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Old King Coal has had his day, and bunkering the modern Navy is no longer the dirty chore it was in coal ship days. In 1916, when serving in the armored cruiser, HMS King Alfred, the Flagship of the 9th Cruiser Squadron based on the Cape Verde Islands, we coaled about once a week, taking in an average of 600 tons to top our bunkers up to capacity of 2,500 tons. Rear Admiral Sir Sydney Fremantle would not permit any ship to drop behind that figure unless in emergency.
Our routine was as follows: the squadron collier, a British tramp steamer with a capac-
142 U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, January 1969
ity of 8,000 tons, based on our anchorage at Porto Grande, St. Vincent, would arrive alongside our starboard side at about 1700, ready for an early start next morning. Also, that day, the special canvas coaling bags would be broken out, each holding one cwt. of coal.
It was an early call next morning of “All Hands”; then, after “Lash up and stow” and the hammocks had been stowed in their nettings, it was “Hands to cocoa[1] and wash”; at 0500, it was “Hands fall in.” The crew was “piped” throughout all decks by side boys (boy seamen) who were stationed there for that purpose.
After the men had been mustered in their divisions, the “drummer”[2] would sound the “Advance” on his bugle and the Chief Bosun’s Mate would pipe “All Hands Coal Ship.”
It was a piratical looking crowd which surged on board the collier; being in the Tropics, it was dirty, sweaty work, hence the men were allowed to dress in any rig within reason. Being the flagship had its compensations, for we carried a Marine band which played peppy tunes at intervals. This was a great help, and took a lot of the drudgery out of the work.
The forecastle division worked the collier’s No. 1 hatch, the foretop the No. 2, the maintop the No. 3, and the quarterdeck division the No. 4 hatch. Seamen filled the bags in the holds while the engine room staff handled the ship’s steam winches. Marines looked after the dumping of the slings of 20 bags on deck, then each man grabbed one and trundled it on a two-wheeled hand truck to the circular bunker chute openings (about 2 feet in diameter) flush with the deck, and dumped the coal down to where stokers were waiting to trim it into the bunkers.
The Admiral, the Captain, and the Admiral’s Aides went ashore for the day, while
the Navigator, a senior lieutenant commander, took over as Officer of the Day with a Duty Quartermaster and the Marine Cor- j poral of the Gangway to assist him. The remainder of the ship’s company from the Commander (Exec) down had their own ^ particular jobs to do and none were very clean, for the ship was always enveloped in a | veritable cloud of coal dust while coaling was in progress.
The Fleet Paymaster (Paymaster Commander) was in charge of records, and as each sling weighed one ton, he had no problem. Each division had a quota to take in, and to keep the men informed of progress, and also to enhance the spirit of competition, small numbers flags showing the tonnage taken in were hoisted in a conspicuous position at the end of every hour. This always brought forth some good-natured razzings.
Down below in the hold, the heat was pretty grim. As midshipman of the quarterdeck division, my job was to cool off the deck around No. 4 hatch with a hose. Whenever a man “felt the heat,” he would come up on deck and I would hose him down.
There was a short break for breakfast and another for the midday meal; then, as each division finished their quota, there would be loud cheers from them and raucous ones from the other divisions. The last one to finish would be given the “razzberry.”
It was always with a sigh of relief and a special cheer when we heard the bugle sound the “Cease Fire” (generally about 1500) indicating that another coal ship was over. But it was not over yet for the men, because they had to wash down, stow away the gear, and make the ship ready for sea at an instant’s notice before they were really through.
Our Exec was very energetic and always in the thick of things. One day while coaling in Porto Grande, he was signing some papers on the quarterdeck when a badly handled sling of empty bags hit him in the back, and sent him flying overboard. He landed in the water with a spread-eagle splash. A line was thrown, he hauled himself on board, called for the papers, which had been rescued, then with water running out of every fold of his white uniform, he signed the papers and nonchalantly ambled off to change his clothes, without saying a word.
I
Towards the end of November, the German submarines were working their way south, too close for comfort, because of our open anchorage; hence, a new base was chosen, Sierra Leone, which could be easily defended.
In late December, after a strenuous sweep for the German cruiser Emden, in company with a French cruiser squadron based on Dakar, our bunkers were really down to rock bottom. Arriving in Sierra Leone on Christmas morning with the prospect of a long coal ship ahead of us the next day, Christmas celebrations were kept to a minimum. We did, however, keep the old naval tradition that calls for the admiral, captain, and all the ■ officers to make a tour of the messdecks to sample the products of the various cooks of the messes, such as Christmas cake and plum Pudding. But a little after 2100, everyone who could possibly be asleep, was asleep.
At 0500 next morning, the big coal ship operation commenced with a bang, to take advantage of the coolness of the morning. ^Ve worked during the heat of the day with a merciless sun blazing down on the men filling the bags in the holds, in a temperature well over 100 degrees, plus intense humidity. The back-breaking work continued right through the night with only a few minutes break every two hours and a little more at meal times. By b?30 next morning our bunkers were full to capacity. We had taken in 2,250 tons in 26 hours and 37 minutes, including breaks. This ’ meant that we averaged 89 tons per hour, although the best hour’s take was 158 tons while the day was relatively cool. These were the i official figures, for, as Commander’s “Dog- §le,”[3] I had to take the official signals to the Senior officers.
It was the longest, hottest, dirtiest, and
Old Navy 143
sweatiest coal ship during my nine months of service in the King Alfred, and compared with coaling at Porto Grande, the latter was a picnic.
My job kept me busy. When a man dropped from sheer exhaustion, which several did, and more than once, a quick, short squirt of water would wake him up and he would be at it again with a wry grin.
When the drummer sounded the “Cease Fire,” it was a very feeble cheer that wafted out of the holds, but exhausted as the men were, they still had to wash down and get the ship ready for sea. It was just as well we didn’t have to go to sea that day, for the ship’s company were in no condition to fight a battle. It was a good thing that the Emden turned out to be much further away than was thought. That afternoon, the “pipe” was “Hands to make and mend” (a holiday), which was richly earned.
Once coal ship was over, the cry was for hot water, for we had no showers or long baths. We bathed in 6 inches of water in 3-foot diameter metal baths placed in the bathroom deck. Hot water was obtained by having our Marine servants put large cans of water on the wardroom galley stove to heat.
After one coal ship in Porto Grande, the Commander’s bath water was missing. He was furious, and sent his Marine servant around to look for it. I asked my Marine servant, Wiggins, a full Private (24 years’ service) of the Royal Marine Light Infantry, if he knew anything about it. Now, Wiggins was the ship’s character. In his early fifties, slim with a slight stoop, and back in service for the duration, he looked as if he had just walked out of a P. G. Wodehouse novel. Looking me straight in the eye, he replied, “Don’t know nothing about it, Sir, but you got yours, didn’t you, Sir?” He slowly closed one eye in a big wink. I said no more, for I had just been appointed Commander’s “Doggie” the previous day.
★
[1] Navy cocoa was specially made for the Navy in one-inch-thick blocks with sugar added. It had to be broken up before being immersed in boiling water. It was brewed thick so that you could nearly chew it, but it was a very satisfying drink.
[2] The drummer dates back to the days of the sailing ships of the line when there were no bugles. The drummer beat his side drum to call attention to routine orders. When bugles came into being, the name was not changed.
[3] Tlie Commander’s “Doggie” was a Midshipman aPpointed by him to act as a superior messenger for carrying important or private messages and generally to help him in minor ways. He was in addition to the regular Seaman messenger.