It was in late 1949 at the age of 15 that I first heard of HMS Worcester. Father knew that I wanted to go to sea and had been asking around to try and find out what pre-sea training was available and after consideration it was decided to try for this ship. It finished up that providing I passed the entrance examination, the medical and an interview by the Captain and Headmaster, I would be accepted as a junior cadet.

And so it was in early April 1950 that I joined with about a dozen other fresh faced lads who clutching suitcases of various dimension stepped down from the muddy causeway into a motorboat driven by the bos’un who transported us out to the ship. Arriving alongside the platform we faced a long climb lugging our heavy suitcases up to the main deck where we were greeted by Mr. Donner one of the officers who at once instructed those not in the know how to turn aft and salute when coming onboard. I had just left the Sea Cadets and knew about this custom and of course saluted and was rewarded with a beaming smile from this officer. So far so good.

The Thames Nautical College was established in 1861 by a London shipbuilder and several city merchants to train young men who would go on to become officers in the Merchant Marine. The Admiralty loaned HMS Worcester a 50 gun wooden frigate to the new college and this was replaced by another wooden ship HMS Worcester (2) in 1877. During WW2 the cadets were moved to Foots Cray Place near Sidcup Kent and when the war ended it was discovered that ship number 2 was in very poor condition and it was replaced by ship number 3 which after a refit arrived at Greenhithe in early 1946. Formally named Exmouth this ship was moored at Scapa Flow during WW2 for several years as a depot ship. HMS Worcester (No 3) accommodated 220 cadets on two decks with the Foc’sle and Main divisions on the lower deck and the Mizzen division on the orlop deck below.

During the first day and settling in we got to grips with the art of getting into and staying in a hammock from which several unfortunates had already crashed to the deck much to the delight of the onlookers. I won’t say that I was perfect and did unexpectedly and painfully bale out a couple of times but from my Boy Scout days I did know how to tie the correct knots and soon discovered that the secret of staying put and not fall out was to always keep a low centre of gravity. I then slept on a hay filled mattress (known as a donkeys breakfast) in a hammock for two years and found it to be very comfortable.

The other problem which sometimes defeated new cadets was the secure assembly of the stiff starched collar and silk neck tie using shirt studs fore and aft. Many of the cadets thought they had mastered this irritating problem only to find when on parade that the rear stud had sprung loose when marching which allowed the collar to bob up and down their necks as they swung their arms. We new cadets whose collars had remained firmly attached (more by luck than anything else) tried not to laugh.

Forward on the Main deck starboard side was the Cadet Captains cabin. This was where they studied and also where punishment was dealt out to those junior. Discipline was harsh and anyone who infringed one of the numerous rules and regulations and been caught would be invited at supper time to visit the ‘Cabin’. Bending over the end of a sofa the victim was whacked on his rear end with a stick wielded by a burly cadet captain (did it hurt? – you bet it did). Once I was whacked three times in the same day. I had been sailing and accidentally dropped the rudder of one of our dinghies into the river and as a result caught one from the captain of sailing and two from Mr. Donner. The fact that I recovered the lost article from the mud at low water did not give me any later privileges.

I doubt very much if the punishments we had to endure would be allowed today but it was’nt too bad and very quickly we learnt how to stay out of trouble. It also must be remembered that all of us had come from schools where caning for bad behaviour was the norm.

The day after we ‘the sprogs’ joined, the ship was invaded by cadets returning from leave and for several hours there was near mayhem as these worthies noisily charged about the ship greeting their friends and sorted out their gear but all had settled down by the evening when the ship’s routine commenced.

An unofficial tradition was the encouragement given to new cadets when turning in. They had to undress, get into their pyjamas, put their clothes into their sea chest and climb into their hammocks with all this to be done within one minute. Those who didn’t make it were ordered to bend over and then given a swift swipe around their nether regions with a folded leather belt which I know from painful experience did sting. Fortunately, most of the new lads made it by the third night. Once you had passed the test you could take all the time you needed.

One thing we did notice was the submarine which lay aground across the river on a spit of mud next to a river marker. We were told that this was the wreck of HMS Truculent which had been raised from the bottom of the Thames Estuary after being sunk by the Swedish tanker Divina on the night of the 12th January 1950. Over 60 men died when the running lights shown by the Divina were either wrong or misunderstood and there was a collision. Seeing her hauled up onto the mud broken and rusty was a very sad experience.

Our ship was well provided with wooden rowing boats. The 1st Gig was the preserve of the Captain and rowed by an elite crew. The 2nd Gig was used by lesser mortals such as the school masters and the Jolly Boat was the general run about and did all the menial tasks. During the summer months saw the appearance of two 5 man racing whalers and two 6 man racing gigs. Racing these heavy boats over the set course was very exhausting and I can speak from experience.

Moored between the ship and the shore was one of our wooden barges. I found out that it was very old and previously had been a 32 foot sailing cutter but was later converted to rowing only. One day about 20 of us new cadets were taken out to the barge and after removing the poppets in the gunwale to reveal the rowlocks we sat there in two rows with our oars tossed (for landlubbers – held vertically).

