Image National Museums Liverpool

I used to enjoy going for a row on the park lake but now such an experience is difficult to come by.

There are no rowing boats left on Liverpool’s lakes, which is a great shame. No longer do you hear the iconic cry: “Come in number 12!” when your half hour is up.

Many marine paintings feature them but they are often overlooked – the humble rowing boat has always been a key part of maritime life.

Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Art & The Sea gallery features many models and pictures with all types of oar-driven boats from lifeboats to the working boats of the Mersey.

The painting Elinor Chapman off Liverpool by Joseph Heard (1799 – 1859) features a device often used by the artist – he tilts the vessel slightly to show what is happening on deck.

Heard gives the same treatment to a passing small boat that scurrying past under sail. The oars can be seen stowed ready for use when they approach the quayside.

Eight men in a rowing boat are included in 28 Gun Ship in the Mersey by John Jenkinson (pictured). Six of them pause with their oars out of the water as the warship passes.

This painting dates from around the time of the Battle of Trafalgar (1805) and shows a frigate – the type of vessel used in patrol and defence work. Horatio Nelson defeated the Spanish and French fleets in the battle. As a result peace reigned and the Royal Navy dominated the seas for the next century.

The victory was an important factor in the growth and prosperity of Liverpool and other ports because British merchant ships could travel the seas largely without fear of attack.

At least six rowing boats can be seen in a beautifully-detailed painting called The Brig St Lucia in the Mersey by Robert Salmon. They carry between three and six people.

The painting was commissioned by Hugh Owen, captain of the St Lucia 1821 – 1823. St Lucia was built in Liverpool in 1818 for the Caribbean trade in sugar and other tropical goods.

The museum’s ship models depict lifeboats in various levels of detail. These include the Empress Queen, my own favourite of all the models on display.

The Haverford is one of the few that includes the oars in the lifeboats – 18 are depicted in this tour de force of the model-makers craft.

Some, including the original Titanic builder’s model, have the lifeboats covered with tarpaulins.

Three rowing boats were constructed in amazing detail in the Pilkington Collection of French Prisoner-of-War Models, outstanding treasures of the museum. One depicts a large boat with seating for about 20 rowers.

This is a version of my Maritime Tale that originally appeared in the Liverpool Echo.

Image courtesy of Liverpool Daily Post & Echo

In the early 1950s we spent our holidays at Llandonna, Anglesey, and locals would describe seeing Liverpool burning 50 miles away across the sea during the Blitz.

Whenever I look at this spectacular painting I am reminded of the vivid stories and how even distant communities felt involved.

The Liverpool Blitz brought the Battle of the Atlantic home to everyone when German bombing raids cost thousands of lives and brought huge amounts of destruction.

Although the docks were the main targets, enormous damage was caused to city and residential areas on both sides of the River Mersey. Four thousand people were killed and a similar number seriously injured.

Ten thousand homes were completely destroyed and 184,000 damaged – some 70,000 people were made homeless.

The Luftwaffe launched more than 68 bombing raids on Merseyside between July 1940 and January 1942. The worst occurred during the May Blitz of 1941 when very heavy raids took place on each of the first seven days of the month.

Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery features a dramatic illuminated display based on The Enemy Raid May 3rd 1941 painted by George Grainger Smith, with lights mimicking falling bombs.

The view shows Liverpool ablaze during a night raid, huge flames flickering behind the silhouettes of waterfront buildings. Smith painted the view from his Wallasey home and brilliantly captures the enormity of the devastation. The original painting is in the Walker Art Gallery collection.

A Luftwaffe aerial reconnaissance photograph and briefing sheet, both dated September 1939 at the start of the war, were for a raid on Liverpool’s north docks.

The intended target was Canada Dry Dock, considered by the Germans to be large enough for an aircraft carrier or heavy cruiser – Fur Flug zeug-trager u. schwere Kreuzer, as the briefing sheet says.

Canada Dry Dock escaped destruction and remains an important facility in the Port of Liverpool. In the past it accommodated some of the great Cunarders such as the Mauretania and the ill-fated Lusitania.

The dock was used for constructing pontoons for the new Liverpool Cruise Liner Terminal. More recently the Royal fleet Auxiliary vessel and Falklands War veteran Sir Percivale was scrapped there.

