Ewing, Gordon and I soon learned that we were at a bit of a disadvantage compared with the senior Cadets such as Nobby Clark and Palmer, who had a 'War Bonus' supplement in their pay. This had recently been stopped, and so we didn't get it. I believe, also, that their apprenticeship was for three years instead of four; another wartime measure we missed out on.

Alistair Ewing was the first of us to leave the 'Mantola'. We had arrived in London and many of the Officers had either left the ship or were on leave, including Claude Feller. It was a weekend, and there was no cargo work. Our new young Second Officer, lately out of King Line, was on duty. Arthur Brooks, the Chief Officer, was on board.

Our Directors were keen on promoting the Ship Adoption movement, whereby schools could adopt a ship. When convenient, arrangements were made for the schoolchildren (some of them, at least) to come on board and be shown round, after which they would be given a good meal, tea and sandwiches etc. Our school was going to visit us that afternoon. Arthur conveniently decided to go shopping.

Our Second Officer had a bright idea. Wouldn't it be a good joke, he said, if, before the school party arrived, one of us swapped uniform coats with him, and posed as Second Officer for the afternoon. Alistair Ewing agreed, and so, when the party arrived, complete with schoolmasters, Ewing and the rest of us were at the top of the gangway to greet them.

Unfortunately, the Ship Adoption Society had also sent their representative, together with a very professional looking cameraman. Ewing did his best, but it was highly embarassing, especially when the Headmaster made a speech, thanking Second Officer Ewing and his staff etc., to which Ewing did his best to reply.

When Claude came back off leave it wasn't long before we were summoned into his presence one by one in order to tell him what we knew of the photographs which he had arranged on his desk. They were all around A5 in size, and very clear. One showed Ewing, hand on the bridge telegraph, two bright gold rings on his sleeve. Another showed the Second Mate, three buttons on his sleeve, grasping the binnacle cover etc. There must have been about a dozen of them, sent to Claude to choose the best ones for the Ship Adoption magazine.

The upshot of it was Claude (most likely) got a right telling off from head office, Arthur got the same from Claude, the Second Mate left the company so fast his feet never touched the ground, and our Alistair Ewing was told by the Secretary that he was going to be put on a cargo vessel immediately, where he would find what the word 'work' meant!

The halyard downhaul parted when trying to free the 'I' flag, caught up with the topmast stay. This seaman calmly walked up the topmast stay from the main deck, with the wire between his toes. He then freed the 'Immigration' flag and brought it down to the deck. No safety gear was used.

Apart from the Captain's cabin and the chartroom, Mantola's bridge was open plan, although partial protection from the elements could be found behind the windows of the wing cabs. The wheelhouse area was partially protected on either side by windowed partitions, abaft which there was a clear walkway from one side to the other, forward of the chartroom.

The Cadet on Bridge stations stood by a fold down table on the Starboard side of the wheelhouse, operated the telephones (these had to be cranked by handle to produce a siren like sound at the other end) and keep the rough log. He also kept an eye on the engine telltales, cylinders in a glass tube which operated pneumatically and bounced up and down, in time with the port and starboard propeller shaft revolutions.

The rough bridge log book was foolscap in length, and half as wide, black and hard backed. Every occurrence on 'stations' entering or leaving port, or shifting berth, was recorded in pencil, with the time behind the narrow pencilled margin. These records included engine orders, passing of buoys or other landmarks, and mishaps (often preceded by 'double full astern P & S' or some such emergency order). The rough bridge log was used by the duty officer when writing up the deck log book, a large affair in which a 24 hour period occupied an opened page, with courses and weather readings occupied the left page, and narrative the right, divided horizontally into the six four-hour watches, with space across the middle for details of noon positions, and day's runs.

One newly joined Third Officer in 1948 was J. Chedzelewski (pronounced Hanzelefski); a very popular Officer even with Claude and who, of course, rose to Command later on.

Another job we Cadets did from time to time was to work with the crew in the chain locker when weighing anchor. These chain lockers were not 'self stowing'. About six crew members climbed down into the locker, each man armed with a length of iron rod, bent round into a handle at one end, and hook at the other. Stationed against the sides of the locker, each man stood by until it was his turn to pull the chain towards himself. The Serang, on the Focs'tle above, shouted down the spurling pipe to ask if we were ready. Then he would yell 'kappardar nichi' and the anchor chain would start coming down over the gypsy. Two crew men on the focs'tle stood by to get most of the greasy mud, trapped water snakes or whatever off the chain. Down below in the locker we coiled the wet, mud spattered chain as it slowly descended from the spurling pipe in the deck above our heads. As the locker filled up, and the distance between spurling pipe and top of the coil got less, the job became more difficult.

Westerly gale in the Western Mediterranean, October 1948. The Cadets had a wet time dismantling the smashed swimming pool.

This photo taken during the storm reminds me of the fact that there was accommodation in the foc'stle for our four Chinese crew, the two fitters and two carpenters. Most of the time I think they enjoyed living a separate Chinese existence, away from everyone else. In good weather they would have their meals taken along to them, and they would eat at a table outside their quarters. I was intrigued by the way they would have their main dish and their sweet all on the same plate. They were Cantonese, and I have a feeling that they were engaged for a three year spell before returning home for leave. Obviously, life in the foc'stle wasn't so good in weather like this.

'Mantola'. The Chinese carpenters and fitters had cabins outboard of the foc'stle passageways.

My fourth and final voyage in 'Mantola' started from Tilbury about the 4th. December, and I was allowed to leave the ship in Port Said and the 15th December, spending the next couple of months or so with the family before rejoining when 'Mantola' returned to Port Said on the 23rd February 1949.

Not long after arriving back in the Royal Albert Docks, I was transferred to the 'Obra' on the 14th March 1949.