Seafaring threads go back a long way in the Gibb family, and the initial connection with Holland can be traced to the mid 19th Century when Thomas Gibb, a Master Mariner and shipowner began a family stevedoring company in a small port on the River Maas called Rotterdam.

Subsequently, one of his sons, having ‘done time’ as a seafarer and Master Mariner joined his father, and the firm T & G Gibb International Stevedoring Company was established. It gained in stature as it serviced many of the British Shipping Companies that visited the port from then until the late 1970s. My father, Alexander, also a Master Mariner, and Uncle George carried on the family tradition, and it was in 1926 that they both took over from Granddad George.

In the fulness of time, in 1930, my father and mother were married and settled in Schiedam. Until that time all the family children were born in England, and hence we were all born in or near East Coast ferry ports, me in Newcastle in 1936, and my sister just outside Harwich in 1938.

Establishing the continuous British connection was very important in those times, and all the boys’ schooling was in Britain prior to them going to sea with Ellerman Lines, Clan Line etc. with whom T & G Gibb had connections.

This would have been the set plan for me too, had it not been for the outbreak of war in September 1939 when my father deemed it prudent to return to England on my 3rd birthday in October, anticipating correctly that Holland’s neutrality would not be honoured by the German war machine.

Father immediately offered his services to the Admiralty and as a Master Mariner fluent in Dutch he quite expected to be ‘taken up’, but because of his age (only 38), he was not, that is until 1940 when ‘Holland’s Glorie’, the deep sea salvage tug Zwarte Zee, having been badly damaged by an air attack on Falmouth on 20th August 1940 and partially sunk, was repaired and joined Allied forces in the Battle of the Atlantic.

The Captain of the tug, Teun Vet, was a consummate mariner well versed in rescue and salvage, and was sent with his Dutch crew, British Liaison Officer Lieutenant Gibb RNR and four DEMS personnel to the base in Campbeltown, Argyll, which served as a major naval base during the hostilities.

Father was silent on his wartime experiences, as so many were, and it has been difficult to glean what he and the ship’s company and those of the other Dutch Salvage Tugs, British too, plus the numerous Flower Class Corvettes, went through in dangerous times, and sometimes in appalling weather. I do recall however him telling me that Nicholas Montserrat wrote his “Cruel Sea” while based in Campbeltown, and this gives a graphic description of the conditions that were experienced.

There were many incomparable feats of seamanship not only by Zwarte Zee and Thames, the Dutch tugs, but also by their British counterparts, Salvonia, Seaman and others, and a full history of their exploits can be obtained through the Sleepboot Museum in Maasluis, Holland.

One of 22 rescues that were made by Zwarte Zee was of the Panamanian SS Macbeth which was located against all the odds and towed back for repair.

This took place near 47N 34W in force 8-10 winds between 8th and 19th December 1941, with hail and snow in the offing. The heavy weather resulted in major damage to the lifeboats, loss of the liferafts overboard and the compass put out of action. All must have been grateful to anchor safely in Belfast Roads at 1130 hours on 19th December.

The Christmas and New Year period was spent repairing. The rescue was recorded by the famed marine artist Montague Dawson in 1942, now in the possession of the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich, which I have seen. It shows the stricken ship struggling in high seas whilst awaiting the arrival of Zwarte Zee. Adrift in mid-Atlantic, she was difficult to locate, but would not identify her position for fear of attack by German U-Boats. The painting is in monochrome and had originally been intended for “The Sphere” magazine. I suspect that it didn’t appear there as the tug depicted in the painting was a harbour tug and didn’t bear more than a passing resemblance to Zwarte Zee.

Thames and Zwarte Zee, together with their British counterparts, did regular stints of duty in Moville on Lough Foyle as a forward base, being a few hours steaming closer to the action.

