THE ALCOA PROSPECTOR
...I get a taste of anger and bitterness...
by Joe Hafford

Having a few bucks from my payoff, I spent a couple of days prowling around the Mobile waterfront dens with one of the crew from my late unlamented opportunity. There didn't seem to be much difference there from what I had gotten familiar with in the off the beaten path - not Bourbon Street - French Quarter in New Orleans. I even came close to getting caught up in a disputation between some Union men and Non-union advocates, not a very felicitous situation.

I had only about a week's pay so my money didn't last long and I soon found myself back at the Union Hall looking for a another berth. As was my custom, in which I persisted for the duration, I simply took the first thing that was offered. Again I went out as an Ordinary Seaman, this time to an ore boat, the Alcoa Prospector. The ship was operated by the Aluminum Company of America, hence the word Alcoa in its name. An ore boat didn't sound very appealing but I resolutly reported to the ship. It was at one of the piers in Downtown Mobile loading general cargo destined for various islands in the Caribbean Sea.

The Alcoa Prospector was a C-1 vessel. Let me explain. The shipbulding industry had undergone a revival in the 30's under the Roosevelt Administration and a series of ships was built catagorized primarily by size. They were the C-1, the smallest, the C-2, an intermediate size, and the C-3, the largest (the C referred to the ship being a cargo vessel.) These ratings were relative as even the C-1 was no rowboat being about 350 feet long with about a 50 foot beam. It was powered by a state-of-the-art steam turbine with steam supplied from two high pressure water tube boilers. (I will explain later.) And everything that could be electric, was electric including the cargo loading winches which on most ships were steam driven. As an Ordinary Seaman I didn't get to learn much about the engine room but the ship could easily cruise at 14 knots (about 16 mph), a very respectable speed for a freighter. (For the uninitiated, a knot is defined as a speed, i.e. 14 knots means 14 nautical miles per hour. A nautical mile is about 6080 feet as opposed to a statute mile which is 5280 feet. It is therefore incorrect to say "knots per hour".)

The Ordinary Seaman(OS) fills an entry level position as a deck hand. A position that has very few demands, the only requirements being breathing and able to walk around, see lightning and hear thunder. The Coast Guard certified all merchant marine personnel and they were happy to approve me for employment as an OS. I didn't realize at the time that my chance for advancement to a better position as an Able Bodied Seaman(AB) was blocked because of my nearsightedness. In fact, if the rules had been strictly applied to me the only part of a ship's complement I would have qualified for would have been the Stewards Department, i.e. messboys, cooks, etc. As it ultimatly turned out, the shortage of men for ships opened the door for advancement in the Engine Room by judicious 'bending' of the rules. Had this not happened, I would certainly have gone home and waited for the draft. My pre-war experience as a messboy convinced me I didn't want to become a cook - regardless of the fact that they were and are essential members of the crew!

As noted above no experience is required for the job of OS, only approval from the U.S. Coast Guard; approval was ratified with the issuance of 'papers' supplied by the Coast Guard after examination by an officer. After six months experience, an OS would be permitted to take an examination for a 'Green ticket AB'. The exam was considerably more than ritual. In addition to demonstrating an ability to handle all the deck equipment, i.e. hawsers, cables, including splicing and tying knots, it was necessary to be able to 'box the compass'. All modern ships had compasses that were marked off in degrees, but there were still a few old timers that had only the archaic 'names' of each direction, e.g. 'southwest by west'. This was necessary because a principal function of an AB was to steer the ship at the direction of the deck officer, i.e. be Quartermaster. In addition, there were a number of procedures one had to be familiar with regarding ship operation and maintenance. Actually I had the grandiose idea that I could rise through the ranks and eventually become an officer and, if I then decided to make the sea a lifetime career, even a Captain. This was not a far-fetched notion as almost all ship's officers followed that path.

There are many things an experienced seaman knows that can't be tested for. The Coast Guard has to rely on actual experience being the best indicator of a man's qualifications. A man had to have three years experience in order to qualify for the next level of seaman, i.e. 'blue ticket' AB. During the war, the time requirement for a green ticket had been reduced to six months because of the serious shortage of experienced men. (I don't remember with certainty which 'ticket' was the provisional one as it has been more than 50 years since I left the profession.)

I had opted for deckhand because it seemed more 'romantic', I guess. As a youngster, my parents had always encouraged me to select jobs that kept me outdoors, presumably because it was healthier. Until my father went to work for the U.S. Engineers in New Orleans his entire working life had been outdoors and he also extolled the benefits of the open air. He was also patently unhappy working at a desk and was at a severe disadvantage since he was than working with a lot of professionals and didn't have a college degree. He felt mistreated that he wasn't ever promoted to a higher position and was bypassed often by younger and less experienced men. His discontent biased me against ever seeking a position with Civil Service. A bias I didn't overcome until it was much too late. I didn't realize that he was a latter day Sisyphus pushing against an insurmountable barrier that I wouldn't have had to face. Also, my personality was much more suited than his to the highly structured milieu of government service.

