The Story of My Working Life

By Bob Sclater

Embark on a riveting journey of ambition and valour that takes a young sailor from the humblest beginnings in the Merchant Navy to the apex of the marine world. This tale of ascent is punctuated by thrilling perils at sea: accidents, collisions, blazes, and even the perils of war.

As the first North Sea Oil makes landfall in Orkney, our protagonist steers mammoth oil tankers through some of the planet’s most treacherous waters, skilfully averting near-catastrophes and environmental hazards with expertise. His career crescendos as he assumes the mantle of authority over one of the U.K.’s most multifaceted Harbour Authorities, overseeing port operations, towage, ferries, and the burgeoning oil sector.

A highlight of his tenure includes securing the prestigious BP contract to tranship the first North Atlantic Crude Oil into the Flotta Oil Terminal, a testament to his professional acumen. This narrative is a testament to the power of resolve, proving that with unwavering dedication, the path to extraordinary achievement is always navigable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9781398444881

Bob Sclater

Bob Sclater was born, grew up and educated in Kirkwall Orkney. In 1956, at the age of 15, set off to sea, and spent seven years in the Merchant Navy as a deck hand sailing world-wide. He had obtained 2nd Mate, 1st Mate and master mariners foreign going certificates and sailed as an officer for a further 12 years. In 1976, Bob became a marine officer/pilot when the first North Sea Oil came ashore to the Flotta Oil Terminal in Orkney and served in this post for nine years. He got promoted to deputy and then director of harbours with Orkney Islands Council for another 12 years. In 1999, Bob became a local authority councillor for eight years and an honorary sheriff for the past 15 years. He lives in Kirkwall and is married with three grown up children – all working out with Orkney.

Book preview

About the Author

Bob Sclater was born, grew up and educated in Kirkwall Orkney. In 1956, at the age of 15, set off to sea, and spent seven years in the Merchant Navy as a deck hand sailing world-wide. He had obtained 2nd Mate, 1st Mate and master mariners foreign going certificates and sailed as an officer for a further 12 years. In 1976, Bob became a marine officer/pilot when the first North Sea Oil came ashore to the Flotta Oil Terminal in Orkney and served in this post for nine years. He got promoted to deputy and then director of harbours with Orkney Islands Council for another 12 years. In 1999, Bob became a local authority councillor for eight years and an honorary sheriff for the past 15 years. He lives in Kirkwall and is married with three grown up children – all working out with Orkney.

Dedication

To my grandchildren: Noah, Finlay, Patrick and Erin who I hope someday will have the time to read my story.

Copyright Information ©

Bob Sclater 2024

The right of Bob Sclater to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All of the events in this memoir are true to the best of author’s memory. The views expressed in this memoir are solely those of the author.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398444874 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398444881 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2024

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

Firstly , the Royal Museums Greenwich, who in 2018 issued a flyer to Merchant Seafarers, That they wished to enhance their understanding and representation of the Merchant Navy and seeking help to ensure that knowledge is not lost and memoirs not forgotten.

I contacted Ms Lucy Dale, assistant curator and commenced writing my story.

She commented favourably on each chapter I sent by stating, Your career is really fascinating and I have greatly enjoyed what you have sent.

Also, Austin Macauley, who accepted my manuscript with a very positive review.

I would also acknowledge the following not in any specific order as they all played a role in compiling my story one way or another.

U.K. Hydrographic Department, Orkney Islands Council, Dept. Of Harbours, Orkney Ferries, Orkney Towage, Flotta Oil Terminal, BP, NZSCo, P&O GCD, LPR, Lamport + Holt, Moller Line UK, Orkney Photographic, RGIT, DOT, MCA, MAIB, NLB, RNLI, Northlink Ferries, McTay Marine, Wijsmuller Towage, Napier’s of Arbroath, Jones of Buckie, Murray Cormack Assoc., Appledore Shipbuilders, Campbeltown Shipbuilders, FBM Shipbuilders, David Abel’s Shipbuilders, Alisa Troon Shipbuilders, IMT Consultants, Royal Navy, Orkney Marinas, Foinaven Team, Briggs Marine, Cruise Europe, Tysers insurance brokers, NJPB, HIFB, Hitrans, NI, EI, David Edge, Clydeships, UK and Scottish Governments, J.P. Knight, Wood Group, Chris Howell, Phil English Shipspotting, Jon Wheeler fotoflit

Part 1

On leaving school at the age of 15 and with no qualifications and little hope of finding a good job in Orkney, I decided that I would head off to sea.

