Chapter 2 - Food, Bedding and Soap.

The European war ended in May 1945 at the same time as I left school having spent the previous four years as a not very bright scholar at Greenock Academy. In September of that year I applied for and was accepted as an apprentice with J. & J. Denholm of Glasgow, the same shipping company as my brother had been employed by. They required me to attend a pre-sea training course at Glasgow Technical College (now Strathclyde University) and here I was introduced to the more technical and purely theoretical aspects of an apprentice’s life at sea. I was not to learn until it was too late that the course bore no resemblance to real life, especially in regard to life and work aboard Denholm ships.

Denholm’s were a fairly small company and did not have any ships in the UK at that time and it was not until June 1946 that I signed my indentures as an apprentice. These “pledged me to be of upright character, not to enter or linger in bawdy houses or other places of ill repute nor to consume spirituous liquor or other alcohol and to serve my masters and all ships officers loyally and faithfully”. The company agreed to provide me with food, bedding and soap.

All of this entitled me to be paid at the rate of SIXTY POUNDS FOR FOUR YEARS, split up as ten, twelve, eighteen and twenty pounds per year over that period.. In actual fact, my salary was increased at the end of my first year and I was paid the princely sum of ninety pounds for my second year, one hundred and five pounds for my third year and one hundred and twenty pounds for my final year as an apprentice. This can be doubled to give the equivalent amounts in Australian Dollars in the present day and although the cost of living was different it was not a great deal of money and did not permit for very high living when ashore in a foreign port, and certainly not enough to enter or linger in bawdy houses or places of ill repute. A cup of tea and a bun in the Seamen's Mission was more likely to be the case.

Before leaving to join my ship I had to be fitted out with all of the clothing and text books as set out in a long list provided by Denholm’s manager. All of the clothing was available in a naval tailor's shop in Glasgow, going under the grand title of Paisley’s Naval Tailors and Nautical Outfitters. This was a multi -storey building with a Commissionaire on duty at the main entrance wear¬ing the Paisley’s livery, he looked more like a retired admiral than a doorman and ushered my fa¬ther and I in with full instructions as to how to set about getting “the young gentleman kitted up for life at sea”.

There had obviously been a bit of cooperation between Paisley’s and Denholm; possibly they got a kick-back on the goods sold. We were directed to the basement where the first item purchased was a huge steel trunk/sea chest. This trunk was subsequently sent from one department to another as we made our way through the store towards the top floor. The gear we purchased was the most extraordinary collection of clothing that one could imagine and included items to wear when the ship was in Arctic waters and also white uniforms to be worn in the Tropics with a goodly selection of clothing suitable for wear in all areas in between. In addition we had such indispensable items as a waterproof, astrakhan hat with earflaps which could be tied up out of the way with tapes, full length rubber sea-boots together with oily wool white sea-boot stockings and a huge oilskin coat and matching sou’wester hat. The tropics were allowed for with heavy white cotton shirts and long shorts (known as Bombay Bloomers ) to be worn with long white stockings and white shoes. The shirts were fitted with a double section at the back called a spine pro-tector which was supposed to prevent the spine from overheating and so causing heatstroke and so the list went on and on.

The shop operated in such a way that we and the sea-chest moved up one floor at a time through every department, collecting more and more gear until we reached the top floor where the cashier’s office was located, the dockets from each department collated, totalled and Father wrote a cheque for a sum in excess of one hundred pounds. Two flunkies ( the admiral’s assistants ), man-handled the sea chest onto a trolley and took it down to the front door where the admiral himself called a taxi, had the box loaded and then stood with his two mates from upstairs all with their hands out in front of Father. These were the first waving palms that I saw in my sea career but certainly not the last.

My text books on seamanship, navigation and similar subjects were supplied by a nautical publisher going by the name of Brown, Son and Ferguson; they are still located in the same address and still publishing those same text books plus thousands of other publications about all subjects however loosely connected with ships and the sea. Paisley’s closed down about 1994 and the old building was demolished to make way for new high-rise office space. No doubt the admiral’s ghost is still fluttering about at the front door with his hand out every time a taxi stops nearby.

This was another of the initial stages of my great break for freedom and the wide blue seas beyond the horizon. The final stages fell into place when I received my letter of instructions for joining my first ship and making all the tearful farewells that accompany such a moment. I had no tears, I was off to do what I had wanted to do for some time and could barely wait to get away on my big adventure.