Embedded Files
East London Harbour Compiled by Les Pivnic with major assistance
from Trevor Jones, Fr Andrew Scott Davidson, C.Ss.R.,
Johannes Haarhoff – DRISA Website and Roger Darsley.
Please note: All photographs, maps and text in Soul of a Railway are protected by copyright and may not be copied or reproduced in any way for further use without prior permission in writing from the compilers of this series, Les Pivnic and Charlie Lewis.
This chapter presents the last of the four major Ports controlled by the SAR & H Administration to be reviewed in Soul of a Railway.
The chapter opens with an extract of an article by Sandy Buchanan that details the original landing of Englishmen who established a foothold at the Buffalo River which resulted in the birth of East London as a Port.
This is followed by an historical review that appeared in the SAR & H Magazine in 1914. Thanks are due to Johannes Haarhoff and the DRISA website from where it was copied.
This is followed by two articles written by Roger Darsley for the magazine “SA Rail & Harbours” which appeared in 1998 and 2001 which also covers the Harbour and its related railway activity.
Next is a presentation by Father Scott Davidson of the major harbour craft (tugs and dredgers) in use in East London. This is followed by the photo presentation which includes another major contribution by Father Scott Davidson of an article written by an anonymous Quartermaster who served on W.H.Fuller, which describes the brief service life of this tug. This will be found under a rare photo of this vessel – photo no.18.
An extract from Sandy Buchanan’s article:
KNYSNA’S CONNECTION TO EAST LONDON
It is not generally known that there is a connection between the town and port of Knysna in the Western Cape province of South Africa, and the port city of East London situated on the Buffalo River in the Eastern Cape.
How did this come about?
It is all linked to a wonderful brig built in 1831 by George Rex, the founder of Knysna.
In 1836 the brig made history when it was chartered by the Government to investigate the possibilities of founding a port on the Buffalo river, which was later to become East London. Overland surveys had been done, but the colonial government wanted to find out if a fully laden ship would be able to land supplies for the troops stationed there.
So it was that the Knysna under command of John Findlay arrived at the mouth of the Buffalo River in 1836, with John, son of George Rex, and John Bailie on board.
The “three Johns” set about their business and Captain John Bailie landed and climbed the hill in all haste to hoist the Union Jack. Capt John Findlay moored the Knysna firmly in the river, flatly refusing to voyage further upstream. John Rex proceeded to trade with the Xhosa people in the neighbourhood for the next two and a half months. There is a memorial on Signal Hill, East London, erected in honour of John Bailie, the founder of the city.
Sir Andries Stockenstrom, Lieutenant-Governor of the Cape, in honour of the owner of the vessel named the west bank of the river “Port Rex”.
The little vessel returned a number of times to trade with the locals after the initial historic voyage, continuing the successful trading operations originated by John Rex.
Unfortunately George Rex died on 3rd April 1839 and in terms of his will, the Knysna had to be sold together with his effects. End Quote.
Historical review of East London, as published in the SAR & H Magazine in September 1914.
Here follows Roger Darsley’s fine article on the history of East London Harbour
Please note the words 'Training Wall' are used here in the sense of 'Restraining' i.e. directing the flow of water and silt.”
Fr Andrew Scott Davidson, our resident expert on SAR & H tugs provided the following info on the tugs used in East London Harbour. It will be noticed that the Railway Administration regularly moved tugs between our major Ports – Scott explains:-
With East London, Port Elizabeth and Walvis Bay being developed into deepwater harbours, large first-class tugs were required to assist the ships that were to use them. This resulted in the big tug building programme of the 1930s being initiated, starting with the John Dock and W. H. Fuller.
Having experience of the long-bridge-short-fo'c'sle ‘Cape’ version (the Ludwig Wiener and the T. S. McEwen) and the longer-fo'c'sle-shorter-bridge ‘Durban’ version (the Sir David Hunter and Sir William Hoy), the SAR&H chose the ‘Durban’ version and a smaller ‘Hoy’ design was developed, that was to form the backbone of the tug service for forty years.
The first two, built by Harland & Wolff at their smaller yard in Govan, Glasgow, the John Dock and W. H. Fuller, retained the Babcock and Wilcox water-tube boiler of the earlier tugs, but with smaller engines designed to produce a minimum of 2500 iHp in a smaller hull with smaller propellers. It is worth noting that with steam engines ‘designed’ horsepower and actual horsepower are often two different things. Every single one of the big SAR&H tugs exceeded her designed horsepower by at least 500 iHp on trial (except the R. B. Waterston). (Canny Clyde shipbuilders never took chances that their ships would not make the specifications and so over-engineered.)
With the group of seven tugs to follow the Dock and Fuller, the design was ‘tweaked’ following the experience of the prototypes. Scotch water-tube boilers were fitted, making them more steady steamers, if less sea-kindly and the propellers were enlarged for a designed horsepower of 2600 iHp. They were successful and the design was perpetuated (in larger hulls) in all the subsequent tugs built for the SAR&H until and including the J. R. More.
The W. H. Fuller and the F. Schermbrucker were intended for East London, as can be seen from being registered there and the John Dock and the C. F. Kayser were intended for Port Elizabeth. Originally the T. H. Watermeyer was to have joined them as her first port of registry - East London – shows, but she proved so successful and needed in Cape Town, that she was never moved. Instead, her sister, the E. S. Steytler, was moved to East London in 1948.
Even without a ‘spare’ tug in East London, the two ports provided the reliefs for one another and so that explains the appearance of a Port Elizabeth tug in East London from time to time. With the transfer of the John X. Merriman to East London in mid-1959, the two ports could each keep two tugs working with one in lay-up and provided reliefs for one another. The Merriman was later transferred to Durban in 1969.
In her short working life, the W. H. Fuller made a name for herself with many coastal tows (here her lighter water tube boilers must have been a factor), including towing the old suction dredger, Labrus, to Durban for scrapping in 1934. Sadly, the Fuller sank in the Bird Island Passage on 22nd September 1944.
The Schermbrucker was the first of the third batch of nine 1930s class of smaller first-class tugs. Like the first pair, the C. F. Kayser and T. Eriksen, she was built by Lobnitz & Co., Renfrew and was launched in 1937. The E. S. Steytler, which was transferred from Durban to East London in 1948, was the lead ship of the last pair of the 1930s class. She was built by A & J Inglis, Glasgow, but her engines were made once more by Lobnitz. The Steytler was originally intended for Walvis Bay, as part of making all three smaller ports capable of handling big ships and began life as the Theodor Woker. As fate would have it, her delivery voyage began on the day WWII was declared and she picked up some of the survivors of the Donaldson liner, Athenia, the first ship to be torpedoed in the war. On returning to the Clyde with her survivors, she was requisitioned by the Royal Navy and renamed HMS Stalwart. Apart from being one of the ‘small ships’ rescuing the BEF from the beaches of Dunkirk, when she was released from naval service, the Royal Navy combined her delayed delivery trip with towing the damaged Flower class corvette, HMS Bellwort to Simon's Town for repair. Once in East London, the Steytler, distinguished herself under Captain Herman van Zuylen, rescuing the survivors of the Plettenburg.
Her sister, T. H. Watermeyer, also requisitioned by the RN as HMS Watermeyer, was responsible for rescuing Lord Louis Mountbatten's HMS Kelly when the latter was badly damaged in an e-boat attack.
The F. Schermbrucker served all her life in East London. She was replaced by the Durban tug, J. D. White in 1977.
Both the Schermbrucker and the Steytler had the misfortune to be sunk by ships they were handling. The Steytler was sunk by the troopship, Georgic’s propeller on 19th January 1947 and the Schermbrucker was holed at the entrance to E.L. harbour on the 8th February 1963, while attending the Thor Dahl freighter, Thorsdrake. She was raised two months later by Eric Merrifield and his team from E.L. Harbour Engineers Dept, using SAS Somerset.
Dredgers:
Just when the Rietbok was transferred from Durban to East London is uncertain but it could well have been in 1934 with the decommissioning of the Labrus. The Blesbok was probably only transferred from Durban to East London in 1967 on the arrival of the Ribbok and would have then replaced the Rietbok in East London. The Sir Thomas Price worked most of her life in East London as far as can ascertained.
Brief technical details:
l. bp = length between perpendiculars, b.mld = breadth moulded, d.mld (depth moulded)
W. H. Fuller:
Completed November, 1934.
Built by Harland & Wolff, Govan.
145'0" l.bp, 32'0" b.mld, 16'0" d.mld
551 grt
2500 iHp (designed - engines by Harland & Wolff, Govan). Twin screw, triple expansion.
C. F. Kayser and T. Eriksen:
Completed September and October 1936 respectively.
Built by Lobnitz & Co., Renfrew.
145'0" l.bp, 33'0" b.mld, 17'0" d.mld
601 grt
CFK: 3193 iHp (trial), TE 3285 iHp (trial - engines by Lobnitz). Twin screw, triple expansion.
F. Schermbrucker and John X. Merriman:
Completed January 1938 and March 1938 respectively.
Built by Lobnitz & Co., Renfrew.
145'0" l.bp, 33'0" b.mld, 17'0" d.mld
621 grt
FS: 3393 iHp (trial), JXM 3250 iHp (trial). Twin screw, triple expansion.
E. S. Steytler:
Completed September 1939
Built by A & J. Inglis & Co., Pointhouse, Glasgow.
145'0" l.bp, 33'0" b.mld, 17'0" d.mld
620 grt
3220 iHp (trial - engines by Lobnitz). Twin screw, triple expansion.
J. D. White:
Completed January 1950
Built by Charles Hill & Sons, Albion Dock, Bristol.
151'0" l.bp, 33'0" b.mld, 17'0" d.mld
642 grt
2960 iHp (trial - engines by Messrs Plenty & Sons, Newbury). Twin screw, triple expansion.
Success:
Rock breaking dredger
launched 2nd March 1900
Built by Wm Simons & Co, Renfrew.
312 grt
400 iHp, single screw, triple expansion.
Built for East London Harbour Board and later taken over by the SAR&H.
Sir Thomas Price:
Hopper bucket dredger
completed March 1924
Built by Lobnitz & Co., Renfrew.
1474 grt
1800 iHp, twin screw, triple expansion.
Springbok:
Hopper grab dredger
complete September 1930
Built by Ferguson Brothers, Port Glasgow
668 grt
Single screw triple expansion.