When asked by one of my school teachers what I thought I might do with my life, I said I intended to go to sea. Well, she said, We will give you some extra maths classes to help as you will need that when you go to sea. Little did I know at the time that this extra tuition would help me in later years.

In September 1956, I set off to Leith Nautical College to learn my skills as a seaman. There were three of us, all friends from Kirkwall, Russel Corsie, John Foulis and myself who caught the MV St Ninian down to Aberdeen then onwards to Leith.

The 15-week preparatory course took place onboard the T.S. Dolphin moored at West Old Dock Leith. Now the site of the Scottish Office.

The T.S. Dolphin had a long and distinguished career in the Royal Navy built in 1882; she saw active service in Egypt, India and Australia. In 1907, she was de-rigged and used as depot ship in Portsmouth. In 1928, she arrived in Leith where she was to be a nautical museum.

In 1944, she eventually became a Merchant Navy training ship and remained so until 1977 when she was towed away from West Old Dock to the shores of Bo’ness where she was beached and burnt just to salvage the copper from her bottom.

Captain Adam Tait, a Shetland Master Mariner, took command in 1944 and set about organising the training programme for up to 80/90 boys as deck boys, catering boys and deck cadets under the control of Leith Nautical College. In 1950, the college opened a course for ship’s cooks. My main tutors were Captain Sutherland, an Orkney Master Mariner, and Captain Flockhart.

The majority of boys lived onboard the Dolphin as they came from all parts of Scotland including Orkney and Shetland; there were some local lads who lived at home.

I attended the programme for deck boys, the lowest rank in the Merchant Navy and was trained how to tie knots, box a compass, row a lifeboat, swim, splice rope and all the nautical terminology one would need at sea.

After this intensive 15 weeks’ training, I obtained my first ever qualification, a First-Class certificate.

The details of the complete syllabus and activities we were put through during our training.

As I had achieved a First Class Certificate with an 80% pass mark, I was told that I could perhaps go to sea as a deck cadet. Paddy Henderson’s, a shipping company in Glasgow, had openings, and I travelled through to have an interview with them…They advised however that being only 15 years old I should go back to college and complete the yearlong course that deck cadets had to carryout onboard the Dolphin. As I had no wish to spend more time at sea school, I thanked them for the interview and said I would just go to sea as a deck boy.

Back in Leith, I reported to the Mercantile Marine office to obtain my discharge book, which is a record of all the vessels seafarers served onboard along with their ability and conduct. I was also issued with a seaman’s identity card, which substituted as a passport for merchant seamen.

I applied to The New Zealand Shipping Company for a job and was accepted and informed to go home for Christmas and New Year, and they would contact me when and where to report to them in London.

John and I caught the night train out of Edinburgh to Inverness then onwards to Thurso to catch the MV St Ola home. Russel had already joined a ship and was at sea by then. Being the end of December, the weather was not that good crossing the Pentland Firth, and I was seriously seasick on the trip and wondered what was I thinking of deciding to go to sea as a career.

The photo shows all the budding seafarers on my course. I am the small chap, middle row, third from the right at only five feet tall and weighing less than eight stones, not really a hardened seaman. Russel is third from right, back row, and John sitting at front right.

The TS Dolphin and my first discharge book

After New Year, I received a telegram to report to the NZSCo agents in Glasgow. They were in fact Paddy Henderson’s, the same company I had my interview to go to sea as a cadet so I knew where their offices were in Glasgow. My father arranged a flight with BEA to fly down from Kirkwall. On arriving in Glasgow, it was too late to go to their offices. The bus from the airport dropped me in St Enoch Square so I booked myself into the station hotel for the night. ‘My’ pal John Foulis had travelled down by ferry and train, and we met up in Glasgow. We were provided with rail warrants and told to catch the first train to London and report to the NZSCo dock office in Royal Albert Docks the next morning. Arriving at King’s Cross in the evening, we had to find a hotel for the night so I booked us into the station hotel. Next morning, we caught the tube to Plaistow station and the bus down to the docks. Remember, I was a scrawny little lad carrying my suitcase with all the working gear required to go to sea. It was still a good walk through the docks to the dock office, and I was very glad to set my case down. In the dock office, we were introduced to Jim Moxley, the shore superintendent (The deck crews on board NZS vessels were knowing as Moxley’s Navy) who allocated what vessel you were to serve on. My first ship was to be the MV OTAKI, which was loading general cargo in the Royal Albert Docks and was due to sail for New Zealand within a couple of days. I was told to stay in the Seaman’s Mission for the night and report onboard the next day. My friend John was sent to another vessel, and we did not see each other for several years.

