One skipper stands out in my
memory. Kai Johanson
was Danish and had served on
sailing ships, notably as Second
Mate in charge of Sail Training
on the mighty KOBENHAVEN
when she was a Cadet Ship. She
was a five-masted barque built
in Leith, Scotland in 1921 and
was 420 feet over all and
weighed 3,965 tonnes gross.
This huge vessel was operated
by a total of only 65 men
and boys. She went missing in
1930 beween Capetown and
Australia. Kai and I had long
talks about sailing.
One winter’s night I had
finished working on his ship and
Kai suggested going for a pint
as they couldn’t sail until
2200.
Typical of this old
sailing-ship man, he
emphatically told his crew of
five, in his heavy Danish accent
that if they were not back by
2200 he would sail without
them-and they knew he was a man
of his word- if anyone was not
back – he would sail without
them.
We went ashore and had a couple
of pints and became engrossed in
our conversation about sailing
in days gone by and in modern
yachts. It was a surprise to
both of us when the call ‘ Time
– Time’ was shouted out at
2300. Kai swore heavily both in
Danish and in English and the
two of us ran back to the
Puffer. She wasn’t there.
It was a very dark night and it
had started raining. No doubt
about it - the boat wasn’t at
the quay. Then Kai swore again
and said “ There she is –out
there- in the middle of the
harbour.” He started shouting
into the night at a dark outline
just discernible through the wet
darkness of the small inner
harbour.
“Bring my ship back – do you
hear?” His accent got heavier
all the time. From out of the
rain we heard an inebriated
voice call back –“You told us
that if anyone wasn’t here at
2200 you would sail. Well
you weren’t back and we
have sailed.”
It took about an hour of
shouting back and forward
through the rain before the crew
decided to give Kai back his
ship. I went aboard to grab my
tools and test equipment before
they left the quay again .
I stood in the rain and listened
to the angry voices getting
fainter but one voice was always
louder than the others- Kai
Johanson was back in command.
Sadly, several years after that
incident Kai drowned
ignominiously with his beloved
puffer tied up alongside at
Greenock. For many years he had
put up with an alcohol dependant
wife who eventually left him
with a sheaf of unpaid bills –
he lost his house. That night in
Greenock he had picked up a
woman in a bar and took her back
to the puffer. Unsteady on her
legs she slipped on the deck and
went overboard. Kai jumped in
after her. She surfaced and was
pulled on board. It was days
later that Kai’s body was
recovered.
I’m sure he preferred that
ending to being knocked down by
a car.
Bill Mills