When everything was ready the mooring forward was let go by a senior cadet who was to be our cox’n but when making his way back to the tiller ready to bark the orders necessary for us to get under way he slipped and somehow neatly removed the wooden drainage plug in the bottom of the boat and cold dirty river water gushed in. After a few moments of frantic searching the plug was found and reinserted which nearly cut off the flow but that was until some bright spark stamped on the plug, no doubt with the intention to make it tighter, but instead he drove the plug out through the bottom of the boat. Chaos reigned as some cadets frantically tried to stem the flow which included sticking the loom of an oar in the hole whilst others tried to recover the floating plug which had surfaced nearby. In the meantime some of our unskilled rowers were pulling valiantly (with most giving great windmill impressions) in an effort to beach the sinking vessel but there was no hope of doing this. As the boat sank lower in the water, one lad no doubt a born comedian, stood on a thwart to attention and saluted.

I think the only person who enjoyed our soaking was the SBA who with a beaming smile liberally dosed us with his magic black mixture just in case we had swallowed some of the foul river water. I don’t know which was worse but his treatment certainly was very effective.

A few years later when undergoing RNR training at Chatham a motley crew of RNR officers, including myself, made up the crew of a barge and entered the races held on the River Medway where incidentally, we were badly beaten. We were being steered by an old three badge AB and when coming alongside his order to ‘toss whores’ resulted in one wag muttering “we should be so lucky”.

In 1938 the former sailing clipper Cutty Sark (old Scottish for short shirt and quoted in the Robbie Burns poem Tam o’ Shanter) was moored close to the starboard side of our vessel. One wild night, I believe it was in the winter of 1950, she broke her forward starboard mooring chain and swung towards the Worcester. Her bow hit against the side but not hard enough to cause any serious damage and she remained there with her long bowsprit looming over our upper deck until tugs arrived to put her back into position. A specialist mooring vessel then found the other end of the chain and it was repaired.

One of the jobs I had from time to time was as a Cutty Sark crew member. This entailed rowing out to the clipper to make visual checks of the moorings and sweep out the after cabins and the decks. We did offer to repair some of her lower rigging but this was denied on the grounds that it was too dangerous and it must be admitted that some of the ratlines were becoming somewhat marginal. But standing on the quarterdeck with the wind whistling through the rigging we did get a small sense of what it was like to be on board when she was underway in a stiff breeze. With all sails set and the ship swooping over the swells and waves, the feeling must have been marvellous.

On board our floating home there were always a dozen or more RNR (Royal Naval Reserve) cadets. These were cadets who had opted to receive naval training during their time with the Merchant Navy. The importance of this was frequently emphasised because in the event of War suitably trained RNR Officers would be needed to man convoy escort vessels and to undertake other RN duties. I was lucky enough to become an RNR cadet when on the Worcester and at the start of my last term was promoted to Midshipman and the white patches on my lapels showed this new rank.

Cadets from HMS Worcester from time to time were detailed to attend special events. My earliest memories include mounting a guard of honour for the then Princess Elizabeth at the Royal Naval College Greenwich and being part of various parades marching through the streets of London when celebrating former naval victories or religious ceremonies. Our band was usually included in these events but somehow the silver headed Mace had been damaged. I was told that the Cadet Captain who had been whirling the Mace at the time was known thereafter as butterfingers, and until it was repaired a temporary Mace was used. This was manufactured by the Bos’un, who claimed he could turn his hand to anything, and he started off with a dingy oar which was sawn to length and then shaved down to the correct tapered shape. This staff was painted matt black and then using a long bolt it was surmounted by a highly polished copper ballcock borrowed from the heads and embellished with coloured plaited cords twisted down its length. The finished object was serviceable but hardly suitable to parade in front of Royalty and fortunately it was replaced in time for the visit to the ship of HRH the Duke of Edinburgh in 1953.

One advantage of being an RNR cadet was to be taken out on ‘jollys’ or trips on RN ships. One memorable ‘jolly’ was a visit to our ship by a WW2 Motor torpedo boat or MTB. The Captain of this small vessel was an Old Worcester (OW) and after lunch with Captain Steele and his staff he took the RNR cadets for a cruise down the River Thames. His boat was just over 70 feet long and powered by three Packard petrol engines totalling over 4000 shp which gave a maximum speed of about 40 knots. Our speed was kept low until we were passed Gravesend and entering The Lower Hope when the engines were opened up and the sensation as we skimmed over the smooth water was exhilarating to say the least. We slowed down when passing the tanker berths at Thames Haven and then opened her up again. Off Southend we encountered a nasty chop which at our speed created a lot of spray and after a few uncomfortable minutes we put about and started our return. The wake created by this small vessel at speed was really quite high and this was demonstrated when under the command of an RNR cadet (the Captain was below at the time attending to something important) we overtook a tug and its afterdeck was flooded. At once we slowed right down to see if they were alright and it was then that we (gently reared) cadets learned some new and interesting words courtesy of a somewhat indignant and damp tugman who had been resting in a nest of hawsers on its stern. A few notches on the throttle soon left this irate person behind but the remainder of the outing was made at a much reduced speed just in case we flooded something else.

