A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A MODERN CRUISE LINER RADIO OFFICER

Upon departure, most of the passengers were standing waving to relatives and friends or simply waving to the people on the dock.  Hundreds of coloured balloons and serpentines were launched in the air as the wind carried them away.  The ship, with a slight vibration, was slipping away on the turquoise sea, headed towards the distant horizon in the late afternoon.  Right from the first morning croisiérists would rush to be on the ship to shore ‘phone to call up relatives ashore. Within a single 4-hour watch, the R/O would book more than 200 calls and as radio services were available between 08.00 a.m. and midnight, the 2^nd and the 3^rd (the Chief was not standing watches...) would make roughly 1500 calls! That doesn’t include incoming calls, faxes both ways and other routine communications.  On the passenger list, an average of 80 nationalities were represented.  Approximately 80% Americans, 10% Europeans and the rest from all continents. By sunset of that day, most  of them will have made a phone call home, describing the  luxury of the ship, the excellent food and often commenting  on the  “charming accent of the radio-operator”...  (had to put that in!)  The land based recipients of the call would often comment that they could even hear “the waves,   the sea or even the wind!”  Of course this was due to the background humming heard on radio-waves but that, they did not know. You could distinctively make the difference between the Texas, New England, European or other accents.   In the evening most of people were quickly absorbed in  their many course dinner, tasting all platters but not finishing them (there was actually crew member to discard ‘left-overs’ over  the side but one imagines that many galley members often  enjoyed these remains of of ‘pure hedonism’. 

Following dinner there would be a sedate but determined ‘rush’ to the casino, the entertainment show with two cabarets, to the movies or standing by the numerous bars, drinking tax-free tropical mixtures.  Off watch white-uniformed officers would also be ‘cruising’ with an eye for the occasional lonely woman, other single male passengers, some slightly others more than slightly enebriated, fancied their chances regarding available groups or single ‘girlies.  Meanwhile, on my evening watch, it was often the crew members turn to make calls.. Not many of them though could afford the expense for the most were working for minimum wage which, as these huge vessels were often that not registered in countries where such laws regarding minimum wage did not exist. Saturday nights were often the busiest.  Our Casino manager, a woman, would call up her lover aboard another cruise-ship; a male dancer his boy-friend in Los Angeles (and if I had to advise him that his time was coming to an end he would often comment on his partner’s possible infidelities).  Another guy would talk to his wife in New York City and she would tell him, not sure of his seaman’s behavior, that “if you break my heart, I’ll break your neck”.  By midnight, I had heard so many oddities that I was quite relieved to shut down the circuit, turn the Auto-Alarm on and close the station. On the  way  down to my cosy cabin, walking down ten decks below  instead of using elevators,  I would distribute received messages to the senior officers mail-box at their cabin door  and obtain a sandwich from the night steward.

There, I was pleased to have a chat with the Philippinos who were often quite surprised that an officer would actually be interested in their lives. Later, I was to realize that for all Philippino guys on board, I was THE “Radio-Officer”. Very  few people ever set eyes on the chief as he was most often in his cabin and the 2^nd R/O, right after she had graduated from  Radio School, had actually joined that ship, her very first one.   To many I was the only authentic R/O on board having come from the quite different world of cargo ships and they knew what that meant. Often they would salute me and greet me with a “hi sparks!” and a glint in their eye.

 

On the “Crown Monarch”, another cruise-ship I was on for a while, I had to spend my afternoon watch at the passenger’s gangway while we were calling at Ocho Rios, Jamaïca; some of them were there to check crew member ID cards and assist passengers, if necessary. I talked to many of the crew telling me that they had, in some cases, a 12 or 18-month contract, on a 400 US$ pay. They would also tell me about their families back home on a far away island in the Pacific, or about the amount the money they had to pay for a job at the twisted Employment Agency back in Manila.

 

On one Greek ship I was to join later the cook would boil a big cauldron of tomato rice with chunks of meat, put it on the crew’s table and they pick up their supper with a huge spoon. Scenes such as this would sadden me for the Philippinos are good seamen and devoted workers, considering their living conditions aboard F.O.C’s ships. In the laundry-room, a man of Chinese nationality, was in charge of washing and cleaning the officer’s clothes. Every time my clothes were sent back to me, I was very impressed by his efficiency and work cleanliness, the careful folding and sorting out.  I never actually met him but to thank him for his devotion one day, I put a $5 bill in an envelope and inserted into my dirty clothes.  Next day, a small piece of white paper was attached to a shirt.  Two Chinese characters were written upon it and I carried that paper with me until I met another Chinese crew member and asked for the translation.  Apparently it contained the expression “PROSPERITY AND RESPECT TO YOU”.

