CAPTAIN ALEX CAMERON - BUSMAN'S HOLIDAY

Observations related by a earlier generation family friend, Captain A. Cameron, Extra Master, who completed a life-time association with the maritime industry as Principal of the Sir John Cass College of Nautical Studies, in London. A passing point of interest being that Captain Cameron had been Officer of the watch on board the s.s. Egypt which was rammed and sunk off Ushant, which in turn became the subject of a major salvage operation to recover the gold bullion being carried.

This following observation related personally to the author, by this well known seafarer/come Nautical College Principal who, in earlier times during the 1930's whilst serving as a mere Tutor at Leith Nautical College as Deck Officer/Navigator lecturer, respectfully requested to one of his erstwhile pupils to spend a couple of weeks of summer vacation as an 'invited guest' to go on a fishing trip on board a deep sea trawler, 'quite honestly laddie - (everyone was but a laddie to the illustrious Captain Cameron, Extra Master) - quote "unless myself had made such an enlightening voyage I just would, and could not have believed the arduous life these fishermen were obliged undergo to in order to earn a living", particularly regarding their infinite skill in the art of seamanship, which in itself is not a subject that can be taught, more of calling - text books certainly relate what should be done in a given situation - but if any of these men did not make the grade as boys, they never would: The vast majority of fishermen spent their entire lives without aspiring to climb the ladder of promotion, from a purely academic point of view, but their natural gift as seamen is beyond question. To touch briefly other two equally highly important departments - Engine Room and Galley, the former I do not profess to know a great deal about, other than teaching the theoretical technical aspect of ship construction, but more so particularly when it comes to throwing vast heavy amounts of coal into a furnace fire or skilfully squirt lubricating oil on to moving masses of polished steel every hour of the day and night, all whilst the ship is gyrating like a wild animal, I readily confess to having made a close inspection of these operations at first hand and beaten a most hasty retreat to the relative pleasant upper regions of fresh air surrounding the deck area; The other essential department referred to being rather akin to an inner sanctum - the Galley - if ever there was an unsung hero at sea it surely must be bestowed upon the illustrious trawler cook, (it has been quoted 'God sends the food, but the Devil supplies the Cooks'), oh, they were not always praised in such kindly terms by their shipmates, some of which would be relatively unprintable, though, by and large most of these cooks were quite unique when one considers the unbelievable horrific and arduous conditions they carried out their difficult duties, as my 'holiday/leave/fishing trip' took place - very fortunately for me, during mid-summer, on a somewhat oldie vintage coal burner, the galley layout was typical of most British trawlers of the time, although the galley was situated at deck level, at the aft end of the engine room casing, the allotted working area was very small indeed, nay, downright tiny, somewhat helpful to the cook in so far as not having to move far to pick something up, but in having to prepare and cook food for up to fifteen perpetually hungry men, with at least three fully cooked meals each day - weather permitting - with minimal facilities, a small sink, with salt water hand pump (fresh water for cooking only), a tiny wooden work-top, tiled floor and the proverbial coal fired cooking stove, half of which was an oven, the average housewife of the day would never have tolerated such conditions in a conventional motionless  two room tenement flat, this veritable passenger was able to spend considerable time sitting in the galley whilst 'cookie' pre-pared or cooked a meal, quite an eye opener, and that was during good weather, 'cause when the going got rough I deemed it advisable to keep out of the way, and to give succour to my threatening ‘mal-de-mer‘, which 'cookie' used to delight in waving juicy fatty roast pork chops under my twitching nose, this was one task I could never have carried out to save myself. Up topsides I thought would be my saving grace, having for years taught the subjects to all grades of deck officers, Navigation, it was indeed my forte, even to some of those I sailed with, to see how at first hand it was carried out in practise was a real eye opener, from the moment of casting off to mooring up upon return to port there never seemed to be a glance at a chart or any form of tide assessment, the Skipper would start the sequence, as soon as the vessel cleared the harbour, by informing the first watch of two men, which course to steer for a certain lighthouse or landmark - all the deck fishermen knew these off by heart in the same way as we travel from one part of the country to the next, each and every watch were told where to make for until the fishing grounds were reached, fishing commenced with the vessel towing the trawl up and down several miles in opposing directions, day and night, often shifting to different grounds many miles away, after twelve days or so completely out of sight of land, came the time when the Skipper, and he alone, decided to return home, and with unerring accuracy give a course to steer to pick up the first light or headland to identify the actual position, and without fail the landfall appeared (weather permitting - pre Radar days) almost akin to migrating birds, apart from complying with the universal traffic rules of the sea, it was just another routine trip, as an ex Merchant Navy, Extra Master Mariner , teaching future generations of shipmasters, and Trawler Skippers, I was grateful and privileged to experience a way of life we used to take for granted, these same trawler crews played no small part during the 1914 - 1918 and 1939 - 1945 wars in manning the Royal Naval mine-sweepers, which again is another story, I, as a reasonably informed observer have no hesitation in taking my hat of to each and every one of them and awarding a hearty vote of thanks".

© © Reproduced with acknowledgment to Walter L Hume Isle of Wight