quite a bit. Unusual in those days I suppose but lucky for me! I liked that job but my heart was yearning to go to sea so when the telegram arrived to report to HO in Amsterdam I jumped for joy.

At the Radio Holland headquarters in Amsterdam I had to sign the usual Agreements and Contracts and I was told to report to the KNSM shipping office in the port for a medical examination and to sign on the m.s. “Willemstad”.

I had already purchased my winter an summer uniforms from a well known firm in Amsterdam called Determeyer; on the “never never” of course, the total cost (which escapes me) to be paid off at 75 Guilders a month.

Salary of an Assistant Radio Operator in 1951 was 125 Guilders a month, or 12.5 Pound Sterling, with an increase of 70 Guilders per month after 6 months of satisfactory service. Not much spending money left as you can imagine, but beggars can’t be choosers and at least I had a career ahead of me!

I was so looking forward to go to sea and when the call-up finally arrived I could hardly wait to get on board and put the skills we were taught to practice.

Radio Holland at their training colleges in Rotterdam and Amsterdam did not only teach sending & receiving morse code, regulations, radio communications theory and world geography for you to pass the government Proficiency exams, they also had good tutors for English, general ship navigation and engineering.

All tutors in my day, from the Head of School down to the teachers, were hands-on men who had served on ships, even the sports instructor had been a senior sport instructor on the “Willem Ruys”. They knew their onions and were happy to pass their knowledge and skills on to us greenhorns.

As a “gift” before completion of the practical course and the start of our careers - yes something for nothing from Radio Holland! - we received a booklet called “Hints for the Radio Telegraphist”.

Reading through some of it now raises an eyebrow, this is advice from the waxed moustaches and spats era. Not as far as fashions are concerned but its dealing with manners, behaviour and clothe sense.

Some of the advice, such as “Never appear without your coat on board”, can now be ignored. Other hints such as “Often ignorance is hidden under the pretext of contempt for ceremony in general” and “Clothes maketh the man” still hold in my opinion and should perhaps be taught again to our offspring!

Equipped with all this knowledge and full of expectations I joined the “Willemstad” in Amsterdam in August 1951.

She was originally built in 1938 for the KNSM and sailed as “Socrates” through the war until 1949 when she was rebuilt as a passenger ship at the NDSM dock yard. She was renamed “Willemstad” and from 1950 till 1967 sailed for KNSM. Sold in 1967 to Saudi Arabia as “Noor B” and finally scrapped in 1973 at Kaohsiung, Taiwan.

She could carry up to 150 passengers and was on a regular service between Amsterdam, Southampton and the Caribbean.

A nice ship, good lines and relatively new after her refit in 1949. I had to share a cabin with a cargo clerk, a young guy the same age as I. His working hours were 9 – 5 whilst I hade to run a radio sea watch as required by International regulations for passenger ships. Quite often Paul, my cabin mate the Clerk, would bring some of his mates in to have a drink and listen to the radio whilst I was trying to sleep. Very difficult the first couple of days, but as the saying goes one gets used to it!

The Chief Radio Officer was a friendly man who was used to having new, fresh out of school radio operators come on board to learn the ropes.

He explained to me the hours I had to be on duty and if I had any problems to let him know straight away and not be afraid to ask questions.

Still on the canal I was allowed to look around the ship after we left the port of Amsterdam. As soon as we left the locks in IJmuiden and hit the open sea I sent my first QTO and destination to Scheveningen Radio – PCH, the Dutch coast radio station.

What a thrill it was, although feeling shaky the whole thing went faultless!

The next day, in the English channel, the bridge observed a floating mine and I had to send a TTT navigational warning to all ships. I felt confident by that time and I knew that my chief was not even watching me whilst I was on duty. He let me take the English and Dutch press and start the lay out of the Ship’s Bulletin that was published in Dutch and English by the Purser.

As we got further away from the European coast I worked a number of coast stations on HF and got the hang of things quickly.

Life becomes a routine after a few days at sea. Perhaps even boring for some of the regulars, that is the time when they come up with all sort of tricks at the expense of the newcomers on board.

Just to mention a few of the tricks they play on the innocent. These little jokes are really conspiracies between the senior deck officers and engineers.

