The Banker (Part 10) – The Troop Ship

Each step Findlay and his fellow soldiers took as they ascended the gangplank, stirred an uneasy mixture of excitement, anxiety and nervous hesitation. He had committed himself to take a bold step into the unknown, but every fibre of his being seemed to register a tremor of uncertainty. Each man felt insignificant beside the gigantic vessel and the seemingly endless stream of troops boarding it.

The noise of military cargo being loaded, instructions being shouted and the diminishing bubble of personal space was overwhelming. His first experience leaving the shores of his homeland and venturing into the unknown was juxtaposed with a shrinking living space and degree of personal freedom.

As each fellow stepped onto the deck, he was directed along narrow passages and stairwells that led ever deeper into the ship. Findlay’s assigned spot was a hammock in a cramped cabin that accommodated eight men. His hammock was, once again, the top one nearest the stern. Despite not yet having set sail, the hammocks were swinging rhythmically in sync with the swaying motion of the creaking vessel. He and the others in this cabin were well below the surface. Their kit had to be neatly stowed beneath the bottom hammocks. These cramped sleeping quarters would be ‘home’ for the next fortnight or so.

Ascending the stairs to the deck, Findlay welcomed a breath of fresh sea breeze after the stifling, musty atmosphere below. The thought of spending nights in a stuffy ‘labyrinth’ from which he had just emerged, was daunting.

Troops were herded onto the ship in relentless waves – human cargo readied for transport to killing fields in a foreign land. Aboard this repurposed passenger liner for the well-heeled, the journey would not be a leisurely pleasure cruise. This was truly a floating barracks. Alas, Private Findlay Nicholson would henceforth enjoy little privacy.

He felt a tad less ‘hard done by’ when he and his cabin mates reported to the improvised ‘mess hall’ for supper that night. He discovered that, immediately after the meal the venue was converted into sleeping quarters for those unfortunate enough not to have a small cabin. They had to work together with great haste to empty the hall of chairs and tables and string up their hammocks for their weary bodies. Findlay welcomed having escaped that process before bedding down.

Back in his cabin, Findlay had to negotiate the process of occupying his hammock at the top. Awkward! He rapidly learnt that bunks were far superior to hammocks aboard a ship. As he put his weight on the edge of it, it obliged by tilting just enough to toss him onto his lower level neighbour and then both of them onto the next and finally all four onto the cabin floor. Mercifully, they didn’t all plunge through the ballast tanks in the distant depths of the hull and out to sea. Regardless, the cursing that erupted was not for delicate ears.

That night, when they finally made it into their respective hammocks, Findlay learnt another lesson about sharing a dorm or cabin with other fellows. Raspy coughs in the wee hours were amplified. Worse yet, there were those who snored, snorted and disposed of noxious gas during the night. They slept soundly, in a manner of speaking, while the rest had to cope with the cacophony. By reveille, the sound sleepers were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed whilst their mates grumbled miserably about their ordeal through the night.

What still lay ahead was setting sail and coping with ocean waves exacerbating the tribulations. The gentle rocking of the troop ship in port was mild and somewhat soothing compared to the many days upon the high seas. The elements would conspire to make an intolerable seafaring experience worse – much, much worse.

©Paul M Haupt

 

The Banker — (Part 10) The Troop Ship. A visual interpretation of Findlay Nicholson's further transition from bank clerk to soldier. Image generated with AI for this story.