A live German 250 kg bomb lay in a Liverpool suburb for half a century before it was discovered and made safe. This was one of thousands of high-explosive bombs dropped on Merseyside by German aircraft.

The bomb was found by workmen laying sewers 20 ft underground at the junction of Queens Drive and Stanley Park Avenue, Walton, in February 1990.
A British bomb of a similar size and type is on display.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo.

Image courtesy of Liverpool Daily Post & Echo

I like the saying You Can’t Tell a Book by its Cover but nevertheless feel you can read a lot into a person’s demeanour if not their physical features.

I spent 30 years in the criminal and civil courts as a news reporter filling notebook after notebook with Pitman’s shorthand. During lulls in the proceedings I could study the accused closely.

Some had committed horrific crimes and their faces may have revealed their character but not their past.

Both men were contemporaries but their attitudes to the slave trade and Liverpool’s role were very different.

By the time of abolition in 1807 the slave trade and associated trade to the West Indies probably generated about 40 per cent of Liverpool’s wealth. The town was Europe’s leading slave trading port.

Pictured is Thomas Golightly (1732 – 1821) who was financially involved in the trade right up to abolition. William Roscoe (1753 – 1831) successfully and very publicly fought to stop the iniquitous traffic.

Their portraits are in the International Slavery Museum, in the Merseyside Maritime Museum building – both reveal their contrasting personalities.

Golightly is skilfully captured by an unknown artist of the early 19th century British school.  The sitter looks straight out of the canvas, his lips pursed, eyes fixed on the viewer.

Roscoe, by contrast, is seen studying a letter or document. The portrait, after a work by John Williamson, reflects the sitter’s intellectual qualities – this is no hard-headed businessman planning his next deal.

Golightly was elected to Liverpool Town Council in 1770, aged 38, and served the town for the rest of his life. Around 1770 – 1775 my great-great-great-great grandfather Peter Guy was Liverpool’s only postman.

Golightly, like many merchants and businessmen, was a freemason. There were about 10 lodges in Liverpool in the late 18th century, providing networking opportunities at home and abroad.

A lodge founder, Golightly was a powerful political and administrative figure. He was mayor in 1772- 3 and treasurer for more than 30 years between 1789 and 1820.

Roscoe was arguably Liverpool’s greatest citizen. A leading lawyer, he was also a social reformer, politician, poet, historian, writer, art collector and banker.

Born the son of a tavern-keeper, he was largely self-educated and intensely loyal to Liverpool with a burning desire to end the slave trade.

He was fiercely opposed by people like Golightly who resisted any change. However, many campaigners like Roscoe and freed slave Olaudah Equiano turned around opinion.

Roscoe stood for Parliament on an anti-slave trade ticket. He was elected MP and was one of the leading backers of the Bill that brought about abolition.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback -Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post & Echo

I have so far never been tempted to go into business but I notice that the most successful entrepreneurs often operate as families.

I suppose this can be down to trust but we have all heard of siblings falling out – usually over money.

I have always admired the Holts for their high business principles. They were good to their workers and gave away huge amounts of money to benefit the public.

Alfred and Philip Holt created the hugely-successful Ocean Steamship Company – known throughout the world as the Blue Funnel Line.

They thought up the idea while strolling around their father George Holt’s Liverpool garden.

George Holt senior – founder of a shipowning dynasty – was a successful cotton broker and a major player in banking and insurance. Alfred (1829 – 1911) was very like his father with a strong moral character and mental discipline from an early age. Alfred had wanted to be a railway engineer but could not find work because of an economic slump. He turned to his brother George, a partner in the Lamport and Holt shipping line, who gave him a job.

Alfred quickly shone and at the age of just 22, at his father’s suggestion, set himself up as a consultant steam engineer. He designed a new type of compound tandem steam engine that was to help make his fortune.

Alfred and Philip set up their shipping line in 1865, placing a £156,000 order with Scotts of Greenock for three new ships for the China trade.

The Agamemnon, Ajax and Achilles were the first of many successful Blue Funnel vessels that were part of the maritime scene for more than 120 years.

The two brothers worked successfully together for nearly 50 years. Alfred had a constant involvement in the technical side of their ships while Philip, who died in 1914, had great commercial know-how.

As a result Blue Funnel ships and services were among the finest in the British merchant fleet.

