It’s a pretty big ask seeking yarns of life at sea, I jumped ship in Australia in ’57 and initially took any job offered but it wasn’t long before I was back at sea, if you count being AB on the Dutch dredge Queen of Holland working in the Brisbane river. After that it was any non union job I could find which included working on a Barrier Reef mail boat and a diving tender in Mackay, Queensland, shortly after that I was picked up by the powers that were, copped a sentence and was then free to remain in Australia. Once I had that Green Card I was a free agent so I got a pier head jump on the Empire Star, so as to visit the family in Liverpool, then after a couple of months there I decided to take my chance down the Pool and I was taken totally by surprise when after a committee chaired by a Mr Deacon I was Shanghaied on a Baron Boat, well it would have been a Shanghai if I intended to remain with the Pool but I only wanted to get back home to Australia and the Baron Maclay happened to be calling in at Brisbane, I accepted my punishment with utter delight.
Once back in Brisbane, and being cleared by immigration, I decided to marry my long time sweetheart and it wasn’t long before the sprogs started to appear, the “Pill”, was yet to make its appearance, and I had two beautiful baby daughters, however; the joys of marriage were under strain because of my philandering, my luck with the ladies was extraordinary and I took full advantage of the fact. The end of married bliss came after five years and like all selfish philanderers I was broken hearted, however that didn’t last long and being free to pursue my new status I travelled down to Melbourne where I managed to find a job on a harbour supply tender running crews and stores out to ships at anchor, it was a cushy well paid job.
I still found it easy to attract the ladies and continued to play the field until I met this gorgeous young trainee nurse. I was truly besotted and this time it was hook line and sinker, I was in love and lust had nothing to do with it. Devi was a twenty two year old from the Fiji Islands and we were inseparable, in fact we set up house together and I was content.

My world was perfect except I missed my little girls, it broke my heart to lose them but otherwise no feelings at all about the break-up of my marriage, as far as I was concerned it was something that never should have been but my girls were constantly in my thoughts.
The job was going well and I was getting lots of boat-handling experience running the tug “Moil” around Port Phillip Bay, I was in my element and my life was on smooth seas, however; all of that came to a sudden end when arriving down at the wharf one morning I saw my skipper looking frantic and only the truck of Moil’s mast sticking above the surface of the dock. She had sunk during the night and I was out of work; I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to go to the SUA (Seaman’s Union of Australia) office and try my luck there but my luck was out because of the burn-out I’d received for jumping ship in Brisbane.
From Heaven to Hell all in the wink of an eye, I was feeling quite morose until my mate Johnny Shanahan told me to stop wallowing in self pity, he suggested I travel the two thousand miles to Western Australia and try for a job on the Whale Chasers. The suggestion really appealed to me so I had a good talk with Devi and we decided I would go over by myself and she would follow as soon as she had completed the Midwifery Course she was doing, which would be in a couple of months time and so it was decided.
I had been in Australia just nine years; I had two beautiful daughters, whom I missed with a passion,
and I was divorced but as far as I was concerned the glass was half full and I was going West to start a new life with a lady I really loved.

I arrived in Albany, Western Australia January 1967 and found a job as a painter, the experience I’d earned hanging around in a bosun’s chair and on a paint stage came in handy and my life took on a new meaning especially when Devi joined me and got a job in the local District Hospital.

To Be Continued

A “roughy” is the nemesis of the whaler, it occurs when the wind is so strong it stirs up the white caps on the wave tops and when this happens it becomes difficult to see the blows from the whales, so the whale chaser stays in port and the seamen are paid at a minimum rate … we didn’t like it, we couldn’t live on roughy pay.

It was 1967, I was living in Albany, a small town on the south coast of Western Australia, picturesque but exposed to the cold winds from the southern ocean, a farming community of some 16,000 people, if you didn’t farm you could try for employment at the Wool Stores, the Woolen Mill or if you where in the season you could possibly find work at the Cannery, the Meat Works or on the Whale Chasers that belonged to the Chayne Beach Whaling Company that operated a small Whaling Station out at Frenchmans Bay.