The Royal Docks, Albert Dock is the one on the right of the picture with NZ ships berthed at the top right side as I knew it in 1957.

Now London city, Airport

I climbed up the gangway on 10th January 1957 and found my cabin, which contained four bunks; this was the deck boy/ordinary seamen’s accommodation. There were two four-berth cabins for the junior ratings and eight single cabins for the ABs and EDH ratings. The bosun, lamp trimmer (bosuns mate) and the carpenter (chippy) made up the rest of the deck crew.

After storing all my worldly possessions away in my locker and one drawer, I was told that I was now the ‘peggy’ and was shown to the mess room and instructed that my job was to collect all the meals for the deck crew, and petty officers set the tables, make the tea and wash up after everyone was finished eating. There were two mess rooms, one for the 16 deck crew and a small 5-man mess room for the P.O.s; this included two engine room members, the donkey man and engine room storekeeper along with the bosun, lamp trimmer and chippy.

This was not what I anticipated my job as a seaman would be. I thought that I would be on deck doing nautical work, steering the ship, working with ropes, painting and all the other tasks that I believed seafarers carried out at sea. Anyway, that was not the way a first tripper was expected to learn the ropes; he had to start at the very bottom of the ladder and know his place in the shipboard tradition, which was a hard lesson to start one’s career.

Not only did I have to collect all the meals from the galley, clean up after every meal, wash all the dishes, get them ready for the next meal, I also had to scrub the mess room decks along with the alleyways and clean all the toilets and polish brass portholes and all the other brass fittings in the crew’s accommodation that were not in the crew cabins.

I officially signed on the ship’s articles on 11th January, my monthly salary was £12 and 10 shillings a month, and there was a system called an allotment whereby you could send part of your pay home. I sent £5 a month to my mother. We set sail the next day bound for Curacao, Jamaica, then the Panama Canal and onwards to New Zealand. Mid-January in the English Channel is not a very comfortable place to be even on a big ship so once again the seasickness got me.

This of course did not make any difference to my workload. I still had to do all the tasks allocated to me. I was certainly not a happy chap on my first few days at sea. It was a relief to get to my bunk after cleaning up after the evening meal and then dreading the next morning being called at 6:30 to get the breakfast on the table. My seasickness lasted three days and then I got my sea legs, thank goodness. The first few days on board, I was soon to learn the routine of shipboard life. The watch system made up of three watches 12-4, 4-8, and 8-12 was the main routine for all the crewmembers, officers, engineers, greasers, and of course, the deck crew. As I had my duties in the mess room, the watchkeeping did not affect me except for getting meals on the table at the right time for the watchkeepers during the day. The deck watches required two ABs and two ordinary seamen on each watch until the ship was clear of the main shipping lanes then reduced to one AB and two ordinary seamen. Their job was to steer the vessel on two-hour shifts and lookout duties after sunset until daylight. This gave the bosun five ABs (two were on permanent day work) to work on deck during the day washing paint work, painting and overhauling all the cargo running gear and any other task required to keep the vessel in good order. The watchkeepers not steering the vessel also had to work on deck during the day.

The catering staff, stewards, cooks, butcher, baker and galley boy were on day work. The meals were all prepared in the galley, which had a hatch through to the mess room with all the meals placed on the plates and handed through to me, and I placed them in the hot press to keep them warm. I recall the first time I heard of ‘tad nabs’; these were the cakes the crew had at smoko a couple of days a week. I was asked if there was any tab nabs and not knowing what they were called said no. I had been given some mince tarts and put them in the hot press, and it was only after smoko that I realised they were the tab nabs; I was learning something new every day. There were also dishes that I was not aware of like curry and rice, something we never had at home; every Friday was fish and chips day with curry for those who did not wish the fish. There were also sheep’s brains, and tripe never fancied them.

