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Archive for the 'Sailing ship apprentice' Category
A sailor's life – 80. Worse things happen at sea: the steward's story
David Morris called himself a journalist, a writer. He'd been on the lookout for a job on a square rigger for months before he heard of Monkbarns in Sydney in June 1925. He wanted "atmosphere" for some historical sea stories he was preparing to publish, he told the Newcastle Sun as the ship loaded Australian coal for South America. He wanted thrills, he wanted to "see the Pacific at its worst".
Around him on deck, eyes slid away. "Some of the crew, with that superstition born in seamen, are inclined to regard him us a hoodoo," the reporter noted.
Three weeks earlier Morris had shot across to Walsh Bay, Sydney, where the ship was discharging nitrate, and buttonholed the mate, offering himself in any capacity at a nominal wage. The mate had said "Nothing doing", but as he trudged off down the gangway, they'd had a rethink. If he really wanted the experience, said the master, he could come along as a general helper at £2 a month (about £1,000 per annum today.)
Was it a cheap shot they'd expected him to refuse? Morris called himself the Captain's steward, though he appears on the crew list as Cabin Boy, but pay for a seaman was £10 a month, not £2. Then again, as steward or "boy" he didn't have to go aloft in all weathers or stand his trick at the wheel. He was a housekeeper, minding stores and dispensing first aid.
"Yesterday Morris was caught sewing his shirt, with stitches that would disgust a housewife, on the steps leading to the poop deck. He is a well-built man of 25, but he looks more like 30. The small moustache on his upper lip, and the tan shoes and the tweed suit already soiled by work in the galley, looked strangely out of place there," said page 6 of the Newcastle Sun.
London-born Morris had visited most ports in the world as a passenger, and had slept in some of Australia's best hotels and its least inviting parks in his quest for "atmosphere", readers learned. He had been inspired to join Monkbarns by the runaway success of a sea thriller published the previous year by another young Australian journalist, Dale Collins. Ordeal is based on a round-the-world trip Collins made aboard the motor yacht Speejacks as historian to the US cement magnate Albert Younglove Gowen, who happened to be on his (second) honeymoon. The novel – about seamen turning on their idle rich passengers – was filmed in 1930 as The Ship from Shanghai, with Louis Wolheim as the ship's crazed steward who holds them all hostage.
Morris was quite frank about what he was up to; there were men on Monkbarns who had had remarkable experiences, he told the newspaper, and he wanted to "chase up" some of those real-life stories. But he seems to have fallen short on listening. This may have been a world of horny-handed hard cases risking life and limb in all weathers aloft, but they still wouldn't set sail on a Friday, or whistle for fear of challenging the wind, or even say "pig" out loud.
Of the 28 men and boys who had left Liverpool in March 1923, two were dead – including a 19-year-old apprentice lost lashing down an escaping sail during a hurricane – and two more would die before they dropped anchor back in the Thames in 1926.
By June 1925, only the captain, the mate, "Sails" and the older apprentices remained of the original company. It was they who had faced down disaster on the passage out, when a hurricane south-west of Good Hope knocked them so badly that the cargo shifted. With the lee side of the ship 12ft under and green seas raking the deck, it was they who had risked their lives deep in the hold, shovelling rock salt uphill for three days to try to right her. Young Cyril Sebun was lost off the upper topgallant yardarm while they laboured. But nothing could have been done to save him. The boats were all smashed.
Eventually, they put into Cape Town in distress – a first for Captain William Davies. "During my forty years of service in sailing ships I have never had an experience that can in any way compare with this recent one, and to be quite frank, I should not like to pass through a similar ordeal again."
On arrival in Australia, three seamen deserted – abandoning their pay – and Morris's predecessor killed himself with an overdose of chloroform. He had been drinking heavily, the inquest noted. He was buried in Stockton NSW, where some of his former shipmates from the SS Argyllshire called the following spring. They sang Welsh hymns at his grave, and laid artificial flowers. They knew.
So, it was not surprising that Morris' taste for ill winds made his shipmates uncomfortable and by the time Monkbarns had been at sea for two months, things had turned nasty.
Three entries from the diary kept by one of the apprentices, Eugene Bainbridge, offer a snapshot: 23.8.25. Sunday. Played Bridge all day and was 600 up to finish. It has been quite parky lately and it was anything but warm at the wheel from 12-2 tonight. Course ENE, on starboard tack. Shaved David Morris's beard in half deck after putting him forcibly on the floor. He seemed a bit peevish and didn't play 'Vingt et un' very well afterwards. The job we made of his beard wasn't very good.
24.8.25. Monday. Clear, calm, sunny, fresh. Doing about 2-3 knots. Course ENE. 'Maurice' came in for about two minutes tonight. He seemed to know that there was something in the air and beat it.
25.8.25. Tuesday. A night of revelry of a peculiar sort. The subject was 'Maurice Moscovich'. Notices were posted on the half deck doors inviting you to a singsong to be held in the fo'c'sle at 6.30pm. The Mate was particularly asked to refrain from blowing 2 whistles and when told why, was quite sympathetic. At 6.30 sharp, we met and the subject [Morris] had wandered into the gay party.
It was a bluff. He was to be seized in the middle of its proceedings and tried by the chief Pelican and his confederates. All passed off as planned and the victim was found guilty of not supplying the fo'c'sle with molasses and duly sentenced to have his port beard and starboard 'tache shaved off. Cold water was used to emphasise the gravity of the act, and Bill Hughes, the Court Hairdresser, operated.
But worse was to come, because Morris evidently put up resistance to the assault, verbally if not physically. Bainbridge, a 21-year-old ex-boarding school boy from Maida Vale, London, records that the victim was deemed to have been "unduly insolent" to his tormentors – and a vote for death by dropping over the after part of the poop was passed.
It is possible that there was more than a little anti-Semitism in this "hazing" as Maurice Moscovitch was a well known Russian Jewish stage actor that summer wowing Australian audiences with his Merchant of Venice and Morris's middle name was inscribed on the crew list as Isidor. Bainbridge had been to see Moscovitch at the Criterion theatre while Monkbarns was in Sydney.
More worrying still, the punishment meted out – for poor stewardship of the few treats that made the ship's diet of salt meat and pulses bearable – apparently had the backing of the Master and the Mate. Bainbridge writes: We next trussed him up in a sack etc and took him aft for the mate's inspection.
The procession marched solemnly back singing 'For it's a Lie'. Prisoner was next trussed up again (more securely) and taken forth to his execution. Maurice was marched up on to the fo'c'sle head and lowered away over the break. The wash tub was underneath and someone was making a noise like water. The stunt worked so far and when about a foot off the deck, the word was given and Maurice was dropped!!! He arrived in a heap at the side of the 'donkey' [steam winch] amid cheers and benedictions from the High Priest.
Had Morris believed his hostile playmates were actually dropping him gagged and bound into the Pacific? It seems more than possible, but he showed his mettle by joining them in the fo'c'sle, where proceedings continued as a "sing song", and reciting a chunk of Kipling for the company. Whereupon everyone joined in a hearty chorus of "For he's a jolly good fellow" and peace descended. Bainbridge wrote: The Old Man and Mate were both observed to be enjoying it uncommonly.
Many years later, "Bill the Court Hairdresser" – by then Captain William Hughes, sir – remembered David Morriss [sic] and his quest for atmosphere. "He got it all right, and I'm sure that what he went through before reaching London would fill two or three books," he told AG Course, chronicling the history of the John Stewart ships for his book The Wheel's Kick and The Wind's Song.
Two months later, just outside Valparaiso, he was still annoying the apprentices (Dave joins us, and we are bored to a standstill with his platitudes!) but he'd graduated from 'Maurice' to Dave. And in port, Dave showed a pleasing openhandedness with the ship's stores as the apprentices rowed around visiting and being visited by boys from neighbouring ships. (Dave got us some stores and there was plenty of scoff. He unfortunately spoilt this good turn by telling some of his tall yarns.)
However, as soon they put out to sea again and rationing restarted, the moans resume. 9.3.26. Dave wants to substitute sugar for molasses instead of substituting jam. This is not a fair exchange as sugar doesn't go well with bread and butter! 5.5.26. Dave has been making mistakes with the weighing out of the butter and the tins containing so painfully small a quantity we complained and found we were getting less than our whack!
Happily, nine months after Morris's sentencing by the Pelican Club, the horseplay had become rather more inclusive, if no less rough. By then, Captain William Davies was dead in Rio de Janeiro, the Mate was the new Old Man and the ceremony as Monkbarns passed Lat 0° 00' 00" was a more or less welcome letting off steam after a very trying few months fighting their way round the Horn with the dying man refusing to put into port.
Young Bainbridge had a ringside seat. 9.5.26. Sunday. Crossed the Line last night. We all 'felt the bump and noticed that the ship was going faster downhill!!' At 1.30, I was let into the secret by Bill that we 'offenders' had to 'go through it'. The Old Man had made some pills of ginger, glycerine and several other ingredients and covered them with sugar (of which there is a very large quantity aboard from Rio.) Jim had made some very 'choice' mixture of tar, tallow, soap, Melado (molasses) and red lead.
In time honoured tradition, Neptune appeared over the side clad in oakum and bearing a huge trident made from the mast of the for'rard boat, accompanied by his Wife, his Barber, his Parson – in a lead foil cassock and paper collar – and his Doctor carrying the bag of pills. They set up court on the main hatch.
Bainbridge and Morris were among six "first trippers" the god of the sea wanted to inspect for fitness.
I was first blindfolded and then marched to the main hatch, falling over several 'lines' drawn across the deck. We had made the washhouse door fast and they had to break the handle off to get in. I was first asked by Neptune why I had done this and if I had crossed the Line before and why I hadn't been 'put through it'!
I then kissed his wife's foot, which was covered with tar and was then shaved using the mixture, getting plenty of it in the mouth. I received the pills and spat them out. At a second shot, I managed to conceal one behind my tongue but before I could remove it my mouth was sore! I finished up being tipped backwards into a tub of water and then liberated. After I had seen two or three others done I went onto the boom and caught a 24lb bonito, which we had for tea. The proceedings broke up with all hands 'splicing the main brace'.
They were back in the northern hemisphere after three years away, and "home" suddenly seemed closer. But Monkbarns' adventures were not over. Progress was slow. Supplies ran out. By 450 miles off the Lizard they were down to rice and ersatz bread, but once into the shipping lanes an obliging German steamer provided relief.
They brought the boat alongside and the provisions pulled aboard: three sides of bacon, two hams, two cases of spuds, three sacks of flour and about 16 tins of Argentine boiled beef (we had some for tea and it was excellent), a certain amount of margarine and butter for the cabin, also lard and Dutch evaporated milk. Then the Cook gave us curry and rice for breakfast!!!!!!!! It was nearly the last of him.
But two weeks later they were still 12 miles off Portland Bill, and "reduced to rice, tea and a little jam and bread", according to another unpublished diary of that voyage, by able seaman Dudley Turner. "Not had a smoke for weeks, which makes matters a lot worse." And the Old Man was refusing to flag down any more ships.
When they picked up the pilot off Dungeness and it was discovered he handed out cigarettes for good steering – the first tobacco seen aboard for weeks – there was a rush to relieve the wheel frequently. "Never had such good steering been seen before by the old ship," wrote Course. But they were so undernourished that the tug crew had to help them haul the hawser aboard.
At 6pm on 10 July 1926, Monkbarns dropped anchor off Tilbury. The pilot presented them with a sack of potatoes and Bainbridge records a "memorable feed of sausages and boiled spuds!!! Never was a meal so appreciated".