Originally registered in Durban, scrapped at East London August 1973
Rietbok:
Hopper suction dredger,
completed December 1930
Built by Wm Simons & Co, Renfrew.
4538 grt
3500 iHp (designed) twin screw, triple expansion.
Blesbok:
Hopper suction dredger
completed November 1937
Built by Lobnitz & Co, Renfrew.
3121 grt
3300 iHp, twin screw, triple expansion.
My sincere thanks to the following contributors of photos for this chapter:-
Trevor Jones who also provided additional photos from the Shackleton Collection; Peter Sinclair, the Late Alec Young; the Late Pernell Mizen; Brian Ingpen, Dick Manton, Jim Shaw via David Berman, Sandy Buchanan, Peter Stow, Eugene Armer, Dave Parsons Collection via Les Pivnic, Transnet Heritage Library Photo Collection via Yolanda Meyer, Hennie Heymans for historical photos and Les Pivnic for photos from the previous SAR Photographic Section.
Thanks also to Bruno Martin for his map; Andrew Deacon for formatting and posting to the Soul website as well as Sandy Buchanan for his interesting link between Knysna and East London.
Photo 1. This is a model of the amazing brig "Knysna" built by George Rex in Knysna in 1831. It played a major role in the founding of East London as a Port – see the intro by Sandy Buchanan who also provided this photo.
2. This early photograph of the harbour is probably a Ravenscroft image, kindly provided by Hennie Heymans from his Collection.
3. While this photo still shows the dominance of multi-masted sailing vessels in East London, a closer look will reveal at least two steam ships in the Port. Of interest to railway historians is the 7ft-gauge contractor's railway that served the west bank until completion of the temporary bridge in the late 1890s
4. This very interesting photo from the THL shows the line (right-hand bottom corner) with a train that has just come down from East London station. It also shows the temporary bridge over the Buffalo River – the bridge that preceded the double-deck road/rail bridge that was brought into use in 1934.
5. A close-up of the “temporary” bridge across the Buffalo River – it lasted for >30 years before being replaced in 1934 by the double-deck bridge that provided separate decks for rail and road traffic. The temporary bridge had a widened section to permit road traffic to move aside if a train was crossing at the same time. Trevor Jones adds:
This circa-1900 image shows a coaling hulk with “Heinrich Knorr” on the bow, lying alongside, and the small tug Buffalo III of 1898 lying alongside her, but with her profile consistent with the very early years of operation of this tug. She was rebuilt, and her appearance altered, on many occasions. The bow of a very old-style Royal Navy warship is visible on the right.
6. This beautiful photograph (probably by Ravenscroft) reflects East London as a busy Port in the late-1890s. The line to the station is again prominent on the left. The shipping again shows a contrast between steam and sail.
Trevor Jones adds: the vessel outboard of the Clan Line ship in the foreground still sports an old-fashioned bowsprit. What strikes me is how incredibly full of ships the port is, with vessels triple- and double-banked on several berths. The vessel in the foreground is a Clan Line steamer, one of six very similar vessels of the Clan Campbell/Clan Ross class, all completed in 1894 by the Naval Construction and Armaments Company at Barrow. All of 2,600 gross tons and with a length of 312 feet. The vessel outboard of her carries the highly distinctive funnel colours of the Prince Line, with white Prince of Wales feathers on a broad red band on a black stack. I cannot identify the actual vessel, but Prince Line ran a Rio to Cape Line at the time, so this vessel may well have been deployed on this service.
7. On the extreme left of this photo, is another view of the line linking the harbour to East London station. Trevor Jones adds:
I cannot read the name of the vessel inboard of the Union Line steamer, but the latter is definitely an intermediate steamer; one of the trio of Gaika, Gascon and Goorkha all completed in 1897, in the last years of the Union Line before the 1900 Amalgamation of the Union Line and Donald Currie's Castle Line to form Union-Castle. The Union Line intermediate steamer is still in the livery of the Union Line, so this photograph can be dated to the very last years of the 19th Century as their vessels adopted the lavender, red and black livery of Union-Castle soon after Amalgamation. The photograph also captures the transition from sail to steam, with a number of sailing vessels and steamships in the port.
8. An old postcard depicting an undated scene (c.1890) in the Buffalo River. An unidentified Royal Navy vessel anchored mid-stream and the tug MARY. The little tank engine could be a Cape 4th class dating back to the 1880s.
9.This Transnet Heritage Library (THL) image of a sketch, carries the description: “East London, April 1878. Embarking in a surf boat during Ninth Frontier War (Killie Campbell Collection)”. This sketch tells us that way back in 1878, a “Ship’s Basket” was already used to embark and disembark passengers from mail ships in the roadstead off East London. Note how the ladies were transferred in the basket while the men had to use a ladder slung over the ship’s side.
10. In later years, the basket was used for all passengers as seen in this photograph. According to Andrew Scott Davidson, the passenger tenders used by Union Castle at East London, were the Stork and the Koodoo.
11. Another view showing the basket in use to bring passengers ashore and vice versa.
12. Passengers disembarking from the passenger tender at the jetty in East London - the ship’s basket can be seen just abaft the funnel. Those passengers nearest the photographer are waiting to board the passenger tender which will convey them out into the roadstead to embark on the mailship by using the ship’s basket.
13. Completed in the Fleming & Ferguson yard in Paisley, Scotland in 1903, the 1 500-IHP tug Annie served in East London until she was withdrawn circa 1935 and scrapped in 1938.
14. Trevor Jones comments: The large freighter double-banked and bow-up on the right is Alexander Shipping's Charlbury. She is another old vessel, having been completed in 1906 by Armstrong Whitworth on the Tyne for German owners, but she only took the name Charlbury in 1921, so this photo must date in or after 1921. I would guess that it's quite soon after 1921, given the very old design on the Clan freighter (though not carrying the Clan stack) inboard of her. I can clearly see Clan Mac... when I sharpen the image, but not the rest of the name The Clan Line fleet was huge, with many similar vessels, though the date of 1921 or later helps, as the Clan history "Gathering of the Clans" by Norman Middlemiss shows a fleet list with dates of Clan service. There are not all that many of these old designs that were still in service after 1921, but one such was Clan Macaulay of 1894, built by Stephens of Linthouse on the Clyde, which was in the fleet until 1929. I'm certainly not positive it's this vessel but if so it makes this a 1920s image. The tug Annie is visible in the background, and there is also a largish suction dredger berthed in the left background. It looks like quite a short name, so I suspect that this is the 1903-built Agnes, another product of the Simons yard in Renfrew. I wish I could identify the big four-masted freighter inbound in the background. She could be a Brocklebank, but I'm not sure.
15. Trevor Jones comments: This THL image shows several harbour craft so is remarkably interesting in this respect. There is a large bucket dredger in the stream, but not Sir Thomas Price, so presumably the image must earlier than 1925. I don't know whether East London had its own bucket dredger before the Price. It just might be the Palus, but I'm not convinced of this. She had a large accommodation deckhouse aft in her later years, although this may have been added. The small tug moving a lighter upstream is definitely the long-lived Mary, which served East London from 1902 to her scuttling (with the Koodoo) as late as 1960. She was built by Lobnitz and Company of Renfrew on the Clyde. There is another vessel alongside the bucket dredger, but I'm not sure what this is. It could be a hopper. The tug bow-up further upriver looks like the Buffalo III after her bridge and funnel were raised quite substantially.
16. Trevor Jones comments: the freighter in the right centre is Wilson Line's Urbino, registered, as all the Wilson ships were, in Hull. Here she is carrying the funnel colours of Ellerman & Bucknall; a black stack with large white diamonds. Wilson was part of the Ellerman ensemble, so it's not a surprise that she was trading to South Africa for Bucknall, even though not a Bucknall ship. Over time, three vessels carried the name Urbino but my guess is that this vessel is the 1918 build. The tug on the extreme right edge of the photo, is almost certainly the Buffalo III, which Reynolds describes as having "enormous ventilators" near the funnel. An enormous ventilator is certainly visible in the photo. The other tug in the middle background could be the famous Annie. My guess therefore is that this is an image in the early-1900s.
17. This image looks older than it is. The animal-drawn cart in the foreground gives the impression of days of yore, but the two large harbour craft featured are the bucket dredger Sir Thomas Price, built in 1925 and the bow of Rietbok, completed in 1930, so this is a 1930s scene. I'm intrigued by the long, canted funnel outboard of the Price. I wasn't aware that she ever worked with a hopper, so I suppose it's one of the long-funnel tugs, but I'm not sure.
18. In this aerial photo we see no evidence yet of the Princess Elizabeth Graving Dock which Her Royal Highness opened in 1947 during the tour of the Royal Family. Prominent in the foreground is the double-deck bridge across to West Bank which was opened in 1934. The original 'temporary' bridge is just visible behind the double-deck one. In fact, this photo would have been taken in 1934 because there is no sign of the railway on the West Bank after it leaves the deep cutting off the new bridge – indicating that it hadn’t been completed, whereas the tracks off the 'temporary' bridge are clearly still in use.
Trevor Jones added to my comments as follows:
The suction dredger seen in the entrance to the harbour, is almost certainly the 1903-built AGNES, another product of the Wm Simons yard in Renfrew. She was built for the East London Harbour Board, and was quite a substantial twin-screw steamer, which was only dismantled and scuttled in 1948. Some details are on the Clydeships site.
Then if you look on the west side of the harbour, another smaller suction dredger can be seen alongside. It is probably SIR GORDON of 1893. The General Manager's annual report of 1923 lists the EL harbour craft and the list includes these two.
What also strikes me is the almost total absence of ships! One vessel on the West Quay and nothing else. This is startlingly different from the earlier images of a port crammed full of ships, at times double and triple banked. The Price is working in the turning basin.
Father Scott adds: As to why the harbour is almost empty, if you look at the tugs, there are only the Annie and the Buffalo that I can identify. My suspicion is that the reason there is only one freighter on West Bank, is that those quays were only just being completed. That would explain the Price working on the turning basin too. Interestingly, she has her buckets up.
19. The ill-fated tug W.H.Fuller at work in East London Harbour. Father Andrew Scott Davidson kindly provided the following account of this tug’s brief life, entitled “A Quartermaster’s Tale” written by an anonymous member of the Fuller’s crew.