After the initial three days at sea, I was told that I could earn some overtime in the afternoon by doing some work on deck. This was not a very exciting task, all I had to do was sand and canvas the taff rails. These were the wooden tops of the ship’s safety rails around the accommodation; the job entailed having two buckets, one of sand and one of water plus a short length of old canvas hose. You put some water on the rail then some sand and rubbed the mixture back and forth with the piece of canvas. This resulted in removing all the grime on the wood, and when the wet sand was washed off, the wood looked new again. Not a job that would be done at sea anymore; they are now all varnished or made of metal. It was a bit pointless as within a few weeks the wood was back to being tarnished again. At least I got out of the mess room for a couple of hours and was paid the princely sum of three shillings an hour, that’s just over 15 pence in today’s money. The weather was improving by this time and getting warmer; as we sailed south, the first land I saw was the Azores, all very interesting for a first tripper. Shipboard life was now in a standard routine with various additional activities taking place. Every Wednesday and Saturday, we had the captain’s inspection of the ship. Along with his senior officers, they would check the cleanliness of all the accommodation onboard. I did get some help from other ordinary seaman on these days to help with the scrubbing and cleaning of the crew’s quarters. This was a very detailed inspection as the captain had a torch, which he shone in every nook and cranny to see if there was any dirt or dust, and if so, a quick reprimand was given, always glad when it was over. We also had fire and boat drills on Fridays; my station on fire drills was bridge messenger. I recall the first ever drill; the captain told me to give his compliments to the chief officer and tell him that he could now cease the fire drill and proceed to lifeboat stations. As I had no idea who the chief officer was, I asked the first man in uniform where I might find the chief officer; after some time, I did find him and pass on the captain’s orders. Little did I know at that time that in a few years I would in fact be the chief officer on board the Otaki, a lot of water would pass under the bridge before then and lot of exciting times at sea.

With the weather improving all the time, things did not feel so bad as my first few days onboard. We started to see the yellow weed drifting up from the Caribbean on the Gulf Stream in the Sargossa Sea. Then the flying fish started to be seen skimming across the calm sea; there were pods of porpoises/dolphins also swimming around the ship and the odd spume from a whale all very exciting for a young lad. We eventually sailed into the Caribbean, the islands being the first land for several days; they all looked very lush and green.

The Flying Fishes

After a few days at sea, I was to learn about a predecessor of the MV Otaki, which sailed during the First World War. In the officers’ dining saloon was a Victoria Cross in a glass case. This was only one of the two VCs won by Merchant Seamen during the war. Captain Bisset Smith was master onboard the older SS Otaki and was involved in a sea battle with a German sea raider in the Atlantic west of the Azores in March 1917. The SS Moewe, a well-armed raider, had already sunk several British Merchant ships and had about 400 POW onboard. The Otaki was very lightly armed and Captain Bisset Smith was told to surrender and stop his ship by the Master of the Moewe. Captain Bisset Smith decided to fight. Unfortunately, although he did damage the German vessel, the Otaki was sunk with the loss of five crewmembers, and Captain Bisset Smith went down with his ship. He was posthumously awarded the VC for his bravery. Several years later, the family put the VC up for sale and the company bought it and placed onboard the OTAKI. I will touch on this story later in my memoirs.

The Otaki arrived in Curacao for bunkers and tied up in Caracas Bay just along the coast from the main town Willemstad, a town I would spend a month in a few years later. There was not very much in Caracas Bay except a swimming pool that was fenced off from the sea. The water was crystal clear, lovely and warm with all kinds of exotic fish swimming very close by.

The bunkering took about 12 hours as I recall then we set sail for Jamaica just over a day’s sailing away. The radio in the mess room was on most of the time and the music of the Caribbean was so energetic to listen and made washing dishes a much easier task. The soap used was a hard brick placed in a tin can full of holes over the hot tap, and as the hot water hit the soap, it melted and gave a reasonable amount of lather to wash the dishes but always was left with a scum, not the most hygienic. There was no fresh milk in those days either so I had to make milk from dry powder (chalk and water it was known as). The main milk used in the crew’s tea was tinned condensed milk, not the most refreshing. Although scurvy was a thing of the past, every ship had flagons of Board of Trade lime juice for the crew, terrible stuff. There were also salt tablets. I took one once and was instantly sick and never took them again. Anyway, we arrived in Kingston, Jamaica, to load some bananas for New Zealand and playing on the radio was the famous Banana Boat song sung by Harry Belafonte, just newly released by him; the words were exactly what we were doing, very apt. Whilst in Kingston, I was to see what real poverty was, the garbage from the mess room and galley was placed in drums on the after deck ready to be taken ashore whilst in port; it was always thrown overboard whilst at sea. On taking my gash bucket down to dump, I found a couple of the dockers going through the garbage and picking out discarded food; it certainly opened my eyes to what life was really like in these islands. I was to see a lot more poverty over my years at sea in many parts of the world.

