The following passage has been taken from ‘A deck Boy’s diary’ an April 2000 publication by the author, and a book which relates to cutty sark. in this chapter, a small number of grammatical changes have been made from the original publication, but only for the configuration of the text in the passage.

During my first trip to sea as a 16 year old deck boy, my ship Willesden of London arrived at Tilbury Dock in November 1953. The ship had signed on at Hull in July of the same year, and after a four month trip to India the voyage was almost at an end. However, there was to be the added ‘around the land’ discharging before the ship paid off. This meant a visit to Antwerp, Hamburg and Hull before paying off at Middlesbrough. Whilst in London some of the crew who were going back on the ship’s next voyage went on leave. Two of these ‘company’s men’ were the bosun and my cabin mate the lamp-trimmer. In due course, an AB who was the lamp-trimmer’s relief, and one who was to be my new cabin mate arrived onboard.

Tilbury Dock London, 23rd November 1953.

Later in the morning, our newly appointed bosun Bill Houston introduced me to my new cabin mate. I’d had so many shocks and surprises during the day with people coming and going, but this one was the best of the lot. My new cabin mate was an old Scotsman named either Bob or Stan Walker. He greeted me with such cordiality it was like someone who hadn’t seen his best friend for years. In my opinion, Old Stan must have been at least seventy years old, maybe even eighty, but except for a bit of a hobble he was quite lively as he made his way around. It was really nice to meet Old Stan, and Bill Houston our new bosun immediately posted me in the 8-12 watch whilst Old Stan took my job as the ‘peggy.’

All the London dockers on the ship knew Old Stan, as well as his previous adventures and escapades, and indeed, it wasn’t long before the old sailor himself was telling me bits and pieces of his past life … in sail! But most unfortunately with his broad Scot’s growling accent, I was unable to understand much of his nautical terminology. He told me how after coming from Kircaldy in Scotland, he’d started his sea career at the age of twelve on fishing boats of sail, then at a later date on the big square riggers. He told me that except for the Sailors’ Home in London, he had no home at all but just lived onboard ships. He either didn’t know or wouldn’t tell me how old he was, but did say the authorities had him down as being sixty seven, a figure he was more than happy to accept. However, even at that age of sixty seven I was a little dubious.

Also signed on that day was another AB, this sailor was named Stan Williams. He was the relief of Bill Houston who had taken the bosun’s post. These two new AB’s were later to be known as ‘Old Stan’ and ‘Young Stan.’ They were only on board for the run around the land and would be paying off at Middlesbrough with the rest of us, but what a lively pair they turned out to be.

Old Stan must have received an advance note when signing on, because after making his acquaintances and throwing his gear onto his bunk, he must have awarded himself the afternoon off. At 1 pm when it was time to turn in, the bosun asked me if I’d seen the old man, but I could only reply by saying that I hadn’t. Later on in the mess-room where the dockers had made themselves at home, and all of whom seemed to know Old Stan, I asked them if they knew of his whereabouts. Those dockers were all highly amused and replied saying that as soon as Old Stan had any money in his pocket he’d make for the nearest pub. They told me that Old Stan, or Uncle Bob as he was generally referred to, had served in sail for many years, and had even sailed on the Cutty Sark under the red ensign. They also told me that Uncle Bob hadn’t sailed deep sea for many a year, he was far past his best, and was only given around the land jobs, standby or night watchman’s work by the MN Pool.

Thinking no more on the matter, I went to the cinema that evening with the cabin boy, and it was there that we witnessed John Wayne destroy the Japanese fleet and win the Pacific War. We then went back to the ship thinking the day was over, but it wasn’t! Not by a long way! I turned in realising that my new cabin mate was still adrift, but thought nothing of it and soon fell asleep. My cabin was the first in the alleyway at the bottom of the companionway. Sometime after midnight I was awakened by the shore night-watchman. He wanted to know if I knew any body on board named Walker, because if I did, he was flaked out over the accommodation coaming. I arose to offer any assistance I could, but Old Stan weighed about twelve stones, and it took the night-watchman, one of the greasers and myself to manhandle him down below where we laid him on his bunk. Once all that was over, Old Stan who was rip roaring drunk due to his over indulgence in whisky, came to and started singing sea shanties. He woke the whole crowd up with his Scots gravel voice before finally flaking out again. Whilst he was out for the count, we made his bunk up and proceeded to undress him and put him under the blankets. But when I took his boots and trousers off, I felt really sorry for him. The poor old man had steel callipers on each of his lower legs. My mind wandered back to the previous morning when I watched him hobbling around without complaint.