UNION GOVERNMENT SALVAGE TUG W. H. FULLER
Today I mourn the loss of something which seems very dear to me and that something shall always be so. It is the loss of the Union Government’s sea-going tug W. H. Fuller which used to be stationed at East London. Now she lies, lonely and forlorn off Bird Island, thirty miles from Port Elizabeth in fifty fathoms of water. Her plates are ripped open by the cruel underwater reefs which surround this area of the South African coast. I loved that beautiful vessel as much as it is possible for any one to have such feelings for an inanimate object.
People in South Africa, taking up your papers or magazines, reading various articles, then putting them aside afterwards, forgotten, will surely have a kinder heart and will spare a thought for those who down to the sea in ships, after reading this narrative about the romance of the seas from foreign places, but little dreaming that there is an abundance of romance so close to our shores. The life of this tug, short as it was, is definitely a romance. As one who sailed in her for almost nine years, I feel it my duty to perpetuate her name and tell the world about her career, also to tell a little about some of the splendid men who sailed and commanded this fine vessel. It was on Christmas morning 1934. I remember the day so well. At 06h00 in the morning the people of East London were awakened by an unusual deafening series of blasts from a ship’s siren. It was this tug steaming up the harbour for the first time and sending out a cheery greeting to the population of her new home, where eventually she became very popular and well known tug in this little sea port.
The tug had just arrived all the way from Glasgow, Scotland, having come over 6693 nautical miles under her own steam. But this was no extraordinary feat because she was an ocean-going salvage tug of the latest design. Nevertheless it was quite uncomfortable for the men who brought her out to South Africa. This tug was the second of her class to arrive, the other one, the John Dock, having come out only a few months before and station in Port Elizabeth still to this day.
The twin-screw tug, W. H. Fuller slides past the Eastern Mole of Table Bay harbour, deckhouse still painted black, on her arrival from the builder’s yard, December 1934
[Photographer unknown - possibly George Young]
Both tugs were built by Harland & Wolff, Govan, Glasgow, the same firm who built the beautiful Union Castle passenger lines which ply between our ports and Southampton. You can imagine that this fine tug also embodied some of the beauty in appearance and part of the wonderful engineering workmanship which Harland & Wolff puts into their ships.
Yes, she was a beautiful ship and in spite of the rusted condition which a long sea voyage entails, with only one coat of paint, her raking lines proclaimed her a thoroughbred and a worthy little craft to sail our stormy coasts. She did encounter stormy seas indeed during the ten years she was afloat and in some of the worst gales which have lashed our shores. I was one of the crew, a humble member at that, but a proud one to sail in her and see for myself how nobly she could fight and battle her way through heavy seas. To a sailor there is such a thing as trust or mistrust of the ship he sails in. It is an instinct born of his calling. But I was never in doubt as to her sturdiness or seaworthiness and was content to sail in her up or down our coasts on various trips either towing or salvaging disabled ships or visiting other ports to relieve when their tugs went for the annual lay up.
There was great speculation when the W. H. Fuller arrived in East London as to who would be selected for her crew. I was a youngster of twenty-one at the time and thrilled to become a member. We tidied her up and it was six weeks later that the W. H. Fuller was put into commission as one of the Union Government’s harbour-and-salvage tugs.
Now began a short career of excitement, first under the command of Captain Becket, who was master of the large suction dredger, Cetus, from which most of the crew had been selected. Captain Becket was a real father to all his men, caring for our welfare and comfort, worthy in manners and being a good skipper. Immediately on being put into commission we left for Durban on this tug in unsettled weather and practically everyone was seasick. A fine lot of sailors we turned out to be. Instead of me going down to my bunk after a trick at the wheel that night I curled up under the life boat near the funnel because heavy seas were dashing over the foredeck and everything was pretty wet. It was quite warm where I lay wrapped up in my greatcoat as the boilers were just beneath me and there was the heat from the funnel as well. Little did I realise that it might have been my last night in this world and if it had not been that the skipper happened to look out from his cabin door it might have been my last too!
The violent motion of the vessel in this angry sea had gradually rolled my sleeping form to the very edge of the ship’s side where there is not even a tiny ledge to have stopped me from falling into the heavy seas, so my disappearance during the night would have gone unnoticed and all sorts of questions asked later. The skipper crept under the lifeboat and pulled me to a safer place to sleep not without a few words of advice delivered in a real seaman-like manner as to my foolish thoughtlessness! Sleep for me for the rest of the night was unthinkable, now that I realised with a shudder that perhaps I may this very moment be sleeping in Davy Jones’s Locker!
We arrived in Durban a sorry looking sight indeed. The next day it was pouring with rain, adding to our discomfort because the bad weather plus trip had made everything sodden and our quarters as well. I remember my uncle who works in the Harbour Engineer’s Department remarking to me at the time that he had never seen such a decrepit looking craft come creeping into Durban harbour.
Yet in the years to follow, every Union port was to know the trim smart vessel which came sailing gaily into their midst. The remarks on her neat, clean appearance filled us with pride. Her speed records up and down the east coast swelled our chests because we served upon the fastest harbour craft of the Union Government. One record is eighteen hours from East London to Durban, a distance of close on 261 nautical miles. Another record is seven hours from East London to Port Elizabeth, 135 nautical miles. Another still and one we are proud of was forty eight hours from Cape Town to East London, some 544 nautical miles.
From Durban the W. H. Fuller was to tow the Labrus, an obsolete dredger all the way to Cape Town, some 800 nautical miles. For the first part of the day, everything was going smoothly and our tow was riding along comfortably with just a scratch crew on board. But towards sunset a gale from the south-west sprang up and now we began to get worried because the tow rope did seem rather flimsy when we loaded aboard earlier that morning. The tug was shipping quite a lot of water and she just seemed to plough through most of the waves, not having the freedom or speed to bounce about like she did on the way up from East London. The heavy craft coming along astern of us acted as a pronounced drag on our little vessel. At least the men about the Labrus were fairly comfortable and dry which was more than we could say. As she was five to six times our size and had a high superstructure, every man on our tug was kept at ‘stand-by’ positions in case of emergency.
Labrus [photographer unknown]
It was about 17h00 that evening when the tow parted with a loud bang! And our hearts went bang too. This meant a delay in our trip of goodness knows how long. It was bad enough enduring the rough weather without having to cruise around in it indefinitely before the voyage could be resumed. Now there was work to be done by all hands, clearing away the broken pieces from the towing hook and loose ends of the thin wires used to lash the tow rope in place on the big towing beams otherwise they would probably foul our steering chains, a dreaded calamity in such weather. This was an awkward job because in calm weather a tug’s afterdeck is almost level with the sea and so in stormy weather like we were experiencing, there was green water coming over the bulwarks and we had our work cut out to prevent someone being washed over the side with each lurch. After that it was a relief to get into dry clothes and sip a cup of boiling cocoa as there was nothing more to be done except to keep watch on our tow. Now and again signal lamps flickered between the two craft. This was the only link assuring anxious men in command whether all was as safe as could be expected.
Firemen and engineers sweated down below to keep full steam up on the tug’s boilers. On them depended the safety of everyone while nature vented her full spleen on our tiny craft. Through all that night I remember the skipper sitting behind a canvas dodger in the corner of the bridge ready for an emergency. By watching his coolness it was a power of strength to my frayed young nerves.
It was awfully frightening to feel the tug give a lurch as huge waves hit her sideways, the water pouring on board. At other times she buried her nose into a wall of water enveloping her bow while the spray hit the funnel like machine gun bullets. The skipper and I seemed alone in the world; dark and unfriendly it seemed beyond our little island which was the tug’s bridge. Wind whistled through the rigging of the mast and wireless aerials in harmony with the wild symphony of the night. Oh! how I longed for a nice cosy bed at home that moment. The steady throb of our engines below was a little added comfort to us, a sort of calming influence while the tug cruised about the vicinity of the dark shape which was the dredge hulk, Labrus. Her red ‘Not in Command’ lights winking mockingly across at us from about half a mile away, and sometimes her green port sidelight looking eerie in the night — only these lights made us realise why we were out in this storm. It was a sign that there was life where those single lights gleamed across the turbulent seas. The Labrus was so near but so far from us. We could do nothing now until daylight and with luck, the weather might abate by then. But our hopes were dashed at sunrise — the gale still blew full force! We could still see land but just a hazy blur and no more. At least we now had daylight to see what could be done. Durban learnt from our messages of the unfortunate predicament we were in. The men were tired, wet and what with seasickness, you can guess that laugher and gaiety were far from our minds that morning. An attempt was about to be made in picking up the dredger once more.
We also carried two mates who worked as hard as anyone of us. Mr Burns was one who in later years became the skipper of this tug and a Mr Black who served with distinction in the Royal Navy in the last war as a Commander. So it can be seen that our officers were experienced, capable men whom we could rely upon to pull us all safely through these trying experiences.
Captain Becket brought the tug close in towards the Labrus. Men stood by with heaving lines and a rope messenger ready to be passed up to the dredger and which would be used to haul the tow rope’s end up and be connected. There were many anxious moments as the two vessels rolled and pitched so close to each other while salt-drenched men worked feverishly to get the end of the heavy four-and-a-half inch wire on board. Sighs of relief were expressed as the steel wire from us was made fast on the bow of the dredger, then slowly we drew ahead of the dredger, paying out the towing wire from our automatic towing machine.
This machine with which we were equipped worked on a kind of ratchet principle when once set at the required length, it could pay out a few fathoms when sudden jerks or excessive strains were made and when the strain had ceased, the machine would rewind in the same amount. It was always fascinating to watch the performance of this machine when it was used. One day in 1937 it was used three times in succession when four Finnish arrived simultaneously off East London and our tug had the honour of towing them into port. They were the Passat, the Viking, the Kilaren and the Lawhill, which have all been visitors to Union Ports very recently.
Once more we were on the way and with more confidence this time having a brand new stretch of four and a half inch circumference of special steel wire between the two vessels. Nothing short of a hurricane could break that or so I thought! This wire was one thousand two hundred feet long. Two-thirds of its length was out, over our stern and we had the remainder to play with in the heavy swells. The men cheered up during the day and began to partake of a little nourishment, as our cook had managed to make something tasty for all hands. We were all more or less getting used to the violent rough handling by the Indian Ocean. Many miles were now behind us at an average of 7 knots, but more was in store for us as we approached the vicinity of Port St Johns, not a pleasant spot to be caught near during bad weather. As darkness descended on the second day from Durban, the gale seemed to increase in fury and our automatic towing machine began to behave in a very crazy manner. Mr Mackintosh, the engineer, whom I still often chat with to this day here in Durban, asked for a small rope tackle and this was attached to the brake lever controlling the amount of wire being paid out. It didn’t seemed to help him to check the machine’s erratic behaviour at all, no matter how he hauled on the rope of the tackle. Fathom after fathom of wire was violently jerked off the drum in awful-sounding screeches as though the machine was actually alive and protesting at the harsh treatment being dealt to it by the seas outside.
