For a few of the amenities provided by the Engineering Department, just think of the endless supply of sparkling fresh water, free transport round sun-drenched tropical islands, special diesel exhaust fumes guaranteed to make homesick cockneys feel they are back in london and full employment for seamen who might otherwise feel redundant were they not otherwise kept well occupied shovelling the carefully prepared soot off the upperdeck.
Our work is also closely linked with other departments. When you read elsewhere that the ship's company have consumed enough spuds to make Yogi Bear look like a skinny ferret in comparison, think of that poor old spud peeler whose "forcing rate" is about ten revs per spud. Quite a lot of noise and energy is expended on generating the raw material, out of which the electricians produce respectable wiggly amps. In this connection, it has been rumoured that next commission, when the production of electric power becomes more closely affiliated to the ER Branch, holes will be drilled along the centres of all cables to allow smoke to be pumped through.
The work of the department is always made more difficult in the tropics and a lot of hard work has been put in by a large number of people to keep things ticking over for nearly 80,000 miles with 5,037 hours of main steaming down below. The auxiliary watchkeepers have spent 3,851 hours below and provided approximately 2,460,252 gallons of water. "Wanna buy an ocean"
The department's sympathies go to the widow of M(E)1 Roy
who lost his life in a motor car accident,
Wednesday 23rd August 1961 in Esquimalt, Canada.
| An Engineers Ode Oil fuel on the upperdeck, You can smell it in every compartment, Who the hell is the cause of it? The Engine Room Department. A Seaman PO stands head in hands, Jimmy is doing his nut, What is the cause of their lament? Down below they've just blown soot. The upperdeck's cleared, the guard falls in, Saluting guns fire with a resounding crash, The GI cries "What on earth is that?" It's only a stoker with a bucket of gash. Down in the after seamen's mess, A voice is heard to yell, Water Tanky asks "Are the tanks full?" "Yes, and half our mess as well." The Buffer on the jetty stands, The ship's side stained and black, "Who did this to my gleaming grey?" Just C 2 diesel, and Mechanician Mac. Now you may drip, and you may moan, With many a derisive comment, But who'll take you back to Pompey lads? The Engine Room Department. M(E)J William Wordsworth LM(E) A (fred Lord Tennyson |
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