 

Too tired for a session at the disco or the cabaret (officers were not allowed in the casino), I would pass by the cinema where the movie operator, a young lad from Belize, was winding up his reel.  In my comfortable air-conditioned cabin,  I would be happy to be on my own again enjoying a cleansing shower, eat a sandwich or two and ‘crashed’ into my bunk.

 

 Our first port of call was Labadee, on the north coast of Haïti, a private beach owned by R.C.C.L. There, excursions were organised in glass-bottom boats to observe underwater life in shallow waters.   Activities for passengers which included guided snorkeling provided a glimpse into the world of tropical fish and exotic plant life.  Other beach sports activities and picnics were often the order of the day providing an exciting relief for a Nebraskan housewife or to a Yukoton woodcutter. At a far end of the beach, two black gay men couples were bathing and having fun in the nude. Elsewhere, youngsters, probably newlyweds, were very close to a session too explicit to describe here.  Aged people, in light but total vestment, were conversing in the shadow of sunshades. Whilst in port radio operations were very quiet. Close enough to the wheelhouse, I would leave the radio-room for a while to chat with the officer of the watch and check shore activities through binoculars.

 

Tonight was the Captain’s Banquet. A few hours before, in evening chic gowns, men in tuxedos, were parading in the atrium area to show-off and compare their attire to others.  Some of them, more familiar with such a dress code, had a high class look while others gave the somewhat ‘out of character’ appearance and looked, to all intents and purposes, out of some obscure operetta.  I’ve never known on what basis the Master would choose those invited to share his table.  In the  ‘ Sea Lady’s’ era, it was easy to determine but nowadays,  in that melting-pot of nationalities and social classes, just what were the criteria I wondered?   No doubt the company’s head office had ‘suggested’ to him that certain passengers ‘expected’ ‘special’ privileges as often they were repeat passengers.

 

By eight o’clock, the Master, dressed in his cream color tuxedo, would walk in the radio office.  I soon learned that it was his habit to do so most days at a certain time. The 2nd  R/O, had told me to keep myself on my guard for he could be somewhat unpredictable and often unfriendly to his junior officers. I was told the same thing from other officers and I was nervous towards my initial professional contact with him.  Often, if not busy, I would respectfully stand up at his entrance. He would inquire about the weather, the news and provide words of encouragement telling me not to worry about the work and to just ‘take things in my stride’.  This I actually found quite encouraging and therefore my impression was not exactly what I had heard.  Perhaps it was my manner.  I did find him very friendly, even fatherly and quite ‘au contraire’ to what I had heard. I liked the man and would be very happy to serve with him on a cargo ship.  The 2nd R/O (being a female) actually mentioned to me that he had tried to get familiar with her ( he was in his early  sixties) but she had rebuked him and he had obviously felt frustrated  and humiliated.   For different reasons, they didn’t like each other.  He was quite strict with all his officers in their conduct and impressed upon us all that no officers were to be seen in bars or at the disco after 2 a.m. “We were not on a cruise but at work!” he would say. Finally, for the same reasons as with the Philippinos, I was “his” Radio-Officer and our relationship was a good one.

I would rise at 6 a.m. and, having my own coffee-maker, would prepare a couple of espresso coffees to enjoy slowly.  Then I would attire myself in workout clothing and attend the passenger’s gymnasium for bodybuilding exercises.  Early in the morning it was often deserted and I could use all the very modern equipment. At 46, I was in great shape:  muscled, well tanned (all over), good health, blond hair, 6 foot-tall.