I was standing next to Mr Mackintosh, now and again pulling with him on the rope. It was heartbreaking to see the wire paying itself out and nothing being wound in again. The tussle between man and machine was fascinating to watch. This went on for nearly an hour. Our speed was reduced to merely headway and no more, but still the precious fathoms were jerked, shrieking like some weird being, off the huge drum. I wondered what would happen when it came to the last few turns and I was not left long in suspense.
There was a violent jerk and a loud bang, the drum spun round, then amid a shower of sparks, the end of the wire tore itself free of the drum, whipping through the tiny opening, leading aft out of the towing engine house, and was gone into the murky might. Mr Mackintosh looked at me and I stared back at him from our crouching positions — we had to duck, otherwise the end of the flaying wire might have killed us but luckily no damage to the machine was done, but the flying wire did take a large piece of wood with it from the after towing beam.
I felt sorry for Mr Mac as I looked at his agonised face because he had done his best but the storm had won. Once again we had to just cruise around for the remainder of the night and this time it really was a wild night. Light signals were flashed back and forth between the two vessels, orders were given and answered. The same scramble on the after deck took place once again to clear the small wire securing the ‘dogs’ (bridles which hold the tow wire central upon the towing beams). But the weather was too bad and we had to scuttle to safety and leave this work to the morning. When daylight came, all hands worked almost thigh deep in water on the after deck, clearing away ropes and wires and also getting our spare towing wire up from the after hatch below and rewinding it onto the towing machine. Huge seas were running all morning and the skipper kept the stern on to the sea while we worked. Many a time I looked up in terror to see a green mountain of water bearing down upon us. This must be experienced to realise the feeling of dread which a person feels at that moment. It looked as though nothing could prevent us from being buried beneath thousands of tons of heaving water but on each roller, the tug was lifted up in the air and borne alone for a bit on its crest, then dropped suddenly into a deep abyss with steep green walls of water as our only scenery.
As the hours dragged on, the two vessels drifted further and further apart. That would mean hard uncomfortable steaming on our part against the seas to come closer again. We did hope to close our charge and get her in tow before nightfall. After navigation sights had been taken, we were elated to realise that we had drifted down the coast against this storm, caused by the strong Mozambique current. Our position was not roughly off Bashee Lighthouse, about 61 nautical miles from East London. Both vessels had been drifting since the evening before. Our wireless had told East London all that had happened. East London sent out wireless direction finding bearings to check our positions as we were both out of sight of land. This direction finding wireless set is yet another wonderful instrument with which all the Union Governments are fitted.
Another tug from East London, the old Annie, since scrapped, was sent out with extra food and bags of coal and another crew to replace us, as it was explained that we were all well-nigh exhausted. What a relief it would have been to transfer over at sea and let the new crew take over but even so the huge seas running would never have permitted such an undertaking. As it happened, we picked up our tow about 2 pm that afternoon and it was almost at that time when the old Annie passed our position, but close in shore, so we missed each other. When closing in towards the Labrus at noon, to pick up the vessel once more, I took the helm and I can tell you my heart was down by my toes somewhere as we crept close up to that heaving hulk in the awful seas that were running.
The Annie [Photo - F. W. Neave collection]
One second our tiny vessel was high above the Labrus’s bows, next we were deep down in the green troughs with the dredging bow fitting bow-fitting towering above us. The skipper gave me orders to turn the wheel in accordance with whatever engine orders he gave on the telegraphs; there would be little time for him to keep his eyes everywhere at once for the next few minutes and it was essential that the rudder should be either port or starboard as our powerful engines manoeuvred the tug into position. I kept my eyes on the skipper and spun the wheel as his hands manipulated the two brass levers tinkling bells which rang down in the engine room. For a few seconds the water astern of us seemed boiling white foam as the two large propellers churned away. By expert handling and split-second decisions, the tug was brought in under that sloping bow, but the first throw of a heaving line missed its mark. There was no dallying in such a precarious position and we had to get out of it very fast. I remember giving a quick glance back towards the stern, only to see that awful overhanging bow descending right over our after deck. In another second it would have perhaps cut our stern in two.
Captain Becket’s quick action in ordering full ahead on both engines at the right moment precented an awkward situation. The tug shot forward as though stuck by a pin. So all the previous manoeuvring and precious daylight minutes had been wasted.
We swung in a wide arc and came in close again, running up alongside the Labrus for a second attempt, stopping exactly ahead of the dredger once more. This ticklish manoeuvre is almost the same procedure used when about to take a sailing vessel in tow whilst she is still jogging along. Here again, a sailing vessel has that projecting bowsprit which a tug must avoid touching as she swings her stern around. This was a risky position to hold but there is no other way to enable a heaving line to be thrown. These in turn were used to haul up a manilla rope on the end of which was the wire tow rope. There was a capstan on the dredger which helped considerably in getting the end of our towing wire made secure. My heart has never thumped so much as when those minutes were ticking away as our two vessels lay so close to each other while being linked up again. To anyone but a sailor it is difficult to describe a scene like this yet it often happens all over the world in bad weather, with the two vessels pitching and rolling so close to each other, almost too close for comfort. One slip in the skipper’s judgement or a wrong movement by the engineers below can spell disaster of major proportions in lives and valuable ships as well. The turbulent seas and howling winds seemed determined to try and throw our two vessels together. One just an inanimate, helpless hulk and us a tiny but powerful tug with determined, tired men on board, endeavouring to carry out a dangerous undertaking and to avoid the grinding of steel against steel which would cause chaos and many wet skins as though the men weren’t wet enough already after three hectic days at sea.
I was really glad as we drew slowly away from the bouncing prow with the tow successfully passed across. Finally we swung that derelict hulk in a wide arc and set course for East London. Our coal was getting low in the bunkers because the raging furnaces had hungrily absorbed ton after ton to keep a full head of steam in all four boilers. We were pleased to learn that we would be calling in at our home port for at least a day. That meant a nice bath and a shave and a soft bed at home, no matter how late our arrival.
Just on dark the welcome faint glow of lights gladdened our hearts. Headway with the tow had been good that afternoon with following current and a dying wind.
The old tug Annie which had been sent out from East London to assist us had been recalled to port. We both arrived outside somewhere about eight thirty. The bar across the harbour entrance was not safe for us to enter with our tow, as heavy swells were still surging across it and thundering upon the Orient Beach. The Annie entered harbour however for the night but we were obliged to spend all night cruising in circles outside with our charge still connected to us on a shortened towing wire and believe me the words expressed that night aboard the tug are unprintable here.
When stepping ashore the next morning, I remember the queer feeling of the ground wanting to come up and hit me in my face. It seemed as though the whole earth was heaving and tossing. We were quite proud of ourselves that morning steaming in with our tow closely following behind and having come through such an awful experience so soon after taking over our tug. It was the following afternoon when we left on the second leg of our journey to Cape Town, equipped with the spare towing wire from our sister tug, John Dock, at Port Elizabeth. This came up to East London on the first freighter leaving there. But the same night, misfortune dogged us again! Our towing machine had jammed and the best thing to do was to return to port. So a couple of days spent repairing the machine was very welcome indeed. We had earned it.
After the machine was fixed, we continued the rest of the voyage in calm seas until nearing Cape Town when a strong South Easter sprang up. A Cape Town tug came out to relieve us of our tow but as we swung into position with the full length of wire still out neither the dredger nor the tug could move. Our reduced speed on approaching Table Bay docks had caused the wire to sag in a big bight and had been dragging along the bottom of the bay and so had eventually caught on some wreckage. The dredger could not heave in enough slack on her puny capstan to let go her end of the wire and we could not move in case our propellers got fouled. It took quite a while before the Cape Town tugs managed to take the dredger from us, then we swung away and wound in the wire onto our machine again.
The next afternoon we left Cape Town on our return to East London. It was on that trip with perfect weather when we broke the record of forty eight hours, an average of 11.3 knots over the 544 nautical miles. It had been six weeks of the hardest work I had ever done, playing with heavy wire and ropes and trying to get our vessel into shipshape order.
Before many days had passed after our first experiences, our tug was again on the way to Durban, this time to pick up an old floating crane hulk. It was a large, square, punt-like affair with the machinery housing still on it. The Durban chaps tied an empty brandy bottle onto the hulk’s superstructure. We again had bad weather going down the coast but this bottle filled with water and was still found to be dangling by its piece of rope yarn when we arrived in Cape Town as if in defiance of the elements. The first night out at sea with this weird object, the towing wire broke, quite a usual thing to happen to us. Nothing could be done at night so we cruised around and lighted it up with our searchlight every now and then in case it drifted away into the darkness. When morning came, work was begun to drag for the towing wire as it snapped at the splicing at our end.
The engineers made a grab by heating thin bars of iron in the furnaces and bending them into hooks lashed back to back. Many months later this selfsame grab was used in a very unpleasant way when we lost our quartermaster in Port Elizabeth harbour. He had slipped from the bridge and overbalanced into the harbour and was drowned. This accident happened when all hands were down below having breakfast. It was the broken woodwork and other evidence which proved that he had fallen overboard. Then we used the grab to look for his body. Now, by dragging the grab along the seabed, at last the wire was brought to the surface. It took the best part of the morning to get another eye respliced into the end and connected onto the towing beams once more. The strange hulk took the tug a good six days towing to get to Cape Town. The W. H. Fuller was certainly proving herself a real seagoing ship and we were getting used to her. But the spasmodic appearances at home were trying for the men and their families. When were all these sea trips going to end?
Our hearts fell when we arrived in Cape Town because another tow was waiting for us. It was a bucket dredger which was to be taken to East London. There was a busy day of preparing and then off we sailed with this strange tow. A bucket dredger is an ugly thing at the best of times but seeing one bobbing along behind us was stranger still. No crew sailed aboard her and she was all battened down. Red and green navigation lights were set in Cape Town to burn constantly by means of gas bottles on the same principle as the harbour channel buoys are lit. The nasty weather hit us the moment we put our nose round Cape Point. This was a storm as bad as we had experienced off the Natal coast a few weeks before, but the heavy South Atlantic rollers meet the Mozambique current here so you can imagine that the storms near Cape Agulhas [From the Portuguese, Cabo das Agulhas, meaning Cape of the Needles.] are not very pleasant to encounter. Sometimes our tow was riding high on the crest of a huge wave and seemed to be just poised there, then she would disappear altogether down in the trough of the sea; at other times the bucket dredger seemed to be lying on her beam ends. Often we had the feeling of her eventually turning turtle because she seemed top heavy with all that high dredging superstructure. It was heartbreaking to see the Hottentots Holland mountains still in the same position day after day and only managing to keep steerage way on the tug. Each day we seemed to have made no easting but only to be going south, further from the coast.