The following day they were towed up to Charlton Buoys, a vessel from a bygone age gathering crowds on the banks, and there the crew were paid off.
And there the story ends. Monkbarns was sold "foreign", and towed to Corcubion in northern Spain to end her days as a whalers' coal hulk. Eugene Bainbridge abandoned the apprenticeship for which his father had shelled out £42 and never went to sea again. What became of David Morris I cannot tell. Bill Hughes thought he'd gone in to radio in Melbourne. If he ever wrote up his historical sea stories, neither AG Course nor I could find a trace.
Bizarrely, the real thrill-seeker aboard Monkbarns that trip turned out to be the youngest apprentice, 17-year-old Len Marsland of Brisbane. After rounding the Horn in sail, in 1929 he pops up as a member of Sir Douglas Mawson's Australian Antarctic expedition. He worked as a prison guard in Canada, chased the explorer Sir Hubert Wilkins across the Atlantic in an attempt to sign up for his submarine expedition under the polar ice, reappeared in Reykjavik, erecting a signal station, and then back at sea as an officer on an icebound freighter in the Baltic and facing down machineguns in a Russian Black Sea port. Tragically, Marsland's adventurous career was short. While working as a stuntman for Sir Alan Cobham's famous flying circus in 1935 his parachute failed to open. He fell 1,000 feet and died in Esher, Surrey, aged just 27.
Previously: A doctor aboard 1913
A Sailor's Life – 79. Doctor aboard (1913)
Much of what we know about the dying days of sail was recorded after the First World War, when most of Britain's last old sailers had been sunk or 'sold foreign'.
Eric Newby's The Last Grain Race and Elis Karlsson's excellent Pully-haul were published as late as the 1950s and '60s, both about what were by then Finnish-owned vessels – the Moshulu, now a restaurant (!) in Philadelphia, and the Herzogin Cecilie, a wreck off Salcombe, Devon.
But in the summer of 1913, when the Liverpool-registered square rigger Monkbarns arrived off Australia from South America with a state-of-the-art Cinematograph movie camera provided by the Kineto film company of Wardour Street, London, "Everything that could be filmed about life aboard had been filmed," the resident amateur cameraman noted.
Dr Dudley Stone was a keen yachtsman and junior doctor at St Bart's hospital London who had joined Monkbarns in Gravesend that February determined to chronicle what was even then obviously the end of an era, from "swinging the ship" for correcting the compass before they sailed to the shanties round the capstan as they weighed anchor. His commission was to "obtain pictures of the ocean in its angry moods". It was Kineto's second attempt, after the chap it sent out the previous year had found himself vilely incapacitated by seasickness.
Over the months that followed, as Monkbarns crossed the Atlantic to Buenos Aires with a cargo of cement and then headed back eastwards in ballast round the Cape of Good Hope to Sydney, he shot 9,000 feet of film: of the men hauling and chipping, of the view from the yards, of big seas and the master in his oilskins. He developed it in his cabin and dried it all in strips festooned around a lazarette under the fo'c'sle head.
"I have cinematographed with no gloves and with oilskins and top boots on from aloft from almost everywhere." Dating and developing it all had taken up to five hours a day, he wrote from Newcastle NSW.
Sadly, this nearly two miles of film seems to have disappeared. It is mentioned in the Australian newspapers of the time and was picked up years later by Captain "Algie" Course during the fireside yarns with fellow Cape Horners that formed the basis of his account of Monkbarns in The Wheel's Kick and The Wind's Song, but of the actual film there is no trace, not in the National Maritime Museum collection, nor the British Film Institute, nor the Australian Maritime Museum in Sydney. Shot from a heaving deck over 100 years ago, washed in saltwater, dried in a dusty locker and exposed to sulphur fumes when the ship was fumigated in Newcastle, it is unlikely any of it has survived.
Dr Stone's unfinished diary, however, did survive – in the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich – and even without moving images it provides a rare glimpse of working life aboard one of the last British full-rigged ships a full 16 years before Alan Villiers and his ill-fated colleague Ronald Walker immortalised Grace Harwar, the last full rigger in the Australian trade.
Stone and his friend and patient, the Honourable John Gilbert Eveleigh-de Moleyns, aged 34, fifth son of the 4th Baron Ventry, were an odd couple aboard a working ship; de M's condition is not identified but he lay down every afternoon, and usually played Euchre with the Mate for matches in the evenings or made quoits, which he played on deck when the weather permitted. Meanwhile, Stone was out along the yards or down the holds in all weathers with his Cinematograph, filming, or learning to take a noon sight and wrestling with calculations of the ship's position and progress.
Neither did any actual work aboard, apart from "tailing on" occasionally.
But they roamed at will armed with a Videx Reflex and a Brownie, and Stone's eye was keen. He noted the pilfering of stores by the ever-hungry apprentices, rough justice for a suspected thief who was given a hiding by his shipmates and booted ashore in Buenos Aires, and the stowaway "discovered" drinking tea in the fo'c'sle after they sailed. The Mate hadn't known he was aboard, but the master did. Desertions had left him shorthanded. Two "stowaways" appeared after the ship had sailed, and both were entered on the articles at £1 per month.
Patrick Haggerty was an Irishman from Queenstown, Cork, red haired, blue eyed and popular. A fine shantyman, said Stone. He claimed to be off an Italian barque that had gone ashore near Buenos Aires and had only the dungarees, socks, cap and shoes he stood up in. After he was found half frozen at the wheel one night, the ship had a whip-round for him: the Mate gave him a shirt and an old oilskin, de M donated pants and socks, Stone rooted out an ancient spare jersey.
Stone's surviving diary begins as they leave Buenos Aires.
A doctor was a familiar sight on passenger steamers, schmoozing the saloon crowd and keeping at bay any unpleasantness from steerage. Naval vessels too usually had a surgeon, to patch up battle injuries. But merchant ships knocking about the world with cargoes of nitrate or guano rarely enjoyed the luxury of trained medical assistance.
In the days of sail, physicking the crew was the responsibility of the "Old Man", supported by a dog-eared copy of the Ship Captain's Medical Guide and a case of pre-mixed bottles and papers labelled Solution No. 5 and Powder No. 3. Far from land, way off the steamer tracks and with no wireless to call for help or seek advice, the master had to rely on common sense and caution. Any ailment that didn't involve actual blood loss was potentially malingering, and logs show intervention was rarely rushed. It is hardly surprising then that the presence of a bona fide doctor aboard Monkbarns was greeted with enthusiasm by her crew.
They set off from BA with all seven apprentices and three of the fo'c'sle down with diarrhoea, due to "the change of water", the master diagnosed, and throughout what was to prove a very rough passage Dr Stone was kept busy.
Within a week storms were raking the ship. It was hard to sleep, wrote Stone. The main royal broke loose and tore both sheets out. The foresail ripped the starboard reefing jackstay clean off the yard, and the fore topmast staysail chafed most of the way through its bolt rope. In the store room all the pickles and a case of kerosene were lost. The following morning Stone watched the steward and two of the apprentices leaping about among the stores trying to catch tumbling tins. "Some had burst (I only hope they are the 'blown' ones I saw and that we will be saved from Ptomaine poisoning)".
The fore hold was a jumble. There was rope everywhere, hanging over the edge of the 'tween decks and tumbled below. The ship had acquired a list to starboard, and was rolling badly. The skipper had told him the squalls had been hurricane force 11 to 12, and that they might not have survived the night if the ship had been loaded. The boys' half-deck had flooded.
Stone, who did not have to get up in the night to clamber aloft replacing blown-out sails, or sleep on a wet bunk in wet clothes, was amused to note that all the master's drawers had shot out and his rug had spontaneously rolled itself up, but he was less pleased that the loss of the oil meant lights out at 9pm. There were only four candles aboard (his and de M.'s) and the ship was "badly found for matches".
As paying passengers Stone and de M. occupied separate cabins in the saloon aft, with a porthole and two bunks each for all their gear. This left Leslie Beaver, the out-of-time apprentice acting 3rd mate, relegated to the lower bunk in the 2nd mate's cabin.
"The Mate's and 2nd mate's cabins were like store rooms for nick-nacks and old rubbish. Their doors being opposite each other the contents of both cabins were well mixed. I just missed being hit by a camp stool paying a flying visit from 1st to 2nd's quarters. Beaver had the much used water in their basin, the contents of a water jug and a tin of Swizo milk spilt into his bunk. He borrowed rug etc from de M. for night "
More seriously, one of the ABs was injured. "Whole gale, hurricane squalls. Tremendous big NW Sea," recorded the mate. "W Chapman knocked down and hurt."
On June 7, Stone saw six "patients", including Chapman, whose leg was skinned from knee to ankle. My own grandfather, then an apprentice of 18, sidled into the narrative with a tap at the doctor's cabin door that evening. Stone noted an inflamed ligament, painful to the touch and prescribed iodine.
Captain James Donaldson was not pleased, though whether it was the molly-coddling or the lèse majesté is unclear. On June 11, Stone noted: "9.30 Went the rounds of the fo'c'sle at skipper's invitation – a gentle hint that he does not like my going there on my own."
Chapman's raw leg was much better, a swollen knee was down and young Sivell was back at work again, against medical advice – (fed up with doing nothing, noted Stone.) Meanwhile, there was a strained shoulder to inspect ("nil to be seen. I'm safe…"), and the 3rd Mate had been shot into the scuppers on his stomach during a particularly heavy roll, resulting in appalling bruises but fortunately no internal injuries.
And still the glass continued to fall, down to 28.58. The fore lower topsail carried away.
At 3.30am, on a page labelled Hurricane, Stone recorded: "Broached to on port tack – my top row of bookshelf showered its contents on my head and then continued across cabin. Got up and collected them. 4 Very heavy squall carried away fore topmast staysails and new No 1 canvas sail. 7 de M came over to me and I produced LGCL book on meteorology and we tried to make out what position we were in with not much success. 7.30 Hot coffee went the rounds. 8 Broached to on port – more things going to leeward – thank goodness the ballast remains a fixture. This is as heavy a blow as any of ship's officers have been in. I certainly cannot imagine more wind or a bigger sea. I heard that at 3.30am the 2nd mate and a hand went aloft to see to upper fore topsail and that on coming down he stepped into lee scuppers, which were full up with water. He is a short fellow and was up to his neck. That I think gives me some idea of the sea shipped on broaching to, and we in ballast."
The Old Man – who was 64 and had been up all night – was laid up with cramp in the chart house, and the foremast staysail was a rag.
The hurricane squalls and strong gales continued for three weeks, almost without let up. Stone and de M. would tell the newspaper reporters waiting in Newcastle that they were both "ardent lovers of the sea" but neither of them ever wished to undergo such an experience again.
Monkbarns was one of five sailing vessels that arrived at Newcastle on the weekend of 5th July 1913, including the full-rigged Ben Lee, which had sailed from Buenos Aires two weeks before her. All had suffered. Ben Lee's lower topsail had carried away and the foresail was blown to pieces. Kilmallie, from Santos, lost a lifeboat and her ballast shifted. The barque Lysglimt, from Natal, was knocked onto her beam ends when her ballast shifted, and the crew spent three death-defying days in the hold trying to right her, the Sydney Morning Herald reported.
Despite or possibly thanks to the hurricane, Monkbarns had made the passage in 52 days, to Ben Lee's 67. Our man on the docks reported that two of Monkbarns' crew had been injured and had been "attended by Dr M Stone, a passenger".
Up in Newcastle, (where they went because there was smallpox in Sydney and the city was about to be quarantined), the Newcastle Morning Herald & Miners' Advocate produced a much juicier report, headlined "An interesting visitor".