It was just ten years since I’d jumped ship at Brisbane, I’d worked at various jobs from Sugar Stacker, stacking 50lb bags of sugar in a large storage shed, to Dredging … I worked on the Dutch dredge The Queen of Holland in the Brisbane River; that was an excellent job but I was young and full of the exuberance of youth, I wanted to see Australia so here I was at Albany.

One day I wandered down to the Town Jetty where the whale Chasers tied up. I was standing on the quay watching the seamen as they prepared the chaser “Gascoyne”, for the coming whaling season which was due to start at the beginning of February … about three weeks away.
There was a big fellow wandering around the deck overseeing the work, he looked up at me and bade me G’day … a course heavy voice with a strong accent that I later discovered was Finnish. I acknowledged his greeting and we were soon in conversation. It turned out he was the skipper of the Gascoyne and as such was also the gunner … the man who fired the harpoon into the whale.
His name was Rao Samioki, that being my version of the phonetic spelling of his name, anyway in the course of the conversation I told Rao that I was a seaman and he was delighted as he had also served time as an AB (Able Seaman) on Norwegian and Swedish ships. He asked me if I could splice wire rope and when I said I could he asked me if I would like a job on the Chaser and so started my season on the Whale Chasers.

Needless to say I spent the next couple of days splicing Bull Wires, these were used for Buoying off the Whales we had shot, and covering big chains with bungles of rope yarn in the form of West Country Whipping … These chains were used to secure the dead Whales to the waist of the ship for the tow back to the Whaling Station.
It was all pretty boring and more so because we were only being paid roughy wages.

The first day of Whaling, for this season, soon arrived. I was renting a small house down at Emu Point with my girlfriend, she was a sister at the local hospital, anyway I had to report down to the ship at 2300 Hrs (11PM) that evening to help load stores and harpoons.
My girlfriend, who was soon to become my wife, drove me down to the Jetty where I kissed her farewell and told her I would see her the following night, God willing.
We sailed at 0100 Hrs (1AM) and the Mate told us deck hands to get turned in because once we were amongst the Whales there would be no sleep until the return trip.
The first watch (shift) was taken by the acting 2nd Mate, Snowy; he was in his mid twenties, a blond headed Aussie of Dutch origin and a real character. He would con the ship down to Bald head, turn the vessel south and then call the Mate and a couple of the deck hands, one to go up to the barrel (Lookout) and one to take the wheel … I got the first wheel and an experienced Chaser deck hand (a local Albany lad of Italian origin) went up the ratlines to the lookout nest known as the barrel …

The ship was conned from a small open bridge, exposed to the weather … It was from here that the helmsman steered the ship, it was also from where the required speeds were telegraphed down to the Engineer, John McNess …a quiet, soft spoken man and an excellent engineer. The engine room greaser was an Irish man named Paddy Hart who was later to sail as skipper and distinguish himself in a daring rescue but that’s another story.
At the side of this bridge was a catwalk that led down to the foc’sle head, the gun deck, this was where you would find the skipper when we were amongst the whales.

Soon the dawn had given way to daylight and the look-out was scanning the horizon looking for the white mist of a blow, given off by a whale. I was steering a southerly course and yarning with the Mate as we both scanned around looking for blows.
Suddenly, I heard it for the first time as the man in the Barrel yelled, “Blows to starboard, about three miles”… As I swung the wheel to starboard the ship came to life, every man was awake and if not on the bridge they were scanning the horizon from the deck.

The Mate rang the telegraph to full steam ahead. The Gascoyne seemed to be in her element, she surged ahead, her bow cutting through the water; the man in the Barrel was calling out the distance to the pod as we closed on the whales.
Rao, the skipper was soon down on the gun deck, swinging the gun, getting use to the feel of it once again, listening as the look-out man, who by now had identified a big bull whale and was singing out the closing distance as we raced on toward the pod.