 Often I was asked to join ladies and have a photo taken with them, sometimes arm around waist (yes, sir!) for some of the more forward youngsters, in my ‘whites’. Otherwise, I was incognito!  The ship was a little longer than 1000 feet and provided for a good long walk. Then, it was my swimming-pool time, either at the crew’s or passenger’s location on deck.  With the passengers I enjoyed mixing with people from many countries and as we had approximately 44 different nationalities amongst the crew I did my ‘bit’ for international relations!  At the passenger’s pool one day I saw a woman burnt like freshly boiled lobster with scalds pimples on the forehead. Talking with one of our nursing sisters one day she mentioned that the most frequent ‘malady’ on board was sunburn followed by occasional seasickness problems and...hangovers!   As was often the case on any passenger ships down through the ages the ship’s doctor(s) tended to be somewhat over paid alcoholics with a ‘bent’ for sexual encounters. Occasionally, in the privacy of their cabin, they would listen to people bored and longing to go back home (unbelievable but true!).  Our most peculiar senior officer was actually the, so called ‘security officer’aboard.  A Londoner, he spoke with a broad cockney accent and made me laugh all the time.  Around that time Romania had just got rid of Caucescu and I used to designate him as the “Securitate Officier”! His main duties were to make sure that all fire equipment was in good order, to train the crew’s firemen and instruct new officers in emergency procedures.  Often, acting in the role of ‘police officer’, he was often called upon to stop the more aggressive crew members from ‘carving’ one another up.  Such miscreants were most often paid off at the next port.  Once, one had to be evacuated in San Juan for a severe knife injury and his assailant was put under arrest by local police.

 

As most of passengers were Americans, the company had to please them in their American ways.  Swimming-pool deck hot-dog and hamburgers picnics were held once a week. Lots of ketchup, relish and mustard!  Observing everything, I had noticed that out of 10 people, 6 were often very overweight and, quite frankly, obese. Europeans tended to be somewhat more ‘classy’.  They were not as ‘loud’ as their fellow Americans and were, for the most part, more cordial and could easily be distinguished in the crowd.  Often I conversed in French with those whose mother tongue was French which made life more interesting.  I would then be asked where I was from as the French Canadian accent and mannerisms are not the same as those of France.  This quite surprised many who were not aware of our dual language in Canada. .

 

I loved San Juan, especially the Old San Juan with its colonial architecture, its pastel blue or pink houses, palm trees and its beautiful site on the ocean shore. That was our longest call in a port: from around 6 a.m. to 2 a.m. following day, the ship taking on stores and having passengers on bus excursions in the city or nearby.. The Chief would give us, the 2nd and I, the whole day off. That was time for personnal shopping, visiting book stores and having a drink in the old downtown. One day, as it was my colleague’s birthday, we reserved a table in a glamorous french restaurant and chose the best on the menu! On my Friday evening watches, the Casino Manager greatly appreciated that I get the Florida lotto winning numbers. Forwarding them to her Office would grant me with a high quality french wine bottle. As I’m not a wine drinker, that week, the bottle was handed to Lucia, the 2nd, as a reward for her help during my training. The Navigation Captain (we also had a Deck Captain), both assisting the Master in the concerned matters, really surprised me that evening. A handsome Norwegian guy, in late 30’s, blond hair and small beard, had chosen that same restaurant we were in and was accompanied with...two beautiful girls I suspected were not his cousins! The same guy did not like us foreigners in the radio-room for, according to his understanding, we were stealing jobs from Norwegians. The fact was that the pay was good but as the ship was registered on the Norway International Registry, the same pay was not so attractive to Norwegian R/O’s for it was lower than what they were paid under the regular Norwegian flag! In three months, he never said a single word to me, not even answering to my useless Hi’s!

Even the refrigeration officer looked down at me, probably for the same reasons; it’s only during the last 2 or 3 weeks I was on board that he became friendly to me. God knows why.

 

                        My most pleasant and restful call was in Charlotte Amalie, St-Thomas Island in the U.S. Virgin Islands. I had been there too a few times before, again when I was in the C.A.N. That was the only port where R/O’S had no watch to stand. After my usual morning sport activities, I was ashore by 10 o’clock, mailing letters (though we had a very efficient Post Office on board), making phone calls home but mainly, it was my day at the beach. There was a small one only a couple of miles from the dock. There, lying down on a large towel, a bottle of water and a couple of sandwiches (again), having the ex-France at anchor just a half mile away, her huge blue hull standing still in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea, seriously, I was close to total happiness. The ship’s movie operator, among others, used to go there too. We became good friends. As anyone else, I knew the facts about the sexual life among crew members, particularly on a so big floating palace. What we called “public areas”on board were strictly forbidden to them, except for service. That rule applied also to Officer’s and passenger’s cabins, again except on service.  Officers had access to all save the casino and they could keep company with anyone they wanted to as long as their duties were not affected. He told me about the “cinema” that occured sometimes in the crew’s quarters, hetero or gay. Ten percent of the population, that meant around 300 gays and lesbians aboard.There was no police to check on private behaviours as long duties were performed properly.  It was not worse than anywhere else; it was only a reflection of the outside world admiring itself in a mirror. And never incidents related to that were ever reported.