Dr Stone, it said, had been imprisoned by Germany for spying the previous year (shades of Erskine Childers' The Riddle of the Sands). Dr Stone did not deny it. He had been one of a party of five well-to-do British yachtsmen – including the marine artist Gregory Robinson and the engineer William Richard Macdonald, who happened to have patented a nifty bit of submarine technology. They had attracted unwelcome attention from the German military authorities by happily photographing naval installations along the Kiel canal. It had taken them five days to talk themselves out of jail.
During the war that broke out less than a year after Monkbarns' arrival in Newcastle, Stone would serve in the Royal Army Medical Corps. He became an eminent radiographer, with an obituary in the British Medical Journal in 1941.
The Kineto company, however, folded in 1923 and de M died in New Zealand in 1928, the year after Monkbarns was hulked off Corcubion, in northern Spain.
Stone carried on yachting all this life. Perhaps he even shot more films. But what became of his footage of working life aboard a British ship in the last days of sail remains a mystery.
An edited version of this article appeared first in The Cape Horner magazine, the journal of the International Association of Cape Horners. August 2015.
Photographs by Eugene Bainbridge, who was Monkbarns' last apprentice during her final voyage, 1924-26. He joined her in Newcastle NSW, having steamed out from the UK third class aboard the P&O passenger ship Barrabool. He was then 19, the privately educated only son of a maritime insurance broker from Surrey. He had a Leica camera and for two years he kept a diary and took pictures of life aboard. Neither the diary nor the photographs were ever published and Eugene never went back to sea. These previously unseen views are made available by kind permission of his family.
Next: Worse things happen at sea
Previously – Flowers in Hong Kong, Medals in the Post iii
Read from the start:
A sailor's life – beginning, middle and end
A sailor's life – 75. Sniffing Stockholm tar
In my sailor grandfather's footsteps I have blagged my way into an oil refinery and onto a Shell tanker, I've crossed the Atlantic by container freighter and dropped a wreath into the night black sea at 49° 35'N, 19° 13'W where he and his final crew were lost – I have even traced and befriended the last old man of the U-boot crew that killed him.
For nearly 20 years I have read letters and diaries, rooted through archives, pored over photographs and asked damn fool questions of elderly seafarers who have shared their yarns with gentle amusement. But I remained an armchair sailor, sitting in the warmth, reading about a life beyond my understanding.
It was on a wet day in Liverpool docks that I ran into the Stavros S Niarchos, a dinky, modern sail training brig – square rigged on two masts, a charity venture providing outdoor challenges to young people.
And also, it transpired, to the not so young. Anyone up to 80 could have a go, said a grey-haired woman on the quayside. Was I too old to climb out along the yards, I asked – to try to experience what 16-year-old Bertie Sivell had seen and felt when he first went aloft a hundred years ago? Certainly not, she said, she had.
Anyone who ever read Treasure Island under the bedclothes and fell asleep dreaming of clambering among the spars of a tall ship will understand (and we who read by torchlight in the old days before duvets and Kindles know who we are). To swing up the swaying ratlines and out along the foot-ropes, and see "my" ship splice the waves 120ft below; to roll along a pitching deck, at one with the swell, dodging sheets of spray; and to lie down each night tired but buzzing and be rocked to deepest sleep?
I signed on.
Stavros is not Monkbarns. For a start she is smaller, with two masts not three and fewer yards and sails. She also has two engines, GPS, refrigeration – and heat and light and hot showers and plenty of fresh water and good food. In fact, my grandfather would scoff that my so-called experience in sail bears more resemblance to glamping than the conditions he endured when he began his career at sea as an apprentice in Monkbarns in 1911.
What a difference 100 years makes. The barrels of pork and beef gristle in brine are gone. The yawning cargo hatches and mountains of coal or guano, or slimy stone ballast, that had to be winched in or out basket by basket are gone. Nowadays safety lines snake up the ratlines and along the yards, where there was once only a boy's own grip. The old cry of "One hand for the ship and one for yourself," is not quite so scary when you're wearing a stout harness and clip-on carabiners. Monkbarns suffered countless injuries, as well as losing two young lives overboard in just three years in the early 1920s – Laurence O'Keeffe off the jib-boom and apprentice Cyril Sibun in a fall from the fore upper t'gallant. They were 18 and 19.
On Stavros clean, dry pipe cots with reading lights and lockers fill the t'ween decks where Monkbarns' apprentices would have shovelled and sweated to trim (balance) the cargo, and out along her bowsprit net "sailor strainers" prevent accidents. But working a sailing ship is still not for the faint hearted.
I have shuffled out along the yards, muscles cracking as I wrestled to haul up and lash down the heavy clew of the sail high out over the waves. I have swung one-armed under the great steel yards, groping for gaskets blowing in the wind, and tied knots one-handed up and down the jackstays.
I have tailed on and hauled "with a will" among ill-assorted strangers until my shoulders strained in their sockets and the hairy hemp lines blistered my office softy palms, and rolled into my bunk sound asleep at 8pm to rise again fully clothed at midnight, to relieve the watch on the open bridge, donning gloves, scarf and waterproofs against the cold summer night. In a week the motley novice "crew" – paying travellers of all shapes and sizes – find themselves fused into a team. A ship's crew. (Although our professional merchant navy officers probably think fondly of the days when a sailing ship cargo lay inert in the hold for the duration and didn't need wetnursing.)
Together we have seen sails silhouetted against the stars – more stars than most of us city dwellers ever imagined, and the milky way arching overhead from horizon to horizon. We have sailed into the sunset and watched for dawn, eyes peeled for the pin prick lights of the fishing fleet. We have learned the ropes, and the buoys and the markers.
So far I have not been out of sight of land for more than a week, much less braved day after relentless day of gale-force winds, or icebergs round the Horn, but I have felt the pitch and roll of a tall ship doing 10 knots under sail and watched the horizon tilt and tip under the solid curl of the mainsail. I know the sound of the seas crashing past the scuppers and have tasted salt in the spray.
I may be just paddling in the shallows of my sailor grandfather's life, but I have sniffed Stockholm tar.
Suddenly, the dusty records have colour and movement. This winter I shall abandon the archives again and join the paint gang aboard Stavros in Liverpool docks, chipping and cleaning, learning "my" ship from the rivets up, and next spring with a crisp CRB certificate in my pocket I hope to sail as volunteer crew – as cook's assistant, if that's what the ship needs.
Somewhere, my grandfather is laughing.
Previously – Monkbarns: Britain's last Cape Horner?
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A sailor's life – beginning, middle and end
A sailor's life – 74. Monkbarns: Britain's last Cape Horner?
She was obsolete the day she slipped into the Clyde in June 1895: a steel-hulled, full-rigged, three-masted windjammer launched into an age of engines barely two years before Rudolf Diesel changed the world of shipping forever.
The flax mill owner who had commissioned her, Charles Webster Corsar of Arbroath, named her Monkbarns after a local character from a Walter Scott novel (The Antiquary) and demanded everything of the best. The decking and rails were of teak, the accommodation for officers and crew particularly fine. "Her outfit includes all the modern appliances for the efficient working of such a vessel," reported the Lennox Herald, the Saturday after she was floated.
As a final touch, Corsar even gave her a little white Pegasus figurehead – which would make Monkbarns and her "Flying Horse line" sisters, Fairport and Musselcrag (1896), recognisable around the world. It was not whimsy but canny branding: Corsar's flax mills and manufactory in Arbroath supplied the sailing ship canvas sold by the family's cadet branch, D. Corsar of Liverpool – every bolt of it stamped with their trade name, Reliance, and a little flying horse.
The Lennox Herald did not mention the figurehead, nor any further detail, merely remarking that the naming ceremony was carried out by Mrs David Corsar, Jnr, of Cairniehill, Arbroath.
In fact, the launch by Messrs Archibald McMillan & Son (Limited) merited only a single paragraph in a round-up of Dumbarton news that week, wedged between reports about two men being fined 20 shillings each for driving without lights and a rumour in the Glasgow Herald that the Union Steamship Company of New Zealand was buying five new steamers, possibly from Dennys of Dumbarton, which had "built the greater number of vessels for the line, and will probably run a good chance of getting at least some of the work".
The reporter's description of Monkbarns having "all modern appliances", however, echoed down the years. Frank C. Bowen wrote in 1930 that she had "every modern labour-saving device for working the cargo and sails" (Sailing Ships of the London River), and most subsequent authors took him at his word. Yet Monkbarns' apprentice boys might have considered the matter rather differently.
Like every other sailing ship of her age, she had neither light nor heat. The White Star liner Majestic, completed five years before Monkbarns, catered for 4,100 passengers with an à la carte restaurant and Pompeian swimming pool. But Monkbarns had kerosene lamps and the galley fire (weather and cook permitting). There was no electricity for refrigeration. Fresh vegetables and fruit barely lasted out of sight of land. Potatoes were stored in the dark and given a haircut every week or so. Meat was "preserved" in casks of brine. Margarine came in tins. Coffee was drunk black. Even the water was rationed.
The boys were trainee officers – set apart from the sailors in the fo'c'sle and their masters in the saloon aft by virtue of being unpaid. They lived in the "half-deck", an iron bunkhouse amidships, which on Monkbarns latterly consisted of two rooms and a corridor with doors either end so that entry could always be from the lee side of the ship while at sea. It was an ice box in the winter and an oven in the tropics, but it had a skylight exit and a "monkey bridge" to the poop that was popular in heavy seas, when the decks were often awash to a depth of two feet or more.
Monkbarns' half-deck had bunks around the walls on three sides; a bare deal table with raised sides in the middle – flanked by boot-marked benches; a pot-bellied iron stove fed with coal filched from the cargo; and a battered cupboard in the corner divided into lockers, with fancy knotted rope tails for handles. There was a mirror, mottled with damp, and a single smelly kerosene lamp swinging in gimbals.
The bunks were narrow, with high boards along the open side to stop the sleeper rolling out as the ship pitched, and coloured pictures – often of girls, sometimes a country scene – pasted to the surrounding bulkhead by previous occupants. By some hung a canvas "tidy", containing needles and cotton for repairs. The apprentices had to do all their own own mending, darning and cobbling. Laundry had to be done in salt water, in precious time off and only when there was chance of the garment drying.
New boys would arrive each trip with shop-smart dungarees and new straw mattresses, which the old hands in patched gear would regard balefully. Their own bunks were bare except for blankets, and within weeks the new boys learned why, when the "donkey's breakfasts" had to be tossed overboard crawling with bed-bugs. Wet oilskins stayed wet, and chafing salt water boils were endemic.
Aboard Monkbarns "all modern appliances" did not include a donkey engine until the mid-1920s, and in many ports her cargo was loaded and discharged by hand – the boys shovelling Australian coal out through the hatches basket by basket to waiting lighters off the coast of Chile, until the dust grated in their lungs and ground itself under their skin. As the last basket was hoisted out there would be shanties and a well-earned tot of whisky – unless the Master was a teetotaller.
Then work would begin again, scouring out the filthy holds for the arrival of saltpetre, 200lbs a sack, which had to be swung aboard and stacked one by one in pyramids below. Monkbarns took about 3,000 tons, or 34,000 bags. The air would be like soup. Out in the Chilean anchorages, in holds lifting and falling in the long Pacific swell, the evaporation from the bags was known to kill rats and even woodlice, and ship's cats would lie down in dark corners and not wake up.
Guano was considered worse, a throat-catching green powder of ancient bird droppings scraped off rocky outcrops further north, off Peru. But nowadays potassium nitrate is considered too dangerous to handle, let alone breathe.