On older ships the unlicensed crew members (I will hereafter refer to the unlicensed men as the crew, and the licensed men as officers) had their quarters at the after end of the ship, generally refered to as aft. (The round end if you prefer.) There was usually an elevated deck both fore and aft on older ships. The raised after deck was called the poop deck and the crews quarters were just below. That was the way it was on the first ship I had reported to. There are several disadvantages to living aft. For one thing the ships movements at sea are exaggerated making living difficult in heavy seas. Also, the engine that powered the rudder was just below the cabin area and was almost invariably very noisy at times, making sleeping a problem. It was often possible to recognize the quartermaster at the wheel depending on the frequency of adjusting the setting of the rudder. A good quartermaster developed a talent for keeping the ship on course without having to make constant changes. The crew's cabin area was called the focs'l. This term came from the sailing ship days when the crew was housed in an area at the bow of the ship (the sharp end) which was the forecastle. Of course in those days the officers quarters were aft. Freighters built in the 30's and later had all living quarters midship. There were seldom included raised fore and aft decks, although the rear area of the main deck was still referred to as the poop deck, or simply the poop.

The living quarters on the Prospector were almost elegant, certainly by historical standards. In the old days, a ship's crew was lucky to have separate rooms for the engine crew and deck crew. On the Prospector each watch had separate rooms for both deck and engine room crews. There were lockers and wash basins in each room, but showers and commodes were in common areas. Crews quarters were on the main deck just above the engine room. Officers quarters were just above the crew on the boat deck. Officers had private rooms supplied with wash basins but the bath facilities were common. Above the boat deck was the Captains domain, very close to the bridge where he could immediatly take command when necessary and in close proximity to general communication and navigation areas; i.e. chart room, wireless shack and various store rooms. And of course fully private bath facilities, RHIP.

The bridge spanned the width of the ship just in front of the chart room and wireless shack. The wheel and ships compass were in the center of the bridge and were flanked by telegraphs to the engine room. A word about the telegraphs - these were posts about 4 feet tall topped by a cylindrical dial and handle. This was to communicate to the engine room the desired speed and direction of the engine. The telegraphs were connected by wires to corresponding indicators in the engine room. The desired operating condition was indicated by positioning the lever at the bridge which would move an arrow in the engine room to give the information. In routine practice, the engine room personnel would respond to indicate the message was received. The galley - kitchen - was on the main deck along with the mess rooms for the crew and the salon for the officers.

The engine room of a typical freighter was centrally located, i.e. midships. It provided balance to the ship and made it easier to load cargo so the ship rode level in the water thus making operations easier. A disadvantage of a midship engine room was the necessity for a long propellor shaft. The propellor shaft was a steel tube about 12 to 18 inches in diameter running about 100 feet from the engine room to the propeller.

The reason for existance of a freighter was of course to carry cargo. Cargo was loaded into the body of the ship. The engine room, quarters, fuel and water storage, and miscellaneous areas for operation took up relatively little volume which left a rather huge volume for cargo. The ship's cargo space on the C-1 was divided into four 'holds', two forward of the bridge and two after the bridge. Access to the holds was through 'hatches', very large square openings in the main deck, about 30 to 40 feet on the side. On older ships, and Liberty Ships, removeable steel 'I' beams on about six foot spacing from side to side were placed across the openings. Heavy wooden covers, about two by six feet and two inches thick, were slid into place on the beams forming a solid floor. The last thing were several layers of heavy tarpaulin spread over the top that were anchored around the edges with wooden wedges. One of the important duties of the deck hands was to properly fasten the tarps so no water would enter the holds in heavy seas.

On the Prospector, the beams and wood hatch covers were replaced by massive steel plates that spanned the entire hatch and were about six feet wide. The edges of the plates were bent to 90 degrees to add rigidity. On each side of the hatch jacks were supplied to lift the plates and move them out of the way during loading and unloading.

The C-1 vessel had two masts one located between hatches 1 and 2 and one located between hatches 3 and 4. Each hatch had two booms, heavy steel tubes about 6 to 8 inches in diameter, having the function of loading and unloading cargo. At sea the booms were fastened horizontally across the hatch along the length of the ship. In port the booms were raised and positioned one over the hatch and one over the dock. Each boom was equipped with a winch, a powerful machine with a drum on which to coil the cable used to lift cargo and swing it over the dock for unloading or vice versa. I don't recall the capacity of the winches, but they had to be able to lift several tons. Additionally, one unusually heavy boom was located over hatch number 2 for the handling of extremely heavy cargo. All ships had one of these, but I saw it used only once and that was on the Prospector. Two massive steel tubular sections, a good 8 feet in diameter, too big to go in a hold, were loaded on deck and secured after all the cargo had been loaded. This had been done with a shore crane so we had to prepare for unloading. It was necessary to splice two slings from steel cable at least two inches thick. A thin wiry mustacioed AB had been assigned and he got me to help him, as I was obviously very young and strong. It was no simple task and it took us three days to cut the cable to proper lengths and complete the four splices.

There were some added items that were not found on merchant ships since the end of piracy on the high seas - guns. The Prospector had been equipped with a naval four incher mounted on a platform erected on the poop deck accompanied by a pair of 20 millimeter anti-aircraft rapid fire cannons. Another pair of 20 millimeters were mounted in tubs on the boat deck. The guns were manned primarily by crew supplied by the Navy. The gun crew was one experienced gunners mate, about a dozen totally green seamen and one 'thiry-day-wonder' Ensign. This was not enough to fully man the gun stations so volunteers were solicited from the civilian crew. Most of us volunteered, but a few felt they were there only to operate the ship and 'respectfully' declined. I.e. "you gotta be out of your f______ mind!".