On my first visit to Campbeltown after a summer holiday in Islay during 2014, I made the acquaintance with a local historian, David Mayo, who had been a submariner and then a marine and underwater operations consultant in later life. He is presently writing a history of Campbeltown’s involvement in World War II, and released the following five fascinating personal accounts written by Dem Farmer between 1977 and 1978 of life aboard Zwarte Zee during these years.

1. The Clyde

The Dutch Rescue tug Zwarte Zee, fastest and largest tug in the world, sped on her way up the Clyde as though she hadn’t a second to spare. She had had a very rough time salvaging bombed and torpedoed ships in the cruel Atlantic.

The crew were all Dutchmen except for four Englishmen. The ships company were looking forward to a deserved spell ashore, or even just a few hours of complete peace, lying in one’s bunk.

The ship tied up still and quiet, in those days this was heaven, later a walk ashore to the YMCA or to some friendly padre who could offer a nice hot bath, these were appreciated most.

Others of the crew liked their beer and made a beeline to the nearest pub for their refreshment to drown their sorrows and memories of home.

Because ‘home’ for most of them was Holland, their wives, mothers, children and loved ones were there, tears came to their eyes as they related the tales of bloodshed and terrible treatment that they and their families had suffered under ‘Hun’ rule. The ultimate parting was heart-rending in itself: pictures were shown of their loved ones and a certain amount of finality of never seeing them again had crept in. So tonight they will endeavour to forget these things just for a few hours. And what better place than Copeland Road, Glasgow?

Zwarte Zee went alongside the quay and tied up.

Evening came and this meant ‘opening time’.

There was a pub on the other side of the Clyde very aptly named “The Dun Cow”, spit and sawdust and as rough as it could be. One word out of place and one could end up in the River Clyde with one’s throat cut. The nationality of an Englishman would be sensed at the door and the word would go round, a foreigner in the camp, a Sassenach on the loose, and silence would abound.

The Englishmen, although devoid of Scottish blood in their veins had a fair feeling for money, and in consequence when it was suggested that they should ferry the Dutch to and from “The Dun Cow” for gain, the deal was clinched.

Money changed hands and the ferrying was under way.

The name of the pub may have been “The Dun Cow”, it was also the haven for ‘ladies of ill repute’ and the name cow was not amiss.

So, seeing the way clear of making easy cash these ladies ‘befriended’ the Dutchmen. The bulk of them were almost identical to the ladies depicted in some of Hogarth’s drawings, fat out of all proportion, loud and lewd, but to the drunk Dutchman they meant an outlet for their pent-up emotions and a haven for their sexual desires, which I fear often produced the ultimate of a ‘dose’.

The Zwarte Zee during the stay in Glasgow became nothing better than a brothel, but then, they enjoyed it!, and in times of war that was the main thing. For today you live, tomorrow you may die. Before you condemn, think awhile.

2. Atlantic
   

Zwarte Zee, had had a busy time, just completed the task of towing a stricken vessel, a bombed tanker, the Vinga into port which had received a bomb directly on the bridge in September 1941, killing eight officers, most of their remains hung grisly on the rigging, and the decks were stained red from their blood.

The ship’s gunners were lucky, they had obtained a direct hit on the enemy bomber, a Focke-Wulf Condor and brought it down with their low angle 4” BL gun, which had been elevated to it’s highest angle.

So now Zwarte Zee and her crew, were all looking forward to a “wee” spot of rest. She made course for her base,Campbeltown, on the Mull of Kintyre. She left Davaar Island on her port quarter, and made a fast bee line for the harbour, she let go her anchor, yards off the quayside and slewed on her cable, paying out all the time, but frightening everybody watching ashore. She nestled in nicely alongside without much fuss. This was the art of a good seaman, a Captain who had been born to the sea, a true Hollander, in every sense of the word, and knew his vessel intimately from stem to stern.

The evening came, and the crew of Zwarte Zee went ashore. Campbeltown, although a small town in the western highlands of Scotland, had quite a lot to offer in the way of comforts. Public Houses, dancing, one cinema, canteens, and above all the local laundry, where the girls were so pretty.

