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MEMORIES
OF
MY
TIME ON RMS RANGITIKI
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Recollections of a Merchant Seaman's one trip on the 'Tiki in 1957
It was in early May 1957 on the Royal Albert Dock
in London when I first heard of that strange sounding ship, the
RMS Rangitiki. I had just left a cargo passenger, the Durban
Castle and as any 18 year old would be, I was thirsty for a new
challenge. Previously, I had spent three years criss-crossing the
North Atlantic on an Irish Shipping
Vessel. As all of Irish Shipping’s ships were named after trees; I
had formed part of the crew of the Irish Pine. Some of the
lads from Waterford, crewmates from the Durban Castle, heard
that the Rangitiki had just been refitted by Harland and
Wolfe in Belfast and that they were looking for crew.
With that smidgen of hearsay and the grand
reputation of the New Zealand Shipping company I made my way to
their offices on the Royal Albert Dock. I was interviewed by a
superintendent Reid. I was weary of the tramping carried out by
Irish Shipping and longed for a more exotic voyage, my enquiry
as to the duration of the trip was met by
an incredulous “you’re more interested in the route than a career”
by Reid, but I was assured of at least a four month voyage. The ship
was to stop at either Pitcairn Island or in Tahiti but Reid seemed
to be of the opinion that the former destination would be the chosen
one this time round. I had hoped it would be too.
We sailed from London in early September bound
for Curacao for fuelling. As I was a second steward on the Irish
Pine I was placed in the role of
Assistant Steward for my maiden voyage on the ‘Tiki.
My memories of that trip a filled by the far flung accents of the
crew. There were a lot of Stornoway men on deck from the
western isles of Scotland and a lot of Liverpudlians.
I well remember the banter between us all “Hey Paddy, what’s the
capital of Ireland?" ~ "‘Dublin" ~
"Naw, Liverpool” There was also the
recently appointed New Zealand Governor travelling out too, with 21
in his entourage, from gardeners to chauffers,
keeping all of us stewards on our toes.
The trip was marred by tragedy too; the chief
laundry man disappeared before arriving in Curacao. He had
disappeared through a port hole after cutting himself with a bottle,
he was said to have been recently divorced. Yet some great
characters buoyed that special journey for me. Some names that come
to me are Jackie Rodgers from Waterford and a purser called King.
The head waiter was Ken Addison from Kidderminster, a gentleman
through and through, who was known to us all as Flash.
From Curacao we sailed on through the Panama
Canal. We spent one night in Bilbao Panama, and caught a bus to
Panama City. It was a welcome break after spending 16 days at sea.
It would be another 28 days before we dropped anchor off Pitcairn.
Before reaching Pitcairn I remember there was a 21st
birthday party for one of the Governors’
staff but my thoughts then, and memories
now, concern the impressions I had of that
island of seafaring legend.
The islanders rowed out to meet the ship as we
couldn’t go ashore. With them they brought ornamental flying fish
made of driftwood and the ragged t-shirts they worn bore the name of
the mutineer they were descended from. The English they spoke was of
the pidgin variety and I remember them asking the ship’s carpenter
for any form of scrap wood possible; I recall he gave them some old
doors. It was 10 days from Fletcher Christians’ resting place to
Wellington, where we arrived on a wet,
windy morning in November of 1957.
We anchored in Wellington harbour and waited for
the pilot to guide us in. Docked, with one month at our disposal,
the passenger-less ship provided the berths for us, while with time
enough on our hands, we looked for some onshore work. We were sent
to the N6 office on New Zealand Docks where, due to the labour
shortage on the archipelago, overseas sailors found work quite
easily. Easy work it was not, though I soon got used to loading
frozen lamb onto the Port Sydney, a Port Line vessel.
Such exertions built up one’s appetite, though I
can’t quite remember if I developed much of a hunger for lamb in
those days, and all meals were served on the `Tiki. I spent
eight hours working on the docks each day and to make a little extra
I filled a vacancy in the post office yard putting binding wire
around wooden crates. To say such work brought on a thirst would be
quite the understatement, and the bars in
New Zealand served Antarctic cold beer for just 6p a glass. It was
not all good news though: they closed a 6 every evening to the chime
of a fire alarm bell which tolled the tidings of no lock-ins. Thus
ensued the regular prospect of queues of Merchant sea men laden with
beer crates lining the footpaths waiting for Taxies to ship them off
to the docks.
The American 6th Fleet was tied up in Wellington
at the time too but they kept to themselves. One of the strangest
coincidences of my life did happen there though. I literally bumped
into my first cousin, Bobby Tweedy walking
down the dockside in Wellington. We went for the precursory pint and
he told me of being on a Blue Star Line Vessel, the Brisbane Star.
He too was working a little on the side or as he said “going to the
bluff”, which meant loading a small schooner.
After a month passed we sailed for Port Chalmers
on the south island via the Cook Straits.
With some time for tourism I took a bus to
Dunedin, the town from which Robert Falcon Scott left on his
Antarctic quest. The Scottish influence was prevalent as could be
expected in this Edinburgh of the south and what struck me most were
the flowers in autumnal bloom. The whole island recalled Ireland to
my mind, but perhaps it reminded other of a paradisiacal land as the
morning we left Port Chalmers 19 men
jumped ship! Captain Littleton didn’t seem too perturbed though as
the unofficial policy was to have surplus crew, things smoothed
themselves out nicely.
On the outbound voyage I changed
my role in the ship somewhat and worked as the Children’s
Steward in the children’s dining area. The
regular steward, a Welshman, as I recall, was in the sick bay and I
lent a hand there. I remember that their dining time was earlier
than the adults and I remember the calls to have Paddy back. We made
full steam to Bilbao (ironically the Rangitiki
spent her last few days up the Spanish coast in Santander on 26
July 1962 en route to be broken up for scrap in Valencia.). We
docked in London at the end of November 1957
and I remember going to see at football match in Wembley and paying
a shilling for a hotdog. I went back to Haulbowline in Cork harbour
for Christmas where my father was a warrant officer in the Irish
navy. I was to return to be a first class passenger steward but
instead returned to the Irish Ash. In
Grey’s yard, West Hartlepool, we loaded a cargo of grain for India,
stopping off in Halifax, Nova Scotia on the voyage. Tragedy once
more stuck when we lost the ship’s carpenter off Morocco who was
washed overboard.
My memories of the Rangitiki
can be summed up very simply as it being, a very happy ship.
Nicholas Kennedy
March 2007
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