 

                        With roughly three thousand people aboard such a huge ship, lifeboat drills were of the most importance. These were held just before sailing off Miami, right after all passengers have boarded the ship. In each cabin, as on any other ship, a lifeboat station sign was posted indicating to passengers their assigned lifeboat. Of course, at the bell signal, urging everyone to be present at the assigned lifeboat there was the usual confusion. However, surprisingly, people took the exercise seriously,  knowing that it was for their own good. Obviously, a wide margin would seperate a rehearsal and reality. I preferred not to imagine how it would be like to see many old-aged people walking up or down (depending on their location on board at the crucial moment) towards theit lifeboats, jostling each other, confused with the direction to take and so on. Meanwhile, all of them were standing by their lifeboat within a surprising lapse of time, awaiting instructions from the Officer-in-charge, relatively interested by what was going on, some of them in a hurry to complete the temporarily interrupted tour of their week-time palace. No use to say that it was highly recommended to all personnel to be very polite, pleasant and helpful to passengers. As the Chief used to say: “They give us our pay,” which terms, in my view, should be read as: ”They contribute to our living.” They gave us nothing; it was rather an exchange of services. Thus, in the circumstances and the purpose of the exercise, it was the only occasion where we were allowed to be rude, without exaggeration, with any of them who would not comply with instructions. The only difficulty was with the “yellow line”. On deck, a wide yellow line was painted and during the drill, all were strongly requested to stand behind to avoid any confusion now if a casualty should occur.

Normally, a simple remark would make the man or woman to stand back but once, I was sorry to insist that an old man, in his late 70’s, complies with my request. He answered back that he had been in Merchant Marine ruring the WW2 and that he knew how to manage with that. I realised that certainly he did better know than I but I replied back that “it was an even better reason to comply”! He hated me.

In San Juan, early in the morning, it was the fire drill. Only the crew was of course involved and it usually unrolled with efficiency. All those involved had received a training and my duty was to stand by in the wheelhouse, answering to telephones and walkie-talkies, used by the different chief operations for all departments and fire posts on board. Signalling the state of the exercise, I had then to report verbally the same to the Master and note each report and time of receiving it in a log-book. This last was to allow the Master to check on time elapsed between the moment the alarm was activated and the one at which different department were on the readiness. Right after, he would address to all Officers for comments on the drill and do his “preachings” concerning our do’s and dont’s. Then, I had to check the batteries, not four or eight units as usually seen on a cargo-ship but twenty-four! That meant 192 cells to check on the density, with the old densimeter, the same way as I used to do elsewhere. It was not a very harassing operation since I did not have to suffer polar temperatures or heavy rolling!

 

