BLOG 60 - "Marine Musings 15A" - Rejuvenating a Junk Ship in Jeddah

Foreword -

Below is a Comment on Blog 59 "My Way of Paying Tribute to my Colleagues on the Navigation Side" by one of my readers, a close friend who lives in the US. Somehow, it did not register in the 'Comments' section of the Blog. (I had to insert it from my end).

Quote

Dear Rangan,

Good recognition of your predecessors in the shipping industry who set an example and paved the way for the youngsters who followed. I am happy where India is today, thanks to millions of unsung heroes. Of course, we could have done better and earlier, looking at Germany and Japan coming out of ww2 ruins. But I am optimistic and hopeful about India’s future. There are many who would want to slow or defeat India, we should be ever vigilant. This is my feeling, from someone who left India at 21 and lived in the US for the past 50 plus years, exposed to Western perspectives and propaganda. Long live India!

My hats off to your experience and success.

Guru Nathan

Unquote

My thanks to Guru for his heartfelt comments.

AN UNUSUAL EPISODE - REACTIVATING A JUNK - “ETAIWI 2”

It was the time when you could not stay in India for more than 89 days, for income tax purposes, if you were working for a foreign company - outside of India - and earning in currencies different from India.

It was also the time when Barber Ship Management was going through their leanest phase, with hardly any ships under their Management, but ships were expected in a few months. Everybody was feeling jittery about their future. A big recession in shipping was building up.

With no call from the Bombay Office about joining any ship even after 80 days of waiting, I was getting nervous from the viewpoint of my ‘non resident’ status, so I called up the Bombay Office and told them I will be going to Singapore and waiting for a call.

In those days, there was no necessity for an advance visa for entry into Singapore. Flights from Madras to Singapore were cheap and readily available. I put myself up in Broadway Hotel, a very pedestrian hotel, but situated on Serangoon Road, an ideal location for a vegetarian. The good thing was, the longer you stayed in the hotel, the more discounts were given. As small as my cabin was when I was a Fifth Engineer, it offered the advantage of an attached bath room.

So, not knowing how long I would need to continue staying before I joined a ship, I hunkered down and kept my expenses as low as possible.

The occasional beer and the occasional movie was the only luxury that I indulged in.

From the 2nd day, I started taking the bus to the Barber’s Office in Clifford Pier to help the late Mr Datta, General Manager of the Singapore Office, just to keep busy.

Singapore's underground Metro was, then, a project being visualised.

Within a few days, I became very familiar with every aspect of the office work.

I do not know how many weeks I had been in Singapore, when I found myself alone in the Office one day. The phone rang. At the other end was my Hong Kong Office boss 2, Mr. Vijan. He was surprised to hear me on Mr. Datta’s phone and I explained the circumstances. His next question was “ Have you worked on old MAN Engines?”. I told him I had cut my teeth on them in SISCO. His next question was “Would you like to go for a difficult ‘reactivation’ job”?

To get back to earning my wage, I would have, at that time, done a deal with the devil. I immediately said “Yes’. After a few minutes, when Mr. Datta returned, he called HongKong.

At this juncture, it would be appropriate to briefly describe the status of Barber Ship Management. Till a couple of years ago, around 1982, they had been managing only the older ships passed down to us by the parent (Norwegian) company, Wilh Wilhelmsen of Oslo. The exception was the ‘Artemis’ (which, as mentioned in a previous narrative, sank in December 1980) and the ‘Ad Astra’, both belonging to a Monaco based company.

Sometime during 1981 or 1982, Oslo decided that every Wilhelmsen entity - BSM being one of them - will need to be self supporting, either sink or thrive, by drumming up business from the outside market, rather than leaning on and surviving on funds from the parent company. This really set the cat amongst the pigeons for most of the entities. Barber’s was well placed in the market to receive the management of several ships and soon became a leader in Ship Management circles. They also had a scary period of nearly a month when they had no ships at all to manage, but with bright prospects in sight.

With this policy, they were eager to enter into the Saudi market. This is where I came in.

One of the Taiwanese owned Evergreen General Cargo ships had been arrested in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, for non-payment of some dues or the other. The Taiwanese company was unable to abide by the legal orders of the Saudi court, hence the ship was auctioned off.

A Saudi Sheikh bought the ship at the auction and spent the next few months wondering what to do with this acquisition, not knowing anything about shipping.