The beautiful four and five- masted barques that set records and made fortunes for A.D. Bordes of Bordeaux and F. Laeisz of Hamburg shifted up to 5,500 tons of nitrates in eleven days flat, but they had steam winches – four to a hatch – and a small army of cadet officers and shore staff. Monkbarns did not.
Monkbarns boy Eugene Bainbridge, rowing around the bay visiting the other ships in Iquique in 1924, wrote enviously: "Priwall, which we went on next, was the antithesis of the Rhone, being spotlessly clean. She had every modern fitting – brace-winches (motor), halliard apparatus for two men to raise the halliards with ease, and a derrick on the jigger. Two wheels amidships with cable connection aft, where there are two more wheels under the poop. The Third Mate showed us the Captain's saloon, decked up with light polished wood round the walls and carpet on the floor. She also carried plenty of spare spars etc. […] There was a bunk in the chart house for the Old Man, and a crowd of English charts used on the voyage round the Horn. We had a look at the log book, which registered one week nothing but 12 and 14 knots!"
Notwithstanding the rise of the oil industry by the 1920s, Corsar was not alone clinging to canvas in 1895. Many of the names familiar to us from the last days of sail were built after Monkbarns, including Penang and Pamir (both 1905), Peking and Passat (both 1911).
Laeisz had in fact only completed Priwall four years previously, in 1920, having been interrupted by the First World War. (In 1939 she arrived Valparaiso just in time to be trapped by the Second World War. She was interned, and 1941 was donated to the Chileans to avoid her falling into allied hands. Renamed Lautaro, she continued in the trade until she caught fire and burned out in 1945 while loading a cargo of nitrate off Peru.)
Though most sailing ships were less well equipped than the ships of the Flying P-line, they were still holding their own against steamers on the longer routes, to Chile and Australia, because of the price of coal – and the demand for sail-trained officers that would continue in motor-ships and oil tankers for many years to come.
Boys were cheap, British ships indentured them for four years largely unpaid and by 1919 (following a mutiny aboard) Monkbarns had expanded her deck housing to accommodate a dozen of them. They often made up half the crew. Steamers couldn't afford to hang around, but sailers could. And hang around they did, for months at a time by the end, waiting for a charter.
Monkbarns left Valparaiso with her last cargo under sail in early 1926: a load of guano salvaged from another victim of Cape Horn, Queen of Scots. After they had sailed, the boys spent several days trimming the ship, wheeling the filthy stuff down the deck from the fore hold to the hatch aft. The ABs had refused, but the boys couldn't.
As is recorded elsewhere, it was to be a weary voyage; Captain William Davies died – probably of stomach cancer – and they put into Rio, they were becalmed, suffered baffling winds and ran out of food.
They finally arrived in the Thames under tow after 170 days out and anchored off Gravesend, amazed at the sheer volume of traffic, big and small steamers passing in a continuous stream. Fresh meat and veg were delivered aboard and dinner that night was sausages and boiled potatoes.
"I can say that never was a meal so appreciated," wrote young Bainbridge. The following morning they began heaving up the anchor at about 8.30am, to the shanty Rolling Home followed by Leave Her, Johnny, Leave Her, for the final leg to Charlton Buoys.
"All hands joined in with a will, even the pilot, so that the echo went ringing over the river and a large crowd gathered on the shore to listen," wrote able seaman Dudley Turner in the fo'c'sle. "The pilot even grabbed a capstan bar and tramped around with us singing In Amsterdam There Lived a Maid."
It was July 1926, and Monkbarns was the first full-rigged ship to come into the Port of London for eight years, "a wandering and lonely ghost which we may not see again," wrote The Star. The Times called her "a picture out of the romantic past".
Chips the ship's carpenter was more prosaic. "I've had six meals since I came ashore 16 hours ago," he told the Westminster Gazette, "and I'm still hungry." Monkbarns was to find only one more cargo – Welsh coal, which she delivered under tow, to her new Norwegian owners off Corcubion in northern Spain the following March. She finished her life as a coal hulk to the whaling industry – the last British full-rigged ship to sail round Cape Horn, according to Alan Villiers (Sea-dogs of To-day, 1932), still bunkering passing steamers as late as 1954.
My last sighting is from a personal letter. Brian Watson, later senior pilot/deputy harbour master at Montrose, was then a nosy British steamship apprentice in the Baron Elibank. In 1954 he spotted a name in raised letters on the nearby bunkering hulk after his ship had sought refuge in Corcubion bay during bad weather. He recognised she was an old Britisher and climbed aboard for a look round.
In 1999 he wrote: "We berthed alongside a coal hulk and I could clearly see her name Monkbarns the metal letters still visible on her counter stern." He said the masts had been cut down to stumps and he thought the bowsprit had been cut away, most of the deck and poop cabins had been stripped, a rusting galley stove had been moved into the poop accommodation.
Unfortunately, he was spotted by the steamer's Mate and chased back to work before he could check the bows for the little white horse. Sadly, I can find no further trace of what became of Monkbarns.
© Jay Sivell
Is there anyone among our readers who can put Jay in touch with a reliable Spanish or even Basque maritime museum or historian? It is likely the old ship was broken up at Ferrol, Biscay.
This article appeared first in The Cape Horner magazine, the journal of the International Association of Cape Horners. August 2014, V2 No 65
Next – Sniffing Stockholm Tar
Previously – In Remembrance: Save our Ships
A sailor's life – 72. Death of a master, 1926. Monkbarns' last trip
He was the teenage only son of well-to-do parents, with uncalloused hands and a yen for real life. Mother and Father – a marine insurance broker – were off on a world cruise for their health, so they packed him off on one of the last British windjammers.
And that was how Eugene Bainbridge, ex-Marlborough College, joined the motley crowd in the half deck of Monkbarns with his expensive Leica in Newcastle NSW in 1924 and set sail for two years on what would turn out to be the old square-rigger's very last trip.
Bainbridge père paid £38 for Eugene's third class berth out on the P&O passenger ship Barrabool – which was nearly five months' pay for the men in Monkbarns' fo'c'sle. John Stewart & Co apprentices, of course, as their indenture papers firmly stated, received "NIL".
But even with half the hands working unpaid, the sums for the old windbags were no longer adding up. One by one, John Stewart's fleet had been sold for scrap. Monkbarns was among the last four, and she had been laid up in Bruges for over a year until a lucky cargo of rock salt brought her out of retirement in 1923 one more time.
By Christmas 1925, she was in South America, in Chile, and the "boys" in the half deck saw in New Year 1926 stowing half a cargo of guano picked up from a derelict in Valparaiso bay – another old sailer that would never see Europe again.
They left in mid January, bound for home via the rough passage round the Horn. So far the voyage had already claimed two lives since the ship left Liverpool three years earlier – an apprentice lost overboard off one of the yards in a gale and a suicide by morphine overdose in Newcastle NSW – and now the master was dying of stomach cancer, but the seven apprentices didn't know that.
Two days out of Valparaiso, Eugene wrote in the diary his dad had given him:
"23.1.26 Saturday. Washed half deck with John [Davies]. Took wheel 12-2pm. It struck me again what an advantageous point of view the wheel is. Everything puts on a more pleasing aspect as one views the quarter deck, and shipmates busy with some uninteresting job seem to hold an enviable position. The beautiful silence which reigns as you keep one eye on the weather leech of the top gallant sail. The sea is covered with little ripples today but would otherwise present a flat surface. The breeze is not bad, though considerably less than yesterday and the courses are drawing well. The breeze has dropped again but at 1.30 tonight it suddenly livened up and clouds appeared on the port quarter. Hall [seaman] came on to the lookout and started to talk about the copra trade before the high duties in Sydney. He said that it was on account of one or two fires that high duties were put on, and now there is no trade to speak of, the main bulk going to USA.
"24.1.26 Sunday. Oiled my second pair of oilskins and hung them out to dry. Turned in in the afternoon. Still making westerly and no sign of change.
"25.1.26 Monday. Finished chipping anchor chain and tarred some of it. Very little wind and still going to the westward. A fair wind (NW) is about the last thing that anyone would expect and we shall soon be in Australia like this!
"26.1.26 Tuesday. Wheel 8-10. Nothing to do but watch the sails. Wind gradually dying out and ship starting to roll slightly. Fine day and sun very strong. No clouds about. Wind disappeared and rolling at times. Finished the port anchor chain and lowered it into the locker. Hove starboard chain up on deck ready to scrape. Beautiful evening and Dave [cabin boy] joined me on the lookout from 8-9.30. I told him I wouldn't be entertaining but he managed to get through a fair amount of talking, as usual, and was evidently satisfied. We discussed Goethe's Faust, or at least, he did, and then he praised Scarlatti and Chopin.
"27.1.26 Wednesday. Flat calm and very hot (85 degrees in shade). Sleeping on main hatch where the night air is refreshing. Scraped the starboard anchor chain, tarred and stored it. This evening, the mate gave me a bucket to put a new rope handle on. I did it after referring to the book and put the usual "simple Mathew Walker" on. He praised them next day.
"28.1.26 Thursday. Flat calm and water like a sheet of glass. Saw big shark off the side of the ship but it went when we got the hook ready. It did not turn when it came to eat some offal which had been thrown overboard!! Started to trim the cargo in the forehold and taking it in barrow to the after hatch to dump. I had the job of standing by the hatch to tip the barrows. Played Langford [sailor] at chess. Slept out on the main hatch. Heavy dew. There are no apples or peaches in the ship, only prunes!"
For three weeks, as the ship made its way slowly out into the Pacific, the port and starboard watches chipped, tarred and stowed the mooring chains, and trimmed the cargo in the forehold, wheeling the stinking choking stuff barrow by barrow to the after hatch to dump. They reeved off new buntlines, downhauls, clewlines and braces. Chips made new blocks, and Eugene stood his trick at the wheel.
By the first week in February they'd swung SSE with the Easterlies and were heading for the Horn, the sea was becoming heavier and the skies had turned grey.
"6.2.26. The Old Man is bad today, and everything is done to stop the ship from rolling," Eugene noted. "The mate changed course three times tonight for that reason." In the half deck, a heavy tin of jam fell out of the apprentices's locker onto Eugene's head, inflicting damage.
"8.2.26 Monday. The atmosphere is the dampest that I have ever known and the horizon is blurred with mist. Sea and sky are grey alike and the wind from the northward is fairly strong, bringing with it a heavy swell. It was cold at the wheel at 12 o'clock today… The Old Man was a little better today and enjoyed a joke. The mate is very pale and together with overstrain and overwork has not slept for over 48 hours. No sights have been taken owing to the dullness but the mate took some stars last night. Lookouts are kept night and day and a sharp lookout for ice is to be kept. We are standing by all the time now, ready to attend brace or take in sail. When we were doing about 9-10 knots this afternoon and I was at the wheel a school of large Black Fish was keeping up with us. They jumped a little from the crests of the waves and could be seen black beneath the surface quite close. I should guess 12-14 feet would be their length and they had fairly pointed noses and a big thick dorsal fin."
The temperature fell, day by day. "10.2.26. Wednesday. The temperature today was 45 degrees but it appeared to be much colder aloft and the steel yards stung when gripped. The old man is much better and cracking jokes."
As they got closer to the Horn, lookouts were posted day and night. They were racketing along at 12 knots, a hell of a speed to hit an iceberg. "Boiled some pitch for the Mate this evening to do the chartroom deckhead. The chartroom and in fact the whole poop is leaking. The heavy sea having strained the seams aft. The two Johns relieve each other and, with the time-keeper, watch over the old man at night. He is not so well tonight. We should round the Horn tomorrow with a fair breeze."
The Horn was passed in thick mist, shortened down to topsails only, and with their eyes peeled for icebergs. Jock Scott warned Eugene to go to bed fully clothed, "to be ready if anything should happen, so we did."