                        An hour or so before reporting on my evening watch, I usually, more often than not, walked up to the Viking’s Lounge to have a pina colada, my favorite drink at the time. Freshly showered, “attractively (for not saying sexy)” in my white uniform, I would wander into public areas, towards the Lounge, ten decks up, where, as never before (and after) in my life, I’ve been glanced from head to toes by people, men and women, let’s say  half and half...in percentage! Most of the time, I was asked by a lady, eyes shining with desire, (hey, what an ego!!)  to be taken in photo with her, sometimes her husband or escort on my other side (just to save appearances). Bolder ones would ask me to hold me by the waist or she would do so...instinctively...Once, walking by, I was taken on a cine-camera, an 8-mm as used in that prehistoric era of technology, sequence long enough for the man doing so, having leisure to take delight of the movie once back home, alone or with his friends somewhere back in Indiana or Kansas...To be honest, I didn’t care about intentions or even the demanding person but I must say that it was very flattering on the ego. Very indeed...So, that evening, I went up to the Lounge, called my drink to the barman (who knew pretty well who I was) and tended my credit card. The company, with their compliments, issued once a month, a special credit card to all Officers for their own entertainment ...an “other” unpredicted occurences. The Lounge, the 13th and highest deck, was a beautiful and vast round shaped bar circling the funnel with tables located by a wide opened view on the sea and the whole pool deck. It was a very restful area mostly loaded with people, later in the evening and late in the night, in search of sea poetry or romance after too much drinking in other bars, the casino, and as the result of a sensual encounter or date. I chose a table, posed my white cap opposite to me, as a decoy for not being disturbed in a moment of’ loneliness’ I looked for. That did not work all the time. A couple of tables away, two women, probably old friends in their late 50’s,  were having a chat over pink colored drinks in huge glasses. I noticed that one in particular was keeping eyes too often and too long in my direction. What was I to expect?  She decided to open up a conversation and came towards me asking if pictures could be taken! I agreed of course She handed the camera to her friend, passed her hand low around my waist, did the same (higher though), ceding the place to her acolyte and plock!, another picture. You can imagine the rest: questions about my duties, my origins, married or not, what time I finished my work and so on. It was getting very embarrassing while talking to me she would pose her hand on my forearm. I was saved by the “bell”: time was up and had to go....imperatively. Conclusion: I’m almost sure that when back home in her little town of Massachusetts, though they said to be from Boston, probably a small black dot on a road map, she would brag to have met that lovely and charming “french” Radio-Officer seen there on pictures, had a romantic affair with him on a dream-boat and that it had been the most wonderful trip in her life!!! “Lies in vain which comes by far.” Later that week, I met the women somewhere in a public area: they never “saw” me. I believe I was invisible at that precise moment...Don’t know why...

 

                        Close to a thousand phone calls per day, among which some would last up to 1½ hours, implied lots of a money spent by passengers. In two remarkable cases, the amounts involved were tremendous for me and I ignored then that such operations could occur  even on a cruise-ship. A rich man from New York City call up his office in Lower Manhattan (I knew by the area code) and for 1 ½ hour, discussed with his collaborator of best sells and buys to be done that day at the N.Y. Stock Exchange. After hearing that so many million of dollars could be handed like sand pebbles, I was abashed to hear the conclusion which consisted of selling some shares for 20 million dollars and buy others for 45 million! His call cost him 500USD, nothing to him  Usually, R/O’s don’t make comments on QRJ’s (the famous secrecy oath) but this time, when the operator at OceanGateRadio/WOO gave

me the elapsed time and the fare, she told me that this one was making a better pay than us...! What I could not figure was that how a man supposedly on a vacation cruise, presumably away from daily money torments could spend a part of the afternoon on such a headache!  In a second case, in the evening, a man was requesting to the casino that 5000USD to be retrieved from his Visa credit card for his gambling needs. For this I had to call Visa in the U.S., supply the customer’s name, credit card number, the required amount and so on.The call was of course to his expenses. The service from Visa would take only a few minutes and after receiving an approval number that I was to pass to the casino, the gambler would have his money on the spot.

 

Once on my own, my colleague discretely informed me that the rates charged to passengers differed slightly from those listed on the Ship Station Charges chart. Of course, these “side rates” did not appliy to crew’s phone calls! An additional 25% “side” charge was applied to all calls which represented many hundreds of dollars by the end of the month. For exemple, a normal rated call costing 10USD, would be billed 13USD to the passenger; a 20$ call would be 26$ and so on. After the Chief had compiled total daily money received from passengers and filling accounts forms that went to owners for administration purposes, the leftovers” were put in little steel box as tips for R/O’s...Normally, after two weeks and when calling Miami, he would open the Ali Baba’s cavern and share the pots of gold contents between the three of us: a little more for him, the remaining for the 2nd and I. That meant an average of 1000USD monthly extra for each of us! That “traffic” occurred on ALL company’s ships and was well secretly known among R/O’s. I have no idea when or how it got started but am sure that it has been going on for a very long time.  (Ian also mentions this ‘problem’ on the site when he was R/O aboard Cunard’s CARINTHIA way back in 1960) 

Many years after, I heard the “plot” had been disclosed by owners; the story doesn’t say how they managed with that and if they ever took any punitive action against that, save stopping it.

