The Preliminaries

My father Bill Barnett went to sea as an apprentice with Ellerman Hall Line after pre-sea training in "Worcester", and eventually became a Suez Canal pilot. He was the one who decided which shipping company I should apply to, when I decided at the age of seventeen to go to sea.

His first choice was Brocklebank, but they turned me down because I had no pre-sea training. Second choice was the B.I.. Dad and I went for an interview with the Company Secretary at 122 Leadenhall Street, London, and I was accepted.

My indentures bear the signatures of the Secretary W. Kerr, Dad as surety, and myself, and is dated 23rd July 1947. These indentures required me not to frequent taverns or alehouses, nor play at unlawful games, and generally not put a foot wrong. In return the Company would teach me my job. Dad was required to pay a premium of fifty guineas, and this was to be returned to me as wages provided my conduct was satisfactory; £1 per month in the first year, £1/10s in the second, £2 in the third, and £3 in the fourth, or the equivalent of the same amounts in rupees. The Company undertook to provide sufficient bedding and table linen, but I was to provide myself with 'suitable wearing apparel and other necessaries'.

Dad was provided with a recommended list of clothing and books, and he was advised to order from Messrs Miller, Rayner and Haysom, and this we did on the same day, and I was duly measured for my blue uniforms.

I was back in London again on July 31st, coming down dressed as a corporal in the Cadet Corps, from Eton Hall near Chester where I was attending a training camp. This time I took a sight test at Dock Street. This was a serious affair. First came the letter test, where I had to read down to and including the seventh line with each eye separately. Then the lights were switched off in the specially darkened room and I was led to a seat by the side of a large oil lantern. After a few minutes' wait, time for my eyes to become accustomed to the darkness, I was solemnly told by the Board of Trade Surveyor that he was going to project a series of lights onto a mirror in front of me, coloured red, white and green and that, although the 'white' light would actually be a shade of yellow, I was to call it white when I saw it. First came a series of single lights, and then a long series of random pairs of very small lights consisting of two shades each of red and green, and yellow (white). These small lights, he told me, simulated the lights of a ship at a distance of two miles on a dark night with a clear atmosphere. Thankfully I passed.

At the same time I was photographed holding a board displaying my Discharge Book number, R364627, and received my first TAB and Cholera injections. Next couple of days, back at the training camp, I felt too ill to get up.

I took this opportunity to go for a final fitting at Miller Rayner's. By the middle of August all my gear had been dispatched to me at home in a large black steel trunk with sharp corners, my name in white on the lid.

The total cost of all the items in that trunk came to well over £100. Miller Rayners had faithfully included everything on the BI recommended list. I was not not to discover how wrong the list was until it was too late to do much about it. Food and clothing rationing was still very strict and they had probably used all my clothing coupons.