At last the weather moderated and our towing wire had held! Yet it had been an anxiety especially at night because the tow was paid out extra long, and it could not be seen how the dredger was fairing or if the hatches had burst open or not. That trip lasted a week. What a difference from our record run of forty eight hours two weeks before. On arrival at East London, the dredger’s hold was found to contain plenty of sea water, yet not one plank had been dislodged from her battens. Even her ventilators had been sealed up before sailing so it is a mystery to this day how the water got in.
All these trips were in the two months of February and March 1935. In port it was heavy work in perspiring weather and when we put to sea, it was bitterly cold in the stormy periods. Quite an odd experience to feeling boiling hot then icy cold and wet and then hot again. But we had been hardened to it all.
We were given a couple of days rest, then once more on our way to Cape Town, this time to pick up two dummy hoppers which were to be used by the dredger we had just brought from there. These craft are like large lighters but they are fitted underneath with drop doors which are opened to dump the mud at sea and then lifted back into place by chains fitted to a ratchet gear. A tug tows the mud hoppers a few miles out to sea when loaded. They are then emptied by dropping down these hinged doors and brought back for another load.
It was glorious weather on the way to Cape Town and also coming back with the mud hoppers jogging along behind us. Each one carried four men and special quarters had been built to accommodate them. That was a final tow for a long time to come. But it was really only the beginning of our trips. Every six months the W. H. Fuller would proceed to Port Elizabeth to relieve the two tugs there for their annual overhauls and boiler cleaning, &c. These were very pleasant diversions working in another port every now and again.
When we lost our quartermaster in Port Elizabeth, I was promoted to quartermaster. The mail boats still lay out in the roadstead at East London and one of our jobs was to tow the lighters loaded with produce from the Eastern Province, such as wool, oranges, eggs and butter, &c., out every Friday. But when Mr Havenga, the then Finance Minister, opened the new turning basin at East London, it was quite a treat to see these huge vessels come in and tie up at the wharf. The first large mail boat which came in seemed to block the whole Buffalo River as she lay broadside to it whilst being turned around and it was a work of art for the pilot and tug masters to berth these ships in such a confined space in all kinds of weather.
The two huge Italian liners, Duillio and Guillio Cesare, which were destroyed by the SAAF airmen during this last war, were regular callers into East London and they seemed to tower even higher than the mail ships and dwarfed even signal hill close behind.
Our original skipper [Alex M. Becket, later Port Captain of East London] became a pilot and we were given Captain Smith, a fine seaman of the old school, who has served in harbour craft for many years in East London. After him Captain Burns, who was our original mate during all those towing trips, became our master. It was a pleasure to work under a man whom we had had on our tug for so many years.
There was a time when we had all new hands on the tug just for a couple of weeks on a trip to Port Elizabeth. The regular married men did not wish to go on that trip. Bad weather sprang up on the day we were to leave and, once at sea, all the men were seasick. So it left Captain Burns and myself on the bridge to take the tug all the way to Port Elizabeth. Eight hours at the wheel of a small craft in bad weather is not all honey either! The firemen, however, were all our original crew and so there was not a problem there.
In 1936, the W. H. Fuller was relieving in Port Elizabeth when our late King, George V, passed away. The day his majesty was laid to rest there was to be a two to three minutes silence. The signal for the townsfolk of Port Elizabeth was to be a very long blast on the W. H. Fuller’s siren. She had a very loud and piercing siren which was heard up and down the hills of this vast spread-out city. My eardrums were considerably deafened after that for a while.
Palus [photo by D. K. Shackleton]
Every year the large bucket dredger, Palus, had to be towed to Durban for annual overhaul from either East London or Port Elizabeth — wherever she happened to be working at the time. The job usually fell to the W. H. Fuller as did fetching her back afterwards. One evening, just before sunset, a tropical thunderstorm came up, which we met just as we rounded the Bluff off Durban. Heavy rain poured down in torrents almost shutting out visibility. Captain Robinson was our skipper on that trip. As the tug prepared to enter harbour between the two long breakwaters, the Palus decided to go on her own course instead of logically following us in.
She took a sheer well out on our flank. Both vessels were steaming along, side by side, with the towing wire stretched tight between them. We were very close to the breakwater and just before it was too late to do anything, the skipper gave one last of warning on the siren, notifying the skipper of the dredger that we were about to swing to starboard and then the tug was turned in a wide arc, pulling the dredger clear just in time from the breakwater. All this was happening in blinding lightning, crashing thunder and the heaviest rain I have ever experienced. We tried again to enter port and this time the Palus behaved herself. It was my job to steer the tow of us into harbour. It was agony to have pouring rain driven like sharp needles by the fierce wind into my face and eyes. To this day I cannot say how the two craft managed to steer a straight course down that narrow channel.
During her career, the W. H. Fuller assisted in salvaging several vessels in distress, One of those was the Thesen coaster, Griqua, which became a victim somewhere off Bashee River, 61 nautical miles north of East London. She had holed aft but she still floated and managed to make a little headway. It was a very strange sight when we found her steaming along with the stern almost awash and the bow pointing high out of the water.
Another day, just before going off duty, an urgent call came through for assistance from the little motor coaster, Cecile Mapleson, used by the Navy as a small cable ship. Her engine and steering had failed. It was a blustering evening and all thoughts of having a nice warm supper at home had to be put aside as about thirty lives were at stake somewhere out there in the night. A gale force wind was coming up the coast. It was one of those Southerly Busters as they are known. Captain Burns was still our skipper at the time.
After clearing the breakwater, the master, mate and myself, kept a good lookout for the vessel’s lights, and now and again, I scanned the darkness between my glances at the compass. After an hour’s steaming, I spotted what looked like a faint green light. One could not be too sure because the tug was throwing herself about a lot and stars on the horizon can easily be mistaken for a light. I watched this light for a while and then informed the skipper. We altered course and three miles away found the disabled little vessel. Just that faint little light had revealed her pitiable helplessness. We were several times her size and it was a ticklish job getting her in tow. Our searchlight showed all the sailors still in their white tropical shorts and vests and I felt very sorry for them in that shivery night. It was the quickest I’d seen a tow rope hauled aboard and made fast. We had a following sea now and in two hours both of us were safe in harbour.
Another rescue was a South American ship called the Tobate, which had been attacked in the Mediterranean at the outbreak of the war. Most of her crew had been wiped out including her most important officers. She had wandered aimlessly all down the East Coast of Africa without really knowing where she was sailing to. We found her in a battered condition, her superstructure, funnels, ventilators, &c., all riddled by machine gun bullets. All that day was spent in towing her to port.
One more rescue was when we found the British freighter, Sheaf Crown2, torpedoed and deserted not very far from East London, yet we spent nearly two days getting her into port. She was a fully loaded ship and it is a wonder, with a hole in her bow big enough to drive a tram through, that she floated!
One of the prettiest sights I have ever seen, happened on a cloudless calm sunny day. The intermediate Union Castle Liner, Durban Castle, was due to arrive at 11h00. A large party of school girls from an inland hostel came on board the two tugs. There were about thirty on each tug. The tugs steamed out towards the distant, approaching liner and lusty sweet voices were raised in community singing. It almost seemed like a South Sea Island welcome and as we drew nearer to the ship, each tug swung round. When the tugs reached the ship, they kept close on either side for nearly twenty minutes. All three vessels steamed slowly towards the lovely green foreshore while the children were singing loud and clear across the blue waters to the passengers who were eagerly lining the ship’s rails, and enjoying this novel welcome to the Port of East London. The most beautiful song I have ever heard was sung by these girls as we sailed along. It was called ‘Blue Hills of Hawaii’ and I have never heard it sung or played since.
An unsuccessful job which the W. H. Fuller and her companion tug, the F. Schermbrucker, had was to try and pull the lovely Blue Star Liner, Stuart Star, off the rocks just outside the harbour where she had gone aground in dense fog. For quite a few months this vessel lay broadside to the coast and from a distance looked absolutely intact until the winter gales broke her up into several pieces. Today only a small part of her bow is still visible on the rocks.
During her lifetime many notable personalities came on board for short trips on the tug. One of these was the Earl of Clarendon and Lady Clarendon and their party and they were taken for a trip to view East London from the sea and a trip down to have a look at the Stuart Star which I have just mentioned. Lady Clarendon I found to be a very friendly and jovial person. The whole party stood around the tug’s bridge and Lady Clarendon, being the only lady present, was given a seat upon the large square box containing all the batteries for our radio sets. On rounding the breakwater, a heavy swell hit the tug, heeling it over. This was so unexpected to our lady guest, that she clutched hold of me where I was standing steering the tug for this was quite close to where she was sitting. I remember her calling out to me, ‘Must you do it that way?’, then she laughed. After that Lady Clarendon kept me very busy giving her various information about our surroundings, work, &c. In fact I quite enjoyed the afternoon and the pleasant company. The funniest part of it was that only that morning we had seventy of East London’s townspeople aboard who were anxious to see us tow the sailing vessel, Lawhill, out to sea. The Lawhill was taken thirty miles out before she had an offering of suitable wind. It was a choppy sea for our small craft but a sunny day never the less.
Everybody was seasick and the tug was in a terrible mess. On arrival back in harbour we got orders to wash down the whole tug as official guests were coming for a trip over the bar. It was the Governor General’s party just mentioned who came. So that turned out to be a red letter day for us.
Strange things can happen in a seaman’s life. One day we were pulling a large Ellerman and Bucknall ‘City’ boat away from the berth. She was one of the older passenger ships. We were using our towing hawser which all tugs carry lying along their towing beams. Something went wrong and the ship began to gather headway before they had let go the end of our strop made fast at their end on the ship. The tug happened to be lying broadside across the river and was being pulled further and further over onto her side3. We quickly let go of our end of the strop as the hook is made so that it can fall apart into two sections when the pin is pulled out. This is only used in an emergency.
