Chapter Six

-Uncharted Waters?:

As Ringulv was heading out from Brest the Officers had attempted to persuade the Captain to set course for England, just across the Channel. Sailing to Casablanca for orders might entail unforeseen problems; with the war not going well for France, England seemed a sound alternative. The Captain, however, decided to proceed to North Africa. (It was learned much later that the ships actually was in charter to the French government). The order apparently was to proceed coast-wise. We continued as far as the Gironde estuary, seemingly a mile wide, the shipping lane to Bordeaux. We were directed to anchor for the night on the west side, near a pier. Above Bordeaux the river is named Garonne.

Settling down for the night the usual order came from the Second Engineer to shut down the auxiliary generator, meaning kerosene cabin lamp light. Ordinarily lanterns would be lit for the night with a lantern hoisted part way up the foremast stay, signifying a ship at anchor; but it was blackout condition now. And the degaussing cable? Why, it just lay there inside the periphery of the railing bulwarks not bothering anybody. Well, some of the crew complained it gathered trash that was hard to clear out.

During the night airplanes were heard, but no explosions and nothing could be seen. But there was activity everywhere as word finally came, at first light, that planes had been laying mines. There was still no action regarding the degaussing cable. Un-believingly, the Second Engineer wanted the deck Officers to find out if the night watchman had seen any activity by the planes, -"near our ship"!

Several ships, including a large liner, were at anchor at the far east side of the estuary. Tide going out, we were all turning with it on the anchor chain. Suddenly two mines exploded on the liner’s starboard side. The rotund Chief Engineer was just coming out from the Captain’s quarters and seemed to pick up speed, even down the stairway, towards the midship. But the Second Engineer was already heading headlong down to the engine room hollering orders for the "donkey man" so called because he was responsible for the maintenance of the auxiliary engine, the donkey engine, driving the generator when the main engine was shut down.

Everyone knew then that the degaussing cable now was energized because the lights came on. The Second Engineer’s intransigent habits of cutting cost at every angle could have had disastrous results. As an afterthought it now apparently dawned to the old engineer that these magnetic mines could easily have drifted into our anchorage.

One would think that the Captain could, or probably should, have ordered the power turned on for the degaussing cable. It was explained to me, though, that Captains do not as a rule issue orders about engine room operations. The Chief Engineer has the same rank on a ship as the Captain and apparenly also the reason the Chief Engineer was in the Captains quarters early in the morning, for consultations. The hierarchy was different for the engine Officers than for the deck Officers.

For example, before one could go to school and become an engine Officer it was necessary, in addition to sailing time in the engine room, to have two years ashore in a qualified machine shop. All the larger ships in foreign trade had a well equipped machine shop and stocks of material to make their own spare parts using machine lathes, drilling machines and welding equipment. (There was an oft told story about a ship not being able to make, or not having enough spares on hand during a stop at sea, because of the Chief Engineer’s saving habits- Another company ship had to be diverted over a thousand miles to provide spares required. When the ship docked at it’s destination, the story goes, a new Chief Engineer was waiting on the dock to replace the one causing the extra time and money for diverting another company ship). The deck Officers were only required to sail five years on deck as Able Bodied Seamen, A.B’s, before going to Officers’ school.

But back to the mined liner in the Gironde estuary. She started listing to starboard just a couple of minutes after the explosions, almost before the crew of our ship had time to react and realize we had been unprotected. We clearly could see attempts to lower life boats from the now listing liner; a couple were already on the water. Crew members were also seen jumping off the different deck levels trying to get clear. After another while the grey-painted, about 20,000 tons, liner laid slowly over on her side and ‘settled’ on the bottom, part of her port top deck structure still visible. The thought crossed my mind that we were at war, allright, ring-side seat, even... Later in the day buoys were set out by a tug boat to mark her position.

As the liner was settling on the river bottom, curiously, two French fighter planes appeared, making a couple of low level passes before taking off again. Ringulv’s crew was reminded of the appearance of two motor torpedo boats, that is what they appeared to be from a distance, on our way west after leaving Le Havre. Thus, the appearance of the two fighter planes made no more sense than the appearance of the motor torpedo boats. But with the experience of the smoke from the fired oil installation at Rouen still fresh in our minds things sort of appeared to be out of whack, or at least out of the ordinary, with the French, military action with no real purpose. The well known adage, ‘esprit de corps’, appeared to have become just a phrase?...