The ship's manning was fairly typical of freighters of the day. The Captain was top banana of course. Then there were three deck officers; the chief or 1st mate; the second mate and the third mate. Larger ships carried a fourth mate. The deck crew consisted of a bosun, 6 ABs and 3 OSs. Two ABs and an OS per watch. The bosun was a sort of forman for the crew and saw to the routine daytime work on the deck. Again on larger ships the number would include some extra hands. In the engine room there were personnel that corresponded to the deck officers, i.e. a Chief Engineer, with three assistants and in the crew were three oilers, three firemen/watertenders and two wipers. There was always a wireless operator and often a purser. A chief cook, second cook, galley boy, and two messboys usually rounded out the minimum crew. Somewhere between 35 and 45 men.

Shipboard eating arrangements are worth a word. The crew ate in the messrooms and the officers in what was referred to as the salon, a somewhat nicer area. Passengers, if any, always ate in the salon. Being an officer had its priviledges which included one messboy for 10 or 12 men, while there was only one for the crew of 20 or 29. Additionally, messboys were assigned to keep officers quarters clean. Fresh linen was supplied to the crew but each individual was responsible for his own space. However, the food supplied to the crew was the same as that for the officers, probably a result of the insistance of the Seaman's Unions.

If my memory serves me, to pass from the after deck to the foredeck or back one had to go up to the boat deck and back down a ladder to the main deck. I don't recall there being outside passageways along the main deck, as there were on the Liberty Ships I became more familiar with later. Aboard a ship, the steps used to go from one deck to another were generally called ladders regardless of how steep they were; some were real ladders in anyones definition but most were sloped to some degree. There weren't usually any doors from the foredeck to the mid-ship living area since they might be vulnerable to heavy seas coming over the bow. Doors from the after deck to the living area were called hatches. They were heavy steel with rounded corners and sealed around the edge. When shut the hatch was fastened with 'dogs', U shaped bars that rotated into a position where they held the hatch against the seal to prevent the entry of sea water in the event of heavy seas. The bottom edge of the hatch was about a foot from the main deck, thus requiring one to step over the barrier on passing through.

Large fans provided a constant supply of air for ventilation to the various areas aboard ship. This was an important benefit since ordinarily ventilation depended on the movement of the ship to create a breeze. Air scoops were poked out of portholes to catch some breeze and one had to hope the wind was coming from your side of the ship, a need not required aboard the Prospector because of the fans. The basic ventilation to the engine room was supplied by large horn shaped tubes that extended through the boat deck. Anyone who has seen a movie with a ship board setting has seen these items looking for all the world like giant tubas, with scenes of Lou Costello hiding in one. These gadgets could be rotated through a rod and gear arrangement to face optimally into the wind to provide maximum ventilation. A very important matter for the engine room.

As I said above, the Prospector was a state-of-the-art ship. It was all electric. The only use of steam was to drive the main engine and generators and to heat the quarters. Everything else was electric including the deck machinery and steering engine. Because of this we didn't have a deck engineer but two electricians instead.

I was assigned the 4 - 8 watch and for the first few days I didn't do much. Actual working hours were 8 - 5 and that left only one hour a day for any real 'work' such as painting or chipping, etc. Just got acquainted with the members of the crew. There was the Bosun, an old timer, short, fat, with a very rough whiskey voice. In port it would take a couple of days but he invariably got so much booze in him that he would lose his voice altogether and could give orders only in the most sibilant whisper. At sea after a chance to sober up he proved to be a very pleasant and considerate man. For some reason he took a liking to me and took me under his wing. One of the other OSs was Slim. Slim was about 6'4" and not over 160 pounds, hence really deserved the name Slim. He was about 40 and had the look of having been 'rode hard and put up wet'. Slim had little ambition and decided that I needed his help in adjusting to the life of a seaman, especially in port. Perhaps, as I didn't imbibe hard liquor at the time - limiting my indulging to a couple of beers over the course of an evening - I was useful to him by keeping him out of trouble and getting him back to the ship after a hard evenings drinking bout and pursuit of ladies of the evening. Of course Slim and the Bosun were alcoholics and relied on the enforced abstinence of being at sea to keep from going completely over the edge. With Slim, I discovered that the French Quarter in New Orleans was actually rather tame!

I do still remember the two ABs on my watch. There was Shorty, a relatively young man, recently married, about 5'6" and 160 muscular pounds. He and the other AB on the watch, Steve, were very close friends both with wives in Mobile. They always took shore leave together and evidently strayed a bit because they had to sneak off the ship when it got back from its last voyage and scoot over to the Marine Hospital in New Orleans for a quick cure for syphilis before going home to their wives. At that time, penicillin had not been discovered and the only quick cure was what was called a massive drip treatment. This consisted of a constant drip of salversan into a vein for a week. I have no idea what explanation they gave for the horrible black and blue marks on their arms. Ship movements were highly secret, so it was no problem to pretend they had just gotten in when they went home.

The only other crew members I can remember are Jake, a watertender; Tom, his brother-in-law an oiler; and James, Tom's kid brother who had signed on as a wiper. James was only 15 years old, so I appeared an old timer to him.

Keep in mind that the merchant marine was and is a civilian operation. The Captain, a civilian, was in full charge of the ship and all personnel even though there was a Naval presence aboard in form of the Armed Guard. All the crew and officers belonged to various unions. The crew belonged to either the Seafarers International Union (SIU), an AFL affiliate, or the National Maritime Union (NMU), a CIO affiliate. A crew belonged to EITHER the SIU or the NMU. There was no mixing of Unions as bad blood existed between them. The deck officers generally belonged to the Master, Mates and Pilots Union and the engine officers belonged to the Marine Engineers Benevolent Association..