The ‘City’ boat also managed at last to free her end and the whole hawser fell into the harbour or so we thought. Dragging operations were commenced to try and find it because the river is very narrow and the exact place where it fell was known. We were very puzzled when it did not come to light and divers could not even find it either. It was not so easy for nearly a hundred feet of double eighteen inch circumference manilla rope with four hundred feet of four and a half inch circumference steel wire attached to vanish.
See Image 19 - W. H. Fuller at work berthing either the Njassa or Usambarra, just prior to WWII [photographer unknown, D. K. Shackleton collection]
Months later the same vessel came back to East London as she was one of the regular callers. Our tug berthed the ship that morning and the chief officer told us to wait alongside until his crew had finished tying the ship up. We wondered what was happening. A derrick was made ready and a hatch opened, then up came some heavy rope and wire. Our skipper called to the chief officer, ‘Hey, that’s our cant strop!’
‘You’re telling me it’s your rope?’
‘Where did you find it?’
‘In India. We found it jammed around our stern post when the ship was dry-docked over there.’ The skipper told us to get it on board. How it ever managed to keep clear of the ship’s propellers on that long trip is a miracle. It was a bit of luck for us, firstly, because it is a valuable piece of a tug’s equipment and secondly, the whole might have jammed the ‘City’ boat’s rudder or propellers. What a predicament for them in rough weather, especially if their screws had seized up and they not knowing what was fouling them.
Out of all the new tugs acquired by the Union Government, there is only one of this Harland and Wolff class left and she is the John Dock at Port Elizabeth, and it seems strange yet fitting that the W. H. Fuller should have sunk so near to her sister ship. It happened one morning after steaming all the way from East London to Port Elizabeth, she struck a submerged object, putting a hole in the bottom plates. An RAF crash boat was sent out to rescue the crew. Each month the John Dock sails to Bird Island to offload stores and supplies for the lighthouse and perhaps the men on board gaze wistfully across the reefs to where their sister ship which was so well-known, now lies a forlorn rusty hulk, ‘forgotten,’ because she was one of the smartest and loveliest little harbour craft known to our ports.
20. The Princess Elizabeth Graving dock under construction immediately after World War 2, which would provide East London with a worthwhile ship repair and maintenance facility.
21. The momentous occasion on 3 March 1947 when Her Royal Highness, the Princess Elizabeth, officially opened the new graving dock that would carry her name. A South African naval craft – the frigate TRANSVAAL - broke a ceremonial ribbon as she steamed slowly into the new graving dock.
22. Aerial view of East London Harbour showing the newly opened graving dock ready for use. The dredger Sir Thomas Price seems to be very busy doing her duty near the entrance to the new dock.
23. This general view of East London harbour circa 1961 illustrates the volume of shipping in the port at the time. The bucket dredger – Sir Thomas Price – is operating to seaward of the fishing wharf (in the foreground).
24. Trevor Jones has this to say about Koodoo: Regarding the small tug Koodoo, there is not a great deal to say about the image itself, which I would think must date from the mid-/late-1950s. It looks as if she is operating as a pilot tug, as the photo seems to have been taken from a considerably larger vessel. The negative was among David Shackleton's negs, but I'm not 100 percent sure it was taken by Dave himself, as it's a 6x9 medium-format negative, not his usual 6x6 format. As for Koodoo herself, she was completed in 1924 at the Thornycroft yard at Woolston, near Southampton, and she was only stripped and scuttled (with the older Mary) off Hood Point lighthouse on 26 February 1960. As you've noted elsewhere, she operated as an offshore passenger tender in the years before the larger mailships could enter Buffalo Harbour, but she is clearly not operating in this mode in this photo.
25. David Shackleton took this fine shot of the pilot tug – William Messina, while on a coastal mailship voyage. The following information is an adaptation from the David Reynolds’ book – “A Century of South African Steam Tugs”.
In 1927, the Port Elizabeth private firm of Messina Brothers, Coles and Searle, imported two new craft, Ulundi III and William Messina for the lighterage trade. The William Messina came out from the UK in 58 days under her own power from her Leith builders. She remained in the employ of the Messina Brothers until December 1941, when she was sold to the SAR & H Administration and was used as an inspection vessel during World War 2. Then she served Mossel Bay until 1959 when she was again transferred, this time to East London and remained in service there until 1964. She was laid-up until 1967 when a Durban firm bought her as scrap and demolished her in that same year. The William Messina was the only tug to bear the name of Port Elizabeth’s foremost private tug operator.
26. This lovely photo of Sir Thomas Price by Trevor Jones, introduces the segment of this chapter devoted to the dredgers employed in East London over the years.
27. Sir Thomas Price was so prominent in the life of this harbour, that she demanded a photo collage, all to herself. Her technical details:
Hopper bucket dredger completed March 1924
Built by Lobnitz & Co., Renfrew.
1474 grt; 1800 iHp; twin screw; triple expansion.
Brian Ingpen provided the following info on Sir Thomas Price:
Because of silt brought down by the Buffalo River, the harbour at East London (South Africa’s only river port) has needed constant dredging to maintain a reasonable water depth and to undertake special projects such as the deepening of the harbour and the construction of a special turning basin when the larger mailships came into service in the early 1960s. Among the dredgers that operated here over the years was the bucket dredger, Sir Thomas Price, built in 1925 by Lobnitz & Company who, in the pre-World War 2 period, also built some of South Africa’s harbour tugs. As she dredged, her buckets would thump into piles of rock that had been blasted from the seabed or were simply fluvial “litter”. The ensuing wear and tear was considerable, to the extent that the driving belt sometimes broke, particularly when the pin holding the belt links snapped or came adrift. Divers would have to hasten to retrieve the belt from the river and replace the pin before the dredger could continue her work. Besides removing sand from the river, the dredgers created a deep sand-trap seaward of the breakwater so that silt carried by local marine currents would not be deposited in the harbour entrance but rather went into the sand-trap.
28. The dredger "Success", also a well-known resident of East London; here she posed for the official SAR photographer to take her portrait.
Her technical details:
Rock breaking dredger
launched 2nd March 1900
Built by Wm Simons & Co, Renfrew.
312 grt
400 iHp, single screw, triple expansion.
Built for East London Harbour Board and later taken over by the SAR&H.
29. David Shackleton made this beautiful photo of Rietbok returning to the harbour after dropping her spoil beyond the breakwater.
Her technical details:
Hopper suction dredger completed December 1930
Built by Wm Simons & Co, Renfrew.
4538 grt3500 iHp (designed) twin screw, triple expansion.
30. An official SAR photo of Rietbok – now part of the Transnet Heritage Library Photo Collection. She seemed to draw everyone’s attention while getting on with her work of keeping the harbour dredged to the required depth.
31. A collage featuring the dredger Springbok going out to and returning from the spoil grounds.
32. Accidents will happen. Here are the dramatic photos taken by Trevor Jones of Blesbok stranded on the South Breakwater, just outside the harbour in January 1971.
Her technical details:
Hopper suction dredger
completed November 1937
Built by Lobnitz & Co, Renfrew.
3121 grt
3300 iHp, twin screw, triple expansion.
33. The late Dave Parsons photographed this 6th class running down the line from Chiselhurst direct to the docks with several flat wagons. Engine number and date not recorded. Note the original oil headlamp on the engine’s smokebox.
34. Another photo from the same vantage point; a 14CR and an MJ Mallet with goods guard’s van on their way to the harbour to pick up a main-line freight.
35. The SAR & H stationed specialist riggers at East London who could “knit” the bow fenders for the Administration’s tugs. Here is one of them with the man who made it – Rigger Bush at Buffalo Harbour. The tug’s name “Theodor Woker” was renamed E.S.Steytler by the time that she was delivered to South African shores at the outset of WW2.
36. We now turn our attention to the 1st class tugs stationed over the years at East London. This is the F. Schermbrucker, an East London stalwart, cruising up the Buffalo River in 1970. For convenience, her technical details are repeated here:
Completed January 1938 by Lobnitz & Co, Renfrew.
Overall length 154’3” (47,01m)
621 grt
FS: 3393 iHp (trial), JXM 3250 iHp (trial). Twin screw, triple expansion.
37. David Shackleton’s superb image of E.S.Steytler. I remember this tug stationed in Durban during WW2 when I lived there as a schoolboy.
38. A “quiet” colour photo by David Shackleton of E.S.Steytler photographed in 1964.
39. A Trevor Jones classic of E.S.Steytler returning to the harbour after assisting a ship on her way in 1969.
40. Another fine image of E.S.Steytler? Yes, photos of this calibre cannot be left out! Her technical details are:
Completed: September 1939
Built by: A & J. Inglis & Co., Pointhouse, Glasgow.
Overall length: 155 ft. (47,24m)
620 grt
3220 iHp (trial - engines by Lobnitz). Twin screw, triple expansion.
41. The late Alec Young took this undated shot of the F. Schermbrucker from a mailship on a coastwise voyage.
42. Trevor Jones describes this David Shackleton image of the F. Schermbrucker as "close to unbeatable as a Buffalo Harbour scene".
43. For convenience, Father Scott’s comments are repeated here. He explains why Port Elizabeth resident, the John X. Merriman, spent some time stationed at East London: "Without a spare tug in East London the two ports provided the reliefs for one another, which explains the appearance of a Port Elizabeth tug in East London from time to time. With the transfer of the John X. Merriman to East London in mid-1959, the two ports could each keep two tugs working with one in lay-up and still provide reliefs for one another. The Merriman was later transferred to Durban in 1969.
44. Yet another Dave Shackleton image – this time of the "Harry Cheadle" on 24 February 1964. Trevor Jones adds: “I find these images quite sobering, with the cheerful-looking crew members now either very old men or no longer with us.”
45. On a coastwise voyage aboard Pretoria Castle in 1952 I photographed the T. Eriksen ready to assist our departure from East London. Not having any experience in maritime photography, I unfortunately cut off Eriksen’s bow and stern. I also remember this tug in Durban from my schoolboy days in “Durbs”. T. Eriksen was transferred to Port Elizabeth from Durban but was, on occasion, sent to East London to relieve a local tug that was on lay-up – meaning the local tug was having its regular major refit.
