Chapter 12 Mouldy Luck; Traditions; Sweep Me a Mine; Canonbury; Brotherhood

MOULDY LUCK

WHEN a ship's on the receiving end of a torpedo it's usually curtains, but the incident here related presents another picture. Not being acquainted with records on the subject, it occurred to me as being unique. And like the case of "man bites dog", it's news.

The scene was a well-known bay, in the merry month of September 1943, and H.M.A. target ship Burrabra carrying out exercises with an R.A.A.F. squadron.

I may say that weeks of day and night evolutions at sea, in an old Manly ferry, had more than tested her crew's endurance, and what early enthusiasm they'd had for the R.A.A.F. was very much on the wane. In the words of the matelots, "They had it."

On this particular day old 200 feet of fighting fury was proceeding across the bay on a set course, while Beaufort torpedo bombers made concerted attacks on us from seawards.

Everything went nicely to plan, until three Beauforts sneaked in on us, and dropped their fish.

We could see the wakes of three mouldies racing towards us. On they came, one passing ahead, another astern, the third-which normally should have passed under us-changing its mind and hitting us dead amidships with a smack that was felt throughout the ship.

Loud cheers echoed from our crew. "Twenty-one days' survivors' leave." "Come on, boys"; and damage control parties raced to investigate.

On account of her age, our C.O., Lieutenant Morley, was not taking any chances, and headed her for the beach, but "alas for the fond hopes of man", no damage was revealed.

"Well, sailor, there goes twenty-one days, just our luck!"

Next day a badly battered torpedo was re-covered. Admittedly it only had a dummy head, but that was poor consolation for sad sailors.

"SEMPER IDEM."