The temperature was 6°C (44° F), mild. There were albatross, mollyhawks, stormy and great petrels, and even a penguin around the ship. ("Sails revealed they are always met with down in the South Pacific and Atlantic, and sometimes hundreds of miles from land! This one was a dark brownish grey with a bright yellow streak across the eye. He was up an down after fish and squeaked not unlike the flapping topmast staysail.")
Once past the Horn, the weather cleared. The ship "steered like a bird, with three spokes either way", wrote Eugene ecstatically. There were four pairs of albatross following the ship, and a school of Cape Horn white-bellied and white tailed porpoises. Their breathing under the bows made Eugene realise he was not alone on his lookout. He saw and heard several whales. " The Old Man is much better and has taken to growling at his nurses again in the old style. He has told the mate not to call anywhere or even stop a ship, if sighted. He is certainly an optimist. The position is about 54S 56W"
By the end of the month, it was 70° in the shade and the wind had dropped to 2 knots. The Old Man was being nursed day and night, injected rectally with milk and brandy because he could no longer keep any food down. One apprentice from each watch was set to watch over him. Eugene complained that his friend Jean Seron had been banned from studying navigation in the master's quarters – a light novel was less distracting. "What hard luck as he never gets a chance to study now, wasting every watch in the Old Man's room doing nothing. He wants to go for his ticket at the end of the voyage…"
Eugene was not posted to the sickroom. Instead, he was kept busy painting, or bending on sails. Off watch, he sketched, fished for sharks and worked on his model of the ship. The food was now also running low. "Traditional, for a sailing ship," wrote Eugene. "Grub seems very scarce and uninteresting; beans every day, everywhere substitutes." They caught and ate a dolphin, boiling the meat for tea. "The cook made a very bad job of it."
The Mate was at his wits' end. He'd decided to countermand the master's orders and head for Rio, or Bahia – whatever port they could reach with the prevailing wind and currents. The Old Man was dying. But by the middle of the month they were still 900 miles from Rio and the ship was becalmed. The weather grew hotter and hotter. The Old Man could no longer bear any noise. Singing was banned, and the accordion. It was 90°F (33C). The Mate rigged a funnel from the skylight to Captain Davies' bedside, made "of weather cloth and and bucket hoops."
But the ship still had to be worked. One of the senior apprentices, Raymond Baise, was promoted to acting 3rd Mate. The 2nd, Mr Williams, who had started the voyage as able seaman, took over many of his chief's tasks and watch after watch they braced the yards, tacking, wearing ship – trying to catch the slightest breath of wind, while the exhausted Mate kept his eye on all, scouring the Ship Master's Medical Guide for instructions on how to ease the dying man.
They sighted land (Cape Frio) on the 25th of March.
"26.3.26 Friday. Wore ship every watch and made scarcely any ground through doing so. All the courses are of course hauled up to make the handling of the yards easier. Cape Frio was in sight all the time during the day and the light was clearly visible during the night. Several steamers passed the lighthouse and cape during my lookout, and I reported their lights in turn as they came in view. The wind dropped and there was a dead calm before morning. All the ground we made was done in crab-fashion and owing to the Great Brazilian Current, which drifts southward. The wind is a dead muzzler from the west and the ship's head (steering compass) is S by W on one tack and NW by N on the other."
On the 28th they sighted the Sugar Loaf, and by evening the Old Man had been taken off to hospital. The 29th, Eugene whizzed through his chores (cleaning brasswork, washing down the decks, getting a sail up out of the locker through the choking ammonia fumes) and tried to go ashore in the launch at 5pm as the Mate arrived back from the hospital. The Mate said "no", Rio was under martial law.
The following day he tried again, but the Mate didn't want to share the launch with him. "He saw me coming and had his answer ready, which was that I could not go in the launch with him as it cost money. I asked him how much it would be and he said that he did not know and that anyway he had too many worries to be bothered with people going ashore for pleasure […] He left the ship at 8.30 with the two Johns and I remained on deck gesticulating and whistling to every launch and bum-boat that appeared within hailing distance."
By 10.20am Eugene was ashore, taking tea and refreshments in the Alvear Cafe on the Rua Rio Branco, before strolling on past the Municipal Theatre, ("very like the Opera House in Paris") and the Senate. He took a tram part way up the Corcovado, but found there was a two-hour wait for the next train to the top – where the famous Christ the Redeemer statue was still only a pile of bricks. Instead, he marvelled at the lizards, a spider the size of his hand and three people with long nets catching six-inch blue butterflies ("They make beautiful ash-trays"). After that he caught a taxi and went to the Botanical Gardens, where he admired the famous avenue of 100 palms, and then treated himself to an icecream soda before returning to the ship in a bum-boat under its own sail, for 10 Milreis (about 6 shillings, or a day's pay for a sailor). "And arrived back five minutes before the Mate. There was a loud shout from all hands as I hove in sight."
Captain William Davies died in the night, aged 61. The telegram to his wife with the first indication that he was ill followed the next day by a second, with the shocking news of his death.
All the apprentices and "Sails", Henry Robertson, were invited to the brief funeral in Rio's English cemetery, but there is no description of it in Eugene's diaries. Only six of them were needed to collect the body from the hospital. Eugene, left to kick his heels in the agent's office for an hour with Bill and old Sails, recognised a passing Old Marlburian by his school tie, and struck up a chat.
Monkbarns left Rio the following morning in dripping rain and thick cloud under a new Captain Davies, the former 1st Mate, waved off by the agent's clerk, Eugene's old school crony Sharpes, who came aboard for a fine display of shantying up the anchor. "An appreciative audience makes a world of difference and I have never heard shanties sung so well aboard the ship," wrote Eugene. "Bill and Mac supplied most of the solos and the choruses were all hearty."
The new master was determined to keep spirits up. They were bound for home – across the Line.
For the further adventures of Eugene Bainbridge esq.– supported by the newly discovered letters of Raymond Baise (!!) – find me a publisher.
Next – In Remembrance: Save our Ships
Previously – A small man, tubby
A sailor's life – 46. Through a glass, darkly
It was an undated newspaper cutting among my grandmother's papers, clipped out and saved long after Bert Sivell's death. A bit of yellowing ephemera laid by for the oil tanker husband who never came back: "On show in the Master Mariners' Club for the next week or so – a magnificent scale model of the full rigged ship Monkbarns."
The 21-inch model, "hand carved with authentic teak rail and working blocks", had been made by a Trinity House pilot for a colleague who had served his apprenticeship in the old windjammer in the final years, by then one of a big crowd of teenage boys in the half deck. I could imagine the two old salts with their heads together, jealously overseeing and lovingly recreating every last detail: the tiny extended boys' house abaft the main hatch, the little flying horse under the bowsprit, the wheel house on the poop that would have been welcome too in the stormy watches when Bert was minding the sails.
The little ship is perfect. Dustless and frozen in time, all sail spread and a bone in her teeth – tantalisingly beyond touch in her glass case in the sunny room in a private house when I finally traced her. Sea Breezes had again provided the answers. A letter dropped casually on the mat: "We've got her, come and see."
This is no museum piece. She belongs to a real seafaring family, to sons and grandsons themselves once deep-sea sailors. Part of their lives. A hand-carved homage to a world now hull down over the horizon.
Read on: In remembrance
Previously: Boy's own story
Work in progress: the book I never wrote about the sailor grandfather I never knew, from his apprenticeship on the square-rigger Monkbarns to his death by U97, presumed lost with all hands aboard the Shell oil tanker Chama in 1941 Blogroll
A sailor's life – 45. A boy's own story
Nothing much seemed to have changed when Monkbarns limped back into Newcastle NSW in November 1920 with a new captain and a broken mast.
The Monkbarns boys were given the afternoon off to hear a concert at the Mission, and for most of the next month they had time off in the evenings and at weekends to lounge about the beach, surfing, playing tennis and making up tea parties, while they waited for the repairs. Captain Davies of Nefyn was welcomed like long-lost son by Newcastle's Welsh mayor, Mr Morgan, and there were "umpteen" other sailing ships in port, including Vimeira, Garthsnaid, Kirkcudbrightshire and Rona (- now possibly better known as Polly Woodside), with 37 apprentices between them. On November 5th and 6th apprentice Francis Kirk wrote just two words lengthways down an entire page of the schoolboy notes he kept that trip: "Enjoying life".
On the 20th Monkbarns hosted a dance, with more than fifty girls, he recorded happily. The old ship looked fine, decked out with flags and Chinese lanterns, and "our famous jazz orchestra" had played selections during the evening. They were still in Australia at Christmas, which Kirk celebrated in Lambton with the Blanch family, and they saw New Year in with a big regatta in the harbour at which the Monkbarns "men" won £5 in one of the races. On January 9th 1921, they left Newcastle again bound for South America, "with heavy and breaking hearts", Kirk scrawled, "All the girls gathered on Nobby's Head and waved the old ship out of sight…"
Kirk, like Bert Sivell, had eventually left sailing ships for oil tankers, but he had never got over his love of the old square-rigger.
In 1957 he became one of the first members of the new British branch of the Amicale Internationale des Capitaines au Long Cours Cap Horniers – or Cape Horners' Association – originally founded in St Malo, France, in 1937 to "promote and strengthen the ties of comradeship which bind together the unique body of men and women who enjoy the distinction of having voyaged round Cape Horn under sail". They were "albatrosses" (who had commanded a sailing vessel round Cape Horn), "mollyhawks" (served in a sailing vessel round Cape Horn and subsequently commanded a motor ship), or "cape pigeons" (cooks, stewards, passengers etc).
Kirk – ranked Mollyhawk – threw himself with gusto into the annual jaunts to St Malo or Hamburg, Oslo or later Mariehamn, which held the record for old Cape Horners. "He used to come back with pictures of him and 'old so-and-so' and usually a woman in the shot whom he would pass off as such-and-such's wife," said his son. After his death there had been several intriguing lady callers.
In the 1960s an English language journal was set up, The Cape Horner, and its editor, Captain AG Course – UK member 9, wrote that if any member was in Bournemouth, they were welcome to join the members' coffee mornings, every Friday at 10.30am in Bealson's cafe on Commercial Road. "No advance notice is necessary and your wives, relatives and friends will be welcome. Only one wife at a time, please!"
The maritime author Alan Villiers wrote of joining one of these coffee mornings in 1971, and meeting "eight wonderful old boys, most of them octogenarians, except one aged 92, all with the stamp of the sea still upon their open faces, the snap of command in the old blue eyes". The "wonderful old boys" more generally were not uniformly impressed by the new boys' patronage ("… not really a proper sailor…"), and the subsequent acceptance of yachtsmen as Cape Horners when anno domini began to tell on the original pre-motor, pre-GPS membership was contentious.
I was too late to meet Francis Kirk, or Harry Fountain, Victor Fall, Lewis Watkins, Lionel Walker and "Algie" Course – who single-handedly salvaged most of what is known of Monkbarns' history, mainly by running his finger down the UK Cape Horners' membership list and calling the old shipmates in for a fireside chat. (Which accounts for some of the more lurid tales). But their lives still resonate down the generations in remembered stories ("He said the freezing flailing canvas ripped fingernails to the quick…" "you tapped the biscuit on the table to knock the weevils out…"), and dusty diaries and yellowing photos, providing a lasting testament to all those boys like my grandfather who went down to the sea in ships and did business in great waters in the last days of sail.
Coming next: A model ship
Previously: Goodbye, Monkbarns – Corcubion, 1954
Sea Fever
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
John Masefield 1902


