The Thorshovdi
One other duty that required a volunteer (Forward Smith…) involved going out on emergencies with the deep-sea tugs that were berthed just beside the signal tower. All told there were about seven tugs, two deep sea and five harbour types. Now and again there was an emergency when the two deep-sea vessels would dash off to tow some ship out of trouble. They often required signals volunteers at very short notice – as little as five or 10 minutes – and the trip could be a three to four day task. I never understood why the sig was needed, as the Skipper and Executive Officer were very capable and competent sailors but I did not argue, as it was an interesting venture with a cash payment at the end. It wasn’t a great amount of cash but I took the job as a throw back to when I was skint and I also liked the crews. The Skipper had them on their toes and they complied without hesitation to any and all requests he made. Sleeping arrangements were exceedingly tight with shared bunks.
One of these interesting episodes on the tugs occurred towards the end of 1945. There was a huge storm with a number of ships dragging their anchors with five or six grounding on the Spanish beaches. We pulled a couple clear and attended an oil tanker called the Thorshovdi[1]. She had grounded between La Linea and Algerciras and broken her back. The front section re-floated and then beached a second time south of Algerciras. We went on board with naval divers (the ones with the round porthole helmets) and pumps, as they had to inspect the damage and position of lying, before attempting to pull her free.
While this was going on, we inspected the ship and I considered her to be quite luxurious. I was amazed at the quality of the panelling, decoration, furniture etc. Beautiful mahogany was everywhere. There were a number of locked doors that were opened with the aid of a 14lb sledgehammer and a pinch bar. A couple of taps to each hinge and then levered open in five minutes flat. These locked rooms contained all the glassware and crockery, bed linen, beautiful damask tablecloths and cutlery, curtains and lace ware. Take your pick was the order of the day. I lifted one monogrammed damask tablecloth. The others left it until tomorrow when they had more time.
We returned the following day to find the ship had been completely picked clean. Even the damaged doors had disappeared. It was a real Cornwall job, but nobody was upset about it and I got the impression that they already had enough gear at home. These tug men seemed to take any and everything in their stride.
The odd thing about this episode with the Thorshovdi was that after I returned home to Gateshead, in 1946 the two halves of this ship were tugged up to the repair yard at Wallsend on the River Tyne. It was big news in my local rag the “Evening Chronicle”[2]
One of these interesting episodes on the tugs occurred towards the end of 1945. There was a huge storm with a number of ships dragging their anchors with five or six grounding on the Spanish beaches. We pulled a couple clear and attended an oil tanker called the Thorshovdi[1]. She had grounded between La Linea and Algerciras and broken her back. The front section re-floated and then beached a second time south of Algerciras. We went on board with naval divers (the ones with the round porthole helmets) and pumps, as they had to inspect the damage and position of lying, before attempting to pull her free.
While this was going on, we inspected the ship and I considered her to be quite luxurious. I was amazed at the quality of the panelling, decoration, furniture etc. Beautiful mahogany was everywhere. There were a number of locked doors that were opened with the aid of a 14lb sledgehammer and a pinch bar. A couple of taps to each hinge and then levered open in five minutes flat. These locked rooms contained all the glassware and crockery, bed linen, beautiful damask tablecloths and cutlery, curtains and lace ware. Take your pick was the order of the day. I lifted one monogrammed damask tablecloth. The others left it until tomorrow when they had more time.
We returned the following day to find the ship had been completely picked clean. Even the damaged doors had disappeared. It was a real Cornwall job, but nobody was upset about it and I got the impression that they already had enough gear at home. These tug men seemed to take any and everything in their stride.
The odd thing about this episode with the Thorshovdi was that after I returned home to Gateshead, in 1946 the two halves of this ship were tugged up to the repair yard at Wallsend on the River Tyne. It was big news in my local rag the “Evening Chronicle”[2]
¹ Norwegian tanker taken into Admiralty Service in 1940 as a Royal Fleet Auxiliary Tanker. Mined by Italian frogmen whilst berthed at Gibraltar Roads in August 1943. It appears that the ship broke in half and that one half later broke its moorings and beached itself
² Following research into this event, the date the Thorshovdi entered Wallsend was July 26th 1946. She was re-floated after repairs on December 4th 1946.
² Following research into this event, the date the Thorshovdi entered Wallsend was July 26th 1946. She was re-floated after repairs on December 4th 1946.