Old Ringulv continued her journey across the Bay of Biscay. This brought up a memory from my school days relating to an international court case between France and Norway. Norway had a big sardine canning industry; but the French insisted that Sardines were indigenous to the Bay of Biscay. The outcome was that Norway had to call their little fishes Brisling Sardines; -brisling, the name of baby herring. It also brought back memories of fishing boats, in the fjord leading to my home town setting seines for the brisling, and that one could buy a pail full of brisling for one crown, (krone), that time about T25, American. They were served poached, a delicacy, with potatoes, "haute cuisine" notwithstanding.

As the ship was passing the North West corner of Spain the story about English Lord Nelson of Cape Finisterre fame came to mind. I was surprised to be shown in the chart room that this cape really was almost an insignificant point, despite the name, Cabo de Finisterre, (cape of end of earth). The Chief Mate was surprised about my knowledge about the history of this little place.

Continuing our course towards the destination the condition was almost one of leisure, as if peacetime, except for observing blackout. There seemed to be no thought of submarine threat. We were expecting to be on our way to the U.S. in due course; we did have a part cargo destined that place. Moral was at ebb tide. The news about Norway made thoughts about the future mere guess work, almost -why bother. Norway, our home, seemed almost as having been there for the taking by the Germans...

Casablanca:

-Dead in the Water?

We arrived at Casablanca in due course and with a lot more to discover for this first trip messboy. Thoughts about Norway, if any, were relegated off the back burners... We were anchored a good distance from the harbor itself. Several other ships were already at anchor, apparently also directed here for orders. Casablanca, white house in Spanish one was told, supposedly received its name from the low type white buildings of an old Spanish fortification. By the time we were allowed ashore the introduction to, and discovery of, the Arab people and customs made the history a moot point. For the moment, though, this was an unexpected visit to the land of the vaunted, and romantic, Foreign Legion, and a people I had just read about in some travelogue; memories of a French movie with Charles Boyer and Maurice Chevalier...

The Chief Mate gave me permission to view the area with field glasses from the bridge, the long breakwater which made the harbor possible on this low and rocky coast and that this now was a relatively modern city. Morocco and Casablanca, seemed to offer possibilities of new experiences...

Ringulv and other ships were directed to this port because it was expected that the French would continue the fight from her colonies. But Morocco, Algiers, and Tunis instead of joining the fight against Germany declared themselves neutral. That meant that all the ships from warring nations now would be interned for the duration of the war, dictated by international law. Of course, with France also fallen it was not long before news came that the new French government of, or at, Vichy, would be running things, with the Germans so far as the crews on the ships were concerned. There were about 8 Norwegian and Danish ships that became interned at Casablanca and Port Leautey, also called Kinitra.

I made the decision to move from the mess-boy job to ordinary Seaman on deck, one step up the ladder, by changing jobs with the young deck-boy who had been bound and gagged while drunk during the bombing attack in Le Havre. It had never been my intention to stay at sea but because it looked like the stay would last a while I might as well get a "real" job.

Odd would be my cabin mate, he in the upper bunk, I in the lower. He was to become sort of my teacher. He had been to sea for some time and we got along like old-time friends, which in some sense we were, thinking back to our escapades at Le Havre... The people who took jobs around the galley likely were thinking of a career as cooks, or to go on to become Stewards who run the mess operation concerned with food purchasing and preparation, as well responsibility for the Officers quarters. In addition, the mess and galley personnel jobs would go on thru’ seven days. Except for necessary duty watches, the deck crew would be free from Saturday noon till Monday morning.

With the ‘lowest’ position of the deck crew some of my work still entailed part of a mess-boy’s job; but I would have additional free time after work and on weekends. There was the feeling of working with the sailors, more like a man’s job, I thought. I was to learn a lot from these old ‘deep-water’ sailors. And I felt I was accepted because I was an apt and willing learner. (An expression, ‘shallow-water’ man, I was to learn some 40 years later from an old sailor on a golf course in North Carolina, was a sailor in the American Coast Guard, a little on the derisive side because this unit generally was occupied with custom duties and usually sailing coast wise).