Says the Chief Officer to the midshipman: “Go and ask the Chief Engineer for the compass key”. The poor midshipman has never ever heard of a compass key in his navigation training at school but does not want to show ignorance and fronts up to the Chief Engineer. “No, I haven’t got it, better talk to the Second”. To cut a long story short, after being sent from pillar to post the poor midshipman finally ends up with the trainee Engineer who spills the beans and tells him that there is no compass key! Sucked in!

The other one is a bit hard to explain in English because it loses some of the impact. The scenario for this one is that one of the trainees or midshipmen is sent to the bosun with a request for “de schop met het voetje”. (The shovel with the little foot). The bosun takes the victim to the foc’sl and points to a shelf and says “It’s under there somewhere”. As the poor trainee bends down to look underneath the shelf the bosun gives him an almighty kick up the Khyber and says “There you are, anything else you need?”.

Schop in Dutch is a shovel or spade but it also means kick and Voetje is foot.

The joke they played on me was to let me know that although we are on the high seas the mail boat from Madeira would be coming alongside in the morning to pick up the mail. If you want to write home better get going.

So the next morning I was invited to be look out on the bow and keep an eye out for the mail boat. They (the conspirators) told me that they were concerned about me standing out in the sun and that I should wear my cap and coat.

I stood there for about three hours and all I could see was all these grinning faces on the bridge but no mail boat. In the end they told me to come back up and informed me that there is no such a thing as a mail boat.

When we arrived in Port of Spain, Trinidad I was rearing to go ashore. I had heard so much about calypso singing and limbo dancing that I had to go and see for myself.

I had saved a couple of US dollars and I had some local currency. Remember that my real income was only 5 Pound Sterling a month and that I still had to pay for expenses on board. Anyway, I had been frugal and I thought that the money I had on me was enough for me to go ashore on.

The first calypso bar we found we went into, plenty of music and plenty of singing. We had to buy a drink and we had a Cuba Libre, a rum & coke, which took care of a couple of dollars. Not deterred by the cost we stayed on and made our drinks last.

Eventually the calypso singer turned his attention to us, a couple of fresh faced, unsuspecting young lads! May be you know, may be you don’t but a calypso singer will make up a song about you personally as he goes along. If you give him a good tip early in the piece you come out in front, unscathed.

Of course we did not have money to give tips and the singer picked on me. I will spare you the gory details but he sent me up in front of all these people who were laughing their heads off with his song telling them that I had my hands in my pockets doing things that I should not do in public instead of pulling a few dollars out for him!

In the end we had to laugh at him because he was real good in improvising his songs, even if it was at my expense.

We also picked up passengers between ports in the Caribbean. At one stage a lovely lass came on board in Curacao with her parents for a short trip to Aruba, their home town.

Paul, who was a good organiser, got to know her and invited her to come on the top deck for a bit of a chat with us. This had to be done in secrecy because junior officers were not allowed to mix with passengers in those days. We had our meeting on the top deck at night, it was a beautiful night, starry sky, a soft breeze blowing and just the right atmosphere. Somehow Paul got the message and disappeared leaving me alone with this lovely, dusky female.

When we arrived at Aruba the father invited me home. He came to pick me up in this huge Yank Tank and drove me to their place. The parents were very hospitable and we had a lovely time before Dad drove me back to the ship again.

I kept in touch with her for a while but then we lost sight. Such is a sailor’s life!

It was practice on this ship for the second radio operator to do tally duty in the cargo holds in port. I did not mind that because it gave you an insight of what really went on in the foreign ports.

At one stage I got to know the foreman well and he promised me that he would get some bananas for us. Well, I expected to see a hand or two of bananas, imagine my surprise when he turned up with a full branch of bananas! We ate bananas for breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper for a week .

One lesson I learned was to keep your porthole closed in port. One morning when I woke up I discovered that my watch had been stolen from the table where I left it. The watch, probably not worth a lot of money, had a sentimental value; it was a present from my oldest cousin who always had a lovely surprise for me.

We called into Madeira on the way back, unfortunately not enough time to visit the island where my aunt Johanna spent a few years in her younger days. Her stories about life on the island always appealed to me, not being able to see for myself was a big disappointment.

Before we returned to Amsterdam I knew that I had to leave the ship soon and work by myself as radio operator on an other ship. What would the future bring? What sort of ship was it going to be?

I dreamt of signing on a newly built white ship sailing in the tropics. Little did I know what was in stock for me!

John Papenhuyzen

July 2005.