NAVAL CUSTOMS AND TRADITIONS

The Church pendant
- is the oldest flag in our code of signals, dating from the early struggles between the British and Dutch. Both were Roman Catholic, and decided mutually that some form of signal was necessary to call a truce whilst prayers were being said. At this date war had not lost all chivalry. The colours of both nations were sewn together, and at the part next to the mast you may see the flag of England, while the remainder is the ensign of the Netherlands. It is still used for its original purpose by the British, but has additional meanings nowadays.
A dog watch,
- though a cur-tailed watch, was originally called a "dodge" watch. Designed to make the day have seven watches instead of six, in order that the men who had the middle watch might dodge it next day.
Commissioning pendant,
- hoisted by all ships in commission (excepting flagships) is a survival of Blake's whip, the answer to Van Tromp's broom at the masthead.
Post captain
- derives from the term "post ship". These were the more important commands, whose captains would need to have precedence over ships of less importance, even though the captains of the inferior ships might be senior in date of promotion.
Charlie Noble
- is the galley funnel. These were made of wood, but a certain merchant captain named Charles Noble, who flourished about one hundred years since, insisted on having a glorious brass funnel, which caused his name to live for ever among sailors.
Davy Jones.
- This was "Duffy, or ghost, of Jonah" - Duffy being an old English word for ghost.
Blue Peter, the signal to denote that a ship will shortly sail, derives its name from the French "partir": to depart.
Mess,
- in which we live, comes from the Spanish "mesa' a table.
Piping the side.
- In ancient times, when captains were often called to the flagship at sea for a council-of-war, weather frequently precluded the use of a gangway. It was then customary for the captains to be hoisted in by means of a yard tackle and a boatswain's chair, and the orders were called by pipe. It was the custom for the officer of the watch, even within a few years, to say, "Hoist him in," on being informed that the captain was coming alongside. By the custom of the Service, the corpse of any naval officer or man is piped over the side if sent ashore for burial. Otherwise this salute is reserved for officers of the rank of captain or above, or officers in command of seagoing ships. No military, air, or civil officers are ever piped.
One-gun salute
- (or rogue's salute) is the signal gun fired for the assemblage of a court martial.
Snotty
- (a midshipman) is derived from the allegation that a far-seeing Admiralty was forced to introduce buttons on the cuffs of the jackets worn by these juvenile officers. This in order to make more popular the use of a handkerchief.
A stone frigate
- is a shore establishment.
To celebrate the siege of Gibraltar
- is an excuse for a drink of strong water. There have been not fewer than thirteen sieges, and nobody would ever question the date, except perhaps a specialist in this matter.
Splice the main brace.
- In the Royal Navy it means that a double issue of rum will be served. Thought to derive from the fact that the main brace (in a sailing ship) would seldom, if ever, be spliced. On account of its size and the rarity of the occasion those who performed the work were probably rewarded with an extra tot.
Half-masting colours.
- A sign of mourning. Said to be accompanied by other signs of untidiness in olden times: e.g. leaving yards cocked, or ropes hanging loosely, etc. A more poetical explanation is offered, which, if not true, certainly deserves to be. Many of us know from experience that when a prize is captured the White Ensign is hoisted superior to the national flag of the prize. It is suggested that the Ensign is worn at half-mast in order to make room for the invisible colours of death, who invariably wins the last encounter.
Starboard and port.
- Originally steerboard and larboard respectively. The steering board was situated at the right hand side of early sailing vessels. For this reason it was nearly always the left-hand side of the vessel which went against a pier, or close to the port. This may have been the origin of the word "port" when steerboard changed to "starboard".
Show a leg.
- Dates from the times when wives sailed in men-o'-war. On calling the hands the owners of feminine legs were allowed to remain abed until Guard and Steerage.
Sons-of-guns
- dates from the same times. Infants were born under the guns, and once or twice a gun has been fired to assist a difficult birth. Records of this have been found in old diaries.
Jaunty,
- the master-at-arms, was "gendarme". He is the head of the police, and his henchmen are known as "crushers".
Snob.
- A shoemaker.
Jew.
- A tailor.
Grog.
- Admiral Vernon insisted on having the rum watered before issue, and as he always wore grogram clothing he was nicknamed Old Grog.
Salute.
- Instituted in the Navy by Queen Victoria as opposed to uncovering. It is a token of trust and respect, the hand being open showing that no weapon is concealed. In Oriental countries it was customary to shield the eyes from the magnificence of a superior. Since 1923 the left-hand salute has been abolished, mainly because Continental nations, and particularly Indian or African troops, consider a salute with the left hand to be an unforgivable insult.
Room to swing a cat, the cat is out of the bag,
- undoubtedly refer to the cat-o'-nine-tails, which was kept in a red baize bag.
Touch and go.
- When a ship touches the ground but floats clear.
Raggie.
- A friend, a cobber.
Parted brass rags.
- Had a quarrel. It was usual for friends to keep their cleaning gear in a communal bag.
Winger.
- A young seaman adopted by an older one, who becomes guide and mentor to the disciple.
To get to windward
- of somebody is to get the better of him. The vessel to windward was in the more advantageous position for battle because he had freedom of manoeuvre.
King's hard bargain
- was a man who elected to go to sea rather than to jail. Many considered the sea a worse punishment, notably Dr Sam Johnson.
Mundungus.
- Useless material.
Ullage.
- Properly the residue remaining in a box or cask when the contents are used Applied to any witless individuals who are of little use to the Service, or who use their heads for the sole purpose of keeping their ears apart.
  - Urk is similar in meaning.
Smoking.
- K.R. and A.I. Article io8r forbids officers on shore smoking a pipe in a public place.

"TRADITION."'

SWEEP ME A MINE

Minesweeping is a lousy job. It is one of those jobs that is interesting for about minutes and then the novelty wears off until something untoward happens. Let me tell you all about the time we went sweeping.

The first thing we did was search the ship from stem to stern. This was for the gear we thought we knew the stowage of from the last time we sighted it. But we were wrong. It wasn't there. When we did find it, we didn't know what it was because each article had lost its canvas tally or, if the tally was there, the name, etc., was obliterated.

Finally, along came a minesweeping expert and all our problems were solved.