46. Trevor Jones tells us what Peter has captured on film: “This downriver view of the Harbour in 1964 shows a port less crammed with vessels than in earlier decades. However, the full array of SAR&H harbour craft is on view, with the F Schermbrucker alongside in the foreground, E S Steytler peeking out in the extreme left from the Princess Elizabeth graving dock, and the dredger fleet; Sir Thomas Price (inboard), Springbok (outboard) and the larger Blesbok behind them on C-berth. Some regular cargo-working callers are also shown, with Holland-Afrika Lijn's Sloterkerk on the West Quay, and then a further unit of this company, a Clan Line freighter and African Coasters' Boundary alongside No 3 and No 4 Quays in the left background.
47. On 8 January 1970 I was visiting East London and photographed the departure of Windsor Castle as she left port with a diesel Pilot Boat alongside ready to take the Pilot off the mailship.
48. The next frame embraced the complete mailship in all her glory as she left Port.
49. Final shot of Windsor Castle’s departure on 8 January 1970 shows the tug keeping a watchful eye on the mailship as it sets off for its next port of call.
50. Four years later, in 1974, I photographed the departure of another Union Castle vessel – this time the Southhampton Castle with two tugs in attendance, including the Port Elizabeth tug, C.F. Kayser obviously on relieving duty in East London.
51. Another view of the C.F. Kayser and her mate getting ready to pull Southhampton Castle clear of the quayside.
52. My last shot shows the tugs almost ready to pull the Union Castle ship clear of the quayside.
53. 14CRB 1780 was engaged in shunting goods wagons on the wharf during my 1974 visit.
54. One of several excellent Departmental photographs by an unknown photographer in the previous SAR & H Photographic Section. It shows the F. Schermbrucker assisting Ellerman & Bucknall’s City of Pretoria in East London. More detail of this scene in the next photo.
55. This classic SAR photo follows on from the previous image and is described by Trevor Jones: “With Scott's assistance, we can date the image with Schermbrucker and City of Pretoria to the mid-fifties. The aft tug is R B Waterston during her quite brief stint in East London from her delivery in 1955 to 1959. City of Pretoria was a regular caller, with her sister City of Hull, at South African ports in the 1950s. She had excellent accommodation for a limited number of passengers. She was completed for Ellerman Lines by Cammell Laird of Birkenhead in late-1947 and was sold to Greeks and scrapped within a few months in 1967.”
56. An undated SAR photo shows Windsor Castle being pulled clear of the quayside by the two resident tugs.
57. Trevor Jones: This fine image shows Steytler and Schermbrucker bringing the turbine steamer Argyllshire alongside. The vessel would have been operating the Clan Line service to South African ports, although she was registered to the Scottish Shire Line within the Cayzer, Irvine ensemble. Like many Clan vessels, she was built by the Greenock Dockyard Company on the Clyde, and delivered in 1956. She was sold for further trading in 1975 and operated to South African ports on many occasions in that time. I would think that this photo dates to the late-1960s or circa-1970. A feature that is worth noting here are the large patches on the ship's hull and forecastle. It was a common practice to paint the ships' hulls while working in the S A ports, with chippers and later painters suspended over the vessels' sides on what looked like quite flimsy painting frames. When chipping, these labourers produced a veritable cacophony of noise. This practice, which provided quite considerable employment, has long ceased to be a feature of the ports.
58. The SAR photographer also captured Union Castle's "Winchester Castle" with his Speed-Graphic, with the usual two tugs in attendance.
59. Trevor Jones comments: This superb SAR&H image shows the steam tug E S Steytler attending a freighter of the Lloyd Triestino company of Italy. The lifeboat arrangement on the tug dates the photo to quite a narrow time window of 1966-1968. The Italian freighter is one of several similar units that were laid down in 1940 but only completed after the war. They had extensive passenger accommodation, in a context in which the Italian-flag passenger fleet had largely been destroyed during the war years. The six vessels completed with this configuration each had accommodation for over 500 passengers for the Mediterranean - West coast of South America service. Two of these sisters - Ugolino Vivaldi and Sebastiano Caboto were transferred to Lloyd Triestino in the early-1950s and traded to South African ports as freighters with limited accommodation for 12 passengers. Three further sisters - Amerigo Vespucci, Antoniotto Usodimare and Marco Polo - followed in the early 1960s, and all five were still in South African service at the time this photograph was taken.
60. Trevor Jones: a splendid view that can be dated fairly accurately as in the foreground at U-berth (the tanker berth) is the coaster Oribi of Point Shipping of Durban but flying the African Coasters houseflag. She took that name in 1959, so this is in or after 1959. At K-berth on No 6 Quay is the mail steamer Pretoria Castle (later, in 1965 to become Safmarine's S A Oranje). She still has her original and vastly more appealing profile of two tall masts. This profile changed in 1962, when the mainmast was removed, the foremast was truncated to funnel height and a short signal mast was stepped on top of the wheelhouse. The time window here is therefore between 1959 and 1962. The second vessel at No 6 Quay is Ellerman Lines' beautiful City of Durban, one of a quartet of passenger-cargo motor ships running on the company's London-Beira service, and carrying 107 passengers in first-class splendour.
61. A class 14CR shunts grain wagons on the southern breakwater from the grain elevator to Terminus yard for despatch inland. In the 1970’s, the grain elevator handled 3.8 million tonnes of exports. Swimmers at Orient beach are oblivious to this activity. Date: August 1976
62. The 1975 song “All by myself” by Eric Carmen comes to mind as this single 14CR tackles with obvious gusto the West Bank from Terminus up to Gately. Normally the trains were double headed by the Gately and Oil Site shunt locomotives. There must have been dry, berg-wind conditions this day as there is not a wisp of condensed steam from the locomotive. In the background to the right is South Africa’s largest export grain elevator with a storage capacity of 76,000 tonnes.
63. A variety of locomotives was possible on the Gately and Oil Site shunt. Here a 14CR and one of the two 12AR’s allocated to East London at the time, combine to lift a load of predominately fuel tankers up to Gately. The two 12AR’s were retained at East London, after displacement firstly by class GMAM’s and then dieselization of the main line, for shunting at Cambridge, a class which was regarded by local residents as being the quietist, especially while shunting the yards at night.
64. There can surely be few scenes more majestic than an ocean-going passenger liner leaving harbour. The S A Vaal was no exception with Cape Town-based pilot tug Cecil G White in attendance giving the passengers on deck a fresh scent of coal smoke. August 1976
65. The S A Vaal is being positioned for departure while a Boeing 727 of the SAA approaches East London Airport for landing, its smoke trail, a characteristic of first generation jet aircraft, resembling something more like a fighter jet having been shot down. September 1976
66. The sun has barely risen as the S A Vaal enters the harbour, flanked by the ever-present tugs. Lone fishermen admire the splendour of it all. September 1976
67. The refrigerated cargo ship Southampton Castle entered service in May 1965 and was a regular visitor to East London. She was billed the world’s most powerful cargo liner in her day. Although lacking the majesty of the big liners, she made for an interesting picture as she departed East London in August 1976. She changed ownership in 1978 and was finally broken up at Dalian, China on 19 January 1984.
68. With the Southampton Castle now well on her way, the pilot tug returns to harbour to wait for another bout of duty.
69. On one of her last trips, the 1960-built “Windsor Castle” enters East London Harbour. In the foreground is the 1925 bucket dredger “Sir Thomas Price”, her design giving away her age of 52 years, but still going strong. The magnificent “Windsor Castle” made her last voyage for Union Castle in August 1977, returning to Southampton in September 1977. Date: January 1977
70. In March 1977, Jim Shaw, a friend of David Berman, travelled from the Canary Islands to South Africa aboard Windsor Castle and at East London he photographed the CF Kayser, a Port Elizabeth tug relieving here, pulling Windsor Castle clear of the quayside in readiness for her departure from the river port. Judging by the smoke, the Kayser would have given “Smokey Sue” in Cape Town a bit of competition.
71. Another shot of the Gately and Oil Site shunt locomotives climbing West Bank, this time with classes 14CR and 15AR. Note the harbour activity with grain being loaded into a ship from the grain elevator. September 1977
72. An afternoon study of the S A Vaal at berth on the East Bank on the eve of her last voyage back to Southampton. In the foreground is the railway to Gately. September 1977
73. It was almost as if the seagulls understood the significance of the day and stood to attention as the last sailing of the S A Vaal from East London was being prepared. Date: September 1977
74. A little later it seemed as if the seagulls were becoming bored at the slow rate of activity down at the water’s edge and were starting to get fidgety while others left, even though the tugs had started to position themselves to pull the S A Vaal away from the quay side.
75. Your photographer has been known on the odd occasion to ask a steam locomotive driver for smoke at a specific location for effect, but he categorically denies that he made any such an arrangement here. Thanks to steam tugs, the S A Vaal preparing for departure and a low sun, the effect was dramatic, to say the least. The cables between ship and tugs are straight as they pull the great ship away from the wharf for the last time in East London.
76. Last view of the same action. What more can one say about the end of an era other than to be grateful it was captured on film on such a fine afternoon?
77. Loading of grain is in progress as a class 14CR and 15AR combination climb the West Bank toward Gately. Date: April 1978
78. Another view of a class 14CR shunting grain wagons on the southern breakwater while a strong wind precedes an approaching cold front already clearly visible in the background. Date: July 1978
79. The double-headed action on the West Bank was so impressive that we can surely be forgiven for showing one more shot of this, this time with two class 15AR’s on an otherwise overcast morning when the sun burst through to shine on the train at the right moment, with the large grain elevator providing the backdrop. By this time many of the class 14CR’s had been transferred away from East London to the Western Cape following the dieselization of the suburban service out of East London. Date: May 1978
80. A class 14CR and 15AR combination have trundled down tender first from the locomotive depot and crossed over from the East to the West Bank heading for Terminus to pick up their load for Gately. Date: April 1978
81. A suburban service was introduced directly to and from the harbour at some point after dieselization, as a number of people from the townships worked in the harbour area and it was considered appropriate and feasible to provide such a service. Here General Motors class 34-218 climbs toward East London station one morning from the harbour, having arrived there via the avoiding line from Chiselhurst to Port Rex signal cabin. Date: January 1985
82. In the afternoon a train left East London station and dropped down to the harbour past the old prison, with the coach yard in the background with vans from left to right of type K-42, parcels van type KP-1, guards van type K-43 (ex main line coach of type C-25 or E-16) and another type KP-1. The coach behind General Motors 34-810 is number 4848, an ex-first class driving trailer from the Germiston steam push-pull sets but later converted to a third class and brake van. Date: January 1985
83. The late Pernell Mizen photographed F.Schermbrucker in August, 1978, laid-up at the scrapyard in East London. Knowing how well-maintained the SAR & H tugs were in service, it is sad to see her in this derelict state – forgotten and waiting for the cutter’s torch.