The Dutch made many conquests. They most certainly had a way with them. A few of the girls came back aboard with the Dutchmen, gin flowed freely, and so did sex. Unfortunately, during the night, Zwarte Zee had orders to sail immediately, this she did, plus about nine extra passengers, the girls!

Worse for wear and bedraggled, the Zwarte Zee passed clear of Davaar Island and stopped further down the coast. The ship’s motor boat was lowered over the side, the girls hustled into her, and were taken ashore to a sandy beach. Once ashore, the rich Scottish brogue broke forth into a volley of shocking abuse. If they were not sober on the beach, they most certainly were after their long hike over the hills of the Mull, and their cries of anguish echoed and re-echoed in the Glens.

Zwarte Zee continued on her mission, out of the Clyde, through Rathlin Sound, along the Irish Coast, out into the Atlantic to meet a North West gale. A two hundred mile journey of mercy to another bombed ship, the Atlantic City, which, after a terrific struggle, was towed into Lough Swilley. Zwarte Zee was challenged by the Irish Gunners on the cliffs at the estuary, and a shot fired across her bows, and she hove to. Her Captain was told to get under way within forty eight hours.

As this was just a respite from the weather outside, Zwarte Zee sailed as requested and made for Moville, County Donegal in Lough Foyle. She was met by harbour authorities and duly anchored her charge, and then sped on her way, back to Campbeltown, another duty completed.

3. Smugglers
   

Zwarte Zee entered harbour. Greenock looked just as miserable as ever, on this cold autumn morning, a fine steady, misty rain added to the gloom.

Moville, County Donegal, Eire had been her last port of call, which meant that the whole crew had taken part in some form of smuggling contraband.

The Royal Naval Dems. Gunners were no exception.

This trip it was cigarettes, American brands, Lucky Strikes, Camel, Chesterfields and many others. They were, the gunners believed, tucked nicely away in boxes, with empty .5 shell cases on top.

Zwarte Zee dropped anchor off Gourock to take on mail and stores. Most of the crew, and the gunners went ashore to replenish everything.

In the meantime, a drifter was doing its rounds, picking up empty shell cases, calling on other ships lying at anchor or on buoys. “ Zwarte Zee, Ahoy!!”

One of the Dutchmen still aboard Zwarte Zee, looked over the gunwale. “Yah, myjnheer”. “Got any empties”. “Wait one moment, yah, we have some”.

And thus over the side went all the empties, plus, of course, the contraband.

Later, the gunners returned, much later the loss was discovered. Ashore they trooped, living in false hopes, to the dump, near the shore establishment HMS Carrick. It was a mountain, nigh on fifteen feet high.

It was dark when those gunners had finished grovelling, red rimmed eyes and black faces and frayed tempers.

4. A Smugglers Tale
   

The Dutch rescue tug Zwarte Zee left Campbeltown, in company with the Admiralty Rescue tug Salvonia. Their destination, Moville, County Donegal on Lough Foyle, Eire. They were to be Duty Rescue tugs for the week. Their job entailed going out into the Western Approaches rescuing ships which had been bombed or torpedoed.

On arrival at the anchorage in Lough Foyle, the tugs, Dutch Rescue tug, Thames and Admiralty tug Seaman had got up steam, and were ready to sail back to Campbeltown for rest. Black smoke was pouring out of Seaman’s funnel, and smelled very strongly of peat fires. Also pieces of burned moss and bracken wafted over the Lough, as she steamed downstream. She appeared very sluggish, and not her usual frisky self at all, the Thames left her standing, and was almost out of sight.

The crew of Zwarte Zee went ashore at Moville. The ship’s boat was nicely filled to the gunwales with crates of Church candles, Ireland was short of Church candles. The local grocer absorbed them, the Law and Customs men turned their faces to the wall. Especially when it helped the Holy Church, and did not bat an eyelid, when the Holy Water of Scotland was purchased with the profits and taken back aboard Zwarte Zee. Yes! Finest Scotch Whisky in Ireland, crates of it, because believe it or not, Campbeltown was short of whisky, and of course a few bottles lighter did not come amiss, after all, it was a very neighbourly thing to do, especially in war time and amongst the Western Isles.

