EXCERPT: THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL – A spin-off from the British seaman’s adventures trading off the coast of Africa.

Lacking a conventional port, many of Africa’s primitive villages that supplied sapele and mahogany logs for Britain’s burgeoning furniture trades loaded the cargoes of timber rafts from offshore.

After the day’s work had ended, it was for the seamen a choice: stay onboard and view the coast from afar or clamber down a rope ladder to one of several dugout canoes to take advantage of a trip to the nearest kraal.

There waiting for thirsty seamen would be at least one shebeen, a tin-roofed, primitive bar offering African beers and ‘jungle juice’; a notorious, gin-like, high-octane drink that oozed from a local tree.

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The good-natured banter between us seamen and the natives that high-spirited evening was lively, as was indeed the worsening weather.

Such were the high spirits of our group and our African hosts, + one member of the American Peace Corps, that it was realised too late that whilst we relaxed and exchanged camaraderie, the weather had deteriorated and had turned boisterous, to say the least.

It was time for us to quickly sober up and assess our predicament, for by now both the wind and the sea had risen. The night was late, and it was pitch dark. The MV Patani, moored offshore, was a twinkling set of difficult-to-see lights far out to sea.

Stopping overnight wasn’t an option: It was with much anxiety that we clambered aboard the two waiting dugout canoes.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as the paddles dipped and the canoe bows encountered the breakers, the canoes were hurled into the air and then afterwards slapped down into each trough whilst threatening to send us all to a watery grave with each roller encountered. Imagine taking a ride on a bucking bronco or steer.

Grimly and by now sober, we half pissed but rapidly sobering-up seamen clung on to the sides of the canoe as each of our waterborne craft crashed and veered uncertainly towards the freighter now partly visible against the backdrop of distant stormy skies.

Finally, with our canoe being tossed on the crests of sweeping waves, we reached the ship’s heaving side.

Timing our leaps right was essential, and with the help of the good Lord, each of us, in turn, grabbed a rung of a bosun’s chair and exhausted, dragged ourselves up to the vessel’s decks. Please share this story on social media: TELL US WHAT YOU THINK

THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL Illustrated best-seller of a seaman’s life in the greatest Merchant Navy in history (1955-1975) by ex-mariner Michael Walsh. https://michaelwalshbooks.wordpress.com/