SS Hororata

At one time ships were built in very large numbers on the island of Britain.  One of the most busy shipyards was that of John Brown on Clydebank.  And in 1941 they built TSS Hororata. (TSS turbine steam ship)

At this time much of Europe was under a unified ruler who was not well disposed towards Britain.  This ruler had banned all the countries under his control from trading with Britain.  No trade in food, medicines, manufactured goods and certainly no travel was permitted.

The SS Hororata was my first ship and I joined her in peaceful days in 1957 as an 18 year old newly qualified radio officer in Albert docks in Liverpool.  My half year voyage to New Zealand and back was uneventful but the experiences of the ship 15 years earlier is a story worth telling.

Captain F. S. Hamilton was appointed master of the newly completed Hororata in early 1942 and I will let him tell his story in his own words.

We sailed for New York with a part cargo and completed there with munitions for Auckland.  The German U boats were operating extensively off the American coast and being a fast vessel the Hororata was routed independently , well away from the coast and to the eastward of the usual track of ships bound for Panama.  When within a days steaming of the Caribbean sea I was on the bridge during the forenoon, it was a hot sunny day with N.E. Trades blowing fresh and a rough sea, the ship zigzagging and making 17.5 knots, the watch at action stations.  Suddenly the lookout posted in the crows nest reported an object din on the port bow.  This object was rapidly approached and in a short time was observed to be a ship's raft, which was frequently enveloped I spray.  A solitary figure bare to the waist and clinging tightly to a stepped oar, which apparently served as a mast, commenced waving frantically.  At a distance of  two miles it was thought the figure was that of a coloured man.

At that moment the zigzag clock rang and the helmsman automatically altered course.  This took the ship away from the plunging spray-swept raft.  The figure with a gesture of indescribable despair sank to its knees as if in supplication.  He thought he was being deserted.  The instructions to ships routed independently were quite clear and definite - survivors in boats or on rafts were to be reported to the nearest Patrol or Escort vessel, the reason being that ships' lifeboats and rafts were being used as decoys by the U boats and many ships carrying out rescue work had in turn been torpedoed.  Was a U boat lurking in the vicinity?  The lonely pathetic figure on the raft remained bowed and somehow terrible in its stillness.  It was not a question of the ship and crew against saving one solitary life.  There was something deeper, something that went back to the time when men first ventured on the sea and the Brotherhood of Seamen was established.  If we deserted that crouching figure he would be on our consciences all our lives. 

I walked to the wing of the bridge and looked down and met the tense gaze of the watch below, who lined the rail.  The zigzag clock sounded alteration of course.  I gave the order 'cease zigzagging and warn the engineroom that speed will be reduced shortly.  The Chief Officer standing close by met my eyes.  'No 5 lifeboat sir?' he asked.  I nodded.  A few moments of explanation of what was intended, 'watch below on deck, motor and no 5 lifeboat crew standby' was ordered.  The Hororata circled the raft.  The asdic searching below and radar sweeping the surface of broken waters for signs of the enemy.  The guns crews were 'closed up' and depth charges ready to be released.  The ship's speed was reduced and for a few minutes she lay stopped, a sitting target for any submarine within three or four miles of her position.  With skill and precision from much practice the motor lifeboat was lowered and cleared of her parent ship.  Then once more full speed ahead zigzagging, but in such a manner as to continually circle around the drifting raft and the motor lifeboat towards it with a fair wind and sea.

The kneeling figure remained motionless.  From the bridge we saw our lifeboat reach the raft.  Still no movement until the Chief Officer touched it on the shoulder and then it came to life only to fall prone on its face.  Ready hands lifted the body into the boat which set off on her return.  The Bosun, 'A real old Seadog', had meantime mustered all available men to haul to motorboat aboard by manpower.  No trusting to power winches at a time like this.  The Hororata again came to a stop.  The small boat suddenly came to sight around the stern and came under the boat falls.  A head line was quickly made fast and the falls as quickly hooked on.  'Haul away' came from the Chief Officer.  The boat came up as if borne on wings under the power of 50 strong men hauling on the boat falls.

No sooner was the boat clear of the water than Hororata was again surging ahead at full speed, zigzagging her way to the Panama Canal.  It was some time before the Chief Officer came to report.  As medical officer he had been attending to our passenger.  To my enquiries he stated that the man had collapsed when he had been touched and spoken to on the raft, but had now recovered and put to bed and was sleeping.  I visited the man, whose name was Edwards, some hours later and although prepared by the Chief Officer received a great shock.  The figure lying on the bed had been burnt almost black by the sun.  His feet supported by pillows were clublike and raw due to salt water boils.  He was pitifully thin and was only able to speak in halting whispers, but his eyes expressed his gratitude more eloquently than words. 