Next morning I overslept a bit due to loss of sleep, but at 6.30 am after I’d made the tea in the mess-room, and whilst the sailors were holding their hangover heads drinking it, I went aft to wake Old Stan. He was quite cold and still! I shuddered in realisation before covering his chalk white face with the bed sheet. I immediately raised the alarm to those in the mess amidships who arrived at speed to see the corpse. But on clambering down the companionway ladder, a gravel sounding voice with a strong Scottish accent could be heard as the supposed corpse resumed his sea shanties. In the cabin he sat on the edge of his bunk, bleary eyed but full of life again. I myself was given the height of abuse by the sailors for proclaiming that Old Stan had pegged out, whilst the gentleman in question seemed highly amused about it all. He remarked that when he did go it wouldn’t be that easy, and in his strong growling voice told me he was ready to face the world for another day.

I later told the bosun what had happened in the small hours of the morning, and also about the callipers on Old Stan’s legs. Bill was supposed to report him to the mate for being adrift on the previous afternoon, but in being the man he was he didn’t do so. He knew like everybody else that Old Stan was on his last leg of life, that he’d probably served at sea in both World Wars, and if reported he’d be sacked there and then and would never get another job. Therefore I did the peggy’s job before turning to on deck. We had a good crowd of sailors, and there were no complaints as we all covered up for the old shellback. By the next day when we were on our way to Antwerp, and after Old Stan had fully recovered from his advance note party, never could a more willing hand be seen. I thought at the time, as I looked at him with his weather beaten leathery face and hands like shovels, that I’d love to read his life story. In Antwerp he went adrift again, then in Hamburg after some fool gave him a sub he once again did the vanishing trick. Nevertheless, he wasn’t a slacker and did as much as his old body would allow.

Then on the night before we paid off in Middlesbrough in December, where we had finally tied up after what was then a five month voyage, the beer flowed like water and both young and old Stan were the life and soul of the mess-room party. The beer was 18/- for a case of 24 bottles, but as I didn’t like beer I was kept busy running to and fro to the second steward for case after case. At that particular time I’d paid scant regard to what the London dockers had told me about Old Stan serving on the Cutty Sark, in fact, in being a sixteen year old, I had never even heard of the ship until that year of 1953. But when I later became more interested in ships of sail, and thanks to my meeting up with Old Stan, I discovered that the tea clipper Cutty Sark was most prominent in the lore of sailing vessels.

Thirty seven years later in 1990 I said goodbye to my last ship, but after having taken a keen interest in painting ships of sail, and writing about them, I also decided to take out my diaries and write about my first trip to sea. By that time I’d completely forgotten about the Old Stan incident on Willesden in 1953, but whilst I was making preparations for the manuscript of ‘A Deck Boy’s Diary’ the name of Old Stan came up. I suddenly remembered what the London dockers had told me about him serving on Cutty Sark, and more in wonder than anything else I made enquiries.

I then acquired a book written by S.F. Bailey who is a member of the Cutty Sark Society. This publication gives the names of all crew members of the Cutty Sark from 1870 until 1995. On page 88 there is an entry stating that a certain R. Walker joined the ship as an AB at £3 per month on 2nd May 1889. He was born at Kircaldy in 1866 and was 23 years old at the time. On 1st November 1889 he was promoted to second mate at £4-10-0 per month, but paid off at London on 17th January 1890. Was this the same Walker, or Uncle Bob as the London dockers called him?

At the time of Old Stan joining Willesden in 1953, this would have made him 87 years of age, that’s if it was him! And if it was, it most certainly would be no surprise to the author who shared the same cabin with him for a couple of weeks, but most incredible nevertheless.

In those post-war days there were occasionally more ships than sailors to man them, usually due to a glut of ships arriving in the UK at the same time, but the authorities at the Merchant Navy Pool still had to supply crews for ships. Furthermore, those authorities were noted for taking backhanders in their selection of certain men for the more favourable ships. Therefore, as well as turning a blind eye to what was really going on, when a seaman gave his age that is, it was not uncommon for a sailor who was past the age limit to assume somebody else’s identity, for a fee! Old Stan’s discharge book number coincided with a 1947 or thereabouts issue, a number which would have put him in his mid twenties, and yet, he is listed as being 67 years of age on the ship’s articles. Even at that age he was well past the age limit. Whichever way one looks at it something was amiss.

The document below, supplied by the Archives of the Newfoundland British Shipping Records, is a copy from part of the articles of MV Willesden’s 1953 voyage. The crew of the 7,043 ton ship was 39 when the articles were signed in July, but replacements were made at Tilbury in November 1953. Number 45 is that of S. Walker, an AB who has the Discharge book number of R426819 and given as being aged 67. Also signed on the same day was S. Williams who is listed as number 41 on the articles. His discharge book number is R415822 with his age given at 29. In accordance with the issuing of discharge books, This would imply that 29 year old S. Williams is older than 67 year old S. Walker … !!! ???