As the gentlemen with their crates walked by, they received a cheery wave from the Guinness drinking boys in blue, sitting on the doorstep of one of the local pubs, the Customs man let go the painter of the launch, and water, nearly lapping over the gunwales, the launch chugged her way out to Zwarte Zee.

The illicit cargo was safely stowed, and ready for transportation to the thirsty souls of Campbeltown.

When the spell of duty was completed, the two tugs sailed home to Campbeltown, a few bottles to some fishermen en-route, assured the crews of casks of fresh live herrings for many teas. On arrival in the harbour, the local boys were taken care of, then the task of feeding “the pubs” and hotels was completed.

The feeling afterwards, of a job well done, with adrenalin coursing through the veins like quick silver, and a hooray for the next duty. Incidentally, Seaman had flogged all her bunkers, she was a coal burner!! But what a haul, Phew!!

5. The Royal Birthday
   

Zwarte Zee in company with the armed trawler Northern Gem, entered the harbour of Campbeltown on the Mull of Kintyre.

Zwarte Zee anchored in the loch, Northern Gem moored alongside the quay. The day was Queen Wilhelmina’s birthday, and a day to remember for the crew of the Dutch tug.

The mail duly arrived, and with it food and drink hampers for all the crew, a gift from the Queen. In each hamper were bottles of Bols Dutch Gin. By noon the whole crew were well and truly tiddly, including the two English Gunners and Naval Signalman.

A message to Zwarte Zee to put to sea immediately was ignored. The Dutch Radio Officer was completely flaked out.

The Naval office, alarmed, sent an armed party aboard with Leading Seaman Killick in charge. They were made drunk as soon as their feet touched the deck. A little later on, another armed party were sent aboard, this time a Chief Gunner’s Mate was in charge, and took the first armed party away under arrest.

The Naval Gun Layer, resident aboard Zwarte Zee, was well and truly poorly, shooting the cat down one of the hawse pipes, and just managed to crawl back to his cabin and throw himself back on his bunk.

Around the first Dog Watch, a Naval Officer came aboard, saw the Gun Layer, and told him to be dressed in No.l’s by 0900 the following morning, to attend an enquiry.

The Gun Layer’s head felt as though it was being chipped away by an apprentice stone mason.

Next morning, someone had pumped up his tongue, and the apprentice was still chipping away at his head in no uncertain manner.

All dressed, and Bristol fashion, ready for the fray.

At 0900 prompt, a Naval Lieutenant, complete with sword, arrived aboard and escorted the Gun Layer ashore.

Once ashore, they both made a beeline for the Argyle Hotel, to have the proverbial hair that bit the dog, and thence on to the Naval base, HMS Nimrod.

The Enquiry was in process, suddenly, the Gun Layer’s name was called, through double oak doors he stumbled, “Prisoner Shun”.

The Gun Layer looked round, a shove in the ribs, and a gruff voice, “You, you twit, off cap”.

Before him sat five Commanders and the Port Captain, complete with Sword on desk. Blimey, a Court Marshal, thought he. “You know the penalty, right. You are a disgrace to the Royal Navy, having been found drunk aboard a Dutch ship, we sentence you to ten days cells, and hard rations.” “Prisoner, cap on, right turn, on the double, left, right, left, right.”

The words “you know the penalty” still rang in his ears. When he was hustled into his cell, of only 6 foot by 4 foot, and he sat down on the narrow bench to contemplate, his mind had thought that he was going to be lined up against a wall and shot.

He was now dressed in just shirt and trousers, no belt, no laces because a big Norwegian matelot, had hung himself a few weeks ago by his belt. His hard rations consisted of 1lb of water biscuits, and a jug of tea per day. A blanket was given him at 2000 hours and taken away next morning at 0800.

