The Adventures of Wee Jim , livre ebook

AuthorHouse UK - Captain Jim Currie

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

85 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

In part one, we left a lovely wee Jim and his entirely world possessions, on a dessert quayside on South Wales. It was a miserable dark nights, and the rain was coming down in torrents.
In part two, we rejoin him and share the initial moment of misery. From then on, the wee lad takes us on his adventures across the world up until he meets the love of his life.
We may think life is hard... think again - then think again for the sense of humour.

Sujets

Adventure (Guyana)

Biography

Adventure

Autobiography

Life

Informations

Publié par	AuthorHouse UK
Date de parution	12 décembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781728379487
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE ADVENTURES OF Wee Jim

Book 2 The Captain’s heart was Roasted

Captain Jim Currie

AuthorHouse™ UK
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK) UK Local: (02) 0369 56322 (+44 20 3695 6322 from outside the UK)

© 2023 Captain Jim Currie. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/09/2022

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7947-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7948-7 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Foreword
Chapter 1: New Boy
Chapter 2: Voyage Number One
Chapter 3: The Learning Curve
Chapter 4: Onward - Southward
Chapter 5: A first Time for Everything
Chapter 6: Gibraltar
Chapter 7: North Africa
Chapter 8: Fun, Games & a Funeral
Chapter 9: ‘Loaded’ for the First Time
Chapter 10: The Wanderer Returns
Chapter 11: Here we go Again!
Chapter 12: Home is The Sailor
Chapter 13: MV Norscot
Chapter 14: SS ‘Wellpark’
Chapter 15: Australia
Chapter 16: South Seas Supplies
Chapter 17: An Unplanned Stop-over
Chapter 18: Back to Work
Chapter 19: MV Dunadd
Chapter 20: The SS Mountpark
Chapter 21: To Gleddoch and Back
Chapter 22: Failure and Fun
Chapter 23: Rust Bucket
Chapter 24: Exams and a Proposal
Chapter 25: Wedding Bells
FOREWORD
T hose of you who were blessed with patience and perseverance in equal amounts and who have survived the first part my story, will remember that I finally arrived at the Welsh Town of Port Talbot after a train journey of 17 hours.
I have to say that I found Wales a very strange place indeed. That evening was to be the first of many traumatic fi rsts.
For a start-off, I‘d never seen a town with a railway running across its main street. Nor, before that time, had I ever seen a level crossing I later learned that the crossing in question divided Port Talbot from its neighbouring town – Aberavon.
I hired a taxi on my own for the very first time; a taxi driven by an enormous lad with a thick Welsh accent and the unlikely name of Clarence. He too was a first… the very first man of African descent with whom I had ever had a single word of conversation.
It all felt very strange indeed. Not frightening, but more of a mixture of apprehension and loneliness blended with delicious anticipation.
I instructed Clarence to take me to my destination. He was used to transporting Scots seamen to and from the docks, and clearly understood my request of “ Ormsary please – she’s at the Ore terminal.” because within five minutes, I and my baggage were being deposited at the foot of the gangway of that very vessel.