Before he was landed eight days later at the Panama Canal we learnt his story.  He came from a small town near Cape Cod, Massachusetts and was an Able Seaman aboard an American vessel bound for the River Plate.  When 10 days out from New York the ship was torpedoed without warning by a submarine in the middle of the night.  The submarine not content with this flagrant violation of international rules surfaced and shelled the lifeboats as they were being lowered.  Edwards with three stewards, who were Filipinos, and the Chief Engineer managed to launch the raft as their ship was sinking.  Thanks to the darkness the raft escaped the notice of the submarine and daybreak found them safe, but in a serious condition.  The emergency rations including water were exceedingly small; they were hundreds of miles from the nearest land and could not count upon being in the track of shipping as the usual tracks had been abandoned.  The stewards died in turn after the first 15 days and on the 21st day the Chief Engineer died of a heart attack.  Provisions and water had long before this been exhausted.  Edwards hung a singlet on an oar at night and sucked the dew it collected, and so he survived for another 13 days when the Hororata hove in sight.  He was landed at Panama Canal and Hororata proceeded on her voyage to New Zealand.  Arrived safely at Auckland, loaded homeward cargo which was discharged at Cardiff, where she again loaded war material for New Zealand and so commenced voyage 2.

On passing through the Panama Canal I had made enquiries about Edwards, but had been informed that after a short period in hospital he had returned to the States.  Voyage 2 had proceeded without incident.  Hororata her outward cargo at Wellington and proceeded to Lyttelton to load a full cargo of meat, butter, cheese, canned meat and wool.  The Hororata was the largest refrigerated vessel in the world; her cargo provided a fortnight's rations of meat, butter and cheese for the whole of the United Kingdom.  The loading was completed and Hororata sailed on 13th November 1942.  It was on this homeward voyage that we were torpedoed and it was not until Christmas morning in Horta that I received any mail from London office.  I looked at one letter that apparently followed me from one side of the world to the other and back again.  I opened it and read - "Dear Captain, I am writing to tell you that I am back in the States and am better than I ever expected to be .  I shall not be able to go back to sea because of my feet.  I am now happily married and every night my wife and I pray for the safety of you and your crew.  Yours ever gratefully, George Edwards."

As I sat in the quiet of my cabin, I heard myself repeating 'Cast your bread upon the waters'.

Mr A.D.K. Hemans continues the story.

On 13th December 1942 homeward bound from New Zealand on her second voyage, Hororata was about 240 miles northwest of Flores in the Azores when she was torpedoed by a German submarine.  The torpedo well aft on the port side in a way of Nos 4 and 5 holds making a huge hole in the ship's side.  However, although listing badly to port and settling by she stern she still answered her helm and engines. Captain Hamilton shaped course for Flores island this being the nearest land where he could obtain assistance or if necessary beach the ship.  At 7am the next morning Hororata was anchored in Santa Cruz Bay.  She was in a critical condition; her port gunwale bar completely awash and drawing 46 ft of water aft!  As there were no repair facilities and the anchorage was fully exposed to the winter gales it was decided to take the ship to Horta in Fayal Island and by the evening of the 18th December, she was safely anchored in the inner harbour there.  A survey by a diver revealed that the hold in the ship's side was approximately 23 feet long and 21 feet deep from the level of the shelter deck.  It was resolved the construct a wooden patch over this hole and to reinforce this with a cement box on the inside.  The nearest timber of sufficient length was growing on the steep slopes and around the crater of an extinct volcano 3,3351 feet high and Portuguese labourers were engaged to fell trees and the logs were hauled by teams of oxen into the town where they were sawn to the required lengths.  Whilst this work was in progress the unpleasant job of removing debris from the ship's interior was carried out.  This involved moving a large quantity of rotten meat, dunnage, insulating material etc. and dumping it out at sea from lighters.  Here a tribute must be paid to Commander Bello the Portuguese Port Captain, who had served in the Royal Navy.  He was strongly pro-British and his influence with the shore authorities was invaluable.  Without his help it is very doubtful whether these repairs could ever have been carried out.

By the 10th March, 12 weeks and three days after she had been torpedoed, the repairs were completed and a certificate of seaworthiness was granted.  On the 14th March Captain Hamilton was advised that the Admiralty was providing and escort ship HMS Burwell, an ex United States destroyer, for the passage to England.  This shows the importance attached to the bringing home of Hororata for it must be appreciated that she still had on board, in good condition, nearly 10,000 tones of her 11,300 tons of cargo. 

On 17th March 1943, Hororata left Horta and arrived in Liverpool on 23rd March.  The whole episode is best summed up in the words of a high navel authority who commented at that time, '1942 was a bad year and so every merchant ship we lose that could have been saved will further delay the end of the war'.  Hororata, one of the largest and most valuable refrigerated cargo ships in the world, was saved by the seamanlike skill, resourcefulness and devotion to duty by her master, officers and crew.

Thanks to 'Crossed Flags' the house magazine of the New Zealand Shipping company May 1966/67