Ah yes. Skinboats....
Skinboat: a pejorative term, typically Liverpool-ese, for a banana carrier.
Contrary to much popular misconception, 'skinboats' – more properly referred to as fruit carriers, banana carriers or 'reefers' – were the elite of the cargo carriers. Pristine blinding-white turbine steamers, aspiring to 20 knots when their drycargo contemporaries were content with 14 at the most They were always kept all pristine and Bristol-fashion. They were teak decked overall, even in way of the cargo hatches. They usually had accommodation for a small complement of discerning
first class passengers with a smattering of VIP's, suffusing the atmosphere of an exclusive club.
The giants of the trade were United Fruit (the 'Great White Fleet') and Elders & Fyffes (Fyffes Line), later to become virtual joint operators. There was also Jamaica Banana Producers' and a number of Scandinavian operators, usually motor ships serving the Canary Islands trade. Latterly Geest made great inroads into the transatlantic trade.
The ships were ostensibly common carriers on the outward passage but due to the targetted itinerary and tight scheduling, outward cargoes tended to be little more than plantation supplies.
The trade was very tender, especially between the Isthmus and the US coast. You could be on the point of shipping the Mississippi pilot and then get orders to divert to such as Charleston, Baltimore or Weehawken. Indeed, it was not unknown for a 'wild reefer' to glut the market to the extent that a scheduled vessel might be ordered to put about for another cargo, all hands jettisoning the inward cargo meanwhile.
On the north coast of Jamaica in the old days when there were several other operators in the trade, there used to be a system of whistle signals which identified the carrier and initiated the cutting of the crop. Historically fruit was shipped 'on the stem' but by the time I joined the trade the unit had become the standard 40lb box the like of which fetches up in your local supermarket today. And yes, the 'chain gang' would burst into spontaneous song when working to finish throughout the night. And no, I never saw a tarantula; the 'hands' were dipped and film-wrapped prior to being boxed to ensure there was nothing untoward between the 'fingers' (or 'pods'). Away from Jamaica, most loading ports had converted to prosaic conveyor belt loading systems.
Paradoxically, Fyffes retained coal firing long after their drycargo contemporaries had gone oil fired or had 'dieselised'. This made economic sense because their then home port of Avonmouth is just across the Severn estuary from Swansea and the south Wales coalfields. The downside of this arrangement was the stokehold crew who were customarily Glasgwegian or Liverpool-Irish – the original 'board of trade aquaintances'.
Unlike David Haisman's deck peggy, his counterpart in the engine department was necessarily a mature rating because juveniles were prohibited from working in the engine department.
I recall an erstwhile departmental colleague joining the
Tortuguero at Garston as Second Steward on a 'work-by and sail' basis. He was issuing plates to the Fireman Peggy who promptly hurled them to the deck with a shattering crash with the admonition "that's for f***all, wait till we start!" My colleague declined the vessel.
Away from the USA coast, or west of the windward passage if transatlantic, one found oneself in the notorious 'rum belt' wherein crew demeanour could become unpredictable. There was a custom in the more remote bush ports known as 'putting the bucket down'. The technique was to wait until canoes, bumboats or cargo barges were alongside. The said bucket would then be primed for its downward passage with some locally desirable item of ships' stores; this would be exchanged for bottles of the local firewater for its upward passage. It might later become prudent for the mate to lock away the fire axes and the hose nozzles...
Fyffes Line gained an unenviable reputation for losing men over the side. The
Chuscal on passage Jamaica-Southampton lost five deck crew who had been sent to secure horse boxes on the afterdeck in moderate weather. She was hit by a freak wave and the men were last seen clinging to one of the unshipped horseboxes. The master felt unable to put about for some five hours, by which time there was no trace. The sail training vessel Pamir foundered in the same weather system.
The
Camito featured in a murder case wherein two crew members were prosecuted for heaving two of their shipmates over the taffrail, in one case stamping on the fingers of their victim as he clung on desperately to the watercourse.
I myself lost a crew messman and a chief cook, both in dubious circumstances and from two consecutive vessels. No shoreside-type inquests ensued from either of these incidents. As I recall, we just rendered statements to the consul-general at the next port of call and he would consign these unfortunates to history with a rubber stamp to the relevant log entry . Ah, happy days. Dammit! you're lucky to have me!
Enough of boring the RRR's off everyone....
Noel