Above the noise of the wind and waves Rao shouted instructions to the Mate, who was standing by the engine room telegraph, “Half ahead”, “Slow ahead”… we were creeping up on the pod … suddenly the skipper sang out, “Dead slow ahead”; the man up in the barrel was screaming the position of the bull whale and where it was going to surface, “Coming up, coming up, two lengths to starboard, one and a half lengths to starboard”.
The skipper was ready, bracing himself against the swell as he swung the harpoon gun, Boom! … the deafening sound of the gun, another dull boom as the detonator ignited the powder in the cast iron harpoon grenade, ripping its shrapnel through the innards of the mighty whale that was soon blowing blood through its blowhole … I had witnessed my first kill and even though I felt sorry for the whale, I was soon looking around for another one … each kill was money in my pocket and I needed money to survive … the sea was my life.

I saw out the season on the Gascoyne, crewing it up to Fremantle for dry dock, and made the first trip of the next season on the Chaynes lV but I had been offered a job working on a tugboat up north, so I just quit the … by this time I was really sorry for the whales … the Chasers had been fitted with Sonar and the whale never had a chance.

Rao Samioki, my skipper on the Gascoyne, had ignited my interest in navigation and I got to relieve Snowy as 2nd. Mate.
Later I went on and studied for my Masters ticket which I acquired in 81.
A couple of years later I was Ch/Officer on a Rig Tender, we were picking up a new crew when who should I see coming aboard but my old skipper Rao, “What are you doing here” I asked “I’m one of the new AB’s” he replied … we both laughed and I thanked him for encouraging me to sit for my Masters ticket.
Rao is no longer with us but I am proud to say I sailed with him on the Gascoyne.

======oOo======



The time I spent on the whale chaser Gascoyne was a real eye opener for me, the only thing I knew about that great mammal was what I had learned from the movie, “Moby Dick” and the portrayal there was off a big, intelligent white whale that Captain Ahab was determined to kill, however the Whale turned the tables and in its death throws it took Ahab to his watery grave.
Working on the “Gascoyne” opened my eyes to what real whales were all about.

At the time I joined the Chayne Beach Whaling Company they had just changed over from killing Humpback Whales, actually they had killed too many Humpbacks and were told by the government to desist … give the species time to recover from the slaughter, they were now concentrating on the more abundant Sperm Whales.

Chayne Beach had three chasers, “Chayne2”, “Chayne3 and the “Gascoyne.
The Chayne 2 was under the command of Axel Christiansen, a very competent Swedish skipper; Chayne 3 had an Aussie captain Ches Stubbs and the Gascoyne was under the command of a captain Alby Christianson.

Ches was a modern day Captain Ahab who lived for the hunt and was a true whaling personality. In the early 60’s he was out on the Chayne3 hot on the chase, apparently he had killed a couple of whales and was intent on remaining with the pod and getting a couple more. In the rush to reset the gun and harpoon the fore runner, which is the line attached to the harpoon, was not stowed properly and was left lying alongside the gun. Ches was in a state of anticipation, excited by the chase and ready to shoot the next whale … he failed to notice that he was standing in a bight (a loop) of the forerunner and when he fired the gun the harpoon shot away, the forerunner ripping the lower half of his left leg off.

First aid was applied and the company float plane was called for, the three chasers steamed at full speed, two on one side and one on the other … they created a lee and flattened out the seas so that the sea plane could land.
In those days the ships didn’t have the fancy Zodiacs that they have today; instead a one man rubber dinghy was inflated into which the still very vocal Ches was placed … he was still giving out orders for his own rescue.
Paddy Hart, whom I mentioned in the first yarn, was the cook on this trip; he kicked off his boots, jumped into the water and dogpaddled the dinghy over to the float plane.
Captain Ches Stubbs was back on the gun deck, wearing a new tin leg, and shooting Whales just nine weeks after the accident. They didn’t come any tougher than the late Captain Ches Stubbs.

As I mentioned in the first yarn Paddy Hart wore many hats before he finally became a skipper, as such he was involved in the daring rescue of a young fisherman … That Paddy was born to be a hero I have no doubt … dogpaddling the rubber dinghy across to the float plane was a very brave act in itself. Ches was lying in the dinghy screaming orders; the stump of his injured leg was hanging over the side of the dinghy dropping blood into the water…the southern ocean is renowned for the great White Sharks but that didn’t deter Paddy … he had a life to save.
Anyway I’ve digressed … I want to tell you about the wonderful intelligent whales.