At the beginning of each voyage, all ships crew and officers signed contracts, under the auspices of the U.S. Coast Guard, to operate the ship for the owners for the duration of the designated voyage. Full records of every voyage made by every American Flag ship, including detailed listing of the crews, were kept by the Coast Guard and are generally available to the public. No one could legally arbitrarily leave the ship (jump ship), except for the normal shore leave, until the end of the voyage and return to the US when all contracts were then assumed completed. On completion of the voyage, everyone 'signed off'. In peace time, most ships held to a regular schedule and crew members tended to stay on a ship for extended periods, sometimes for years. Between voyages, the crew lived and worked aboard ship and received their pay until the next voyage was initiated at which time 'articles' were once more signed. Records show that I signed on the Prospector on May 29, 1942; about three weeks after graduation from high school.

Shortly we headed out, under cover of darkness, into the Gulf of Mexico. This was the summer of 42. The German subs were almost entirely unopposed, taking a terrible toll of our shipping. An average of at least one ship a day was being sunk and here we were running out into this environment all alone.

In the late spring and early summer, the Gulf is usually very calm. There were days when the water was glassy smooth. The only breaks in the water would be the flying fish escaping a predator. The calm sea made it easier to spot the 'German predator'. The only sign of a submerged sub was its periscope which looked like a short telephone pole sticking out of the water and leaving a wake. If spotted in time a torpedo could be evaded and the sub outrun since the speed of a submerged sub, at the time, was only about 6 knots. The sub couldn't surface and take advantage of its considerable surface speed because it would be very vulnerable to the surface fire from our stern gun.

An explanation might be a bit enlightening. A submerged sub was limited in speed because of the need to rely on electric motor drive which in turn was limited by the storage capacity of its batteries. On the surface, the sub could use diesel power and its speed was very substantially increased, enough to outrun a typical freighter. Diesel engines required copious amounts of air to operate and needed to dispose of comparable amounts of toxic discharge fumes. Batteries were typically recharged at night when it was safe for the sub to surface. Late in the war, the Germans developed snorkels for their subs which allowed them to operate by diesel power while submerged. This added substantially to the danger from torpedos to ships but in the summer of 42, we didn't have to worry about it.

In normal peacetime, a ship would procede in a straight line from one point to another. However, in the war, this made the ship a relativly easy target for a sub lying in wait, so wartime practice was for the ship to follow a zig-zag pattern. Theoretically this made the ship a more difficult target but the pattern was usually very regular, therefore the benfit was limited and the voyage became quite extended. I was far from sure the trade-off was worth it.

The Prospector was put into service primarily to bring aluminum ore, bauxite, back to the States for the Aluminum Co. of America (ALCOA), in this case from British Guiana. However, ALCOA was in business to make money, therefore a regular route had been carved out for delivery of general cargo to a number of Caribbean Islands. After all there was no point in going down empty if profit was available, so we had a full load of general cargo. A typical peacetime tour took about six weeks.

In peacetime, jobs on ships like the Prospector were hard to come by because the crew tended to stay on a ship indefinitly, a practice that changed dramatically after the war started. Because of the regular visits, members of the crew developed 'friends' and 'a girl in every port' was more than just an adage to most of these fellows.

In a typical voyage, the ALCOA ships would hop between a number of islands, dropping off some of the cargo at each stop. The bulk of the cargo was destined for Trinidad, then any remainder unloaded at British Guiana. The bauxite mines were a few miles up the river from Georgetown where most of the ore was loaded. The river was too shallow for the ship to get a full load and still get back to the ocean, therefore we went back to Trinidad to 'top off'. Then hustle back to Mobile and unload the ore, then do it all over again. A typical tour would take about six weeks.

At sea, life settled into a quiet routine. In order to operate the ship continuously, we were divided into three 'watches'. Each watch was on duty for four hours at a time, then off for eight hours. Thus, my watch was 4 - 8, i.e. 4pm to 8pm and 4am to 8am. Hours between 8am and 4pm and 8pm and 4am were for whatever the individual desired. The same routine applied for those on the other watches, i.e. 8 - 12 and 12 - 4. For the record, time was recognized in four hour increments to accomadate the four hour watch segments. The clocks chimed in sequence every thirty minutes, i.e. after 30 minutes from going on watch the clocks would chime once, one bell; after one hour it would chime two times, two bells and so forth. At four bells, the watch was half over and at eight bells, a new watch came on duty and the clocks started over at one bell thirty minutes later. It was a very convenient system as there was little interest in the actual time of day, only how much longer a watch would last. The third mate and third engineer traditionally took the 8-12 watch; the second mate and second engineer the 12-4; and the first mate and engineer took the 4-8.

Each deck watch had two ABs and one OS. An engine watch had one oiler and one fireman/watertender. Generally crew members stuck to one watch for the duration of the voyage; oftentimes literally for years as seniority on the ship prevailed and men would select a particular watch because of the officer. One of the ABs was always on the wheel - occasionally the OS would have a chance to get some practice in steering so that he could assume quartermaster duties on receiving his AB ticket. Even with my limited experience, I had a few turns at the wheel. Normally, between 8am and 5pm the men not at the wheel would work at the direction of the bosun. During the war, at least one of the deckhands would stand lookout duty. This often left the day crew shorthanded and made for a bit of overtime. At all other times, the men not at the wheel generally stood lookout unless there was assurance no subs were in the area.