We went through all this before we eventually arrived at the scene of the job. All the paraphernalia of sweeping was nicely rigged (the expert had shown us how) and all the sailors were lined up on the quarter deck minesweeping deck, rather-awaiting the signal to start. Before the barrier went up though, the expert exhorted us as follows:

"We are at an advantage in sweeping this field. We know exactly where it is and where to start. It is just on high water and, when that times comes, we expect the mines to be fourteen feet below the surface. As you know, we draw twelve feet, so there should be a good two feet of clearance. I need not remind you that no mine is friendly. Bos'n's mate, pipe all hands to don inflatable life-belts."

This is very cheerful, we thought, but we would try anything once, so we turned about to face our conglomeration of gear.

They are most efficient things, these sweeps, but to us the whole lot just looked like a great bunch of floats, wires and ironmongery.

The minesweeping expert retired to the bridge and began to give orders.

One order and the floats were away to drop astern, then pull up with a jerk and follow us like a couple of drunken speedboats. When the weight came on the bunch of ironmongery it clashed about menacingly so another order ridded us of that. At this juncture the gunnery officer leapt about three feet into the air. He had been standing too close to the wires attached to the otters and kites (the ironmongery). Half his pants disappeared over the stem on a sweep wire. The gunnery officer retired to the bridge.

Another order and the sweep wires began to race away from the drums of the winch. Soon they were braked and, in its turn, away went the kite.

A few minutes passed and the hands were getting impatient. It was about time something happened. We must be well over the minefield by this. We were, as a jerk on the wires testified. Up shot a mine closely followed by another and another and then three more. Then a terrific explosion shook the ship fore and aft. A gout of water boiled up close astern. Our gear had fouled one of our intended victims.

All hands retired to the forecastle, which is farther forward than the bridge, hastily donning their discarded life-belts on the way.

The minesweeping expert, after a great deal of cajoling and a threat or two, managed to get enough men back to repair the wires and shackle on a new set of gear. Meanwhile a tender which had been following us at a respectable distance set to work to send the mines we had raised to the bottom. A machine gun did the trick in no time.

By this time we were ready to make a fresh start so we swung about and returned to our target. From then on, bringing up those saltwater booby-traps was like shelling peas. There were no more sudden explosions. The hands gradually drifted back to the after end of the ship to watch proceedings. They became bored and wet the tea and began to discuss their favourite topics of women and beer.

Came the time to pack tip and go home. We reckoned this mine-field had just about had it. The expert sent down orders to heave in the sweeps. The chief stoker had previously clutched in the works, so he turned the control that started the drums revolving slowly.

Quickly and then more quickly the wires were hove in after we had unsnatched the kite and secured it. Ah! There was our port otter gleaming faintly beneath the surface of the water. But what was that dark object seemingly suspended in the slings of the otter?

"What the devil--?" said the first lieutenant, and leaned forward to peer more closely.

"Perhaps it's a mine," I suggested, and wandered up to stand next to him.

Then it broke surface a few feet away and we saw the foul menace of it. Coated with green slime and brown weed, it seemed to leer and swell as if ready to burst in our faces. Then the message sank home. I'm sure my hair stood on end before I found my voice and sounded off like a siren.

"A MINE!" I screamed and was off like a rocket.

All hands retired to the forecastle again, there not being any place farther away. This time the life-belts were inflated to capacity.

The chief stoker deserves a medal. He didn't retire until he had declutched the winch and allowed the otter with its evil burden to drop back astern.

A game of "Dodge 'em" began. We backed and filled, stopped and started in an effort to dislodge our follower. For about an hour we tried and it was getting dark. We were just about to give up hope when there was another of those terrific explosions. At last the mine was gone. Thank goodness for that, even if we did have to repair all our wires again when we returned to harbour.

Of course our job wasn't over when we had done that. It went on for days and days, and each day was a repetition of the day before. Didn't I say minesweeping was a lousy job? Never volunteer for it.