About half way through the season I had settled in on the Gascoyne and making progress as a whaler man, I was now relieving the bosun for one week and the 2nd Mate (uncertificated) for another week, it was then back to being an ordinary deck-hand for two weeks. Life was good and I was making good bonus, however more and more I was feeling sorry for the Whales; they were beautiful intelligent creatures.

When we were amongst the Whales it was wholesale slaughter. The harpoon was a deadly weapon, standing about, five feet, made of iron it had four stout flukes which were lashed to the shank of the harpoon with rope yarns … on the end was a cast iron grenade filled with 4lb of ballastine gun powder and fitted with a three second detonator, When the harpoon entered the whale the grenade would explode sending the shrapnel tearing through the whale and at the same time releasing the flukes … even if it was still alive the whale was hooked and there was no way it could get away.
Sometime the shot would ricochet off the back of the whale and shoot into the air like a rocket … When this happened the detonator had been activated and we all had to hit the deck hoping that the shrapnel from the exploding grenade would miss us … In my time no one was hit but I believe it did happen once in later years.

There were a couple of instances during my whaling days that eventually prompted me to get out of the industry.
One occasion was when we shot a big bull whale weighing about 55ton (on average Sperm Whales weigh in at about a ton a foot) but we didn’t kill it which meant that we had to reload the gun with a killer shot (a harpoon with no flukes). The whale was still attached to the fore runner like a fish on a line and as we were re-loading the gun it swam out onto starboard beam, it then turned and charged us at top speed hitting the ship and causing it to roll heavily to port springing the plates of a fuel tank.
We finished this brave creature off, pumped air into it, buoyed it off then made a dash back into port to repair the damage.
Once alongside the jetty I went onto the quay to give the engineer, John McNess a hand; I asked what I could do and he told me to get the welding gear … I said, “John if you are going to weld it up give me time to get to the top of Mount Clarence before you start” … he just laughed and proceeded to hammer wooden wedges down between the sprung plates before breaking them off … it was a riveted vessel and the wedges worked a treat.

Australian waters are now a whale reserve.
On another occasion we had put a shot into this big cow (female Whale) but once again we didn’t kill it … she was still on the fore runner, swimming ahead of us and blowing blood from her blowhole, as we were reloading with a killer shot two big bulls came out from the pod and swam either side of the cow trying to support her …. We finished her off then shot the two bulls … It was all too much for me, I vowed not to return for the next season … I went back to being a real sailor and I’m happy to say the Whales are back only this time they are shot with cameras.

What a grand story of your life, i really enjoyed reading it, any more??.
I remember seeing the whale chasers in Capetown, and once passed down wind of a Russian whale factory ship off west africa, Big mistake phewww.

Devi and I married towards the end of the whaling season and I gave whale chasing away, never to return and early ’69 I left to drive up the fourteen hundred miles to Port Hedland.
I was glad to leave the chasers behind but I wasn’t too happy to be leaving my new wife. I had a Holden Utility, a sort of miniature truck, which I used as mine and Devi had our VC Valiant four door saloon, so I headed north in the Holden leaving Devi with the Valiant.
The plan was for me to head north to Hedland which was booming; every man and his dog was heading up there, it was like a gold rush. Iron ore was being mined and was suddenly in great demand especially by the Japanese who were madly developing their economy, I felt sure I would have no trouble finding a job.

It took me three days to get to Port Hedland, the last three hundred mile over corrugated dirt roads, the old Holden ute performed like a star, she was just like a faithful stallion and it saddened me a couple of years later when I sold her for twelve hundred dollars. I arrived at P/Hedland in the morning and spent some time having a look around, not that there was much to see, it was just a red dust-stained one horse town, full of men and dogs.
Out bush in Australia the pub is always the place to go if you were looking for a job and that’s what I did. I went to open beer garden at the Hedland Hotel and it was like something out of a cowboy movie only everything was stained iron ore red. The back bar was well patronized and it wasn’t long before I was in conversation with a couple of pommies’ who worked for Mount Newman Mining; they loved the place and the money they were earning. I told them my story and that I’d been told of work on the tugs, after a few ales they had leave to get back to work but before they left they drew me a mud map of where the Tug-Boat office was; I decided to sleep on it and go see if I could get a job in the morning.