A bell was positioned over the quartermasters head and every time the clock struck the half-hour, he would respond with an equal number of strokes that could be heard throughout the ship. At night, however, the bell was somewhat muted so as not to disturb sleep. At night one lookout was always on the bow of the ship, usually the OS. The bow lookout would respond to the bridge by ringing the ships bow bell, which was quite large, I suspected mainly to assure the deck officer on watch that the lookout wasn't asleep. The lookout was to warn the bridge of the proximity of anything generally in front of the ship, indicating which side by one or two bells. The deck officer was much higher than the lookout, therefore usually saw anything before the lookout did. My very poor eyesight, which at 19 wasn't much better than it is now, made me a poor lookout indeed.

The mess room was the social focal point for the crew. In good weather, which prevailed for the entire trip, small groups would socialize on deck, but the mess room was the main center. The mid- point of each watch, four bells, was the time for a coffee break. The coffee urn was always full and the refrigerator supplied with cold cuts. Most of these benefits were the result of Union action, therefore virtually all seamen were very loyal to the Union.

Most of the men utilized their daytime off duty hours to get caught up on personal tasks if they weren't sleeping, but at night a poker game almost always sprang up. Nickle and dime stuff for the most part - but it is amazing how much could be lost even so. As the trip progressed, the limits got bigger and after a while it was pot limit, which could really bite. I never saw a completely open game on a ship but as the average salary for a crew member was one to two hundred a month, the pot limit game could easily break a man. (This was in the old days when a pot was a pot and in this case simply meant the money on the table.)

I got to know all of the crew members in a few days. As I said, the bosun took me under his wing. He made sure I learned how to tie all the needed knots and how to splice rope and wire, along with other maintenance chores. He was something of a loner, not entering much into evening activities. He taught me techniques of making belts out of twine through tieing multitudes of knots. (Which I have long since forgotten.) He spent most of his spare time making belts, purses, hats, etc. for his family and friends. He never joined the younger men in their shore leave pursuits, except to find the nearest gin mill where he promptly picked up a skin full. On a morning after, he was always able to function, but after a few days one had to interpret his instructions through the whisky rasp of his voice.

One of the routines of shipboard life was the boat drill. Every ship was required to have enough life boats to carry the entire crew. Even in peace time these drills were required but they took on a special meaning for us. The time of the drill would be announced beforehand and the general alarm sounded appropriatly. If the alarm ever sounded at any other time it was for real. We all had to put on our llife jackets and hasten to the boat deck. The boats were ordinarily cradled in a set of blocks on the deck and tied down with heavy straps and covered with tarpaulens. In order to launch the boats, they had to be lifted with the davits which were then used to swing the boat over the side of the ship. All of this took time, a scarce commodity if the ship had just been hit with a torpedo, therefore all life boats were swung out over the water so they could be dropped into the water in a matter of seconds. To prevent the boat from swinging as the ship rolled at sea, a heavy pole was fastened to the davits parallel to the boat and the boat strapped against the pole. A quick release clamp enabled the straps to be released with a sharp blow from a hammer.

In addition to the life boats, the wartime ships had at least four life rafts for use in emergencies. They were mounted on ramps that allowed the rafts to be slid into the water when needed. The rafts would also float free if the ship got sunk and there hadn't been opportunity to launch them. Of course, all boats and rafts had ample supplies of food and water and other necessities.

Our first port-of-call was Kingston, Jamaica. As we approached the harbor, all deck hands not needed for the ships operation were called out to prepare for unloading cargo and docking. This consisted in removing hatch covers and raising booms into operating position, if they were to be used, or out of the way so the dock cranes would have unimpeded access to the holds. As the ship neared the dock, usually with the help of a harbor tug, a seaman would throw a 'heaving line' to a dock hand. A heaving line was a small rope with a weight on one end. The weight was a lump of lead cased in a special knot called a monkey fist. It took a rather skilled knot tier to make a monkey fist. It is a neat looking over-under pattern that I never quite got the hang of making. The other end of the heaving line was tied to hawser or wire used to moor the ship to the dock. Hawsers and wires had loops spliced at the end which the dock hand would throw over a heavy mooring post, usually a large cleat or bollard. The ships winches were used to draw the ship up against the dock by means of the hawsers. The hawsers were large ropes of two to four inches in diameter. Wires were about one to two inches in diameter. The last duty when docking was to install rat guards on all the lines from the ship to the dock. This was an onerous task and usually fell to the OS. It consisted of climbing out on the lines and placing a flat disc of sheet metal on the wires and hawsers to prevent these unwelcome guests from getting either on or off the ship.

As with almost all Caribbean Islands, the populations were almost all black. However, they didn't seem to know they were black, in contrast to the usual black person in the States. Jamaica had a very small population of whites, but the regular crew members seemed to know where to find accomadating white women and it was quite obvious they had met them before. It was interesting that while at sea the men's conversation was mostly about women and was very raw and explicit and the concensus seemed to be that the best bedmates were black women, but I can't recall a single one of them practicing what they preached; and it wasn't lack of availability. I was forced into the conclusion that they didn't know what they were talking about. I never found out the truth of the matter for myself.

We stayed in Kingston only a day and a half. Our next stop was Port- au-Prince, Haiti. It was only a short overnight run from Kingston, but it was nervous as we had to traverse the Jamaica Channel which was a happy hunting ground for the German subs. Again the regulars had many 'friends' in Haiti. We were there two days while unloading which gave the bosun plenty of time to get a good start on developing his whiskey voice. I was conned into going ashore with some of the men. I was struck by the poverty of the place. We spent much of the evening at a gin mill in town that the fellows were very familiar with. At that time I wa limiting myself to just a couple of beers. I didn't have enough to drink to develop any interest in any of the ladies there. However, several of the men had long term relations with some of them and left our company. We saw them the next day aboard ship.

