The Steamtug Blog

I have always wanted a Schatz Royal mariner, ship’s clock. A collegue I worked with years ago, had one in his lounge room, and I always admired it for it’s beauty, and authority of ringing the watches on the ship. And how many people took notice, and paid attention to it’s command on when your watch would start and finish; I loved it! So, after 10 years of searching I found just the right one on eBay and brought it! And it made me think of the old days back in another life, when had the world’s best job, engineer of a real steamship.

Since it was more than 50 years old, I was wary of the seller advertising that it was in perfect condition. So I took the risk and brought it. When it arrived from America in less than 1 week (amazing) I excitedly opened the box to find it was true. The seller was a professional watchmaker, who had cleaned, polished and lacquered the case. And it sparkled like a brand new one! I was then suspicious that it was a replica, but upon opening the front case noticed some marks indicating it was not new, but truly in remarkable condition. Did I mention he had the matching barometer as well? Well I brought that too!

So I wound it up, and sat it on the coffee table in front of me, so I can look at it in front of the tele. At 6pm it’s cute little bell chimed 4 times. And Anita said, “That clock is broken. It only chimed 4 times.” Nope, that’s just perfect. If you want it to chime 6 times, that will happen at 7pm. Of course… its logical. But she thought I was nuts! Like an old sailor after too much rum.

Let me explain the system. A ship’s watch is divided into 4 hours. So if you had 3 crews, you would always work 8am till midday, then 8pm till midnight. The 4 hours is divided into 8 bells. 1 bell for each half hour. So 6pm, is halfway through the afternoon watch, hence 4 bells, and 6 bells at 7pm, finally 8 bells at 8pm to change the watch.

Life at Sea

Well, this little way of working reminded me of a story years ago on the old steamtug Wattle. She never had a ship’s clock like this, but we did have a ship’s bell on the foremast. One trip we did from Rye, down on the Mornington Pennisular, on the south side of Port Phillip Bay. We had been away from our home port for over a week, and we were steaming home to refuel and change crews.

Apart from the normal crew on board, was this “nut case” eccentric chap, who thought he knew everything about ships. Actually, he was the first person to explain this bell system to me. After getting under weigh, and after steady running for an hour or so, the engine room settled into it’s normal routine, and I decided to leave my fireman in charge and venture up to the wheel house and see what the deck side of the crew were up to. They were all snuggled in the warmth of the wheel house as the captain gently adjusted wheel to and fro as the little ship smoked her way towards the Fawkner Beacon at the top of our bay, and several hours away, towards the setting sun.

It was all relaxing with a great feeling to be on the sea, when all of a sudden, this strange man appeared from the lower quarters, and stood below the foremast watching his watch. At the exact precise moment, he reached up, and rung the ship’s bell for the correct number for that time in the watch. I looked at the captain who explained as the chap went back down below “He has done that since we left port. Obviously living in fantasy land” We all laughed! “Right…” I said, I will fix that. So I whipped down onto the fore deck and stole the ship’s bell, hiding it in the engine room in my tool locker.

About 25 minutes later, I went back up to the wheel house, and the whole deck crew stood with their noses pushed against the glass of the wheel house, just in time to see our strange friend. He was just onboard as a guest, but nobody would own up as to who invited him aboard. He stood their looking at his watch, and at the precise moment lifted his hand up towards the bell’s rope. Then looked up to see… the bell was missing! Realising he had been had, he looked around the deck, not noticing we were all rolling around laughing, as we looked down from above in the wheelhouse. So, thinking nobody was watching, turned and went back down below to his red wine!

Ha, those were the days….. Ding Ding! “Oh, change of watch, gotta go!”