I was shattered, I wasn’t a car person never having owned a car in Britain, during my first attempt at the marriage game I got my first car and a licence, the sixteen hundred mile from Albany to Port Hedland was an epic journey for me and I was absolutely shattered and desperately wanted a
shower and a meal, in that order.
I found a big empty car park next to a shabby shopping centre and overlooking the harbour and decided that was where I was going to spend the night sleeping in the car but first I had to find somewhere to clean-up. I went scouting round the wharf area and asked one of the Wharfie’s if he knew of a place where I could get a shower, he took me to their mess, loaned me a towel and showed me the bathroom, it was bloody luxury.
Once cleaned up I put on some clean gear and went to the local Truck-Stop Roadhouse and treated myself to a double hamburger with the lot, eating that was sheer pleasure, so I ordered another to take away, just in case got hungry during the night. The sun sank below the horizon and I headed back to the pub for a few more sherbets but I was so tired I only lasted two middies and I was back at the car eating my spare hamburger, then lying across the front seat I slept like a baby till sun-up.

Before it got too busy I went back to the Wharfie’s canteen and had a shave and shower, then into some fresh gear and back to the Road House for a breakfast of steak, eggs, baked beans and potato hash all washed down with a big mug of hot coffee, I felt fit enough to take on the world.
I then went back to the car, switched on the radio and sat there listening to the news and a station playing Country Western Music, you get lots of that out in the bush and Port Hedland was bush.

I tried to be patient, I didn’t want to appear desperate so I waited until about 9-30 before going to the office of the Adelaide Steamship Company. Once inside a middle aged woman asked me what I wanted and when I told her I was seeking work she spun on her heel and went back in the office and in less than three minutes I was confronted by a balding gentleman who introduced himself as
Mr Laird, Towage Officer. I told him I was a qualified AB and I was looking for a job, he then informed me the only vacancy they had was for a Launch Master and I said, “That’s great, I’ll take that.” He then explained to me that I would need a Launch Master’s ticket to taken on the position.
I asked him how I would go about getting a certificate and he explained that I would have to sit an exam at Harbour & Rivers, I would also have to obtain a Marine Engine-Drivers ticket; I felt really shattered but decided to go to Harbour & Rivers and get the syllabus for both exams. After proving I had more than three years sea service I was given the syllabus and, at my request, they booked me in for the examinations, I then returned to Adelaide Steamship and told Mr Laird I was booked in to sit the exams in four weeks time, so he promised to hold the job for me but for no longer than the four weeks.
I came out of the office feeling over the moon but then the butterflies started in my stomach when I thought of the possible consequence if I failed to get the required tickets. I took the time to fly down to Perth where I met Devi who had driven up from Albany in the Valiant. I then drove both of us to Port Hedland where Devi got a position as Nursing Sister at the Regional Hospital, before leaving Port Hedland nine years later Devi was to become the Director of Nursing.
Then it was constant study but I passed both exams and so it was I started as a launch master with the Adelaide Steamship Company earning big bucks, more money than I had ever earned in my life and with ambitions to continue studying; two years later I got my Coastal Masters ticket and my ambitions expanded.

Once I had my Coastal ticket Devi and I decided to take a holiday in the UK so in April ’72 I flew out of Perth en-route to Fiji where we stayed for a couple of weeks before continuing the journey via the States to London and Liverpool.
My family was delighted with Devi, she was truly beautiful and I felt very proud, we stayed around England for a few weeks then took off for the continent and Spain; we had about eight weeks away and then back to the UK to find a job. We rented a flat over a shop on the corner of Balls Road, Birkenhead and Devi got a job at the Children’s Hospital and I found work as a Sale Rep.
We both saved like mad and just before Christmas ’72 I telephoned Mr Laird at Adelaide Steamships and asked him for my job back, he assured me that would be fine but I would have to be back before the end of the financial year in ’73, which was June. Devi and I returned almost one year to the day we left back in April ’73.
Within the month I was back as Tug Master and Devi was employed as a Tutor Sister opening a school at the Regional Hospital to train Nursing Assistants. I got stuck into University Extension Study and in ’77 I left Port Hedland to enter the Maritime College and in ’80 I got my Master Class 1 certificate and my first job was on a Canadian, DP Rig Ship, Sedco 471, I signed on as Second Mate. Life was so beautiful!

