NEWSLETTER 201 APRIL/MAY 2014 Price 40P, Free to Members 51St Season
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LOUGHTON AND DISTRICT HISTORICAL SOCIETY NEWSLETTER 201 APRIL/MAY 2014 Price 40p, free to members www.loughtonhistoricalsociety.org.uk 51st Season Day 2 – 7 October 1942 Nearly all of us are uncomfortable from inability to carry out natural functions and we do our best. Our little 4th Officer remains calm and efficient and when all have sorted themselves out, and stretched cramped limbs as much as possible, he orders the mast to be stepped and our huge red sail is unfurled and soon, under a grey sky, we are under sail. Biscuits are passed round and a ration of water (about 2oz each!). The SS Andalucia Star Poor old Doc has taken it badly. He is plucky, but not very cheerful and has lost his dentures in the bilges somewhere. A deck steward is the soul of wit and helpfulness and puts us all in a better mood. Visibility is poor and all around is – just sea. A murmur of excitement – yes! A ship, a destroyer bears down on us – I peer with thankful prayers in my heart – but, no! it is one of our own lifeboats, the lugger rigged sail somewhat resembling a ship’s bows! Train travel to Epping Forest: an LNER Poster Now it begins to rain, soaking torrents. All are wet through in a few minutes. We bale and pump to keep the This year, we say goodbye to Paul Webster as water down in the bilges. The wind and sea rise and it is all Treasurer and Terry Carter as Newsletter Editor. very frightening. We occasionally sight four of our lifeboats I'd like to thank them both for all their work for during short clear spells, and this cheers us. The child is the LDHS – both have added immeasurably to the plucky, and her guardian too – soaked with rain, and Society’s success. CCP unable to catch the child’s continuous vomit, she is in a pitiable condition. A male passenger nurses the child for a time, she asks continually for her Daddy. Will Francies’ Diaries At midday the sky clears and we bowl along at about 4 knots and try to dry things. Most of us feel better now, and The Andalucia Star: part 2 a tot of rum and biscuits and pemmican revive us. We now learn that No 2 boat was capsized on launching, the William (Will) Francies was a 40-year-old Assistant unfortunate passengers, men, women and children, being Engineer on that fateful voyage. Will had been running his pitched into the inky sea, some suffering injury, that the own engineering business in Loughton before the war and downcast passenger in our boat does not know where his volunteered, joining the Merchant Navy. He joined the wife survives, poor fellow, that the Andalucía's big Russian Canadian Star in October 1941, then sailed on the Carpenter (dear old ‘Chippy’) was seen floating on a raft, Andalucia Star. Back then he had a wife and two young with terrible head injuries, from which he died and that his daughters. His two daughters are still alive, along with his body was consigned to the sea he loved: he had sailed with grand-daughter (Sue Golding) and they have kindly given the Andalucia since she was launched in 1927 and had often permission to publish the Diaries. expressed a wish to sink with her. Now the air is heavy and our boat rocks in the swell with barely enough wind to give her way. Oars are shipped and we row – it is hard work and 1 most take a turn; nothing but sea and an occasional glimpse broken leg and deserves full marks for pulling out the of the other lifeboats. One boat passes us and I note Ingle chocks which shut down turbines in an emergency. Boswell aboard. Ingle who had already survived 35 days adrift on a the other Engineer on watch is OK, in his dash for safety in raft. They are travelling fine and spur us to greater efforts. the inky gloom and chaos of the engine room. Providence It appears we are about 250 miles from the West African has also saved our watch’s firemen and greasers, but some coast, and I pray silently for rescue. Our boat seems pitifully are missing from the passenger and other decks. One more small in this great ocean. A sudden squall would capsize us, lifeboat, the last, is picked up and the boats sunk by gunfire. overloaded as we are. God help us. The agony of mind is The pursers of terrible, although I feel in my heart that we have a good the Andalucia take chance of being picked up in the next few days. The day our names and check passes – with another ration less of our precious water and their lists – two, provisions (what