I recalled the banter of us sea cadets in the classroom of the Shipping Federation offices on Liverpool’s Pier Head.

As we youngsters laid out the ship’s log, its rotator, frog and a lengthy towline on the floor our good-humoured repartee was interrupted by the uniformed instructor.

‘One of these nights,’ he growled, ‘You’ll be on the stern of a ship putting the log out in freezing weather. You won’t be laughing then. Oh, you little bleeders will very much wish you were home in your warm beds.’

It was almost a year later when our ship, MV Columbia Star was calling in at ports situated on the West Coast of the United States and Canada. the Blue Star vessel found itself battling against a ferocious storm and fending off winter’s freezing sleet off Canada’s west coast. There were far better places to be as the razor-stinging spume turned to ice as it swept across the plunging ship’s prows.

Being my 2 am to 4 am trick on the ship’s wheel the weather was sufficiently vile for me to be thankful that it was my Scottish shipmate who was on the monkey island deck acting as the lookout. Up there, my shipmate was much exposed to the shrieking winds and frozen rain.

Turning towards me in the darkness of the ship’s wheelhouse the pacing Third Officer had a word: ‘Put the log out and take the lookout with you. I will take the wheel.’

Muttering an expletive under my breath, I quickly but reluctantly departed the comfort of the vessel’s heaving wheelhouse.

After calling out to Jock on the monkey island we pair descended ladders and made our difficult way along the boat and main decks to the locker at the stern where the taffrail log lines are kept.

The ship’s log consists of a very long line about the size of a domestic washing line. Part of the apparatus is a wheel rotator and rocket-shaped rotator, all of which are fed into the ship’s wake.

Once in the tossing sea, the gauge tells the vessel’s speed in knots.

It is not a task for men weak of arm and spirit. The ocean’s pull on the line could jerk one’s arms from the armpits as the line is fed out over the ship’s taffrail into the sea below.

On those wet and dangerous heaving decks we two shipmates resisted the pull of the line whilst screaming encouragement to each other through the storm, its threatening waves and shrieking winds.

Not even the classroom instructor could have envisaged such a frozen tumult. Did we miss our cosy beds at home? Not at all, Jock and I screamed with laughter as we went about our task until it was completed.

NOTE: The Log and the Frog is one of 70 true stories in The Leaving of Liverpool by ex-mariner Michael Walsh. Available on Amazon and LULU online booksellers.

THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL  ex-Liverpool seaman Michael Walsh, regular television, radio and newspaper personality. Bestseller: 70 stories and over 100 pictures. A first-hand account of the British ships, seafarers, adventures and misadventures (1955 – 1975). A tribute to the ships and seamen of the then-largest merchant marine in history. BOOK LINKS AMAZON https://tinyurl.com/329wa4eh LULU https://tinyurl.com/3kuja2s5

ALL I ASK IS A TALL SHIP Michael Walsh the Mariner’s Poet. Hauntingly illustrated a captivating chronicle of life penned by a son of the seven seas evoked from worldwide voyages during the 1950s and 1960s. The Bard of the Sea has spun a captivating treasure chest of delightful verse that captures hearts and souls the world over. LINK TO BOOK AMAZON https://tinyurl.com/yrxnv6mm + LULU  https://tinyurl.com/3pkh7wmh