Lowest in the Pecking Order – RRS Shackleton 1964-69 – Robbie Peck
(All Photos by Robbie Peck)
The first ship I joined was the RRS Shackleton in April 1964 in Stanley at the end of the season. David “Frosty” Turnbull, a New Zealander, was our captain. I had just turned 18.
I was a bit scared of him at first because he always looked at you as though he was going to go for you but I stayed with her, and him, until May 1969, when she was handed over.
I’d finished school in Darwin, well, truth be told I was made “redundant” from school after I floored the school gardener, who grassed on me. I’d been teaching one of the school master’s daughter how to drive and she put the Land Rover straight through the back of the garage us boys had just built as a carpentry project. At first, I thought I’d got away with it
Continuing from Shackleton Page…..
till he piped up. I didn’t like farming, sheep bit, horses kicked and the only highlight was driving a tractor. When I heard of a vacancy on the Shac I had a telephone interview with the mate. Next thing Jim Shirtcliffe and Clem, who’d been out shooting on the farm took me back to Stanley and down to the ship. The mate sort of looked me over and said I’d do and that was it really.
I became the new ‘peggy’, the newest, youngest and least experienced of the deck crew. At this point all I was good for was cleaning the mess and putting food on the table. But, I was keen, after all, I had followed my brother into a sea career. I was given a jersey with the ship’s name on it and one of those silly round hats, which we had to wear at stations on arrival and departure Stanley and UK.
We sailed from Stanley northbound. I was, at least, a crew member and very proud. The bosun, Ronnie Hanson, was a good man. He and an A.B., Arthur Coney, really looked after me. They got me over my seasickness in the days after sailing and I was never, ever sea sick again. Arthur set me up a few times, you know, the old stuff like “How’s your head?” when I’d just started on the wheel.
“Oh, not bad, now I’m over the seasickness” I replied jauntily. They meant, what course are you on?
He and the Third mate, Robbie Lapthorn, had switched off the gyro compass light and they just left me. Now, the ship’s bouncing and swinging about and I’m trying to steer by the rudder indicator. I’m shouting for help and they’re ignoring me out in the chartroom. Next thing, Robbie Lapthorn comes back laughing, I know it’s alright now. You could have a good laugh in them days. I bet the mates did that to the Fids sometimes.
We got back to the UK – a massive new world when you’re brought up on a three building farm in the Falklands. The old lags would take the Mickey for a long while. I had an auntie living in Reading, so getting the train was a big adventure. After the ship was tidied we had to leave and find accommodation elsewhere. We remained on the payroll and collected our money fortnightly from Royal Mail House in Southampton. We could go and stay with friends, I went along the coast with some shipmates to work in a holiday camp. They were popular then. Trev Betts, another Falkland Islander, and I ended up as breakfast chefs and all we ever cooked were fried eggs. Another summer I worked on the Red Funnel ferries.
A few weeks before sailing in late September or early October we’d all rejoin the Shack up the River Itchen – that was before the big bridge was built. We’d store her, clean her down then move to the docks. Once cargo was loaded we’d take the Fids on just before sailing. I got along well with them; I don’t seem to remember them as being scientific or anything, but of course many were.
Christmas on the Shack.. 
and in The Fiddery
They were all pretty down to earth people. Jim Conroy and Pete Prince were some of the earliest ones I remember and there was another guy, whose name I forget, but he’d come along for a beer with the boys. He preferred it with us but he’d always bring a case with him. I was beginning to learn a lot about getting along with others. All this taught me for later years to go out of my way to help others. I considered it part of the job and it really helped smooth relationships sometimes.
Coming back to Stanley was a good feeling in them early days. I remember my first trip back I felt really cocky. I’d got away and me mates were still on a farm somewhere.
We had a few days taking stores and cargo alongside the public jetty if we were lucky. We’d discharge the occasional Land Rover for someone in BAS maybe and load bags of sand, which went on forever as I remember. The sand was for bases like Signy, Argentine Islands and Deception and probably Adelaide and Stonington too. A lot of building was going on but really small scale compared to now. If I mention sand I have to say Fondue, cos we loaded drums and drums of that too.
Shackleton had two hatches. The forward one was really quite small but we’d often get drums of avtur in that, or boxes of general cargo. Number two hatch was much larger. It had McGregor hatch lids and an electric crane, which span both hatches, quite the deal. It had a large lower hold and a tween deck, so there was some flexibility for stowing the cargo but it was still tight, especially on the way south. The accommodation was all aft. When we sailed from the Falklands we’d usually go towards South Georgia and Bird Island, which was a new place. It only had two or three people there and it was just in the summer months. That was Jim Conroy and Pete Prince and a couple of helpers. I think they might have even lived in tents at the start.
There was still the whaling going on at Grytviken across from King Edward Point. We’d walk round and watch them cutting up the whales, this was 1964, so only a season or two left. It was a butchers place and stunk to high hell. Catchers everywhere, an amazing sight. The church and the cinema were used, I don’t know if the Japanese whalers went to church. KEP was the government place, they still had the policemen and customs and the massive bunkhouse called Shackleton House, named after Sir Ernest, who was buried in the Whaler’s Cemetery.