After about a month at anchor, without shore leave, the crew ran out of cigarettes and tobacco. It became a comedy every morning when the smokers were combing the deck for cigarette buts they had discarded in flusher times. I was not a ‘regular’ smoker, I did not inhale, hence an occasional smoker who could lay off at will. I refrained from making much of the comedy, a couple of the Officers smoked regularly, as did the cook; apparently I realized the folly of being a smart aleck where one is nesting. Some regular crew members did engage in hazing of the ‘but’ patrol.

The shipchandler apparently was unable to obtain what the smokers needed. Finally it was arranged that the carpenter, who had joined the ship with his wife just before leaving Le Havre, was to accompany the Steward ashore for provisions to attempt to locate cigarettes and tobacco. The shipchandler already had established regular trips with supplies to the other ships when we arrived. A small motor launch would make the rounds to the several ships. The arrival of the launch with provisions also became an event for the entire ship, at least the first one. Flour, for the cook’s bread baking, and potatoes in about 100 pound sacks were hoisted onboard via blocks and tackle rigged to a small utility david, apparently installed for that purpose midship; other provisions were carried up the companion ladder by the crew.

The carpenter and his wife, as noted earlier, were some kind of Norwegian expatriates who had lived in Le Havre for many years. The story that they had owned a small hotel for ladies implied to us a feeling that the "ladies", the word that is, properly should be in quotation marks. Because he knew the French ways he should be able to scour up any available smoking stuff. And he did. But he also did become a like "personna non grata" when the crew found out he had charged them almost double price. It was not quite understood how he had been able to join the ship. He and his wife occupied a couple of the cabins in the forecastle, crew quarters when the ship was a whale factory, as noted earlier.

One night a fully laden Norwegian tanker, M/T Nyhorn, (Newhorn), was attempting to heave in her anchor, apparently trying to leave. But a patrol boat came by and discovered the attempt. A short time after that all the ships were moved inside the breakwater which made a harbor possible on this low, rocky, coast. The ships were being tied stern-wise 60ft from a pier with two anchors about 200ft out in the harbor, taken there by a couple of tugboats. The Captains were advised in a meeting with the powers in charge that this now was an internment of the ships and crews. Morocco was neutral now and we were from a warring nation, all according to international law. The crews would be allowed to come and go ashore as long as they stayed with the ships and were accounted for.

Soon some of the crew members reported that the carpenter and his wife were associating with the proprietress of one of the "ladies" hotels in Casablanca. The story reported that the two women were running things, he being more in the nature of a handyman. He resigned his job on the ship and was able to move ashore because of having lived so many years in France. Ostensibly, the two were becoming partners in the ‘ladies hotel’ venture here. Or so the story went. I was getting quite an education. There seemed to be little or no talk about this change among the Officers in the mess; (-A Norwegian couple part owners of a whorehouse!. It was almost humorous, definitely not ‘de rigeur’, also somewhat embarrassing, as I recall). Don’t recall hearing about this couple again. Wondering aloud about what would become of this couple, they were already old, Odd looked at me as if to say: it -you makes your bed", which expression surely was unknown at the time....

The harbor area was fenced in; coming and going ashore one had to come through a gate guarded by French Police. The gate was about a 10 min. walk from where we were tied up. It was necessary to be taken ashore by a little boat handled by the watchman of the day, or by any deck crew member available. Because I was the junior of the deck crew the ferrying job was mostly mine. One incident relating to my old friend, seasickness or -mal de mer- in these French surroundings, could easily remain unreported. But in the harbor?. Well, the little wooden rowboat would take in some harbor water through seepage and had to be bailed regularly. So, bailing one day, the smell of the oily harbor water made me sick to my stomach and of course to the merriment of the crew, who just happened to be watching.

But there was no lasting scorn and I was otherwise handling the boat was to everyone’s satisfaction. The Steward would go ashore every couple of days for provisions which were brought down to the harbor by the gate area. It was my job to bring the Steward and the provisions back to the ship. This little boat, flat bottomed about 14ft, was named a river ‘pram’ in Norway. Instead of a bow it just sort of sloped up, lap streak, from the keel boards for easier handling on a river, with a squared stern made for ‘sculling’ with a sculling notch in the middle of the stern.