text:
MAngband High Scores
These are the scores for Version 1.1.3, ironman scores are here, scores for the 1.1.0 instance are here, scores for the old beta-1 are here
Dead characters who made it to level 20 get a fully detailed character dump, click on the character name to view it. Click on monster names for more information too.
High Level Dead,High Level Alive,All Alive (over level 5),All dead (over level 5)
High Level Dead
[Mangband 1.1.2 Character Dump] Name : Mr Ploppy Age 111 STR: 18/100 Sex : Male Height 100 INT: 18/*** Race : High-Elf Weight 181 WIS: 18/140 Class : Mage Social Class 48 DEX: 18/210 CON: 18/130 CHR: 18/180 + To Hit 39 Level 41 Max Hit Points 502 + To Damage 27 Experience 3002556 Cur Hit Points -53 + To AC 95 Max Exp 3002556 Max SP (Mana) 318 Base AC 45 Cur SP (Mana) 29 Gold 31226 (Miscellaneous Abilities) Fighting : Excellent Perception : Superb Blows/Round: 4 Bows/Throw : Excellent Searching : Superb Shots/Round: 2 Saving Throw: Heroic Disarming : Superb Stealth : Superb Magic Device: Legendary Infra-Vision: 40 feet (Character Background) You are the only child of a Telerin Archer. You have light grey eyes, straight black hair, and a fair complexion. [Character Equipment] a) The Dagger 'Angrist' (2d4) (+11,+12) [+3] (+4) {Glaurung, Father of the Drago} b) The Short Bow of Amras (x3) (+10,+14) (+1 to speed) c) The Ring of Power 'Nenya' (+8,+8) (+2) d) a Ring of Speed (+13) e) an Amulet of ESP (+9) {for sale} f) a Feanorian Lamp g) The Mithril Chain Mail 'Belegennon' (-1) [28,+20] (+4) h) a Cloak of Aman [1,+13] (+1 to stealth) {for sale 400000} i) an Orcish Shield [5,+9] (+2) j) a Golden Crown of the Magi [0,+17] (+3) k) a Set of Cesti of the Istari (+1,+1) [5,+9] (+2) l) a Pair of Metal Shod Boots of Speed [6,+9] (+5) [Character Inventory] a) 3 Books of Magic Spells [Magic for Beginners] {@m1} b) 6 Books of Magic Spells [Conjurings and Tricks] {@m2} c) 3 Books of Magic Spells [Incantations and Illusions] {@m3} d) 4 Books of Magic Spells [Sorcery and Evocations] {@m4} e) 2 Books of Magic Spells [Resistances of Scarabtarices] {@m5} f) a Book of Magic Spells [Raal's Tome of Destruction] {@m6} g) a Book of Magic Spells [Tenser's Transformations] {@m8} h) a Book of Magic Spells [Kelek's Grimoire of Power] {@m0} i) 40 Potions of Cure Critical Wounds {@q1} j) 9 Potions of Healing {@q1} k) 11 Potions of Restore Mana {@q2} l) a Potion of Intelligence m) 2 Potions of Enlightenment {@q3} n) 7 Scrolls of Word of Recall {@R2550} o) 3 Scrolls of Life p) a Rod of Acid Bolts q) a Cutlass of Flame (1d7) (+8,+6) r) The Quarterstaff 'Nar-i-vagil' (1d9) (+10,+20) (+3) s) (nothing) t) (nothing) u) (nothing) v) (nothing) w) (nothing) [Character History] Time Dungeon Char Event Level Level 00:01:04 150ft 5 Reached level 5 00:02:51 150ft 6 Killed Grip, Farmer Maggot's dog 00:03:25 250ft 9 Killed Smeagol 00:03:51 250ft 9 Killed Bullroarer the Hobbit 00:03:54 250ft 10 Reached level 10 00:05:35 350ft 11 Killed Lagduf, the Snaga 00:08:08 400ft 14 Killed Wormtongue, Agent of Saruman 00:09:05 400ft 15 Reached level 15 00:10:42 0ft 16 Killed Farmer Maggot 00:11:16 500ft 16 Killed Brodda, the Easterling 00:11:36 500ft 16 Found The Set of Gauntlets 'Paurnimmen' 00:12:02 550ft 17 Found The Dagger 'Nimthanc' 00:13:30 500ft 18 Killed Grishnakh, the Hill Orc 00:15:15 500ft 19 Killed Orfax, Son of Boldor 00:16:10 500ft 20 Reached level 20 00:17:05 650ft 21 Killed Mughash the Kobold Lord 00:17:28 750ft 20 Found The Spear 'Nimloth' 00:17:41 700ft 21 Killed Golfimbul, the Hill Orc Chief 00:18:45 700ft 22 Killed Boldor, King of the Yeeks 00:19:49 750ft 23 Killed Fang, Farmer Maggot's dog 00:21:04 900ft 25 Reached level 25 00:21:57 600ft 25 Killed Ulfast, Son of Ulfang 01:00:10 750ft 25 Killed Ufthak of Cirith Ungol 01:07:07 900ft 26 Killed Nar, the Dwarf 01:07:33 900ft 27 Killed Gorbag, the Orc Captain 01:08:45 900ft 27 Found The Dagger 'Dethanc' 01:11:16 1150ft 28 Killed Ugluk, the Uruk 01:12:02 1100ft 28 Helped to kill Ibun, Son of Mim 01:12:04 1100ft 28 Helped to kill Shagrat, the Orc Captain 01:16:41 1100ft 29 Killed Sangahyando of Umbar 01:18:09 1150ft 29 Killed Azog, King of the Uruk-Hai 01:21:08 1150ft 30 Reached level 30 02:00:46 1350ft 31 Killed Bolg, Son of Azog 02:01:48 1400ft 31 Killed Lugdush, the Uruk 02:01:50 1400ft 31 Killed Draebor, the Imp 02:04:01 1400ft 31 Killed Khim, Son of Mim 02:05:48 1500ft 31 Killed Beorn, the Shape-Changer 02:07:26 1550ft 32 Killed Lokkak, the Ogre Chieftain 02:07:46 1600ft 32 Killed Angamaite of Umbar 02:08:53 1750ft 32 Killed Ulwarth, Son of Ulfang 02:10:29 1800ft 32 Killed Tom the Stone Troll 02:12:08 1800ft 33 Killed Mim, Betrayer of Turin 02:12:34 1800ft 33 Killed The Queen Ant 02:19:33 2000ft 32 Killed Bert the Stone Troll 02:20:00 2000ft 32 Found The Main Gauche of Maedhros 02:22:36 500ft 33 Helped to kill Scatha the Worm 03:00:32 -600ft 33 Found The Short Bow of Amras 03:00:32 -600ft 33 Found The Ring of Power 'Nenya' 03:00:32 -600ft 33 Found The Dagger 'Angrist' 03:03:52 1800ft 33 Found The Chain Mail of Arvedui 03:09:50 1800ft 33 Killed Ulfang the Black 03:11:20 1950ft 34 Helped to kill Kavlax the Many-Headed 03:11:54 2050ft 34 Helped to kill Rogrog the Black Troll 03:12:02 2050ft 34 Helped to kill The Queen Ant 03:12:44 0ft 35 Reached level 35 03:14:52 4750ft 35 Found The Balance Dragon Scale Mail 'Mediator' 03:16:25 1600ft 35 Killed Lorgan, Chief of the Easterlings 03:16:56 1600ft 35 Found The Dagger 'Belangil' 03:17:10 1900ft 36 Killed Uldor the Accursed 03:18:45 1900ft 36 Killed Waldern, King of Water 03:20:29 2000ft 36 Found The Halberd 'Osondir' 03:21:17 2100ft 37 Found The Mithril Chain Mail 'Belegennon' 03:23:05 2150ft 37 Killed Adunaphel the Quiet 04:00:20 2200ft 37 Killed Ariel, Queen of Air 04:00:45 2450ft 37 Found The Spear 'Aeglos' 04:21:17 2300ft 37 Found The Iron Helm of Gorlim 04:21:23 2300ft 38 Killed Itangast the Fire Drake 05:00:38 2550ft 39 Killed Uvatha the Horseman 05:01:24 2550ft 39 Killed Castamir the Usurper 05:01:38 2550ft 39 Killed Vargo, Tyrant of Fire 05:01:46 2550ft 39 Killed Eol, the Dark Elf 05:02:02 2550ft 39 Killed Smaug the Golden 05:02:12 2550ft 40 Reached level 40 05:05:56 2550ft 41 Found The Dagger 'Narthanc' 05:08:16 2600ft 41 Killed Quaker, Master of Earth 05:08:20 2600ft 41 Found The Quarterstaff 'Nar-i-vagil' [Last Messages] You do not have enough mana. You miss the Death quasit. You hit the Death quasit. You have destroyed the Death quasit. You feel something roll beneath your feet. You hit the Lesser Balrog. You hit the Lesser Balrog. You hit the Lesser Balrog. You miss the Lesser Balrog. The Lesser Balrog flees in terror! You hit the Lesser Balrog. You hit the Lesser Balrog. You hit the Lesser Balrog. You hit the Lesser Balrog. You have destroyed the Lesser Balrog. The Marilith shrugs off the attack. The Marilith shrugs off the attack. You hit the Marilith. You hit the Marilith. You miss the Marilith. You hit the Marilith. It was a good hit! The Marilith misses you. The Marilith misses you. The Marilith hits you. The Marilith hits you. The Lesser Balrog breathes fire. You hit the Marilith. You hit the Marilith. You hit the Marilith. You miss the Marilith. You hit the Marilith. It was a great hit! You hit the Marilith. It was a good hit! You hit the Marilith. You hit the Marilith. The Lesser Balrog breathes fire. You hit the Marilith. It was a good hit! You hit the Marilith. You hit the Marilith. It was a good hit! You hit the Marilith. The Marilith flees in terror! The Marilith screams in pain. The Lesser Balrog creates a mesmerising illusion. You disbelieve the feeble spell. The Marilith is destroyed. The Lesser Balrog magically summons a hellish adversary! You hit the Erinyes. You hit the Erinyes. You miss the Erinyes. You hit the Erinyes. You miss the Erinyes. You hit the Erinyes. You miss the Erinyes. You miss the Erinyes. The Lesser Balrog breathes fire. You die. [Scene of Death]