By this time, nearly two years had passed since its arrest. By chance - or mischance - depending on which side of the fence from which you are looking in, Wilhelmsen agents in Jeddah, Binzagr Barber, headed by a Norwegian, heard that a Saudi Sheikh was looking for a company with maritime expertise and promptly called Oslo, who called HongKong. Wanting to break into the Saudi market, BSM Hong Kong’s boss promptly flew to Jeddah and signed a Management agreement with the Sheikh.

The management of the ship was passed on to the Singapore office, which is where I came into the picture.

Mr. Datta had to get his Saudi visa, which took a few days. I could enter anytime due to my Seaman’s Book (CDC), on guarantees provided by the vessel’s agents. The only information I had about the ship was that it was a general cargo ship and had outdated MAN engines.

So, Mr. Datta and I flew to Jeddah and were received by the Agent who put us up in a hotel for the night. We were to board the ship the next morning.

The next morning, the General Manager of Binzagr Barber, a Norwegian by the name of Mr. Knut Brathagen, completed the Port formalities and took us by boat to a rust bucket, anchored at the inner anchorage.

During the few hours we were together, he brought us up-to-date on the plight of the Etaiwi 2, how it was auctioned off, bought by the Sheikh who wanted to convert her into a Live Stock Carrier, to ply between Australia and Jeddah carrying sheep. He also mentioned that he suspected there was no one aboard, nor had anyone been on board for a long time.

That did prove to be the case. The gangway was down, so the three of us clambered aboard, Mr. Datta and I lugging our suitcases. There was no electricity: the ship was dead. Noting this, Mr. Brathagen immediately went back ashore to buy some torchlights, cells, food, water, snacks and some basic necessities of which we had made a quick list.

The cabins in the accommodation were in a mess, except the Chief Engineer’s. We cleaned that cabin enough to sleep in the night.

I always carry my own 3 cell torch. Using that, we went down to the Engine Room for a cursory inspection. Luckily, the engine room bilges had no water - the sea valves were water tight. The Engine Room required cleaning, the machinery required overhaul.

Also, there had been no water leakages from the gland of the 'lignum vitae' stern tube.

'Lignum Vitae' Stern Tube Bush

The Main Engine was a 35 year old (information obtained from the engine nameplate) MAN engine, naturally aspirated, with slide exhaust valves. More a museum relic than a working engine.

Brathagen arrived before sunset with all the items we had asked for, along with some disturbing news.

Due to immigration rules, the “Visitor’s Pass” issued to Mr.Datta was only for one day - he could not stay the night on board and had to return ashore and stay in a hotel.

This meant I had to stay alone on board as, once again, Saudi immigration rules did not permit me to stay for a couple of days in a hotel. I had to remain on board. Brother Brathagen had tried his best, but the immigration officials were immovable sphinxes. However, the rules allowed that I could go ashore during the daytime only after I had been on board for a minimum of three days.

I resigned myself to staying on board all alone, till the arrival of a ‘skeleton’ crew from Bombay.

Brother Brathagen and Mr. Datta left.

I was alone on a dead ship for the next four days.

Although all alone on a ‘dead’ ship, I was not unduly worried. After a dinner of sandwiches, fruits and milk, I settled down as best as I could, read a book for sometime using one of big, new torches and then slept.

It must have been around 0530 next morning, as dawn was breaking, that a peculiar series of sounds suddenly woke me out of my slumber. Heart beating fast, I went down to the main deck. The sounds were coming from the ship’s side, so I looked over the side.

Large, more than palm sized, thousands of crabs were clambering up the ship’s outer hull, foraging for food on the heavy sea growth and encrustations that had amassed itself on the ship that had been stationary for two years.

Wrist length fish, by the thousands,were jumping out of the water to catch and eat their morning breakfast, a plate of fattened crabs.

Bigger fish came for their breakfast of smaller fish.

Still bigger ones came for their prey.

It was like watching a carnivorous army at war, where the predators fed on their smaller comrades, causing the mayhem and the splashing that had woken me up. No, I did not notice any sharks or whales.

It was then that I understood what being at the bottom of the “food chain” meant. It was frenzy feeding at its severest. I was a witness to this feeding frenzy everyday for the nearly 4 months I spent on this ship.

From stem to stern, on the port side, on the starboard side, this was repeated every day at sunrise and lasted for about 20 to 30 minutes. Then, a sudden quiet would descend on the ship.

