On the sixth day of November, 1942, the M.V. Nanagai entered Sydney Harbour completing a thirteen days fishing cruise along the New South Wales and Victorian coasts. Making our way to the Navy craft at the entrance to the harbour, recognition flags at the masthead we were duly recognized and given the name of flags we were to fly  permission  with the flags flying we made our way to the boom vessel, which was opened enough for us to slip through. Proceeding up the harbour, it was to be the last fishing trip for the craft, for on berthing at our Company’s wharf (Red Funnel Trawlers) an American Army Officer stepped aboard and ran to the mast head the American flag.  The Nanagai was now the property of the United States of America.

Later in the manager’s office, the American Lieutenant told us we could stay with the boat in the employ of the United States Army; the crew immediately signed on.  We were fishermen no longer.  The trawler was to be fitted out for running supplies and men up to New Guinea, the fishing company to do the refitting; also it was repainted in gray all over. 

We had to go to number 10 Walsh Bay, to the offices of Burns Philip, a company that would handle all our wants while in Australia.  All my wages were also paid through them, my wife, Jean, receiving them and also I had to pay my own insurance, later on the American Army paid this but I missed out on it.

Ten days later we again put to sea for Townsville, Queensland.

“Good luck, lads.  Good sailing, you have a touch job but I know you will come through OK,” said Captain Juddah of the Small ships U.SA.A.  “You are to tow a barge to Townsville.  My department is against this idea saying that small fishing boats are not capable of handling these tows on long ocean trips such as is asked of you, but I know you will come through,  Good luck.”

Before we left I had to get sailing directions for the trip and the signals of the days to follow and charts of the mine field at Morton Bay in Queenland also profiles of enemy subs and aircraft.

So on the sixteenth of November, 1942 we started our trip of many experiences.

The M.V. Nanagai or S.164, as the boat was to be called from now on, was a small wooden vessel sixty five feet long; a beam if eighteen feet and drawing eight feet aft.  She was about one hundred tons gross, powered by a one hundred and twenty horsepower Ruston Hornby diesel engine which pushed her through the water at eight knots per hour.  This little vessel was an unusually good sea boat, a veteran of many howling gales.  We carried a crew of five comprising of

John ‘Big Jack’ Haylen               Mate

Ben Huxley                               Engineer

John Ridding                             A.B.

Sid Sharpe                                Cook; and myself

Kenneth Shearer                        Master

The five of us had been fishing together many years and I can say we were a happy little ship.  As I have already said we were fishing only a week ago.  We had had a good catch of fish when a southerly gale hit us while we were trawling off Jervis Bay, NSW.  The barometer showed that it looked like lasting a few days so we got in touch with our office who ordered us home.  So with a gale behind us we ran for home, to begin our next chapter of events.

Every sailing day I had to go to the Navy Department and receive sailing directions, code signals for the number of days that we would be away.  When called upon by a patrol boat or plane, we must give the signal of the day by signal light.  All other small trawlers up and down the coast had to be in port between sunset and sunrise but we could be out at all hours.  Once we were ordered into the nearest port by a navy patrol boat, but when we arrived in port he was very apologetic having found out that we had permission to stay out.

It was the sixteenth of November at 7pm when we left Walsh Bay, Sydney Harbour; at 8pm we cleared the heads and set our course for the north.

We were towing a forty-five foot timber lighter, square across the front and on its deck was securely lashed an invasion tank barge.   We were using a nine inch Manila Hawser for a tow line, seventy fathoms long with fifteen fathoms of two and half steel wire as bridle; a tow line that was to tax our strength later on. 

All was bustle and hurry on the day we sailed, and it seemed half of Sydney was on the wharf to see us off.  At five pm we slipped our mooring and steamed to another part of the Harbour to pick up our tow.  It was with sad hearts that we had left, for saying goodbye to our families and friends was one of the hardest parts of our trip. I think farewells are the hardest of all things; it was harder than all that followed.  I personally shall always carry the memory of my wife standing at the gate, trying to hold back the tears that somehow would not be held back; trying to smile and keep her chin up.  It was like a knife being twisted in my heart.  The women of this sad world have a lot more to bear than any man in the field.  Adios sweetheart.

CHAPTER TWO

Out at sea last the weather was good, a slight nor’easter blowing, though not enough to worry us.  Set the watch, Big Jack the mate, taking the first wheel.  Jack was a mere mite of twenty stone, standing six foot two in his socks.  About the crew before we proceed any further,  As you can see Big Jack was no stripling, a bit of an ear basher and a hard drinker but a good ship mate and dependable.  Young Jack next, he also was tall and solid weighing some fourteen stone, an English lad who had been with us some years; he also was a fine fellow and one who stuck by his mates.  Next, Old Ben, the Engineer, he was a dried up old chap, soft spoken and forever grinning, one of the best who had sailed in many ships including the pearl luggers up north.  We were to meet up with many of his cronies later on up north.

