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quite enough coffee for all, nor enough
tea, so we mixed the leaves and grounds
and brewed a beverage that none of us
could drink. We had whiskey with our
eggs and bacon.
We spent the morning with our new
acquaintance. Later that afternoon, we
opened up the cafe next door to the
Hotel Grand Misr and emptied the ice
chest with our drinks. This time the
waiter brought a pan to the table to keep
the ice in.
That night as we headed back to the
ship, we found that she was over in
Attica Bay, at anchor. In order to get
there, we hitchhiked around the bay
on army vehicles, but had to walk the
last mile to the small boat jetty. It was
midnight by this time, and another air
raid was on. We watched a ship blown
up at the anchorage area, but it went too
high to have been ours since we had no
ammo a board.
We found a large motor launch at the
pier, her Egyptian crew asleep all over
her. None of the launch crews would
take us out during the raid for any
amount of money. Quite a few men were
on the pier waiting for transportation to
their various ships, so we got together
and got the ancient engines started and
cast off the lines. We were well on our
way to the anchorage when the crew
decided we meant it and took over. They
delivered us all to our respective ships,
so all was well.
During the long evenings in port, our
crew sat around the fantail swapping
yarns. Al told about the army major
who had been arrested by the MPs who
caught him nude, chasing a girl down
the corridor of the hotel. They charged
him with “being out of uniform.” At his
hearing the next day, he beat the rap
by proving he had been dressed in the
uniform for the sport in which he was
engaged.
One of the evening bull sessions
brought up the story of the ordinary
seaman who had been killed on a ship
similar to ours as the ship was covering
hatches at a port in India. The captain
didn’t want to delay the departure to
fill out all the forms, so he had the kid’s
body stowed in the ship’s refrigerator
and carried it back to the States. One
night, the oiler was oiling in the shaft
alley and saw the kid’s ghost asking for
a cup of coffee. On several occasions on
the way homeward, various other members
of the crew also saw the ghost, who
apparently rode with the body and left
the ship with it.
We finally discharged the balance of
our cargo and sailed for Durban, South
Africa.
Two days after we sailed, while I was at
the wheel one morning, I heard a commotion
on deck. The third mate came
SS WeSt Jaffrey, New York, May 1941.
in and took the wheel, saying, “Peter, it’s
your friend Morales. Go down and find
out what the trouble is.”
I went down to find Morales, our
Puerto Rican oiler, on his knees at the
rail praying over and over, “Mother
Maria, they no send me there no more. I
no go there no more!”
When I asked him what the problem
was, he threw his arms around me and
repeated his plea, adding, “Oh, Pedro, I
am so frightened. I was back oiling the
shaft alley and I was thinking of the story
of the kid’s ghost when I hear something
… ‘Psst, Joe. You got a cigarette?’ I look
around. Is nothing there. I oil some
more. I hear again: ‘Psst … Joe. You got
a cigarette?’ Then I see two heads by the
deck plates… covered with oil but eyes
open and looking at me… I come out
very fast. I no go there no more.”
Investigating, we found two stowaways,
deserters from the British desert
army hiding there. Unfortunately for
them, they had picked poor Morales
for their opening. Their happiness at
being bound for Durban was short-lived,
though, as a fireman had gotten sick
and we had to stop a British troopship
to put him under a doctor’s care. The
Mauritania was northbound for Suez.
After turning over the stowaways to
the crew of the Mauritania, we proceeded
on down the Red Sea, turning into the
Gulf of Aden about ten that night. When
I had gone on watch, the air temperature
was about ninety-five degrees, but
when we made the turn the temperature
dropped to about seventy degrees. So we
all bundled up for our next few watches
until we got acclimated to the comparatively
cool Indian Ocean breezes.
When we rounded Cape Guardafui
and headed down Indian Ocean toward
the Mozambique Channel, we again
heard rumors of U-boats in the area and
resumed our attentiveness during the
hours we drifted repairing breakdowns.
When we arrived at Durban, the boilers
had to be overhauled, so we lay ten days
between that and getting our cargo of
manganese ore.
Al was put on the twelve-to-four
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The Council of American Master Mariners, Inc. December 2012 Sidelights 23