The crabs that made it to the top, to the gunwale, would wither and fall back into the water, exhausted by the vertical climb on a slippery ship side surface, only to become prey to the ones that chased them up in the first place. The more tenacious ones clung on, only to succumb to the heat of Jeddah.

Life’s lessons at its most primitive, were at hand in as unlikely a place as a dead ship at an anchorage in Jeddah.

Being alone on board, I stuck to the accommodation, except for small forays on to the deck, mostly at dawn. Brathagen would come every day to see about my welfare.

On the fourth evening, around 8pm, I heard suspicious sounds near the gangway and went down to investigate, along with my trusted torch. Heart beating a little faster, I saw figures moving in the gloom, coming up the gangway. They jumped when I shone the torch on them. Brathagen, the prankster that he was, had not mentioned to them that I was aboard the ship, all alone.

The frightful moment having thus passed, they quickly settled down, cleaned a couple of cabins and went to sleep. A Second Mate, a 3rd Engineer, an Electrician, a Fitter, a 2nd Cook, an AB, a Seaman and a Wiper formed part of this motley ‘skeleton’ crew, of which I was in charge.

The next morning things started in earnest. During the time I had been alone, I had made a rudimentary plan that I outlined to them in the morning meeting. They had also been woken up by the heavy splashing that was caused by the feeding frenzy of the morning, which I had warned them about. The Cook was the happiest, as he said that there would be fresh fish every day. I told him not to be too happy, as I was a vegetarian. His face fell - I had to assure him that I had been joking.

We found the galley in a mess, Everybody chipped in and cleaned it up. We found several gas cylinders, most were full. We overhauled the gas oven and made it ready for use.

The Fresh Water tank was nearly full and, conveniently below the galley.

An old fashioned hand pump was also fitted.

It was as if the vessel was outfitted for a long stay without power.

Brathagen came in a boat and took the Second Officer and me out of the port - he had obtained special permission to take out 2 persons every third day for provisions. A departmental store was close to the Office. After sending out our first messages to Singapore, copy to HongKong, we went shopping.

The first was a ‘fridge running on a gas heated source, instead of electricity. We managed to find an ‘Electrolux’ 250 litre one. Next was a portable generator to power 10 lights and a few small machinery, including a ‘mixie’. Next was grocery shopping. Quite a substantial quantity of items were stacked in the boat. We had found a rope in pretty decent condition and rigged up a block and tackle at and above the gangway to haul up about 200 kilograms each lift.

We were quickly settling down. The Electrician quickly set up and connected the portable generator. The Cook started using the ‘fridge and started cooking. I had my first meal after nearly a week. All (the others) were up early catching fish at the gangway. Fish of various hues and crabs became a staple diet.

The galley was situated amidships on the main deck The area close to the galley, outside, on the open deck, became our meeting spot. Fresh water from the hand pump - mine being slightly heated - meant we could all bathe, restricted to once a day to conserve fresh water. Since bathrooms and toilets in the accommodation could not be used, certain unmentionable arrangements were made at the stern gunwale for ablutions.

Since it was too hot in the cabins, we decided to sleep on one of the decks, the lifeboat deck being the most convenient. It had a wooden deck, which we cleaned and kept ready. The next day, when I went ashore, I bought some thin mattresses, some pillows and bedsheets.

Our living arrangements were made as comfortable as possible on a dead ship.

Our first priority was power. Checks revealed that generators could be started. Fuel injectors were overhauled and lines primed. Sea water and fresh water pumps were free to rotate and were not jammed. Sea valves were opened carefully to check for holed pipes, sea line filters cleaned, as well as Fuel Oil and Lub Oil filters. Luckily, the MAN generator had its own attached fuel oil and cooling water pumps attached, which were overhauled. It took us the better part of 2 days to start one generator. As diesel oil quantity on board was limited, we started using the generators sparingly, till we could bunker some diesel oil.

It was during the starting of the generators that we appreciated the regulation or Classification requirements that insisted on ‘First Start Arrangements’. After overhauling a manual air pump and filling a ‘service air bottle’, we managed to start one generator after several tries and running out of air several times. It meant a lot of huffing and puffing with the manual pump.

We quickly filled up the main air bottles and kept the valves air tight.

The appreciable part of this whole exercise was that the machinery had not deteriorated very badly. With renewal of gland packings, the pumps were ready to go.