subset: commoncrawl


text:
|Message view
|« Date » · « Thread »
|« Date » · « Thread »
|Steve Loughran <ste...@apache.org>
|Re: Subdirectory problem/always recompiles
|Mon, 21 Nov 2005 17:24:05 GMT
Dominique Devienne wrote: >>I've been though a similar exercise with 50 developer separated over 9 >>countries contributing code over a period of just under 4 years. The final >>result fell out into over 200 separate projects - each with specific build, >>runtime and test dependencies. > > > Whoa, that's impressive! And I thought untangling 5000 classes in a > single project was a tough one... We only had 3 sites in a single > country. you two scare me. What on earth are you writing that is so big? How do you test it? >> 3. try and centralize properties away from projects > > > We use properties to direct which version of the dependencies to get. > A component declares its dependencies as just what it depends on, and > the build properties tell the system what version / branch of each > dependency to get. > > This way, the same component can be compiled for two different apps > using different dependencies, because these apps are different > (release at different times for example). > > I'm sure some people are cringing at what I just wrote ;-) Yes, > ideally a component is released, and then used by apps. Practically, > it didn't happen like this where I used to work, and too often last > minute changes were required of many components, and these changes > could have ripple effects on other components. Its a bit like the fact that in a dist system you cant do a unified upgrade -in a sufficiently complex project you cant upgrade in one go because it forces stuff that is qualified as working to be requalified. And if you use java classloaders right, you can get away with different versions. I use the maven2 tasks with a central libraries.properties file that dictates for everything, but with each component having the ability to override the global default with their own libraries.properties file. the one thing we dont do is mix versions of things we release, because it makes it harder to be flexible, and forces us to make our RMI interfaces stable and our datatypes all with serial_UIDs. Instead distributed nodes can pull down the latest (signed) binaries from http servers on the fly; if you redeploy something in a new process it can pick up the new binary. -steve --------------------------------------------------------------------- To unsubscribe, e-mail: email@example.com For additional commands, e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.com
|View raw message


text:
- Calcium 96mg
- Calories 607
- Carbohydrate 35g
- Cholesterol 150mg
- Fat 31g
- Fiber 2g
- Iron 5mg
- Protein 44mg
- Sat fat 13g
- Sodium 735mg
Lamb Burgers With Cucumber Mint Relish
Sang An
How to Make It
Step 1
Heat grill to medium-high. In a small bowl, combine the yogurt, cucumber, mint, and ¼ teaspoon salt. Set aside.
Step 2
In a large bowl, combine the lamb, shallot, garlic, thyme, ½ teaspoon salt, and 1/8 teaspoon pepper. Form 4 patties about ¾ inch thick.
Step 3
Grill the patties until cooked through, 5 to 6 minutes per side. (Or heat the oil in a grill pan over medium heat and cook patties, 5 to 6 minutes per side.)
Step 4
Serve patties in the pita pockets with the cucumber relish.


text:
Wednesday, 27 May 2015
New Catalogues
Hello Crafters.
Today I posted the
new 2015 - 2016
Stampin' Up! Annual
Catalogue to my
We can all start
ordering on 2nd
June 2015.
As a demonstrator,
I have already been
able to order from
the Sneak Peak
List, there are
so many other
products I can't
wait to get my
hands on!
Please note: that on
2nd June only you can order from the current 2014 - 2015 catalogue as well as the new 2015 - 2016 catalogue!
The price you will be charged will be decided by which catalogue the item is featured in.
However, if an item is carried forward from the current catalogue to the new catalogue, and therefore in both, you will be charged the price in the current catalogue.
Until tomorrow, happy crafting.
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)


text:
Upstate man posed as detective, SLED agents say
Upstate man posed as detective, SLED agents say
A Simpsonville man has been arrested after agents with the South Carolina Law Enforcement said he posed as a private detective without a license.
Darius Alexis Gist, 41, is charged with violations concerning private detectives and private security firms.
An arrest warrant said on Feb. 27 Gist posed as a private detective and was given money to be a private detective but his detective's license had expired on July 7, 2012.
Gist could face up to one year in prison, a $5,000 fine or both if convicted.


text:
First, a little synopsis about Andrew Lloyd Webber's new production of The Wizard of Oz. It is an adaptation of the all-time classic movie re-conceived for the stage. This new production contains all of the beloved songs from the Oscar®-winning movie score, the favorite characters and iconic moments, plus a few surprises along the way. There are several new songs by lyricist Tim Rice and music by Andrew Lloyd Webber. This is Webber's 18th musical.
The Good (Witch)
- Danielle Wade, who played Dorothy, was absolutely fabulous. Danielle Wade was chosen by the Canadian public through CBC TV's reality show "Over The Rainbow." Wade has a strong voice and she was 'right on' for what the audience would think Dorothy should be and look like. She got a standing "O" at the end of the show. She was particularly strong during her rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"
- Nigel the Cairn Terrier, who play Toto, almost stole the show. There were lots of "Oooohs" and "Aaaawwws" from the audience. Unbelievably obedient and unreal in terms of stage presence. Nigel has a seasoned acting career having played Toto since 2009 in "The Wiz" and now in "The Wizard of Oz" - a role he was destined for after being discovered and rescued by theatrical animal trainer Bill Berloni.
- Nice quartet during the song, "We're Out of the Woods" by Dorothy, the Lion (played by Lee MacDougall), the ScareCrow (Jamie McKnight) and the Tin Man (Mike Jackson)
- The use of high tech "3D-like" film with see-through screen over stage sets was nicely done. The technique was used during the tornado scene and when the monkeys were flying. This maybe a bit over used while inside the tornado, however.
- Opening scene featured the farm house with a nice 3D-like background of the Kansas sky filled with clouds at dusk.
- Grand scene when Glinda the Good Witch first appeared suspended high with her entire glittery skirt literally filling the stage. It was a 'goosebump' moment.
- Absolutely appropriate to bring young children.
- Ensemble dancing was great with some turkish-style dancing and use of double sticks. They were very coordinated and precise.
- Slight overuse of the high tech 3D film for the stage production.
- There was a bit of lack-luster performance for the most heart-felt moments including the song "Already Home" which is close to the finale of the musical.
- The volume of the dialog was low and coule be turned up a bit for those who are a bit hard of hearing.
- Dorothy was definitely the strongest but usually the elders of the cast should be outshining the younger characters. Jacquelyn Piro Donovan who played the Wicked Witch of the West was just okay. Glinda, played by Robin Evan Willis held her own though when she did a duet with Dorothy
Overall my friends had a fabulous evening at the theatre.
The Wizard of Oz is a great family show. Tickets are available now through its run which ends October 27, 2013.
Full Disclosure: We were provided with complimentary tickets for a review of this show. All opinions are 100% our own.


text: Are you finding it hard to keep up with all the latest breaking online gambling news? We have made it easy for you by scouring the internet for any news articles to do with online gambling, and publish them here. Bookmark this page for easy reference to online gambling news.