 

                        This occurence illustrates only the tip of the iceberg. All kinds of “inner” traffics were probably underway except drugs, as far as I know. In those years, it was easier than today to get some Jamaica Gold and this, in all countries the ship called, including U.S.A. On board, “smoking” was tolerated as long as no one knew anything about it, Security Officer included. Again, as long as the service was not affected negatively , crew’s leisures were their choice. Nowadays, I don’t believe in the philosophy of tolerance, particularly as far as the U.S. are concerned.

 

                         After eleven weeks, the R/O I had relieved was coming back from leave. The company had another opening for me on another of their cruise-ships. However, after all that luxury, easy life, good pay (!), prestige and beautiful ports, I longed for cargo-ship’s world. All considered, I preferred the quietness of the radio-room in the evening watch, when reading a good book, I was listening to dots and dashes on 500, checking traffic-lists from VCS or PCH, weather forecast from GKA or NAM, smiling to the singing MCW “voice” of CUG in Azores, while slightly rolling on a rarely calm North Atlantic or the smooth waters of the Caribbean Sea in the off-hurricane season. I had sailed on floating wrecks, on brand new ships, with great Captains, violent crews, men from  close to a hundred nations, hearing many tongues, seeing breath-cutting sceneries, having helped Ghanaian seamen stuck in Baranquilla and unable to go back home, forgotten by their government. I had witnessed a young cadet dying on board off Elbe 1 Lightship, hoping my CW keying would help him out, in vain. Sometimes on freak-ships, I wished I had chosen another career but after a while back home, I was happy to embark again, to get as far away as possible from this crazy and noisy world.

 

                        I had never spend long-term engagements on ships for I was a free-lancer: first arrived, first served. Except for two ships I considered to be my home following a ‘broken affair’and where I succesively spent eleven and nine months terms.  For most of the time I had rather short contracts. A ship I really loved and wished to stay on for a long time,  for we were a great crew,  was sold a few months after because of a union versus owners conflict.  It was a great and adventurous life and though that life has basically been the same since the time that man has sailed the great seas, I don’t envy today’s youngsters who have missed the good part of it.

 

                        Four months later, another cruise line offered me a 2nd R/O’s job on the “Crown Monarch” also sailing the Caribbean Sea from West Palm Beach. I had no other opening at the moment and I accepted. But I did not stay very long; my passage aboard cruise-ships was over. I had wished, since my early years of a seaman, to sail on such great white beauties. They were not Ladies like the “Queens” or the high-class girlies of the French Line but they did have a soul.

Would you like to know how I know that?

In the case of the “Sovereign of the Seas”, just beside the door giving access to the Radio-Room and located at the end of the hallway, even in the friendly calm waters of the Caribbean Sea, the sounds of ‘activity’ in the radio office could always be heard in the distance.

Those loving dots and dashes of another world, so it seemed, could be heard by anyone who was paying a little attention. Only R/O’s have ears for that. Aye!

 

Aimé Charest ex-R/O

SS Sovereign of the Seas/LAEB2                 

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Sailing down the St. Lawrence is a continuously spectacular sight, whatever the season. It was wonderful to observe these shores that were, in fact, my shore-side 'home'.

We loaded 26,000 tons of red dusty iron ore destined for the huge Bethlehem Steel Co. plant in Baltimore. Past Anticosti island for the first time. I was facing the sea ahead and the Atlantic and..."on the air" the 'voices' of VCG, VCN, VCO and others. Halifax VCS (MF) was to become the friendliest call sign to me on all the ships I ultimately sailed on. The powerful signal of WCC, heard far out into the Atlantic, along with WSL and all the U.S. Coast Guard stations would stand by like lighhouses ready to answer at the first call. All those foreign ships, many from the ex U.S.S.R, Greece, the U.K. and so many other countries conducting their commerce on the high seas.

In the Cabot Strait I had my first sighting of Newfoundland, an island and people with a personality different to the rest of this great country of ours. Soon I would be exposed to ice conditions and ice report broadcasts, ice-breaking assistance requests, hearing of ships stuck fast in the ice sometimes for days on end. Foreign captains close to nervous breakdowns because of the unsuitability of their vessel in such icy conditions.

Finally, that great monster of the planet, the ATLANTIC OCEAN about which we have heard so many harrowing tales of the sea, the TITANIC, ANDREA DORIA, W.W.2 CONVOYS, U-BOATS ETC. ETC.
It's huge grey seas, especially in that month of November 1967!.