I did manage a run ashore and went to the seaman’s mission that had a nice swimming pool, always loved a swim when I got a chance. Had a walk around Kingston, which was not really a safe place to be on one’s own so we made sure there were always a few us together. On one ship I was there later on, one of the crew was mugged in broad daylight on the Main Street.

We then sailed for the Panama Canal about 40 hours’ sailing time. I was of course told by the crew to start saving all the stale bread for the mules that helped to pull the ship through the canal. This of course was just a bit of fun as the mules were in fact electrically operated machines that assisted the ship through the locks in the canal. There was always some smart Alec on the ship who tried to make a fool of first trippers, go and ask the lamp trimmer for a sky hook, run up to the mate’s office and ask him for a long stand. I never really fell for their tricks. It did however make you understand human nature and how to figure out the genuine people onboard and also the con merchants who loved to take the mickey, and whenever they could swing the lead, the old saying for someone getting out of a job, he should be doing and getting someone else to do it. Being at sea in close proximity with so many seafarers certainly helped me to judge people as to what their true abilities and character were and how to spot a phoney, usually, the one that talked a lot and knew everything and always said that his last ship was always the best.

Fenced off swimming pool Caracas Bay Curaçao

We arrived in Panama and started our transit of the canal, which consisted of a series of locks, one set at the Caribbean end and a further two sets at the Pacific end. The first was the Gatun locks; after entering the locks with the assistance of the famous mules, the gate was shut and the water from the lock above was pumped into the one below until the ship had risen up level, with the second lock the gate was opened and the ship then went dead slow ahead into the next lock assisted by the mules who kept the vessel in the middle of the lock there being four mules each side, two forward and two aft port and starboard…

Once the vessel had risen up the four locks, she sailed through Gatun Lake to the next set called Pedro Miguel that consisted of two locks which lowered the ship.

Then onwards to the last set Mira Flores that had three locks down into the Pacific Ocean, the total raising and lowering was 85 feet, total transit about 10 hours depending on other shipping using the canal.

The crew that was not required to steer the vessel through the canal or on standby had the great job of washing down the Otaki with the freshwater from the Gatun Lake. This was a task carried out every time we passed through the canal as it helped to get rid of a lot of salt from the sea water sprayed onboard in bad weather.

The Panama Canal authority place their own crewmen onboard to make fast the mules who are assisted by ship’s crew when required. The canal pilots take full control of the ship unlike normal pilotage where the orders are to pilot’s advice and master’s command, the captain in the canal does not in fact have full command. When I did my first trip through the canal, it was under the control of the USA, but now it is owned and operated by the Panama Government. Of course, a lot of this detail was not known to me when I first went through the canal, but over 20 years at sea and more than 30 times transiting the canal, I was well versed in all aspect of the Panama Canal. The top photo shows the mules that were operating after 1963 with the original black painted mules in the photo below assisting the P&O passenger ship S.S. Oriana through the canal back in the 1950s.

I was in fact on one of the first ships to trial the new Mitsubishi mules in 1963. They were much more efficient and one could do the job of two of the old mules. The operator on the old mules had two control cabs whereas the new mules had one cab in the middle which saved the controller changing cabs every time the ship he had to control was either westbound or eastbound; the new mules were much more powerful and high tech. They helped to cut down the time spent in the locks which greatly increased the efficiency of the canal operations.

After clearing the last set of locks, we headed out the buoyed channel into the Pacific and onwards to New Zealand, which would take between 18 to 19 days’ steaming. The only land we saw on the way was the Galápagos Islands off in the distance. The trip across the Pacific was a very pleasant part of my first trip with lovely calm seas and warm weather. I worked on deck most afternoons washing and painting various parts of the ship along with other shipboard tasks.

Once a week, we had a film on deck; this was always a highlight watching a movie under the stars. As the ship required someone on the wheel all the time no automatic steering (iron mike) in those days, I was allowed to learn how to steer the vessel during some of my afternoon duties. A steering certificate was required to obtain an efficient deck hand EDH certificate, which I obtained in 1960. It was very satisfying to come off the wheel and look aft and see the ship’s wake to prove you were steering a straight course. We steered using the gyro compass to keep the vessel on the right heading; it was easier and more accurate than the magnetic compasses.

With these balmy days at sea, everyone was getting very suntanned; some of the older hands were brown as berries. I unfortunately having not seen such hot sun in Orkney soon got a bit sunburnt so had to keep my shirt on when out on deck in the afternoon. Shipboard routine continued the same for me on the trip across the Pacific, getting the mess room ready for meals, scrubbing, washing, making ‘smoko’ morning and afternoons, cleaning up after