Alan Pink

Alan was a Radio Officer in 1957 on board the La Orilla when she succumbed to engine failure in the South Atlantic Ocean. This is Alan's story in his own words:

Breakdown at sea

In November 1957 I was Radio Officer on the La Orilla. While we were in Capetown, some work was done to the engine. To the best of my recall, it was a Doxford type, with two opposed pistons in each of its’ six cylinders. Not being directly involved I am not aware of the detail of the work, but this certainly included drawing the pistons from at least one cylinder, and sending a lubricating oil sample home for analysis.

In addition to discharging the load of phosphates that we had carried to Cape Town from Casablanca, La Orilla had undertaken a routine dry docking there, and then loaded somewhat over 10,000 tons of bulk Maize. This we were to take to Tampico in Mexico, calling at Port of Spain in Trinidad on the way for bunkers

Some time after we sailed, I received a radio message for the Captain from head office, warning that sea water had been found in the sample of lubricating oil that they had received from us.
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One afternoon, after we had rounded St Helena and were about half way across the South Atlantic towards Brazil, there was a loud bang from below, followed by lots of clattering and vibration. This was soon followed by silence as the engineer of the watch had immediately shut down the engine.

Fortunately it was fairly calm, as we then drifted without power, rolling slightly to a gentle swell, for several days. It transpired that a fist size hole had blown through one cylinder liner into the cooling water jacket. This was quite a problem, as, in common with most ships of her type, La Orilla had only the one engine, coupled directly to her single screw.

Although we carried a spare, replacing the cylinder liner at sea, without guarantee of several days absolutely flat sea, was impossible. Even drawing both pistons from the affected cylinder was a major job, taking several days to achieve. Once the engineers had done this, the engine could be restarted, albeit at minimum revs, and with a lot of vibration.

While the repairs were taking place, urgent radio messages were exchanged with head office in London. After some debate it was decided that we could not go to Belem near the mouth of the Amazon. To go there has been the owners original instruction on learning of our problem, as this would have caused the shortest possible diversion from our intended route. However, on checking, our Captain discovered it only offered 28 feet of water, which was clearly not enough for our fully laden draft of 31 feet. It was eventually decided that we must instead divert to Recife the nearest port that could offer the shelter that we needed. As Radio Officer, this kept me both very busy and fully involved. As the sole representative of my department aboard, my regular pattern of watches was forgotten and I just went into the radio room and stayed there until it was all settled.

I tried for quite some time to make contact with Olinda Radio, call sign PPO, the nearest station to Recife, to make arrangements with the Companies’ agent there for our arrival, but without success. As my first encounter with Marine Radio Stations in South America I was a little surprised at this failure, especially as I had just previously been exchanging signals with Portishead Radio in Britain without problem.

After I had been calling Olinda Radio for some time, the Radio Officer of a Blue Star line meat boat, passing some way off on its’ way to the Argentine, called me and advised that this level of service was normal. He warned that, even if I did manage to contact Olinda Radio, our message would probably not reach Recife through Brazils’ inland telegraph system. He informed me that all the regular ships on that run sent their messages back to Portishead Radio for forwarding by the Western Union cable.

Once under way again, we limped slowly on towards Recife. As well as the vibration from the unbalanced engine, we had the further discomfort of restrictions on our fresh water supply. During all the excitement of the breakdown and the subsequent repair, someone had turned some wrong valves down below and pumped eleven tons, a large part of our stock, over the side, so we were then a bit short. In common with other ships of its’ type, La Orilla did not have the facility to make fresh water, but rather we relied on supplies loaded at our various ports of call.

While we made our slow way towards Recife there was another matter to attend to. Custom requires visiting merchant ships to fly the flag of the country being visited at the starboard yardarm as a mark of respect. Not expecting to visit Brazil we didn’t have one. Harbour authorities in this part of the world were very enthusiastic to discover breaches of the regulations, as this involves a fine. This, it was commonly believed, formed a very welcome, if unofficial, supplement to their salary. Radio the agent to send a flag out with the pilot and it could be expected that he would somehow fail, as he could then share the ensuing fine with the harbour master. Fortunately we had some green bunting and, armed with a few tins of paint, plus picture of the flag that someone had found in a book, one was made. Not perfect, but once in place high at the yardarm, no one could tell.

Hove to off Recife, we had to await the services of the pilot who was currently bringing another ship out to sea. Our Captains’ confidence must have taken a bit of a nose dive as he watched the pilot run this ship, a smartly painted wartime Liberty ship, aground on a mud bank just outside the breakwater. He tried full power astern, evidenced by a commotion under its’ counter, but to no avail, so he then boarded his launch to come to us, abandoning his previous charge to await some tugs. Fortunately, as he had just established the position of the mud bank and so clearly marked it, he was able to guide our Captain into the port without problems.

Once inside the harbour, as we did not need to hire expensive wharfage to load or discharge cargo, we lay more economically between two buoys. With the engine still warm, and Recife being not far from the equator, it was almost intolerably hot to work in the in the engine room. However, needs must, and the engine room staff, with assistance from some members of the deck gang, set to work. Every so often a small group of very thirsty, sweaty and exhausted men would retreat topside first for a long drink, and then to swim in the harbour to cool off. They jumped in straight off the deck, swum around a little then climbed back up the companionway, which had, by then, been lowered over the ships side.

To go ashore in Recife it was necessary to negotiate a price with a boatman with a rowing boat. In the evenings a cargo cluster of lights was rigged over the companionway, to light the way. Leaning on the rail one evening, the Carpenter and I swapped yarns while awaiting a boat. Chips stopped in mid sentence, gave a sudden gasp of horror, and pointed down into the water, rendered completely speechless by shock. Just where he had previously been swimming a little earlier, clearly visible in the light cast by the cluster and undulating slowly as it stemmed the tide, was a very large sea snake. No one cared to swim after that.

Alan Pink

Bill Venables: 2nd Officer La Orilla 1957

Malcom Cameron: 3rd Officer La Orilla 1957

4th Officer (Cadet): La Orilla 1957