a big job it is carefully filling a small water scruffy, dirty indi- container about the size of a large egg-cup and solemnly viduals now, very passing it to each one of our 43 souls separately!). unlike their usual The sun sets in a glory of pink and gold and we prepare immaculate selves. for our second night adrift. Oars are unshipped and laid The younger has a athwart the boat and all do their best to stretch out. I am still leg injury, but wet through and my limbs and behind ache terribly, but I gamely does his job. help with the preparations and distribution of blankets. I And so the poor still have my uniform cap, and a sorry sight it is after being little overcrowded Petunia sets course for Freetown, W laid on and generally flung about. Make myself as Africa, more miles away than I care to think about. Pray ‘comfortable’(!) as possible, and half-lie, half-sit, watching God these dangerous waters do not hide a lurking the pitching mast under the now starry sky. God! how submarine – although, of course the Petunia’s bearded miserably cold I am in my wet clothes. I wonder how the fat young heroes think otherwise. After all, they were really Consul-General and his charming American wife are taking hunting ‘subs’ when they ran across us! Our luck was to danger and privation in one of the other lifeboats. indeed good. An interesting sight is a huge flock of birds Assuming they have survived. attacking a fish, which seems unable to escape their vicious beaks, it swims rapidly in circles with the murderous flock Day 3 – 8 October 1942 always attacking. A whale blows nearby and his great tail- I fall into a fitful sleep and awake with someone’s boots in fin is often visible cleaving the water. The day passes, the my face. The cold is awful and my behind is in agony from sun sinks rapidly below the horizon, and, with the lights of the wooden seats and iron brackets etc. The sky is bright Freetown a few miles ahead, and the darkening purple sky with stars and we sail quietly through the tropical night – made brilliant with shafts of lightning, we steam into the rather awesome and most impressive. The motionless forms great natural harbour of this outpost of Empire. Feeling ill, in their white blankets resemble so many corpses. Later the filthy and quite exhausted, I climb the gangway with nearly sail is lowered, its flapping and swinging-over upsetting all 200 other survivors of the Andalucia Star and we board the near it. I sleep a little and find it is 3.30am. A few more fine, modern French luxury liner, the President Doumer, miserable hours and another day of hope is ushered in with ushered by immaculate Goanese stewards into a Dining all the glory of a brilliant sunrise and promise of a scorching Saloon resembling the Ritz – surely the only passenger ever day. One after another the blanketed forms bestir to ‘enjoy’ such sumptuous grandeur in a dirty boiler suit, a themselves and we get the boat cleared up. The girl child pair of oily engine room boots, and with my only surviving has slept and asks for her Daddy – pray God he is saved. spanner (a 10” adjustable wrench) in my hip pocket! After a Biscuits and pemmican are served and a mouthful of ‘meal’ of two oatmeal biscuits and coffee, rooms are allotted water swallowed by each of the 43. One lifeboat only is and I drag myself to my truly palatial room – content to sighted some miles ahead – where are the others? The sun wash and sleep, but there is no hot water, I do my best with quickly gains power and the stench of drying clothes is not cold (ugh!) and turn in to sleep. God is very good. unpleasant. The boundless ocean heaves around us as far as the eye can see – a desolate waste with no ships in sight. With dried boiler suit and overcoat I feel better in health A post-script from and spirits and strip for rowing – making myself a sun-hat the Andalucia Star from my handkerchief. The sails are hoisted and we shuffle by Sue Golding, grand-daughter of round for rowing – for how long? Our commanding officer is dog-tired, having been continuously at the helm, but his Will Francies quiet, cheerful calm are an inspiration to us all. Jokingly I say to him ‘Sister Ann, Sister Ann, doth see anyone It was quite by chance that I was researching the ship coming?’ (Bluebeard) and turn to gaze aft. Another, taller that Will served on during 1942. The internet has a bloke, does likewise – he stiffens – shouts: ‘A ship, A ship!’ vast amount of information and there, to my disbelief, Please God.