During my stay on HMS Worcester I discovered that several OWs had become quite famous. These included the Japanese Admiral Togo (OW 1873/74) who was the victor of the Battle of Tsushima in 1905 when his ships defeated a Russian fleet, Henry Bowers the man who went with Captain Scott to the South Pole in 1912 and died with him on the return journey, Admiral Mountevans who was part of Captain Scotts support team, Rupert Davies the actor and Dennis Wheatley the author to name just a few.

There was always a procession of merchant ships of all kinds passing by up or down the river together with the occasional warship. These included passenger ships such as the P&O Mooltan, Maloja, Carthage and Canton, the Cunarders Mauritania and Samaria and the Union Castle intermediate ships with their lavender hulls and black topped crimson funnels. In addition there was a steady stream of cargo ships of all shapes and sizes and from all countries visiting the docks near to or in London. And of course there were the many tugs either towing a raft of dumb barges or speeding to their next towing job and dredgers which kept the river navigable. Also passing daily were the smart LCC Yachts on their way to dump their loads out at sea.

Right next to us in Greenhithe was the HQ of the Everard Company who ran a fleet of coasters and several of their ships were usually anchored or moored nearby. I still remember the early 50s when the King of Norway sailed up the Thames in his yacht, the Norge. Also there was the time when a Swedish cruiser, either the Göta Lejon or Tre Kroner, passed by escorted by two very modern looking destroyers the Öland and the Uppland.

As merchant ships went by the cadets of the watch kept a careful eye on them in case they ‘dipped’ their ensign which showed that an OW was on board and our ensign had to be lowered in return. It was surprising just how many foreign vessels saluted us but looking around our ship one could see quite a few cadets from other countries all happily mingling with their British counterparts

During the summer term the Houlders Oars and Port-v-Starboard races were held in 5 man Whalers and 6 man Gigs respectively. These clinker built wooden boats were propelled by husky cadets, the gigs with 17ft ash oars over a course of about one and a half miles in all weathers. One summer I was lucky enough to be a crew member and giving it all we had and bending the oars, we could make those heavy boats fly through the water. It was a bit different from the University boat race in their lightweight shells.

Then there was Section Day. This was when we put on a display of our skills for the benefit of representatives of various benefactors who in the main were from the major shipping companies. One year I was sitting at a bench sewing along the edge of a sail and this was when I learnt the meaning of ‘homeward bound’ stitching. The second year I was wire splicing and there is not much you can joke about that subject. One year the Captain’s Yawl ‘Katrine’ led a procession of whalers and gigs being rowed by the cadets. The cadets made up a song about this yacht which went, “Oh farewell Katrine what a good ship you’ve been, in 1802 you were brand new,” – the rest of it is somewhat rude. Still, getting away for a days sailing on this vessel with Captain McCulloch of the Royal Marines in charge was always very enjoyable.

At the end of each Summer Term the parents of the cadets visited the ship for Prize Day. They boarded a General Steam Navigation Company excursion ship for the trip downriver from near Tower Bridge and returned the same way after the ceremonies. One year the parents were supposed to be entertained to a firework display but some clumsy clot accidentally set the whole lot off in one go by dropping a lighted firecracker into the cardboard box, at least that was the story put around. During this ‘display’ both parents and cadets on the upper deck hastily took shelter.

Sometime between 1952 and 1962 the hammock rails and nettings were removed and, horror of horrors, bunks were installed. All old sailors will tell you that bunks are nowhere as comfortable as hammocks and why the change was made escapes me but as, I was told later, there were less bunks than there were spaces for hammocks I assumed that as the British Merchant Navy declined so did the need for officer cadets trained on the Worcester.

In the early 50s if you wanted to get to far off countries then ninety nine times out of a hundred you had to go by sea. At that time international journeys by aircraft was in its infancy and did not really start to take off until the next decade. Then came other nails in the MN coffin including the Satellite Navigation system which basically did away with Compass bearings, the Sextant and all those calculations. “The moving finger writes and having writ….moves on.”

In July 1962 the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh celebrated the centenary of the establishment of the college and attended the prize giving. Sadly, six years later the college was closed down and in 1978 after failing to find a buyer the old ship was scrapped in Belgium. Then just three years later as if to show it was the end of an era, Captain Gordon Steele VC RNR (OW 1907) died at the age of 89. He was the Captain Superintendent of the Worcester from 1928 to 1957 less the five years he spent with the RN during WW2.

After my time on the Worcester I was asked several times if I would have preferred to go straight to sea as an apprentice instead of spending two years receiving pre-sea training on the old ship and my answer always was ‘No’. I enjoyed my time at the college and am sorry that virtually nothing has replaced the valuable training it gave to young lads. We learned some very important lessons on that ship including discipline and how to live and work together and any undesirable kinks a young lad may have had were usually straightened out. In my humble opinion, boys training establishments such as the Worcester are badly needed today.

Finally if I may borrow a phrase which sums up my feelings.

We shall not see the likes of her ever again or enjoy a return to her traditional, tough and disciplined methods of training seafarers.