To return to our story.  We were on our course standing some ten miles of the coast as laid down by our navy.  About two am the chief woke me, I had just come off watch and seemed to have only just gone to sleep.  It appeared a pump supplying fresh water to the engine for cooling purposes had broken a shaft.  Turning out and climbing down to the Engineer Room was found little could be done to repair the shaft so we turned to and by altering pipes we bypassed the pump and used a direct supply of salt water to the engine, making such a good job that we left it that way for as long as I remained on the boat.  Anyway, we finished the job by dawn and were once more on our way.  Little was to be done during the day, just clean the ship and keep watch.  We, who were used to working hard and long hours, this seemed like loafing,  For something to do we made kites and flew them from the mast then shot them down with our two fifty caliber Browning guns which had been fitted for us.  These guns, the mate and young Jack kept clean, months later in New Guinea they were praised by a Major for the excellent condition they were in.  Myself, I looked after the rifles and Tommy gun; also the revolvers of which we had been issued two – one to myself and one for the mate.  He swaggered around with his strapped to his side while I favoured a shoulder holster.  I guess we were like little boys with our guns; always seeming to want an excuse to start shooting holes in the atmosphere and at the water.  We thought that we were truly tough guys!

The weather remained fine and we were making a hundred miles in twenty hours, not bad for our heavy tow line, which was giving us no trouble except for chaffing the tow line.   We overcame this by parceling with bags.  We passed Smokey Cape at eleven thirty pm.  The ‘Marjory Jean’, another boat of the Small Ships gave us a hail of encouragement in passing.

Off the Solitary Islands we stopped to break the fisherman’s unwritten law, we robbed some lobster pots and fish traps which were buoyed off with glass floats.  Picking the line ups with the boat hook then onto the winch, short work was soon made of bringing the traps to the surface,  “Good catch, Skipper,” cried Big Jack when the traps landed on the deck.  Two lobsters were soon crawling over the deck and these were pounced on by Sid the cook who bore them down to the galley for cooking.  The fish traps yielded plenty of leather jackets – we kept half a basket and returned the rest to the trap.  After resetting the traps we were on our way once more.  Except for a dozen fish, which we had for tea, we cleaned the rest and salted and dried them for bait and later use.  Our thanks to the fisherman who set the traps, I hope he forgave us.  Later, when we were passing a point, later called Sandon Bluffs, Big Jack recalled how he had fished there and caught snapper, so the boat was hove to and lines, which we had plenty, were baited and thrown over the side.  Soon a dozen fine snapper were kicking and flapping on the deck.  It was with some reluctance that we once more got under way.  We were all fishermen and it hurt to have to leave good fishing behind, 

On the twentieth we came upon Richmond Light at 8 am, Blackrock at 7pm and Hastings Head at 9pm.

CHAPTER THREE

On the fifth day after leaving Sydney we arrive at Morton Bay, Queenland.  Sailing an intricate course across the boy to dodge the mine fields, we took aboard a pilot and proceeded up the river to berth at 2.30am at Dalgetus Wharf, the first part of our journey over.  A good trip approximately five hundred miles, in one hundred and twenty seven hours, we were justly proud of our little vessel, considering our tow.  Another boat had left Sydney one hour behind us and we beat it by twenty four hours.  The next day the American Officer in charge came down aboard our ship and took our order for engine fuel and stores.  It being Sunday we made it a field day, and did our washing and general cleaning up.  On Monday our stores come aboard also a steel bridle for the tow line, this fully eliminated the chaffing.  While the stores were being put aboard I went to the Navy Control for orders as regards our signals and course.  Early the next morning we let go our lines and slipped down the river to open sea, not bothering with a pilot.  We had an old sailing scow as company; the officer had asked me to pilot him down.  We must also ditch him first opportunity for like Greta Garbo “We vant to be alone.”  About 4pm we were at Calandra Light and poking our nose to the swell of the open sea.  The land here has a most peculiar formation, here are the Glass House mountains rising many feet into the air; similar to an ice-cream cone upside down.  At seven in the morning we were finally at Bluff Point and leaving Morton Bay behind.

The weather seems like being fine, a light easterly wind, our tow behaving exceptionally well with the new bridle.  Each day seem the same just ship routine, nothing exciting, until we reached Sandy Cape.  I wished we were around the flamin’ thing for I had heard so much about it and nothing was in its praise. 

This cape runs some twenty miles to sea, formed of coral and sand, covered with water and very shallow, soon rip a ship’s bottom out,  One can dodge the Cape by going through Inchinbrook Channel but the Navy said we could not pass the bar at the entrance so it was the cape for us.  We just got to Sandy Cape lighthouse at 7pm when she started to blow hard for the nor’ard.  Soon we were pitching wildly, seas breaking over our foc’cle head, out tow would be insight for one minute then out of site the next, a mass of white water as the seas smashed over it.