I remember one old timer holding forth on the hazards of having too much to drink before selecting a partner for the night. He said he woke up once with the dirtiest woman he had ever seen. The only clean spot on her was the nipple of the breast next to him.

Our next port of call was Guadeloupe. This was and is a French colony, but at the time, obviously, had not come under German control in spite of the control Germany had of France at the time. The capital is Point-a-Pitre. It was a five or six day run from Haiti in extraordinarily beautiful weather. The sea was so calm that we could have seen a periscope miles away. By now, life aboard ship had settled into a fairly simple routine. I had little to do; most of my time on duty was standing watch or spelling the quartermaster. Sometimes I helped with deck maintenance for about an hour in the afternoon.

The daily routine consisted of being aroused about 3:30 AM to go on watch. Standing four hours watch with occasionally a brief turn at the wheel to let the AB on duty go for a break. At 7:00, I went around to wake up the next watch so they could get breakfast. I would get my breakfast at 8:00 AM then tend to any immediate needs I might have, but usually I would catch up on my sleep. Lunch was served from 11:30 to 12:30 and I had to be ready for it or go hungry. You may be sure I rarely missed a meal.

The afternoons were occupied with largely personal activities, such as washing and/or repairing clothes, reading, or whatever. Three thirty meant another call to go on watch. Sometimes there was some work to do, but usually I stood watch for submarines. Supper was from 6:00 to 7:00 PM and again I had to relieve the others for them to get to dinner. At 7:30 I made the rounds to alert the next watch.

By 8:00 many of the off duty crew gathered in the mess room for the evenings activities. Almost invariably a poker game and general bull session. Every ship I was on had a few devotees of pinochle. I learned the game and became moderatly proficient at it. This was just as well as I never became expert at poker and usually did well to break even when I played. I think my weakness at poker was a basic parsimoniousness. It just hurt too much to lose money and I became convinced that success at poker required a general fatalism about losing. Growing up in the Depression precluded my being able to develop that sort of attitude.

Somewhere between 10:00 and midnight most everyone got tired and turned in. That is when I usually bathed and got some sleep before being called again at 3:30 AM.

We stayed in Guadeloupe only a few hours, long enough to drop off a few tons of cargo, hence there was no shore leave. From Guadeloupe we skipped to Fort-de-France, Martinique, another French colony only a few hours away. Again no one went ashore, but then I didn't see much enthusiasm for shore leave at either of these ports. Because of the situation in Europe at the time, the feeling was that the towns wouldn't be very friendly. In any event, the war was brought home to us in Martinique. The survivors from a ship that had been sunk nearby were brought aboard for return to American custody. The survivors were kept secluded and no one had a chance to find out any details of their experience; how, when, where, what ship, etc.? Our next port-of-call was Bridgetown, Barbados, a British colony, where the men we picked up were put ashore, presumably to join another ship. The harbor was poor and we had to unload a little cargo onto a barge, and we were on our way in short order. Shore leave would have been welcome I am sure, but there simply wasn't time.

We now zig-zagged our way to Trinidad, roughly a 24 hour run. Trinidad has a fine seaport, Port of Spain, with a magnificent harbor that could probably accomodate the entire American Navy. We all breathed a sigh of relief when the submarine nets closed behind us as we entered the harbor. As most of our cargo was intended for Trinidad, we had several days to go ashore.

In such circumstances watches were broken and everybody worked 8 to 5 like human beings, except for a few who had to be on watch either in the engine room or the gangplank. The watches in port were 8 hours instead of 4 hours. Work consisted mainly of routine maintenance, e.g. chipping rust and painting mainly, with some work on hawsers, and cables. Evenings, almost everyone not on watch went ashore, and again, most of the men had 'friends' in town. I went with some of them one night and sampled the night life. We went to a bar with a good sized dance floor and a number of girls who would dance with you if you bought them a drink; short beers, as a rule. I had a pretty good time until my money ran out. An OS was paid only $60 a month and I wa sending home $25 a month to help pay for the Montrose property we had just bought. Whenever we reached a port, we could draw an advance on our salary for spending money. (The above noted salary was a base only. At sea we got hazardous duty and the salary was doubled.)

As usual I was very careful with my money so I never had enough cash in hand to really tie one on, and the ladies of the evening always required substantial wherewithal. As the evening progressed, I became hungry, as usual. When we were first served our drinks, the waitress brought a sandwich and placed it on the middle of the table. No one paid any attention to it so eventually I made short work of it. Not that it was very good, but as I said, I was hungry and it met the basic demand. However, I found out later that the law in Trinidad required that food always be served with alcoholic beverages and the sandwich was meant solely to meet the strict requirements of the regulation. I was the victim of a substantial amount of hilarity for eating the 'decorations'.

We left Trinidad and struck out for British Guiana (today it is known as Guyana and is independent) which was a day or so run. The port city is Georgetown, the capital. This was again a nervous transit as German subs were known to be in the area. We were to unload what was left of the cargo which would take a couple of days.