Several French destroyers were tied up in the harbor which one had to pass by on the way to pick up the Steward and provisions, by the main gate. The pram was an easy sculler and I would stand sideways in the stern, just clad in shorts, moving the oar back and forth with a twisting motion in the sculling notch, one hand, moving the pram handily ahead. The first few times sculling by the destroyers the crews would line the railing watching this tall blondish foreigner sculling this different little type boat... I heard an Officer mentioning "Norvegien", and thought myself almost a Viking...

One of the warships tied to a main pier was the new battle cruiser Jean Bart. She had not yet been on sea trials; six 15 inch guns on the fore deck, three on the aft deck. (She will be featured’ later during the American/British invasion of Morocco and Algiers). On the way back with the Steward and provisions, the pram low in the water, I would I feather the oars expertly to the Steward’s amusement. Back onboard he told the Captain I was showing off to the French.

I had time to consider this new stage in my life with a mew and quite different direction. We had come through the bombing at Le Havre; now, at least for the time being, we were in a relatively safe harbor and the thinking was about what lay ahead for the other Norwegians on the ships out in the North Atlantic or wherever. The thoughts would go to what might be happening to the families back in Norway; but the war was over there and a distance seemed to have developed because no news were available. At my age, also, the now was more important. I had been thrown into a new world situation with something new happening almost every day.

Many years later discussing this period in my life I would note that for all that befell the crews on the interned ships, the time they were there was also the worst time for shipping in the North Atlantic, the shipping being involved in supplying England across an ocean where the German submarine ‘wolf packs’ later were to exact a heavy toll.

Norway had a thousand ships on the high seas when the Germans attacked and invaded the country. Before the war was over Norway was to lose just about half her merchant marine, i.e. 500 ships, and about 5000 Seamen. Statistics would show that up to 25% of the crews of about 40 on each ship could be lost. On ships of other nations the loss of life could run as high as 50%. The main reason for the lower percentage loss on the Scandinavian ships, generally, was that all the crews usually would come from coastal districts where life at, or near the sea, became as second nature. Thus, in an emergency, the crew would act more by instinct. Example: I recall meeting my father coming from work, where the rowboat was moored, and help haul in fishing nets he had for herring and mackerel set out the night before. I had to stand to manage the oars, my hands not big enough to reach around the oar handles.

Once the two nets had caught about 200 pounds of herring. Bringing the herring to the house with a borrowed hand wagon, he set up shop and sold some of the catch to the neighbors. The rest he had smoked and we had cured herring for several months; this took place when I was 16-17 and I remember bringing some of this cured herring to the cabin as a delicacy. (That’s a lot of digressing)...

Now, for us, the crews of the interned ships, when compared to the ‘rest of the sailing world’, this situation became almost idyllic; it easily compared to a paid-for vacation. I had always been a roamer. One Sunday morning I happened to be at a large Army parade ground; likely could have been considered lost. Not many young men were walking around in civics, on a Sunday morning at that...

Military personnel were lined up with flags and other regalia. I understood, after a little while, that I was witness to an historic event in the annals of the French military. The first native Arab was being promoted to Colonel and in charge of the French garrison at Casablanca.

Digression:

(This was also a manifestation of what I already knew about the French and English relations with their colonial spheres of operation. Both these countries would allow for an operation of a civil service system of the particular native population. This was 180 degrees different from how the German and Dutch ‘operated’ their colonies. In the German colonies in East Africa prior to World WarI they were ‘das Herrenvolk’; when the Dutch left Indonesia after 200 years there were reportedly not a dozen native functionaries who could take over the governing. India, on the other hand, had it’s own Congress Party 100 years before the independence in 1948, even with an English Vice-Roy).

The roaming tendency would result in a tag of - hyper attached to me in later life. -Since my days as a youngster my mother would say I had "quicksilver", (mercury), in the seat of my pants. My wife later would use, "ants in his pants" and a cousin visiting from Norway would tell Josephine I had "fleas in the blood", which expression Jo took a liking to. I would relate from my school days that a substitute physical ed. teacher in the fourth grade would state that only stupid people were bored. Subconsciously, apparently, after that time I would make sure I was seldom, if ever, without something to do...