The Main Engine - a naturally aspirated engine, with an engine driven air pump - was a massive problem. The exhaust slide valves were stuck and we managed to overhaul all of them, improvising with whatever spares were on board, which was precious little, or using the same parts. To overhaul parts, we needed spare parts and none were available. We put up requisitions to Singapore. Because of the age of the engine, the office had procurement problems.

After more than a month, we were able to start the Main Engine for a few minutes, in spite of various leaks, especially on the exhaust side.

I must mention here that I had two excellent Officers with me - 3rd Engineer Atul Sabharwal and 2nd Officer Atul Bakshi. I had sailed with both of them on the ‘Taronga’ and knew them very well. With limited resources, they worked wonders to get the ship ready for sea.

Meanwhile, we were carrying out simultaneous inspections on deck. We needed to inspect all tanks, but had no means of ventilating the tanks prior entry, for safety purposes. We had to purchase one ventilating blower locally, which could be connected to the portable generator.

The first tank inspected was the forepeak. We ventilated the tank for a full day before entering. After starting the main generator and supplying compressed air to the deck, the Second Officer and I entered the tank with an air hose each tied to our bodies, close to the face, so that we do not run out of oxygen. We also had ropes tied to our bodies, being monitored by the Electrician and Seaman on deck.

Within minutes, we realised that it was going to be dangerous to inspect the full tank, as the side platforms and stringers were badly corroded, the stringers just nearly turning to powder at the merest touch. We did not go much further down.

We had set up a cargo cluster (lights) in the inside of the Hold No.1, the light projected on to the forward Collision Bulkhead. When we entered the forepeak, we could see pinpoints of light on the collision bulkhead, indicating the bulkhead was weak and holed. If we were to fill up the forepeak with ballast, No. 1 Hold will surely flood. Major repairs needed to be carried out before we put out to sea.

The afterpeak was no better. The top portions of the aft collision bulkhead also had pin sized holes, indicating thinned down plating. Filling the afterpeak would flood the steerīng gear room. We did not go further down into the tank due to heavy corrosion, but I am certain that the lower portions of the bulkhead would be in a bad state and may flood the engine room if filled with ballast water.

Other ballast tanks were in poor condition and would require massive amounts of steel renewal to make her seaworthy.

We had to be careful walking on deck also, as our footsteps would go ‘crunch, crunch’ due to accumulated rust. We marked the areas where the steel seemed to be sound, as a path to be followed.

Little by little, the accommodation was cleaned up. We bought 20 litre drums of cockroach spray and pump sprayed sections of the accommodation, the galley being sprayed every night. The next morning, it was the job of the Ordinary Seaman to sweep the areas that were sprayed the night before and mop the areas. He would sweep up 2 or 3 x 20 litre sized buckets of dead cockroaches every day.

The worst were the Fridge Rooms. I entered first and came out vomiting. Full carcasses, totally rotten, with live maggots the size of small snakes, were hanging in the Meat Room. I told the others that was one area I was not going to help clean and left it to them. Poor guys, they did what was necessary and cleaned up the rooms. On starting the ‘Fridge plant, surprisingly, the rooms cooled and there were no leaks in the plant. We shut the plant down and kept it ready for use.

We became used to sleeping in the open air at night, on the lifeboat deck, under the stars. It was lovely. We would play a few games of cards and then read for sometime (using ‘Petromax’ lights) and go to sleep, only to be woken just before sunrise by the alarm clock of the fish’ feeding frenzy.

During one of those nights of sleeping on deck, we were woken up by a distinct smell of fuel oil. Checking, we noticed it came from the waters around the ship. It was a bright, moonlit night and we could see the streak of oil coming from a ship about a mile away from us.

Next morning, a Coast Guard patrol boat was desperately darting around to locate the ship that had pumped out the oil as, by then, the oil streak had spread widely in the inner anchorage. Knowing our ship had been 'dead' for years, they did not choose to bother us. But I called out to them and, when they came aboard, I told them of the streak of oil during the night and the source.

A day later, we were thanked profusely by the Port and all help that we needed was extended to us.

45 days later, the ship was nearly ready to move, provided temporary repairs were carried out at the collision bulkheads and an issuance of a temporary ‘seaworthiness’ certificate given by the Classification Society.

At the end of each day, I would sit and type out a detailed report of several sheets. The Second Officer Atul Bakshi was a wonderful artist - hidden talent that, later, fructified into his becoming a well known artist of figurines from blown glass - and would sit with me to make three dimensional drawings - all freehand - of the descriptions in my report. The reports came alive with his drawings. I was honest enough not to take credit for them and attributed the authorship of the drawings to him. The reports were then sent to Singapore and HongKong. Such detailed engineering reports were rarely seen in the Office and was much appreciated.