Tony, thats what I call seeing life, instead of ending up like me in the first and last.

Very interesting story Tony. I am pondering who was that skipper/a/b

Great yarn Tony, I've always maintained that there is no better story than a true one, and the best college of all is the college of life and experience which is obviously evident in your case. stan.

hallo

“I will have no man in my boat that is not afraid a whale.” These are the words of Starbuck, the chief mate of the Piqued. And must to say that he vas brave and wise man.

Let me tell one story which took palace in dredging business in 1994
I was on shore that time and no job at hand when a building contactor I inquired me if I wanted be as hopper’s driver for awhile, then he told that there is a convoy under towing from England and will arrive within a couple of days to the west coast of Finland in which the dredging is planed to begin.
The convey consisted a dredgrer and several small crafts including two hoppers. The crew aboard this fleet were mostly British with exception of one Spaniard and one Islander.
I took the job on the other one of those self-propelled hopper to drive her between the dredger and the dumping place that situated four miles off the coast
All went well and I came well along with the English men whose were familiar with sea everybody of them been serviced in way or other at sea for years. We took care of things and there were not argues among us.

One could thinks that a hopper like a mud carrier cannot be very dangerous craft because that sort of vessel usually working nears the shore or in estuaries, it is fatal mistake as well as the thought that you are safe when you are sailing inshore water like in an archipelago or on some other area close the shore, for, the vicinity of the land gives you false sensation of safety so that yould think be able to swim to shore.
Real professional sailor and native islanders never think so, for, they well know how is easy get into water but no so easy get away from there. Secondly; real old fashioned sailor nor islanders cannot swim.
Within so called lee and safety water like the archipelago of Finland there have occurred more fatal disasters than on the open sea.

The negligence to get the vessel sea shape, in many occasion due to the lack of knowledge among the shore people for jus few inshore skippers have service in their time on the merchant navy.

When I was driving that mud carrier I soon found it being very dangerous craft especial when it was overloaded and the cargo was vet soil. I then held the door of wheelhouse open and was standby to open the bottom hatch if se want turn over.

All went ok with the British mates as we all knew the risk, but there came new crew and dikers and the British went off. All the new were inlanders and wanting to show that they are more capable than the previous crew they started to overload the hoppers and when I protested of the matter they cried out in very loud noise that I must take more cargo.

The Dumbing was four mils out to offing and when driving there you had to go over wreak that lies on the seabed and there war order not to dump over the wreak, happen what happen. Well. one dark night when I was hauling the mud carrier over the wreak and tried keep my thought out the wreck under I saw something like mist flying in glare of the searchlight thinking no more what it might be I continued and when reached the dumping, I then turned the hydraulic to be close hatch but there was no success, actually in that type of hopper there wasn’t any bottom hatch, during the dumping the whole vessel split into two from bow to aft. now the hydraulic was breaking and the two hull pontoons fallen apart, as there was sea running the loose pontoons started slapping up and down with noise boom like wings of a huge birth.
There was night around and I was alone in tilted wheelhouse. So I called a tug by radio and when arrived by the dredger I said no more fuct to day and taken my gears leave the dredger promising never come back again.
It was not long as I head the hopper fallen over and the skipper drowned in the wheelhouse. He had kept the door closed and when the hopper went upside down he was jailed in the wheelhouse.

with regard
harry

A tragic story Harry but very interesting, almost daily we read in our newspapers of ferries in places such as Indonesia and the Phillipines capsizing; this is all because the skippers have no understand of stability and they have no control over the movement of their passengers. The main cause of the accidents is passengers moving to upper decks causing the vessel to become top-heavy and unstable. It's happening all too often, the authorities should hold an inquiry and insist on the officers having a propper understanding of ship stability.

Great to have you back Harry.