text:
Chemistry Chapter 3 10.15.05
undefined, object
copy deck
- Atom
- The smallest particle of an element that retains the chemical properties of that element
- Electron Cloud
- Region that is occupied by electrons
- Proton
- Are P+ and are positive
- Nuclear Forces
- Short range proton-neutron, proton-proton, nuetron forces hold the nuclear particle together
- Electron
- Are E- and are negative
- Neutron
- Are N and neutral
- Thomson
- Revealed that the electron has a negative charge using the plum pudding experiment
- Rutherford
- Led in the gold foil experiment
- Millikan
- Determined that electrons have a negative charge using the oil drop experiment
- Democritus
- Had the earliest particle theory of matter in 400 bc. He called it a atom and said it was indivisible
- Dalton
- Created the atomic theory in 1808 where he came up with five ideas on atoms
- Law of Conservation of Mass
- Mass is neither destroyed nor created during ordinary chemical reactions or physical changes
- Law of Multiple Proportions
- If two or more different compounds are composed of the same two elements, then the ratio of the masses of the second element combined with a certain mass of the first element is always a ratio of small whole numbers
- Law of Definite Proportions
- The fact that a chemical compound contains the same elements in exactly the same proportions by mass regardless of the size of the sample or source of the compound
- Isotopes
- Atoms of the same element that have different masses
- Average Atomic Mass
- The weighted average of the atomic masses of the naturally occurring istopes of an element
- Nuclide
- General term for any isotope of any element
- Atomic Mass Unit
- Unit of mass that is exactly 1/12 the mass of a carbon-12 atom or 1.660
- Avogadros Number
Number of particles in exactly one mole of a pure substance
6.02 x 10 23
- Mole
- Amount of a substance that contains as many particles as there are atoms in exactly 12g of carbon-12
- Describe the gold foil experiment of Rutherford, Geiger and Marden. When did this happen?
- (1911) Bombarded a thin piece of gold foil with a narrow beam of alpha particles. Some of the particles were redirected by the gold foil back toward their source
- What was Rutherford's explanation. When did this happen?
- (1913) There is a small densely packed, postive nucleus. Electrons travel in a circular orbit around the nucleus
- What's in the nucleus and what are their charges
Protons - Positive
Nuetrons - Nuetral
- Atomic Number (symbol)
- (Z) Is the number of protons in the nucleus of each atom of that element
- What element has the most stable isotope? How many does it have
10 isotopes
- What are two ways you identify isotopes by
1. The mass number is written with a hyphen after the name of the element
2. Show the composition of nucleaus
- Which particles determine the element
- Protons
- What are the three mass numbers of the 3 isotopes of hydrogen
- 1, 2 and 3
- Mass Numbers (symbol)
- (A) Total number of protons and neutrons in the nucleus of an isotope
- How do the masses of the atomic particles compare
- Neutrons are slighty more massive than protons
Atoms of different elements have _______ number of protons
Atoms of the same element all have the _________ number of protons
- What parts of Daltons theory are not correct
Atoms can be divisible into even smaller particles
Elements can have atoms with different masses
- State 5 points of Dalton's Atomic Theory. Whats the date of this theory
1. All matter is composed of atoms
2. Atoms of a element have the same size, mass, Atoms of different elements differ in size, mass etc.
3. Atoms cannot be subdivided, created and destroyed
4. Atoms of a different elements combine in simple whole number ratios to form chemical compounds
5. In chemical reactions atoms are combined, seperated, rearranged
Earliest particle theory of matter was discovered by _________ in __________
He called this particle _________
400 b.c.
- Molar Mass (unit)
The mass of a pure substance
- How do you define the radius of an atom
- Distance from the center of the nucleus to the outer portion of this electron cloud
- When was it revealed that the electron has a negative charge
- 1897


text:
Just a reminder to students and teachers that tomorrow (April 1, 2015) is the final deadline to register a project in National Capital History Day. We will be accepting registrations until 4 p.m.
After the original March 13 deadline passed, we permitted more registrations in Website and Drama, which had not hit their capacity.
So, it's not too late — if you'd like to register a project, just go here and fill in the required info. And remember that if you registered your project in Essay or Website, tomorrow is also the last day to submit your paper or URL (send your essay to NCHDessay[at]gmail.com and send your web URL to NCHDweb[at]gmail.com).
. And don't forget to download a rulebook here.
We will be sending info to registered students via email — you'll find out more about what to expect on May 1 and what to bring with you on the big day. Those emails will likely go out next week.


text:
The most quoted poem - and most vilified by the American right - on Iraq is God Bless America:
"Here they go again
The Yanks in their armoured parade
Chanting their ballads of joy
As they gallop across the big world
Praising America's God.
The gutters are clogged with the dead."
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Pinter wins Wilfred Own prize
Guild member Harold Pinter is to receive the Wilfred Owen award for poetry, named after the man acknowledged as the most influential war poet in English, reports The Guardian.
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text:
Adarsha Comprehensive College of Education & Research (ACCER)
Our Vision
"To be counted among the best Teacher Education Colleges in India."
Our Mission
"Teaching Research and Extension Through Innovation and Experimentation for achieving Excellence and Commitment in Teacher Education"
Course 202: Scope
Course 203: Scope
Principal's Address
We at Adarsha Comprehensive College of Education and Research are driven by ambition and desire to be number one in everything we learn and are committed to constantly improve upon the quality and relevance of all our teaching and learning experience, so as to make a positive contribution to the society and children who are citizen of tomorrow.
47/16, Erandwane,
Opp. Karve Telephone Exchange,
Near Nal stop, Karve Road,
Pune – 411004
Telephone Number: (020) 25433084
Website: www.asm.ac.in
Email id: firstname.lastname@example.com


text:
Welcome to " THE " Skincare Spa of East Hampton
A tranquil oasis where you will receive ultimate pampering and skin rejuvenation.
Attention to detail is unsurpassed in delivering to you results oriented facials.
World renowned Pevonia products used throughout all services which provide the highest quality botanical essences and marine actives.
My goal is to extend my professional environment equipped with modern technology and tranquil design to let clients feel relaxed.
I realize your time is valuable, and I want the time you spend with me
to be the highlight of your day.
All spa services will leave you refreshed,relaxed, and rejuvenated .
I believe I have created the ultimate skincare spa experience..... Just for you!
Enjoy your journey.
Peace be yours,
Christine Hutchinson - Licensed Esthetician 25 + years


text:
Online Marketing
Here are the 4 ways our sites will build your business.
- Getting your Google listing displayed prominently.
"Where your prospects are looking"
• The Web finds your customer.
- Getting surfers to click on your site listing when they see it.
• Your Google text satisfies the customer that your site has what they are looking for.
- Attractively presenting and succinctly describing your offer.
• The customer finds what they want and is motivated to act.
- Making it easy to do complete a transaction.
• The customer makes a purchase or enquiry
This way we dramatically increase the number of "your target market" visitors to your web site and more importantly the number who buy when they get there.
Ask us about our "Splash Page" marketing technology.


text: Oh hi Hard Just wanted to let you know I've got at stable overclock of 114mhz BCLK on a Xeon E5 2667 v2, which means a neat 4.1 all core turbo and 4.5 single core turbo. And all on stock turbo voltage. The most impressive thing IMO is the cooling, overclocked at 114mhz BCLK it never got hotter than 50 degrees under benchmarks (stock temps are off, forgot to open OHM before the tests). 114mhz: {} 100mhz: {} I was coming from an i7 4790k delidded at 4.5. No difference in games what so ever. 100mhz Xeon E5 2667 v2 bf1 - 101fps skyrim - 42fps 114mhz Xeon E5 2667 v2 bf1 - 102fps skyrim - 43fps i7 4790k bf1 - 100 fps skyrim - 41 fps


text:
Music sensation 'Hamza Malik' stuns everyone with his new heart-achingly beautiful track, "Aye Rah-e-Haq Ke Shaheedo." Super talented & charming singer's recent single evinces that he deserve a shot in Coke Studio! The rendition is a beautiful tribute to the brave soldiers of Pakistan army who are fighting at Sachin glaciers. It is a salute to the bravery of martyrdom and Ghazis of Pak-Army.
This incredibly heartfelt version of "Aye Rah-e-Haq Ke Shaheedo" will get you all tearing up. This improvised version of its original has the element which will Stimulate your Patriot sentiments when you listen to it.
Uber talented singer Hamza Malik has been on the music scene in Pakistan for a few years." The song is originally sung by Pakistani film playback singer Begum Naseem and lyrics are by 'Saif-Ud-din Saif.'
Listen, Watch & Share!
Hamza Malik – Aye Rah-e-Haq Kay Shaheedoo
Aye Rah-e-Haq Kay Shaheedoo..
Posted by Hamza Malik on Sunday, February 19, 2017


text:
Words that start with abhomina
Found 2 words that start with abhomina. Browse our Scrabble Word Finder, Words With Friends cheat dictionary, and WordHub word solver to find words starting with abhomina. Or use our Unscramble word solver to find your best possible play! Related: Words containing abhomina
- Scrabble
- Words With Friends
- WordHub
- Crossword


text:
Private Label Products
We currently produce Private label products for customers. Please contact us if you are interested in a private label product or have a recipe your own recipe and would like it packaged for you.
Crepe Program
Different programs for different business requirements. Please contact us for more details.


text:
Sarcoprion edax, prehistoric shark
C021/7495 Rights Managed
530 pixels on longest edge, unwatermarked
Request/Download high-res file
Uncompressed file size: 50.2MB
Downloadable file size: 6.7MB
Please login to use the price calculator
This image is part of the feature Terrors of the Ancient Seas
Credit: JAIME CHIRINOS/SCIENCE PHOTO LIBRARY
Release details: Model release not required. Property release not required.
Keywords: 1, 259 million years ago, animal, artwork, biological, biology, cartilaginous fish, circular jaw, early shark, fauna, fish, illustration, nature, one, palaeontology, palaeozoological, palaeozoology, paleontology, paleozoological, paleozoology, prehistoric, prehistory, primitive shark, sarcoprion edax, shark, single, swimming, tooth whirl, under water, underwater, vertebrate, vertebrates, wildlife, zoological, zoology
Licence fees: A licence fee will be charged for any media (low or high resolution) used in your project.


text:
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When you use upholstered furniture it starts to get worn out, accumulate dust, dirt and very often spills of different typesBook Now
When it comes to upholstery clean we can provide you with superb results. Not only the surface will be cleaned the methods we apply are going deep to the fiber's roots and extract even the most stubborn obstinate stains. The methods are tender and there is not even the slightest chance to harm the upholstery.
With Carpet Clean London upholstery cleaning methods the fabric will be with extended life and healthy. Our technicians will go for cleaning with great care whether the upholstery is textile, wool, cotton, silk, leather, etc. Trust on them to make your upholstery immaculate and without any trace of those nasty spills.
Allow to our cleaners to take care for you and insure the upholstery will be cleaned thorough and without harming the fibers. The fabrics will be free of dirt, bacteria, soil, dust mites and other accumulations that you don't want to be there. Furthermore, the regular professional maintenance will extend the upholstery life.
Carpet Clean London is using only eco-friendly detergents and methods and you can always book your service on 020 3404 0272! Our expert assistants will answer your questions, give you free of charge quote and discuss the details with you 24/7!
List of services we provide in BR6 Orpington :
Give Us a call at 020 3404 0272OR feel free to fill the form below: