Weekly Rector's Message

Saturday, June 8, 2024

Dear friends,

Recently, while sorting through some papers, I came across a memoir of my friend Chris (now deceased), describing his time as an apprentice in the Merchant Navy. The memoir covers the period from 1956 to 1962, when Chris was employed by the British India Steam Navigation Company, or “B.I.” for short. The company’s name harkens back to a different time, when the sun was setting on the British Empire. The company disappeared long ago, having been swallowed up by the P & O Group.

The memoir has value as a family record. At the time, the world was a much larger place; most people in Britain would not have traveled abroad to the extent they do now. In those days, only the rich could afford international travel. However, the crew on board ship were able to travel around the world and get paid for it, provided they carried out their jobs and looked after the passengers. 

Much of the life of a seaman is mundane. Lifeboat drills, which involve launching and retrieving lifeboats, were common. There was cargo to load and unload. If you didn’t get on with the skipper, tough luck. On one ship, the skipper took a dislike to the author and, during a storm, made him stand on the bridge, where he became completely drenched.

On shore, the crew could find other things to do. In Sydney, my friend met an Australian girl and courted her for a while. There was not enough time for the relationship to develop any further, however. Later, he would meet his future wife in the ship’s dispensary. 

There is one passage in the memoir where the author waxes poetical about days at sea. 

“There were, of course, many fine days of light airs, calm seas and gentle swells, when the early movement of air was created by the ship’s progress through the breathless air…the only sounds were the tumbling waters of the bow wave, and the turbulence of the foaming wake training in a straight silvery ribbon towards the horizon behind us. These were the days and nights of cloudless skies when blazing sun gave way to the blackest backdrop to a billion sparkling galaxies, and a man would gaze up at the heavens and wonder if the human race could really be alone in the universe.”

Chris acknowledges the importance of the Mission to Seamen, a Christian organization dedicated to offering support, friendship and hospitality to seamen who were a long way from home. He describes the chaplains and volunteers at the various ports of call as his “first encounters with real Christians doing the Lord’s work in a practical and meaningful way.” 

When I met Chris, his seafaring days were behind him, and I acted as a kind of chaplain to him at a time when his spirits were low. We formed a friendship and he was kind enough to send me his memoir. 

He ends his memoir with the 23rd psalm, in a version by Captain John Roberts, written in 1874.

The Lord is my Pilot,I shall not drift.

He lighteth me across the dark waters;He steereth me in deep channels;

He keepeth my log.

He guideth me by the Star of Holiness for His Name's sake.

Yea, though I sail mid the thunders and tempests of life,I will dread no danger, for Thou art with me;Thy love and Thy care, they shelter me.

Thou preparest a harbor before me in the homeland of Eternity.Thou anointest the waves with oil. My ship rideth calmly.

Surely sunlight and starlight shall favor me on the voyage I take,and I will rest in the port of my God for ever.

With blessings on your own journey

Father David