Open Writing

The typhoon warning, a black T-shape, had been raised on the yard-arm of the Harbormaster’s office the previous afternoon.

At dawn that morning all hands were hard at it preparing to get underway as soon as was practicable A Severe Tropical Storm known to all as a typhoon was bearing down on the colony, I had never seen Hong Kong harbour so busy, junks and sampans along with many other small craft were flying in all directions, seemingly in panic but no doubt all part of an oft-repeated drill as these are a regular occurrences in those parts.

The only thing that seems to ruffle the locals around there is the Typhoon Warning. Many of the populace had known hard times in their lives and had a great “she’ll be right” attitude that would put us Aussies to shame, but typhoons really put the wind up them.

By 0800 the anchor was on its way in and we were soon given clearance to get under way. Ships of all types and tonnage had appeared from everywhere and fortunately all were heading in the same direction, out to sea, scattering the smaller craft in their haste.

A powerful wind was roaring up the harbour and the flying clouds seemed to be hardly higher than the ship’s mast as we cleared the harbour and wheeled to starboard to avoid the traffic billowing around the typhoon shelter at Junk Bay. A sharp surface chop began making its presence felt, breaking over the bows, drenching the those left for’ard standing by the anchors.

There was no chance of any work being done as the sea was breaking over the upper decks and, as the day wore on, sea-sickness would take its toll on those susceptible. There’d be plenty of action around ’the heads’ today.

The navigator had set a circular course to take us slowly around the eye of the typhoon and carry us in the direction of the wind so that the sea remained at our stern. This made it difficult for the man on the wheel with the constant yawing making it hard for him to hold a steady course, but life would be a little more comfortable for everyone else and there’d be less damage done.

We were feeling a bit sorry for ourselves. We had just completed doing patrols off the North East border area of Borneo during the Indonesian confrontation and were enjoying a bit of what they call R,n,R, then this came along. Anyway we all concluded, we’d be back in town in a day or two and also there’s that old saying, “While you’re at sea you’re saving money.”

Preparing proper meals was impossible. The cooks just made mountains of ‘sangers’ for those still eating and those not on watch just made themselves as comfortable as they could, - a good time to catch up on some shuteye.

By the time I went on watch at 0400 the next morning things had improved. The bodies lying in the port side passageway had gone so I was one of those detailed off to help clean up the mess they had left in and around the ‘heads’. While washing down one of the toilets with a bucket of water and scrubber my eye caught the glow of lights shining in through the frosted glass of the porthole. my thought was that another ship was a bit closer than it should be in this weather. Anyway it wasn’t for me to worry about.

Shortly after, orders came down for a party to go out on deck and look for any sign of damage. We stepped out through the watertight door into the rain, sweating under the foul-weather jackets in the dreadful humidity. “Just have a look at that,” said someone, we all followed his pointing finger towards the port quarter and saw the source of the light I had seen earlier.

There it was, a big fishing Junk with bright lights still blazing, going about its business as if it was just another day. I tried to imagine what it would have been like aboard her the previous twenty-four hours,.

These craft are practically unsinkable in the open sea. The only way one could founder is if it was caught side-on in a roller. They bounce around on the surface like a cork. Even as we watched the junk’s mast was swinging about forty degrees from the vertical with each roll, yet there were fishing lines over the side. They were still catching fish. Life went on as it had been doing for hundreds of years.

Later that afternoon we entered the harbour. Stories had been coming in all day about the hardships suffered by the population. Landslides, flooding, eight people killed and millions of dollars worth of damage done, but already the place was returning to normal. We could see the stalls in Wanchai open for business as we approached the naval base.

Some of the ships of the other navies had been slightly damaged but we were unmarked. They were a good sea ship the Daring class destroyers and “Vendetta” was no exception.

At The China Fleet Club that evening it was the same as before we departed, Tombola in the Main Lounge, From “Russia With Love” was on in the cinema, and plenty of San Miguel draught being downed in the fleet bar. But walking along the streets you couldn’t help but notice how fresh and clean they looked,. Some good had come out of the event.

Since that time forty years ago, I have spent most of my life involved with ships and boats, I have seen some dreadful weather and been in some pretty awful situations. The moment I start to feel sorry for myself I just have to remember that junk and try to imagine what it was like aboard her that night. Those hard gritty people, in most cases whole families, going about their profession as they had been doing for generations.

Life is much more comfortable for the modern-day seafarer and I am one who has been grateful for the change.