Over time, it became increasingly clear to me that no use would come of re-activating the ship because it was in a badly run down condition and would require several millions to bring her to a decent shape. All this was conveyed to the Office.

The original intention of the Owners was to convert the vessel to a ‘Livestock Carrier’. Our Company had suggested a Singapore shipyard for the conversion.

Meanwhile, we had to practically stop all work as we were running short of Diesel Oil and not getting any supplied, in spite of our repeated requests to Singapore and HongKong. Our fresh water stock was also running low, which was not being supplied.

A discussion with the Agent, Brathagen, revealed that the Owners were ignoring all calls and telexes and had also not paid the Management Fees for two months running. The Agent was not able to press the issue with the Sheikh.

Nearly 100 days had passed and everything was coming to a standstill. During a call to the Office, I suggested that I meet the Sheikh personally and settle all issues. They gladly gave me permission, but were dubious of success.

The Agent set up an appointment. I do not recollect who else, Bakshi or Sabharwal, was with me during the meeting.

The Sheikh’s office was an eye-catching one. Thick, soft, black carpets, interwoven with gold threads, with a gold border was everywhere. Father and son were in attendance. I introduced myself and my shipmate. They became very friendly when they came to know that I was the Chief Engineer of their ship. The son knew English and would translate for the Father. Thick, black coffee was served from long spouted jars, all vessels shining like gold, probably gold.

Quite simply and disarmingly, I gave them a brief account of the work done and what more we would need to do before departing Jeddah for Singapore. I also mentioned that we were running very short of diesel oil and water. The son asked me what quantities I would require and assured me that they will be supplied next morning itself, which they were. The son said that they had been informed by Barber’s that the repairs and conversion in Singapore would cost a minimum of $ Seven Million, whereas their plan was to spend around a million or two.

Their naivete was revealed when they said that all they wanted was some wooden sheds put up in the holds and on deck to house the sheep and that would be that. I had to explain SOLAS (Safety of Life at Sea) regulations for LiveStock Carriers and the stringency of inspections by Classification Societies, the Australian Maritime Safety Authority (AMSA) and the related protocols for a seaworthy and safe ship.

The meeting was supposed to be for less than half an hour, but went on for two hours, as the conversation went from English to Arabic and from Arabic to English due to the translation process. The father was keenly interested and asked excellent questions. They had not been briefed in such depth before.

The meeting was drawing to a close, but the Father sensed that I was hesitant about something. When he asked his son to find out, the son asked me. I, then, told him that we had not been paid our wages, as the Sheikh had not paid the Management Fees for two months.

Their already fair complexion was suddenly suffused with red, in embarrassment. Their religious tenets forbade them from denying wages to those who worked for them. They asked me the total sum to be paid and they immediately handed me a cheque that included the next month’s fees.

I went back to the Agent’s office and handed over the rather large cheque. Brathagen was aghast. He said “We have been trying for 2 months, and you achieve it in 2 hours”. Dinner was on him.

After the first month, we had less and less to do, as the Owners had to agree to the rather large sum for conversion. We had opened the hatch covers, cleaned the holds. Interestingly, we found good solid wooden floors in the holds.

We smoothened the wood in one hold, marked a badminton court, went ashore and bought a net, Dunlop racquets, Slazenger shuttles and started playing badminton from 4 to 6 in the evenings, daylight coming from the partially opened hatch cover.

I had never played badminton, whereas both the Atuls were very good at it. I made a promise that I would learn the game and beat them within a month. Suffice it to say, I nearly did so. Those evenings were wonderful.

I had always been fond of books and comics. Brathagen would take me to the right places where I could buy both. It was then that I came across “Asterix” comics and loved them. I bought the entire series and, later, took them home. I still have them.

It soon became apparent that the Sheikh was not prepared to spend $ Seven Million or more for the conversion.

After a stay of nearly four months, we were sent back home, leaving behind the Fitter and Seaman. They also were taken off after a couple of months.

The everlasting regret that I had was that, as a non-Muslim, I could not visit Mecca, which was quite close to Jeddah.

Thus ended Barber Ship Managements foray into the Saudi market.

Rangan

===== "Marine Musings 16" - Blog 61 Will Continue =====