STOCK AT SEA

Evening Star, Issue 23123, 24 November 1938, Page 22

STOCK AT SEA

ANIMALS OH VOYAGES J

My job is to look after livestock at sea, and whenever 1 talk to people about it, they always seem to want me to describe the lighter side of the work, and to recount some of the adventures which they imagine to be inseparable from the ocean transport of animals. This is not an easy thing to do, for everyone has his own idea of what is humorous; and adventure, if by that word some happening fraught with danger is understood, has not come my way? However, a few incidents remain more clearly etched in my memory than others (writes Trelach S. Doorly, in the ‘ Farmers’ Weekly,’ London). The first trip I made was to Brazil, when I was a raw-boned lad still in my ’teens. I travelled in a ship of the Nelson Line—since merged into the Koval Mail 1 group—and occupied a special cabin on deck where the cattle pens were erected. When we reached Santos, where my journey ended, the mate, a gaunt Highlander, advised mo to get my luggage on to the quayside immediately the livestock was oft-loaded, for the ship was continuing her voyage to Buenos Aires without delay. I would have to be “ signed off,” he told me, before a representative of the British Conusul, who would come aboard, for, to comply with certain formalities, X had to become a nominal member of the crew at the munificent salary of one shilling a month. The cattle ashore, then I set about getting my baggage off the ship, and since' there were no porters in sight, I decided to carry it on to the quayside myself. As soon as my foot touched ground, I was surrounded by a group of raffish individuals who wrestled with one another for the privilege of carrying my cases. SERGEANT OF POLICE. Resisting their efforts to relieve me of my burden (for 1 had been warned of the sneak-thieves that infest the waterfront), I struggled towards the Customs shed. A gorgeously-dressed individual, in so elaborate a uniform that I was convinced he must be at least a major in the Brazilian equivalent of the Life Guards (I later learned that he was a sergeant of police), approached, and, in broken English, explained that they were luggage porters. Ho I relinquished my cases. I had intended merely to leave my cases in the Customs shed, return to the ship to sign off, and then comply with the necessary immigration regulations. I endeavoured to explain this to the “ English-speaking ” official who was hraught to me, but he could understand me no better than understood him. The passenger landing list was scrutinised, but, because ot my nominal membership of the crew, my name did not appear therein. Finally a note was written and given to a messenger, whom I was told to follow. He guided me to the local office of the steamship company, and when a junior officer had been summoned to identify me and bring me back to the ship to sign off I learned that a hue and cry had been raised for me aboard. It was feared that I had slipped down the rickety gangway and been drowned. A consignment of livestock that 1 once took to South Africa included a Welsh gilt. When the chief officer of the ship, a Welshman and a farmer, spoke to tho pig in the Welsh language her excited gruntings showed that she was used to being addressed in that tongue. _ . They were great friends after that, and at his command tho gilt would come to the front of the pen to receive titbits, and stand up or lie down like a well-trained dog. At length many of the passengers and some of the Indian crew picked up sufficient Welsh phrases to win friendship with the gilt. To provide a counter-attraction, 1 trained a Middle West White boar to obey .orders given in Irish 1 However, the Welsh lady continued to enjoy the limelight, for a few days before we reached Durban she became the proud mother of 10. Rough weather, besides making my work harder, is a potential source of excitement. Early one morning, while the ship was crossing the Bay of Biscay, I was awakened by an agitated Indian quarter-master, who told me that the starboard pen was stove in. Hurriedly dressing, I ran on to the deck and found water almost a foot deep swirling around. Five of the standings had been almost completely demolished, and only the flooring and framework remained intact, although badly damaged. The second officer, who had been sent by the captain to investigate, was as surprised and relieved as myself to find that the animals, although badly scared, had received no injuries other than minor bruises. Next morning the damaged pen was repaired. “ SMALL SHEEP FORRARD.” I had 40 ewes aboard on the same voyage. All of them were heavy in lamb, and the rough weather we encountered caused me many anxious moments on their behalf. One morning the “ boy ” who brought my early cup of tea announced that there was a “ small sheep forrard, sahib.” The “ small sheep ” I found to be a strong, healthy Romney Marsh ram lamb. Imitation is said to be the sincerest form of flattery, and it may have been a desire on the part of the other ewes to compliment the proud matron that led to a crop of lambs being born during the few days that followed. Most of the sheep were travelling three in a pen, and in an effort to provide the ewes that had lambed with ample room the chief officer erected a large range temporary enclosure on the sports deck. Owing to the lambs being premature, and on account of the rough weather that the ewes had encountered, there were a number of stillbirths and many of the lambs were terribly puny. However, a number of bonny youngsters were off-landed at Capo Town and Durban. Many of them owed their survival in a large measure to the skill of a young South African girl passenger, who had been a nurse in St. Thomas’s Hospital, London, and who helped in the hand-rearing of lambs whose dams’ milk was inadequate. I can truthfully say that neither before nor since have I been so pleased to see the crest of Table Mountain rising above the horizon, to herald the end of a trip. Adventures are things to avoid when one has £5,000 worth of livestock in one’s care.