The Good Ship Orm sary.
Author’s ollection.
If it is of any interest to you; the SS Ormsary was a first generation, purpose-built bulk cargo carrier, built to carry ten thousand tons of mineral ore – mainly Iron Ore in four equal sized cargo holds. A hold is simply a big box in which things and stuff are held. There was a fifth, smaller hold up at the sharp end. This was called the ‘ Dry Cargo’ hold although it never was filled with cargo...wet or dry. In fact, it was used to stow the spare prope ller.
From the above photograph, you can see that unlike conventional vessels at that time which had their funnels in the middle, the Ormsary had her funnel at the back end.
The Owner’s and Captain’s cabins as well as the Navigating Officers’ accommodation were situated in the bit in the middle. The Engineering Officers, Apprentices and other ranks were situated - like the funnel - in the bit at the back.
When the ship was at sea and the hatches closed, a temporary walkway was rigged across the tops of the steel hatch covers, This was for safer passage of personnel in heavy weather. Since the dining saloon was also at the back end, eating was a problem for the navigating officers during stormy conditions. It wasn’t too clever either during loading and unloading operations.
In port, the gangway was rigged at the stern and here I was at last! At the bottom of that very gangway.
Chapter 1
NEW BOY
T he rain was coming down in torrents and it was very dark and windy. However, the gangway was lit by what I later learned was a ‘cluster’. This consisted of what might be described as a dustbin lid containing a cluster of six - sixty watt electric light bulbs. In this case, it was rigged to cause the utmost frustration to anyone attempting to ascend the gangway because it was placed at the top of the gangway shining directly into the eyes of on-coming...or in my case...up-coming, human traffic.
The gangway itself, was a very long, narrow affair made from aluminium which is pronounced as “Ah-Loo-minum” by partly-educated non-Scots from across The Pond. Those using it were prevented from falling off the thing by ropes chauvinistically named man-ropes. Come to think of it, I wonder if it politically correct to name them as such in this present day? To add to my woes, the thing was in the process of morphing into a vertical ladder. This was because most of the ship’s cargo had been discharged and she was then high out of the water.
I say ‘most’ of the cargo had been discharged because to my amateur eyes, it seemed that at least half of it was still on board the ship, clinging to every surface in sight including the gangway and it’s fittings. Every part of it - including the side ropes were covered in a thick coat of dark red-brown coloured paste -very much like, and of the consistency, of ‘Bisto’ gravy. It had started out as dust but the rain had soon changed that!
Having paid off the taxi driver who left me with a cheery “good luck boy-oh!” I commenced the climb upward, lugging my enormous suitcase and desperately trying not to fall backward under the influence of gravity acting on the equally enormous kitbag slung over my shoulder.
At last! I got to the top and stepped off the gangway onto the deck of my first ship – what a feeling!
Well, to tell the truth, I was knackered, covered in slimy red paste and sodden, almost to the skin. The ordeal had been even more so because of the forty-odd gallons of rain absorbed by my great coat during the process. I was lonely, tired and without sight of another, friendly human being in fact not any human being at all – the decks were deserted. I later learned that the ship was due to sail on the morning tide and that apart from a watchmen who was fast asleep - the Captain who was also asleep, and the duty officer; the entire crew were ashore for a last fling.
So there I was, having arrived at my destination without an admiring welcoming party to ‘pipe’ me aboard, and no earthly idea where I was suppose to go or what to do next.
I put my gear down and made my way to the accommodation housing at the back end. There, I found a wooden door with a porthole and a very high door step (for me anyway). I stood there and knocked. There was no reply so I tried standing on the step an looking through the port hole - I was too wee. Next I tried the handle which incidentally was a brass ring. It turned easily and the door opened outward to reveal a set of stairs going upward on my left and a long corridor stretching out before me. Five doors were situated on the right hand bulkhead (that’s a nautical term for wall). I walked toward the first one. A small sign above it revealed it was the lair of someone called a Calori fier .
The next door was designated Cadets Study . The next three were ‘Cadets 1’, 2 and ‘Cadet’s Washroom’. All the doors except ‘Cadet 2’ and the Washroom were locked. ‘Cadet 2’ was open and empty. I therefore deduced this was to be my abode. Accordingly I retrieved my gear and stowed it in that place.
Readers should take note that the ‘Ormsary’ was somewhat ahead of her time relative to crew accommodation. Most vessels built before her sported multi-occupancy cabins for the crew and cadets or apprentices. Indeed, it was fairly normal for a cabin to accommodate four or six souls – usually hot, sweaty, smelly ones. Eight or twelve if you include the bottoms of feet!
On ‘Ormsary’ every member of the crew from cabin boy to captain had his own room, cabin or in modern parlance ‘space’. The Captain and Chief Engineer had even more luxurious pads. Each of them had a day room, night room and another one which was usually described as rhyming with the ‘night’ one!
Cadet cabin 2 was a warm, brown, cosy womb of a place. It was furnished in dark oak with a red carpet. The same colour of red was used for the curtains, seat and settee covers. There was a bunk against the bulkhead on the left, behind the door, with a wardrobe at its other end. Beneath the bunk were three full length drawers for stowing gear. A built-in desk occupied the aft (back end) bulkhead and there was a round, brass lined port-hole on the outboard side. The settee or day-bed was situated immediately below the porthole. I would be glad of this in the tropics as air-conditioning was an absent luxury.
As I said – I was alone in an alien place. The only sounds were the so