It was Signy next and my first full trip (1964) was the year they built that green fibre glass building, later on they made it a double storey but they forgot to make it sunny. It was either windy or wet or both or foggy but in them early days I don’t remember there being ice problems.
Deception seemed to be the main base in the mid 60’s. I do remember a big hanger and I remember the first Twin Otter coming in. We were there to assist and helped with holding flares along the runway. I do remember seeing inside the hanger an old single engine Otter or Beaver, which had had a mishap. There was also a Pilatus Porter plane. I managed to get a flight in the Twin Otter, that was exciting, well it would have been to any youngster. There was a pilot, he used to wear a bowler hat and carry an umbrella in the Falklands, and he took a Fid up for a spin in the Pilatus Porter. When they got back down the Fid made the mistake of saying “ That was pretty tame”. So, the pilot said,
“Get back in”. They were away half an hour or so and when they got back this Fid was as sick as a pig and as white as a sheet, silly sod.
The jetty arrangement at Deception was a pretty Heath Robinson affair with scaffolding poles and boards and they decided to build a proper one. All that sand and cement fondue came out, hundreds of drums and bags of sand. All that went ashore in the work boat, we were at it for days. When it came to the fuel drums, we’d lay a board over the small hatch and drop ’em down then at the beach we’d push ’em off and the shore guys would pull ’em to the beach. Then the legendary drum rolling. Fid power; now my son tells me they have a purpose made scow with its own crane but I don’t think anyone does drum rolling any more. We had to get fresh water here too and the way to do that was to put both anchors out and run the stern lines to the beach and pull the ship back, then lash the water hose to a stern line and find one of the springs ashore for the water.
I remember meeting Bill Tilman here in 1966. He was in his yacht “Mischief” and he was, I’m pretty certain, the first private expedition to visit a British base. He was a great mountaineer and sailor, who’d sailed and climbed in the Arctic too. I don’t think Bunny was too keen on him, though.
He was a hard man, Tilman, he had led soldiers behind the lines during the war.
In 1968 we watched the volcano at Deception erupt. The day before the eruption the Chilean naval ship, Piloto Pardo went in and took most of the Fids out. Her small helicopter took a few too.
We went in on the third day and did a recce, but when it went bang again we scarpered fast. A couple of days after that and Frosty had recovered his nerve we went back in and looked at what could be salvaged. Not much.
Heading down towards the Argentine Islands, which was a lovely place to work because a lot of the time the weather was quiet and the ship was anchored in close to the base. Then it was on to Adelaide. Anything could happen there, it was a nightmare place. There was either lots of ice or a big swell. I don’t know who decided to put the base there, it wasn’t the best idea he’d come up with.
We never went to Halley, although she was ice strengthened it was minimal and they nearly lost her a few years before I was aboard, in the Bransfield Strait, I think.
One day we had a scary fire in the crew’s laundry. Above the sink was a hole in the bulkhead. The engineers had been doing some welding work with oxy- acetylene and the donkeyman had been mucking about poking the flame through the hole when I was doing my dhobe. I shouted through “You’d better stop doing that, the paint’s starting to bulge…..” There was no response. When I went to investigate they had the emergency fire pump running because a pipe had burst on the diesel fire pump, it sprayed the exhaust pipe and caught fire. There were oxy – acetylene bottles lashed to the bulkhead. The mate rushed in wearing the breathing apparatus and it was an hour and a half before they got it under control but we’d used up nearly all the CO2 extinguisher refills. This is where I developed my thing about the misuse of extinguishers. Somewhere I also developed a thing about wasting food.
In Marguerite Bay we were involved with sealing. We all did it and I wanted to get involved with everything. On the Shak it was usually an officer who done the shooting, they was most often shot on the ice and gutted there because it was a lot easier to deal with. We’d tow them back to the ship using the launch. There’d be a huge stinking pile on deck, some looking at you with its big glassy eyeball staring you out. We’d take them round to the bases with dogs. That was Adelaide, Stonington and of course Deception, which was the main breeding area.
By the end of March we were trying to get out of Southern Marguerite Bay and heading towards the Banana Belt, up north of the Argentine Islands.
Another project we were involved with was the seismic work. I remember Peter Barker from Birmingham University. He and Captain ‘Frosty’ had the odd occasion. Once ‘Frosty’ ordered him off “his” bridge. They were both fairly direct, but Frosty won on that occasion. We’d work with HMS Protector. They would lob off explosives, some quite large packages of 30 lbs or more and we would wait to pick up the sound waves. I remember Peter showing us his charts and saying that it could be oil or coal. Yes, there certainly was something there, as we found out later.
Our final season aboard Shackleton was the 1968/69 trip and there was a constant chatter about would this be the last voyage? As we were completing the last run of the bases in ’69 we got the word this was our final trip. Back in UK we headed for Barry Island, Wales where the ship was eventually handed over. BAS was to continue operating the John Biscoe with a Dan boat for Halley reliefs. Bransfield was being built in Scotland. I left BAS for a few seasons but was to return to the Bransfield as Bosun after her first trip south.
Robbie Peck, Peggie upwards on Shackleton, 1964 to 1969
Extracted from BAOHP – Robbie Peck – By Jack Tolson