We arrived at Georgetown late on a Friday, so we essentially had the week-end off. Slim had been to Georgetown a number of times so he took me in hand to show me around. We went to the Botanical Gardens there. It was a fantastic myriad of tropical plants of every imaginable variety. The whole garden was at least a square mile filled chock full of stunningly beautiful flowers. There was a rather large lagoon there that harbored a colony of sea cows (manatees). Slim got an attendent to attract a couple of them near the bank for us to see. He did this by pulling a clump of grass and whistling while he splashed the water with the grass. In a couple of minutes they appeared and greedily helped themselves to the grass. What we saw were a couple of seal like animals that were incredibly ugly, what we could see of them, that is, as they stayed pretty much under the rather murky water. We were told that the females had breasts resembling those of a woman. We worked our way back to the ship via a couple of gin mills. After a while I was escorting Slim as he was getting quite a skin full. I used my last few shillings for a cab to get us there.

In the meantime, Shorty, Steve, Tom and Jake had gone ashore together earlier that evening and didn't show up until about mid-morning the next day, in custody of the local officialdom. It appeared they had returned to an old haunt where they went to look for some old 'friends'. They took exception to their treatment from the management. I never got a good explanation of what happened, but I rather doubt anyone really knew. Probably arguments with the owner over money and women. Anyway, they tore the place up rather badly and got hauled off to the pokey by the local gendarmerie. A hearing was set for them to appear before a judge in a few days. I was quite impressed by the nonchalance they exhibited. I would have been terrified, and it seemed certain that some penalty would be exacted.

The ship finally discharged all of its cargo and preparations were made to take on a load of bauxite, the main objective of the voyage. We went up a small shallow river for about a day where we arrived at a mine mouth terminal whereupon the ore was unceremoniously dumped into the holds by means of a gang of conveyer belts that were maneuvered so as to spew the reddish conglomeration of rocks and dust into the reaches of the bowels of the ship.

Unfortunatly the river was too shallow for the ship to navigate back to the ocean with a full load, therefore we took on only about 3/4 of what the ship could carry. We returned to Georgetown just in time for the hearing for the crew members that had participated in the recent fracas. A deputation from the local constabulary came aboard to insure their appearance; so off they went. I was a bit confused since the prevalent wisdom was that once aboard ship under the American flag in a foreign port an American citizen was not subject to involuntary removal and could refuse to honor such a summons. Obviously this was not the case because the men certainly would not have gone if there had been a choice.

A few hours later they returned, laughing and joking. It appeared that the owner of the bar had a history of trouble with the law and one more incident would have landed him in prison for an extended term. Although all evidence that I was aware of was that he was in no way responsible for the trouble, according to Jake that is, he must have felt he would lose so he jumped out of a window and died on the way to the hospital. Under the circumstances, the case was put on hold to be tried at a later date. The men all promised solemnly to return at the prescribed time. Needless to say none of them had any intention of doing so, even if they could have. I couldn't help but wonder what sort of prisons there were there that would lead a man to commit suicide rather than accept incarceration. I remember Jake commenting "For once a f______ n_____ did the right thing." We secured the ship and returned to Trinidad to finish loading the ore.

At best, loading bauxite was an unpleasant experience. Much of the material is a fine dust that permeates everything. Loading at the mine was bad enough, but at Trinidad we anchored way out in the harbour and topped off from a barge. The ore was transferred by means of cranes with clamshell scoops that gobbled a couple of tons at a time and swung over the hold and dropped the ore from ten or twenty feet in the air. We all got caked with the dust. It got into our cabins, clothes, food - just everywhere. The Prospector was no longer grey, but an ugly reddish orange. We spent the next couple of days anchored well out in the harbor washing down everything we could until at last the ship resumed its customary grey. The remnants of the bauxite remained in our clothes and many other places for weeks. I suppose the bauxite is harmless. At least I never heard of any ill effects experienced by anyone, and these ships had been carrying ore for many years.

During peacetime, the shipping schedules were pretty mundane. They were fixed and adhered to for extended periods with ony minor adjustments for any one trip. Alterations to an itenerary were rather evolutionary, not revolutionary. The Prospector had made several trips since Pearl Harbor without incident, all pretty much routine. The current trip had been routinely scheduled for a typical six weeks and supplies were acquired for the expected time. However, things were now much altered. The German sub menace had escalated immensely. We were losing an average of a ship a day to submarines in the summer of '42 and something had to be done as the losses had become intolerable. What with the zig-zagging, dodging and unscheduled stops, it was now late July and well past the time allotted for the voyage. No one seemed to mind the delay, but we were now running out of supplies, food in particular.

Gradually more ships gathered at anchor in the harbor. We scrounged a few supplies but not near enough to maintain our accustomed diet. Finally things started to move. We all upped anchor and formed a convoy as we left the protection of the harbor. Twelve nondescript freighters of various nationalities and vintage. The Prospector was the cream of the crop and the designated flagship of the convoy. We were to be escorted by a British destroyer, a British and a Belgian corvette and two American P.C. boats. The corvettes appeared to be large sea-going tugboats equipped with a few guns and loaded with depth charges. They looked very seaworthy and could probably have survived almost any kind of adverse weather, although they pitched and rolled more than seemed necessary. The P.C. boats were small patrol cutters that resembled very small destroyers, but they didn't look like they could survive really bad weather. They would regularly disappear from view in heavy seas. It was this phase of the trip when we first ran into any heavy weather and I discovered I was still prone to seasickness. I rediscovered that any time I was off a ship for as much as a year or more, I had to go through a reconditioning with the first heavy weather. It took about 24 hours for me to be able to eat and relax. From then on I had no more trouble with seasickness -- until I was off for another year.

The Prospector was the convoy flagship and therefore the convoy commander was located on our ship and evidently had full command of all the ships and escorts in the convoy.