VCS advises of an approaching gale that eventually strikes us off Nova Scotia. The gale is later upgraded to storm level. The wind howls in my antennae (V-shaped, located immediately above the radio room). The ship shakes like a dog after a rain shower, the huge bow splitting the oncoming waves in two and scattering the sea everywhere across the deck. She rolls and rolls some more and pitches as if never to come upright again! I spent the night securing just about everything in my cabin and the radio office, the typewriter, chairs, books.

WOULD YOU BELIEVE NO SEASICKNESS.......too excited I suppose! A storm at sea is an experience to behold, especially for a 'newcomer'. Always something to recall later as a reminder of our vulnerability to nature's forces on this planet. It's an adversity of sorts that no landlubber can appreciate and can be a hard one, (for example on a 3,000 tonner that I can recall), possibly some tragedy happening at that very moment far out at sea. The strength of the sea can be frightening, pitiless and keeps you primed for any eventuality - shifting deck cargo or can this ship really withstand the onslaught!?

The Radio Officer was the 'link', sometimes the only one, through dots and dashes, to outside assistance if needed. How many times might we hear those urgency and/or distress signals during our career at sea?

Sailing up the Cheasapeake Bay brings sightings of all types of wild fowl and birds settling amongst the tall reeds. It's a peaceful and a more beautiful facet of nature after the wild seas. In a short while, however, we see the man-made unbelievable pollution of Baltimore and its industry. The steel plant is so wide to walk across that it takes 45 minutes to get to the nearest 'phone booth! It is located by the only bar in the little worker's town glued by black dust to the plant. Black, indeed, is the town, it seems inhabited only by 'blacks' living in little black houses and, as if by one great umbrella, hovered over by a continuous black pall of smoke.

We will unload within 14 hours, ore pellets is an easy cargo to deal. It will be a tough job with wet gypsum which we will eventually load in Halifax for Camden, New Jersey.

This was my first voyage, only 10 days or so. Too short to be more descriptive but in the months to come I will find myself in the maelstrom of life at sea. I will experience the loss of a man overboard from a Liberian ship along with the implication for the R/O. Relaying weather broadcasts for another ship in the area following his request on MF. The boring but necessary task of battery maintenance in polar temperatures on the radio room deck in a locker open to the elements.

Breaking up 5 inch thick ice caused by the heavy freezing spray on the support and antenna cables. The various weather conditions and storms from Cape Cod onward to the deep frozen Gulf of St. Lawrence. AND, my first Christmas at sea sending over 35 private radiotelegrams. Guys with smiles and tears or just a little drunk (or a lot!!) will tend me their words of love for the wife, kids and sweethearts at home back in Ontario down to Newfoundland and even to Scotland. This one to GKL, that formidable British HF station (as with most ships, at least one of the engineers was a Scot!).

Myself having a drink with the 'old man' on Sunday morning in words of our world. And so on.........

That was a snap shot of life on board my first ship. Not easy all the time but so good to be part of a new world. We were, for the most part, sailing for the love of the sea.

Years to come would confirm that I had done the 'right thing'. From now on, with my 'bag' of increasing experience, I was ready for the high seas. Sailing on different types and sizes of ships of many flags, including the much larger 'pleasure' cruise ships...always excited to try 'something new'. I was to sing my song in numerous dots and dashes around the world and over lands beneath the ionosphere. Imagining sometimes that these very words of mine would travel into outer space for ever.

I somehow always knew that SOMEONE up there heard my song................

I can recall that I was so eager to join my first ship and almost as eager to pay-off my last for the latter had created a problem that I had only half overcome! The difference was that I had no idea that I was to sign off a ship radio station and put my signature on ship's articles for the very last time.

The voyage was to last for three and a half months and had begun only a few days before with a load of wood in bundles at Gros Cacouna, Quebec. We were bound for New Haven in the UK. Off the Newfoundland coast during that mid-February we had had strong westerly winds the night before that generated a heavy freezing spray wich covered the entire ship from the main deck to the crow's nest.  Upon inspecting the main aerial I discovered that the support guys were simply swaying in the wind and not holding anything fast as they should.  The installation consisted of a high fibre glass mast circled by loops attached to it's top and bottom.