The light in the cell was shared by the adjoining cell, and was red. The reading material was the Bible, but he could not see to read it. To go to the heads (toilet), he had to shout like hell, because the Guard was outside, chatting up the girls!

When the time came to be released, half of his gear had been flogged, and he boarded his bus in Campbeltown’s Market Square for Glasgow, only half rigged.

Walking across St. Enoch’s Station to report to the Naval Office, he was suddenly accosted by two Naval Police, “Where do you think you are going Jack? You are improperly dressed!” “Im going to the Naval Office”. “Too right you are, and we are taking you”.

“I have just come out of cells”, “Yes, and you are going back, Jack!!”

At the Naval Office the Police were sent on their disgruntled way.

“Ah, Leading Seaman Farmer, you will be re-equipped, sent on 14 days leave, as you have been recommended for an Executive Commission in the R.N.V.R.”

“Sorry you had to be made a scapegoat, good luck.”

Postscript

Zwarte Zee went on to further distinguish herself and gain for Captain Vet a commendation from the Admiralty for work well done in the entire Atlantic theatre, having transferred to Caribbean operations as the Uboat threat changed to the Western Atlantic and later to Freetown.

From each of these base ports father sent us postcards so I have records and dates.

Father also had permission from the Admiralty to embark my mother and the two children as the tug was passing through Liverpool, but on looking at Zwarte Zee my mother decided she would rather face wartime Britain than cross the North Atlantic (and its perils) in winter in such a small vessel! Our lives would have been greatly different if she had agreed to go.

One of the major wartime tasks of Zwarte Zee was to tow the badly damaged Armed Merchant Cruiser Asturias from Freetown to Gibraltar. They were escorted in this endeavour by the six ships of the 56th Escort Group (under the command of David Mayo’s father) which formed concentric rings around tugs and tow, sailing clockwise and anticlockwise against U-boat attack. Speed of the tow was approximately 4 knots. The weather was so bad that from the senior escort vessel the Zwarte Zee was frequently not visible due to the high seas.

Asturias was partially repaired in Gibraltar after delivery there and was subsequently towed to and rebuilt by Harland and Wolffs, whereafter she became an Immigrant ship, and prior to being broken up, substituted for Titanic in the film A Night to Remember.

One of Zwarte Zee’s last massive tests during wartime was to tow large items of Mulberry Harbour across the Channel to further the beach landings in June 1944, and I was privileged to be in command of P&O’s flagship Canberra for the 50th Anniversary of those landings in 1994, accompanying Britannia and Q.E.2 with 1,200 wartime Royal British Legion veterans aboard.

Zwarte Zee arrived in Rotterdam on May 7th 1945, my father’s 43rd birthday and was received with great acclaim in the knowledge that she had done sterling work on behalf of the allies throughout the conflict, and had, against all odds survived with the loss, due to accident, of only one Dutch, seafarer.

All my Dad’s spare clothing was transferred to my cousins who had spent their entire war years incarcerated in their Rotterdam home, as they had long grown out of theirs.

Some years later, as a junior office on one of P&O’s cargo vessels proceeding up the new waterway to the Waalhaven (T & G Gibb’s new berths) in Rotterdam I spotted Zwarte Zee alongside in Maasluis, and turned to our tall young Dutch pilot to ask if Captain Vet was still in command. He looked somewhat surprised and asked how I, an Englishman would know Captain Vet. I explained that I was the son of Zwarte Zee’s R.N.R. Liaison Officer from 40 to 45, at which he said, “You must be Ian, and how are your father, mother and Jean?” Now I was the one to be surprised until he told me that he had been one of the junior ratings aboard during that time. What a coincidence. Sadly both my father and Captain Vet had died just before this meeting.

After a few more years had passed the Maasluis Tugboat Museum invited my mother and me to be their guests at an exhibition to celebrate Holland’s Glorie, Zwarte Zee and we were proud and delighted to accept.

The Other Zwarte Zees