We hadn't cleared the harbor an hour when the general alarm sounded! It was no drill! Everyone scrambled to their battle station; mine was one of the 20mm small cannons on the boat deck. From that vantage I could see all that was going on. The convoy had taken a sudden shift in direction and the destroyer and the corvettes had taken off in another direction. A submarine had been detected. I never found out if we had been fired upon and missed or the sub had been detected before launching an attack. In any event no ships were hit. In a few minutes depth charges were being dropped. By this time we were too far away to hear the thump of the depth charges, but we could see the geysers thrown up when they went off. We were hightailing under the protection of the PC boats and just as the destroyer and corvettes were about to disappear below the horizon we could see flashes of surface gunfire. Now I am sure they weren't taking target practice at some bit of flotsam. In time they rejoined the convoy and we proceeded as if nothing had happened. They took no survivors. This was a reflection of the bitterness felt by the Brits and Belgians at the time. My guess is that there is a German sub at the bottom of the Caribbean just out of Kingston harbor with a full complement of German seamen still aboard, and perhaps some Allied seamen as well as the Germans were prone to take prisoners when possible. The sub may well be down in a very deep location as there are a number of spots in that part of the Sea that are far beyond any ability of equipment to reach.

I remember a British seaman I had met in Buenos Aires before we were in the war, David Spires. We were about the same age and compared a lot of experiences. We corresponded for a year or so and then he got captured by the Germans after his ship had been sunk. I heard from him once in prison camp and again from his mother in Britain. Unfortunatly, after we entered the war, I never heard again. I never found out what happened to him.

Being civilians, the only coercion to continue sailing ships felt by the crew was the fact that one could be drafted into the army if the ships were given up. Of course, many of the men in a crew would have been ineligible for the draft due to age or physical limitations. I am not at all sure I would have been drafted due to my nearsightedness if I had quit the sea, which I was on the verge of a couple of times. One has to give much credit to so many men that felt it was a patriotic duty to continue to man the ships even if not subject to conscription. I might add that no one was under any illusion about the risks of sailing the ships. After the War statistics revealed that the merchant marine suffered a greater casualty rate than any branch of the service with the exception of the units such as combat Marines.

The convoy had to accomodate its speed to the slowest member. Unfortunatly this meant that the Prospector had to run at about half speed. Our food situation worsened. We were at least a full week getting to Key West where we were able to take on a few fresh supplies. Until then the only fresh meat we had was from the weevils in the flour. We were in Key West a couple of days, without shore leave, until another convoy could be formed to escort us to our final destination, which turned out to be New York.

The convoy was larger and more substantially escorted, but the weather became worse. Our mill pond Gulf days were just a memory. We had to swing out pretty far from the coast because the subs were laying in wait off shore and any ship that got between them and the shore was an easy target. Many tankers got sunk off the Florida coast before it was realized that it was necessary to black out the lights on land and run further out to sea. The beaches became severely coated with oil. An environmental disaster before we knew what one was.

Articles were terminated on August 17 and we were all paid off. The six weeks trip had stretched to twelve weeks. The pre-war policy of requiring individuals to claim transportation back at the sign-on port resulted in every man leaving the ship and heading back to Mobile. It was a shortsighted policy that developed, I suppose, as an economy measure because jobs were so hard to come by and men would stay on the ship rather than lose their jobs. With the current shortage of manpower it turned out to be a poor policy that was quickly remedied and return transportation was paid at the time of sign-off with the hope to persuade men to remain on board. It often worked with many of the crew.

I stayed on the ship while in New York only long enough to find some luggage, see a couple of Broadway shows and buy a few clothes. This wasn't the first time I had been to New York. Before the war I had shipped on a Seatrain ship that ran between New Orleans, Havana and New York. Also I had made a trip on a coaster that included New York as a port of call. Nevertheless I was a bit shy of spending any time there. I found my way to Times Square and bought a suit with a spare set of pants that I was very proud of. Brooks Brothers yet!

In those air travel was almost unheard of. It was either bus or train. I took the train, of course, the idea of a bus for over a thousand miles didn't appeal to me in the least. The train didn't turn out to be much better, mainly quicker. It seemed that everyone was traveling. I boarded the train at Penn Station and had to use my newly acquires suitcase as a seat for about half the trip. I couldn't tell you now how long the trip took, forever it seemed. I am sure it was at least 36 hours; probably more like 48 hours.

Took the bus to Montrose and lugged my suitcase, now somewhat the worse for wear, and seabag the half mile to the little cabin my folks called home now. Dad still had the old Dodge so now I had wheels, but about the only thing I did was to go over to Mobile and register for the draft. While I was gone, the draft age had been lowered to eighteen from the requirement of twenty when I left on the trip. I was nineteen and several weeks late with my registration; they got a bit huffy until I showed them my discharge. I subsequently always made a point of keeping them notified of where I was and they never gave me any trouble.

Fairhope was completely dead so it didn't take much for me to pack a suitcase and head for New Orleans. I checked into a hotel downtown and looked up a couple of old girl friends and made the night spots. I was quite disappointed as all of the old gang was gone off. I finally went by the McArthurs and got properly scolded for going to a hotel. I quickly checked out and stayed with them for the rest of my visit. From then on I always stayed with them when in town. One of my warmest memories is still the welcome I received every time I showed up unannounced or not. Mom McArthur regarded me as one of her own.

BEGINNING ...Prologue...

JONATHAN GROUT ...New York and San Juan are great places to visit, but I would never want to live in New York...