84. Another sad day in a tug’s life. This is the well-known Durban tug J.D.White on her final day of service in East London – 25 September 1980. Father Scott tells us: The J. D. White served Durban for 27 years, only being transferred to East London in 1977 when the Schermbrucker was decomissioned.
85. Dick Manton comments on his photo: Unfortunately I did not record the loco number of the 15AR which is hauling the regular daily freight working up the steep climb to the West Bank industrial sites and petroleum depot high above Buffalo Harbour in April 1982.
86. In 1983 there was another bus boycott in the East London area. (There had been one in the 1970’s as well.) On 18 July 1983, Mdantsane (which was then part of the Ciskei) and East London communities embarked on a bus boycott to protest an unannounced fifty cent (11%) increase in bus fares. The residents abandoned the partly Ciskei government-owned Ciskei Transport Corporation (CTC) buses for taxis and trains. At that time surveys indicated that 80% of workers used buses to get to work, 15% trains and 5% cars. The resultant overcrowding of the trains caused severe damage to the timber bodied coaches to the extent that underframe truss gear on certain coaches scraped on the rails, rendering them unsafe for further use without major modification. As they had reached the end of their economic lives and because there were surplus electric plain trailer (EPT) sliding door stock of type 5M2A on the Reef and elsewhere, it was decided to scrap them and use the EPT’s instead. A test train using type 5M2A EPT’s was run over the network to assess platform heights, including running through the harbour precinct. As there was no platform in the harbour, steps were fitted to the type 5M2A trailers for use in East London. Here the test train passes the signals controlled by the Port Rex signal cabin allowing access either to the West Bank or Chiselhurst. It will be seen that the test train had by this time gained a few non-fare paying passengers, which was not discouraged, they were, no doubt keen to try the new coaches out. Date: October 1983
87. The test train had to wait to cross the scheduled harbour service, now running with mainly main line stock due to the scrapping of some of the timber suburban vehicles.
88. The harbour East Bank yard is full of wagons, mainly of the B and DZ drop side type. A multipurpose terminal has since been built on the East Bank now handling mostly containers. The steep gradient out of the harbour is clear in this view and was a banking section in steam days. The building in the background appears in many of these photos, it is the Harbourmaster's Office, formerly the Custom's House and before that the King's Warehouse, dating back to 1904.
89. East London’s diesel depot was situated at Cambridge. This depot was originally home to locomotives built by General Motors but clearly this changed somewhat over the years as here we see a General Electric class 35 number 35-026 with the number plate with a blue background, synonymous with the Cambridge depot doing the East Bank shunt, while on the West Bank we see a GE class 34 with the background to the number in yellow, indicating a Swartkops, Port Elizabeth allocation. The contents of the wagon closest to the camera seem to indicate copper sheets while drop-side four-wheelers of type DE can still be seen in operation on the West Bank. The area opposite on the West Bank was converted to a Car Terminal which was opened in September 2000. The Car Terminal, which includes a four-storey parking facility connected by a dedicated road to the adjacent Daimler (Mercedes Benz) factory, has transformed the port. The terminal has a theoretical design throughput of 50,000 units a year, with 2,800 parking bays. The parkade has been designed to be increased in size to eight storeys to raise the throughput to 180,000 vehicles a year. See also photos 101 & 102 for a glimpse of TFR's brief attempt to handle the Mercedes transport business.
90. Assisted by the port's two omni-directional tugs, the 170-metre ro-ro ship Border arrives in East London circa 1988. She was the fourth ship on the South African coastal trade to bear that name. In the background is the port's grain export terminal that has since been modified to store grain imports. The original loading conveyor system and chutes have been demolished. Border and her sistership Barrier operated for Durban-based Unicorn Lines between 1987 and 1993 when they were sold to American interests.
91. Freshly outshopped class 35-2xx series 35-229 looks very smart in its original SAR livery, while on shunting duty along Military Road in the Fort Glamorgan / Gately area on the west bank of the Buffalo River, with the petrol storage tank farm in the background. March 1990.
92. On the west bank, the Manila-registered Aurora Topaz is moored alongside T - Berth, loading grain for export, while three class 7E's (E7012, E7024 and E7014) all still wearing their original SAR red livery, are returning light engine to Cambridge depot after bringing a block load of mealies to Terminus yard. 16th July 1996.
93. On 16 July 1996 I got this shot of class 35-2xx series 35-211 silhouetted against the setting sun, while on shunting duty at the grain silos on the west bank of the Buffalo River. The three sidings extended part way out along the breakwater, alongside the Indian Ocean and this view is looking across the Buffalo River, visible in the foreground, with harbour cranes in the background.
94. In the gloom of dusk on a cloudy winter evening, class 35-2xx series 35-211 and rows of grain wagons are dwarfed by the large grain silo complex standing tall on the west bank of the harbour. 16 July 1996.*
*A recent look at Google Earth shows this area of the harbour is deserted and it seems that grain is no longer exported from East London (see also photo 90)
95. On a beautiful winter afternoon, class 35-2xx series 35-211 is shunting type FZJ grain wagons at the silos on the west bank of the Buffalo River on the breakwater alongside the grain loading wharf (T - Berth), with the grain silos in the background. In the distance, above the breaking waves the catenary masts are visible at the west end of Terminus yard. 17 July 1996.
95. On the west bank Manila-registered Aurora Topaz is at anchor alongside the grain loading wharf, with the grain silos in the background, while a class 35-2xx 35-203 in the orange Spoornet livery, runs light engine up the bank on the approach to the bridge across the Buffalo River. 17 July 1996.
96. On 18 July 1996, 35-220 was on shunting duty at West Quay on the west bank with several type DZ wagons of scrap metal for unloading, to be added to the pile visible behind the train. The Antwerp-registered vessel Hanjin anchored alongside the wharf was awaiting this cargo for transport to the steel mills of China. When I visited the harbour four years later in December 2000, the scrap metal traffic was gone and the wharf had been converted into a vast car park for loading Mercedes Benz cars for export (see photos 101 and 102).
97. Another shot of 35-220 on shunting duty at the west wharf on 18th July 1996, with empty type FZJ grain wagons behind. The building to the left (signal cabin or yardmaster office?) is still visible today on Google Earth. The grain elevator and wharfside cranes are visible in the background.
98. During my July 1996 visit to East London, all of the shunting I saw in the harbour was in the hands of GM class 35-2xx series diesels. On a brief visit in December 2000, I found that the 35-2xx had been replaced by GE class 33's and 34's. Only the missing cabside numberplate of loco 33-042 is a clue that this B&W shot at the east end of Terminus yard, was not taken years before during the SAR era. The grain silos stand tall in the background. 20 December 2000.
99. Another shot of class 33-xxx 33-042 on 20 December 2000, this time shunting the sidings along Military Road in the industrial area of Fort Glamorgan / Gately on the west bank. These sidings were accessed by a line that branched off from the east end of Terminus Yard, which is the section where Peter Stow and Dick Manton photographed various steam workings some twenty years earlier.
100. Class 34-xxx locomotive 34-110 shunting the fuel depot along Military Road in the industrial area on the west bank. The triple-decker wagons for transporting sheep are being used as runners to shunt the fuel sidings as the locomotive was not allowed to enter the sidings, or run underneath the filling hoses, thereby averting the risk of a fire. The sheep wagons look somewhat worse for wear... by this time, the railways were no longer transporting livestock. 20th December 2000.
101. After shunting the fuel depot along Military Road, loco 34-110 worked its train down the hill to Terminus Yard, ran around the load, and then departed to Cambridge. Here we see 34-110 leaving the harbour, climbing the embankment to the bridge that carries the line across the Buffalo River. One of the sheep wagons seen in photo 100 is acting as a runner, to separate the locomotive from the ten loaded fuel tankers behind. At Cambridge yard the tankers would have been added to the daily fuel train for transport inland (thanks Leonard Radloff via facebook for this info). The train is passing two motor car carriers parked in the siding below, at the newly-built car loading facility for Mercedes Benz vehicles destined for transport inland to Gauteng (see photo 102 for another view of this facility). 20 December 2000.
102. In 2000, Transnet Freight Rail built a new car loading facility on the west bank of the harbour, for vehicles manufactured at the Mercedes Benz factory and destined for export, or for transport inland by rail to Gauteng. A large parking area was built at West Quay (refer to Bruno's superb map), which is the same area seen in photo 96 where scrap metal was being loaded in July 1996. This view shows the tarred parking area with white painted lanes and the two railway sidings alongside. In the background on the left of the photo, the four harbour cranes at F Shed and the clock tower of the Port Manager's office building, can be seen over on the east bank.
At the time I took this photograph (20 December 2000) this new facility was not yet in use and the two motor car carriers were most likely parked here for testing purposes. A multi-storey parking garage was later built, with a direct access road from the Mercedes Benz factory (visible on Google Earth) and in 2021, 130 000 Mercedes Benz class C sedans are expected to be exported from here on Ro-Ro vessels. Sadly, the rail operation did not last very long and the two sidings in this photograph no longer exist, with all the rails and sleepers lifted (confirmed on Google Earth). What was a new facility only 20 years ago, is now history.
(Thank yous to Jan-Louis Spoelstra, Marthinus Mulder, Leonard Radloff and Ashley Peter for info provided via Facebook).
103. This chapter closes on a pre-historic note – or to put it another way – the fish that put the harbour on the map!
East London Harbour is the site of the chance discovery of what, until 1938, was thought to be an extinct pre-historic fish. It became known as Latimer’s Landing after Marjorie Latimer who identified the fish and here is a brief description provided by Hennie Heymans – an item written by Philip Loudine of the immediate area in the harbour:
“An area within the East London harbour area, situated on the East bank adjacent the historic Bruce-Bays double-decker bridge (1935), bounded by the Pontoon Road (pre-1900) on the north- and eastern side, the historic Princess Elizabeth Graving Dock (1947) on the southern side, and the Buffalo River on the western side. It includes the Princess Elizabeth Dock Memorial (1947); the historic Latimer's Landing (a jetty built in 1896) where Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer recognised the coelacanth in the midst of a fisherman’s catch in 1938.”
Hennie Heyman’s photo depicts Prof G.C. Olivier standing beside the plaque erected in the harbour to celebrate the historic discovery.
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