There was no sleep that night, as was my duty I remained in the wheelhouse drinking lashings of coffee and tea.  A mad night for us all around this Cape, treacherous currents and tides sweep wildly along it, setting one onto the sharp coral.  All night we expected our tow line to break.  It was with much relief that dawn finally broke and with it the wind dropped but still a nasty sea was running.  At midday we finally won our way round the Cape and were abreast of the Breaksea Spit Light Ship, a vessel moored with a light tower aboard to guide ships over this treacherous stretch of water,  A ship manned only by sea birds; straining madly at its anchor and rolling right over on her beam ends.  From Sandy Cape light to the light ship is twenty miles and this took us seventeen hours.  Rounding the Cape we fetched up at Lady Elliott Light at five pm and into calm seas again.  At dusk a light northerly started again, this seems to be the usual wind around here at night and as it was only a gently wind it was quite OK with us.

Next day was our hottest day, over one hundred degrees.  The lads are busy making tropical suits.  Big Jack procured an old mattress cover and with it he has made a lava lava, what a sight!  Twenty stone with a rag around his middle, his stomach hanging over the top like a bag of spuds.  The rest of us were quite satisfied with shorts.

One the twenty seventh of November we made Bustards Head and anchored in Pancake Creek.  Our engine was giving a little trouble; the barge was half full of water from the storm.  Though the barge was decked and well caulked the weather somehow managed to get in.   The engine was easily repaired as spare valve housing and valve.  The engineer and I looked around the engine room to see what we could use to empty the water from the barge.  The fresh water cooling system had plenty of piping we could use.  The deck washing pump and using the deck house

My thoughts were home this day I was home sick.  This day was my wife’s birthday and also the anniversary of our marriage.  Although I was a sea faring man, I always seemed to be home on this day.   This was my first time away and I felt a bit down hearted and homesick.  Sweet memories sweetheart, keep your chin up.

We also visited the lighthouse keeper and his wife, right pleased to see us for it was lonely here for them, wild desolate country; all they see is a fisherman now and then and the light tender’s ship with stores. Still, they seem content and happy.  Whilst visiting we tried some hunting but for all we saw we could have left the guns on board.

Next day our engine was once more alright, the barge pumped dry and so we again put to sea.  On this day also we came onto the islands proper, we were to see many of these for north Queensland’s coast is dotted with thousands,  We found that among these islands the tides run very string, our speed dropped to one or two knots per hour, and with the barge in tow we made a lot of lee way.  Our orders were to take all precautions so we always anchored at one of the islands at night though if the tides were favourable we did push on.  These tactics proved to be sound for later on we found that we were the only one out of many to get our tow through safely. 

A lot of these islands are barren rocks; other huge mountains rising from the sea, thickly covered with trees, some have families living on them raising sheep and tropical fruits.  One we visited in the Keppel group had a family of four living of on it.  The White family had a lonely life raising sheep and growing bananas and pineapples, there was also wild game.  The boys of the family showed us a boat they had built from timber growing on the island; forty foot in length, ten foot beam, all planks sawn by hand and bit saw.  What a job, two years to build and a trim craft, a real credit to them.  When we left they loaded us with huge bunches of bananas.

The last day of the month and we had a strong head wind and made little progress, we anchored at St Bees Island just after dark.  The start of a new month, December - the weather against us, a stiff Northerly wind, raining like hell; our first taste of tropical rains, visibility the length of the boat, speed crawling.  After a stiff battle we made Linderman Island, the entrance to the Whitsunday Passage.

We anchored around 6 pm and seeing some coconut trees and some goats ashore decided to have some, but this was my undoing and a source of entertainment for the crew.  For although I managing to climb a tree, with the loss of what seemed to me all the skin off my tummy, and get some coconuts, my dignity was further outraged because coming through the scrub with my coconuts I disturbed a nest of green ants which fell on my shoulders and down my shorts and it seemed to me they all bit at a given signal.  With an ear splitting yell I rushed into the water, pulling off my pants as I ran.  I must have presented a very amusing picture to all the crew.  The little buggers had crawled up my shorts’ legs and found the choicest and most tender posts to bite; I had to stay in the water until they stopped biting and that seemed hours but at last the crew came to my aid and helped me get rid of the ants.   The boys were howling with laughter and rolling in the sand, but I was not laughing until I saw Big Jack’s belly heaving like a jelly – I had to smile – ants in my pants! 

Still we had a welcome change from tinned food, we had paw paws, coconuts and I shot a goat with the Tommy gun although I seemed to have chased it all over the mountain side, Jack had also caught some fish.  The cooks made a casserole with some of the goat and baked the rest of it; and, together with the fish, paw paws and coconuts that night we had a feast which made a change from bully beef.

On our way again next day we made Bowen late at night against bad weather, the next morning the American Officer came down to see to our wants and we were told we were the first to reach this far with our tow.  One boat was lost off Brisbane; one off Coffs Harbour and a third had been lost off Byron Bay.  All were total losses.  We were sorry to hear of the losses but very proud of our accomplishment.

Not long before our fuel and store and even some fresh bread arrived, Burns Phillip agents once again looking after us.

Bowen Harbour is a port for the shipping of frozen meat and the main feature is the long concrete wharf running out into the harbour as the harbour is incline to be shallow. 

The next day saw us once again on our way, headed for Townsville.