‘The Skipper’s Daughter’ shows changes in shipping industry
MARKETING and delivering Cape Town’s Dockland have introduced me to numerous people and rekindled acquaintances from former years.
Thus a most pleasant chat over a cuppa on the patio of the popular radio presenter and journalist Nancy Richards and her husband John-Clive, a renowned oil and watercolour artist, was a voyage into the past, particularly when Nancy gave me a copy of her book, The Skipper’s Daughter, published recently by Karavan Press.
It’s the delightful and true story of Nancy Brooks, a strong-willed, resourceful and vivacious teenager who, in 1938, went to sea with her much-loved father, Captain Billy Brooks, the master of the British trampship Nailsea Manor that left Birkenhead on the Mersey on July 2 and returned to Britain more than six months later.
That voyage was shattered by harsh and unexpected tragedy, yet related so sensitively.
To distinguish Nancy Brooks from her daughter – later Nancy Richards – they were known respectively as Big Nancy and Little Nancy. Much of the story is told via Big Nancy’s log that she kept meticulously during the voyage, with Little Nancy’s informative prologue and her carefully crafted narrative linking the log entries to provide a flowing background to events. Eventually learning additional pieces of information – given reluctantly, yet happily, in later years by her mother, Little Nancy has given readers a glimpse of the interesting character of Big Nancy.
Besides portraying the warm relationship between father and daughter, the diary entries reflect a growing mutual admiration between Big Nancy and one of the young officers on board. Those entries also reveal much of life aboard a contemporary British trampship – rather Spartan accommodation, much fairly monotonous work for the crew, but reasonable food.
Reading the book, many older salts will be reminded of and will shake their heads at the huge chasm between shipping operations of that era and current practice. From Birkenhead, Nailsea Manor headed for Curacao in the Dutch Antilles where she bunkered before transiting the Panama Canal. She skirted the US west coast and called at Canadian ports where all – from Captain Brooks to the deck boys – enjoyed lengthy runs ashore. Another bunker call at Honolulu provided a pleasant interlude on the long trans-Pacific haul to Australia where again, the crew enjoyed generous shore leave during lengthy port calls, especially since Aussie stevedores are notorious for their short working hours and indolence.
Berthing at terminals that are often remote from the bright lights of the cities, modern containerships are in port sometimes for hours before putting to sea again.
Even crews aboard bulkers whose cargoes may take a few days to load or discharge may find that high-handed immigration or security officials have denied them shore leave on Covid-related grounds – despite no illness during a lengthy ocean voyage – or because draconian post 9/11 regulations dictate that ships’ crews should be treated differently. Air crews are not subjected to such treatment.
Senior officers forged good relationships with ships’ agents, chandlers and other shoreside folks, auguring well for the smooth operation of ship. Big Nancy enjoyed wonderful times ashore with the families of those officials.
Aboard Nailsea Manor, there was time for deck cricket on number two hatch, table tennis, cards, a concert or two, and other shipboard group entertainment. Older salts will associate warmly with those and with the quiz night, or with the scratchy 16mm films that, after a delicious braai on a balmy tropical evening, were shown against the white bulkhead on the boat deck. There were darts tournaments, fancy dress suppers, and I recall those aboard the sugar carrier Sugela enjoying badminton, volleyball and even soccer matches in the vessel’s holds while on the ballast return haul from Japan to Durban.
In contrast, many modern ships with their multinational crews with an appetite for solitary movie viewing present little home-grown entertainment that played an important role in social cohesion in former years.
And what of Nailsea Manor? A straggler from a trans-Atlantic convoy and carrying munitions, other war supplies and a landing craft as deck cargo that protruded over the sides of the ship, she was sunk by U-126 in October 1941. A corvette rescued all her crew and transferred them to an Ellerman freighter who landed them in Freetown.
The second mate, who had signed off Nailsea Manor on her return to Britain from that well-covered voyage to Australia, gained his master’s certificate and joined Anglo-Saxon Petroleum (later Shell Tankers) as chief mate. In July 1942, his vessel, the 12100-dwt Donovania, had discharged a cargo in Lagos – no oil production there then – and headed for Trinidad. When the tanker was close to the island, U-160 sighted her, fired torpedoes that missed, but then scored a hit that caused the tanker to break in two and sink. Among the 41 survivors from the tanker’s sinking was Chief Mate Ron Richards who was later promoted to master. He retired as master of the Shell tanker Otina, known to Safmariners as Kuland.
I won’t divulge other details in this heart-warming story, laced with tragedy, but astute readers will note Little Nancy’s surname, who, similar to her mother, is also a “skipper’s daughter”.
Well worth a read!