"LOHTA"

CANONBURY-BY-THE-SEA

Now are now approaching a point where some of Sydney's finest homes are situated," grated the amplifier. "The church spire you see on the hill is St Mark's, the fashionable §t Mark's of Darling Point! " A murmur echoed through the intent sightseers. "On the foremost part of the point-yes, near the jetty -is Canonbury, the Australian Jockey Club's Home for crippled children. Let's give the kiddies a cheer and a toot! "

On board the Show Boat, from families on a Sunday jaunt, visitors from many-States, Service men and women from many climes and lands, came a hearty call which rang out over the harbor's blue-a friendly gesture to cheer and help the little ones in their sadness.

I felt somehow that the thought would not be appreciated, because I knew that the figures discernible on the distant lawns were not crippled children, but stoker chiefs and three-badge A.Bs - patients in His Majesty's Royal Australian Naval Hospital Canonbury!

With the wealth gained from successful pioneering of the Tivoli circuit, Harry Rickards, the famed entrepreneur, built this impressive home. It was an ideal site for a home, with the blue waters of Sydney Harbour lapping its frontage, with an extensive view of colourful foreshores of the famous port, and refreshing salt breezes from the sea. It was an ideal site for a hospital, too, as the AJC realized when it sought a place where shattered men from the horror of the last war could find peace and rest.

The purchase of Canonbury was included in a programme of expenditure for patriotic causes, which reached the staggering total of £114,000! This fine organization, without any outside help whatsoever, maintained the home at an annual cost of £6,000.

Eventually the patients were absorbed by Red Cross homes and hospitals, and the A.J.C. furthered their splendid work by inaugurating Canonbury War Memorial Convalescent Home for Crippled Children. Kiddies from three to fourteen years received the very best treatment from the very best doctors and nurses. Everything, possible was done for their care: a tiled hot salt-water bath was built in an airy sunroom; a large hall constructed for recreation and schooling; a "puff-puff" on a circular track provided all the fun of the fair.

The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, and the subsequent threat to Australia, resulted in the evacuation of the children to Molong, in western New South Wales. Canonbury's gardens became overgrown; and a solitary woman tended its silent halls and rooms.

Then came the day when a lady was passing by the entrance gates with her little girl; she stopped for a moment and the child chirped, "Don't go in there, mummy; they're all mad!" The Royal Australian Navy had acquired Canonbury for a medical hospital.

The Service has spent about 16,000 on improvements and equipment alone. An outsize in refrigerators for the galley, X-ray and laboratory equipment, and innumerable necessary items were donated by such good people as S. T. Leigh & Co., St John Ambulance, and D.S.A.A. factories, Footscray. Improvisation was the watchword, and a great job was done converting a laundry into a laboratory; a rest room into a first-class X-ray plant; a recreation hall into an airy ward, and the salt-water bath into an up-to-the-minute physiotherapy department. Seventeen hundred naval patients have passed through the gates.

The trim lawns and colourful gardens now look like the "once upon a time" photographs of earlier days. It took some time to beat down the stubborn buffalo, and an incident off the record during its cutting is worth telling.

A ham-handed A.B. was busy on a mutinous border with a large pair of shears, while his mate, a ponderous three-badge stoker, zoomed about with the mower. An innocent, unsuspecting representative of the County Council entered the gates for his regular meter-reading. In a voice something between that of Charley's Aunt and Frankenstein, the A.B. snarled "I wouldn't come in 'ere if I were you"

The grey-coated man stopped, puzzled; but not for long. Signalling to his pal, the A.B. charged with shears snipping wildly, and with a vicious roar the mower sped through a cloud of green towards him. The meters were read at a later date....

A mansion of grandeur for a theatre magnate, a haven of rest and care for maimed soldiers, a happy home for crippled children, a naval hospital ... what will be the future of this grand old place?

As the years go by sentiment weaves a thread of romance through the chapters of its history.

SICK BERTH ATTENDANT R.A.N.R.

THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE WHITE ENSIGN

WHEN the R.A.N. was first formed, the modem nucleus of the squadron was the two River Class destroyers Yarra and Parramatta, built in England and completed in 19 1 o. These were fine little boats and, with their sisters, built later, did very excellent work in the war of 1914-18-however, the days I wish to speak of are those when Yarra and Parramatta used to cruise around Australia with the six starred Commonwealth Blue Ensign flying aft and, in harbour, the Union Jack forward.

We were all very proud of the boats and our flag-but early in 1911 someone woke up to the fact that the Commonwealth Ensign was not known abroad, and if we happened o wander into a foreign port we might be given a hot or frigid reception. So the Powers hat Be decided to enlist us into the great Brotherhood of the White Ensign. The die was cast and the stage was set - Sydney Harbour on one fine day.

The Australian destroyers were lying at the buoy in Farm Cove, the British flagship at the buoy off Man-o'-War Steps, other British ships near by. A lovely morning, and Sydney Harbour looking its best. At ten to twelve two signalmen went forward, two went aft. The ones going aft carried a nice new White Ensign. The ones going forward carried a new Commonwealth Ensign. At five to twelve, bugles and pipes throughout the squadron sounded "Clear lower deck". All hands had previously cleaned into No. i dress: officers in frock coats, epaulettes, cocked hats and swords-men in their No. is. The guard and band of the flagship faced the little Aussie destroyers.

At 12 o'clock, eight bells were struck, bugles and pipes sounded the "still", the flagship band played "God Save the King", the guard presented arms, officers saluted, men stood to attention. All eyes were on the little boats. Slowly the Australian Ensign came down aft and the glorious White Ensign rose in its place. Slowly the Union Jack came down forward and the Australian Ensign rose in its place. A quick rum up of the halyards, the signalmen stood clear, a short pause, the bugles and pipes sounded "Carry on", and a little fleet was born.

Since that day, Australian ships have carried the White Ensign on every sea of the ocean, have fought many fights, some of them last ones. But never have they lowered it in the face of the enemy, no matter what the odds.

S.R.S.

THE STORY OF "SAM" ON A SWEEPER
With apologies to Stanley Holloway-and dedicated to the boys of the old K.N.
You've heard about man on the wireless, That populace knows to be 'Sam , He's been in some mighty queer places. An oopstanding lad that 'e am; He once caught King a royal sturgeon, Explored the inside of a whale, Told Queen where to stick ruddy medal, Bunged leak up in Ark with his tail. Now Sam had been reading noospapers Saw pictures and posters, what's more, Heard clarion call on loudspeakers, For men to help country at war. So Sam straightway joined oop with Navy That made him son of the sea, He thought that they'd put him on cruiser, Alas! it was just not to be. They drafted him on board a sweeper And then not of any great size, She pitched and she rolled and she wallowed, And Sam was took quite by surprise. Now Sam had seen sweepers in London The streets of their refuse relieve, That ships should go out sweeping ocean Was as much as Sam could believe. In morning he got up right early And started to scrub down the decks, But Bos'n kept poking his nose in To see if he'd left any specks. The Old Man was strutting like pigeon On bridge, as if it was perch, And sudden he took out his whistle, And blew it as ship gave a lurch. Well, men! they came running from nowhere Like someone had just hollered "Fire!" "Out sweep," they yelled as they ran to the stern. And Sam got caught up in the wire. Bos'n that kept poking nose in Came up and was most impolite, Told Sam to go to the dickens, And told men to heave up on the "kite". Now Sam saw the "float" go in water, Stood gazing at wire while it run, And murmured, "They'll never fly kite up In air, when it weighs half a ton." The work of the day was completed, And Sam thought, "Now, what's to do?" When sudden comes up First Lieutenant, Said, "Hour's extra work, lad, for you." What Sam thought of that First Lieutenant Would certainly not do him proud, Why! he even cast doubts on his father, But he didn't speak out very loud. Now Sam's had enough of the "sweepers", And said so, in sorrowful tone, "Why don't they sweep out the Guv'ment, And leave ruddy ocean alone?"