A 1:96 scale exhibition model in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Liverpool World Gateway gallery depicts the motor vessel Priam of 1966 (pictured). She was first in a class of eight ships that were the last conventional cargo liners built for Blue Funnel.

Many would say that her sleek and graceful lines marked the apogee of merchant ship design before the arrival of huge utilitarian container ships.

Built by Vickers-Armstrong of Newcastle, she carried general cargo and 150 containers on Blue Funnel’s traditional UK – Far East services.

In 1972 Blue Funnel became part of Ocean Transport and Trading plc and sold its last ships in the late 1980s.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Image courtesy of Liverpool Daily Post & Echo

I like the way Chinese artists have depicted the West over the centuries, particularly on ceramics and canvas.

Their work shows a fine delicacy which is charming as well as inspirational. Chinese marine art perhaps lacks the sense of movement captured by European artists but I am drawn in by the incredible technical detail.

A number of Chinese artists worked in Far East ports specialising in ship portraits for Western captains.

Several fine examples from the period 1850 to 1910 are on display in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Art & the Sea gallery.

The artists generally painted on linen canvases which gave their works a very smooth appearance. Unfortunately the paint has often cracked over the years.

Most will be featured in the China, Shanghai and Liverpool exhibition at the new Museum of Liverpool opening later this year.

The sailing ship Maiden Queen is depicted by an unknown artist with a traditional junk cargo ship in the background. The painting is in its original lacquer frame.

Owned by T & J Brocklebank, Maiden Queen was employed in the tea trade sailing mainly to Hong Kong. She is seen off the Chinese coast. 

The Elizabeth Nicholson is another British ship painted by an unknown artist. She was built in 1863 in Dumfriesshire for the tea trade. She did one of the fastest runs from China in 1867-8 when she sailed from Foochow (Fuzhou) to London in 92 days.

Elizabeth Nicholson is pictured under full sail with a junk visible beneath the bowsprit.

The Scawfell off Hong Kong was painted by an artist in the Lai Sung studio active between 1850 and 1885. This tea clipper was constructed in 1858 for Rathbone Brothers of Liverpool who were involved in the China Trade.

Seen at anchor off Hong Kong, Scawfell made several record voyages. In 1861 she sailed from Whampoa (Huangpu) to Liverpool in 88 days.

Lai Sung was one of a handful of Hong Kong art studios producing ship portraits.

Anjer Head (artist unknown) is depicted at sea under full sail and steam. She was made in 1881 for Angier Brothers of London.

The Kwong Sang studio was active between 1890 and 1894, selling commissioned paintings in Calcutta. There has been a thriving Chinese community in the city since the late 18th century.

A Kwong Sang artist portrayed the four-masted iron barque Windermere (pictured) which voyaged from London or Hamburg to India, Australia and the Pacific. She was built in 1893 for Fisher and Sprott of London.

Some of the crew can be seen including the officer of the watch holding his telescope.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

As a young news reporter in the 1970s I flew by helicopter to an exploratory gas rig in Morecambe Bay on a facility trip. We were taken on a fascinating tour but what I remember most was how strange we all looked in flight suits and helmets.

This was especially true of Ron and Les Clare – twin brothers who were at that time the Liverpool correspondents of the Daily Telegraph and Daily Express respectively. Oil and gas rigs may not be the most beautiful structures on the seas but they have become familiar sights off our coasts. A 1:100 exhibition model of the Sovereign Explorer semi-submersible oil rig at Merseyside Maritime Museum bristles with amazing detail and demonstrates the supreme practicality of these craft.

In 1981 shipbuilders Cammell Laird of Birkenhead received an order from Dome Petroleum Ltd of Canada to build this drilling unit for offshore oil exploration. At that time it was the most valuable offshore contract obtained from abroad for a British yard, marking the start of a new era for Laird’s. The massive Sovereign Explorer was handed over in June 1983. Standing at 109 metres, she was specially designed to tap the vast resources of oil located beneath the sea bed in the North Sea’s British section.

Sovereign Explorer was a steel catamaran where two huge hollow barges or pontoons supported a three-deck platform on four columns. She was capable of drilling to a depth of 7,600 m and exploring underwater depths of up to 600 m in severe wind and sea conditions. Another 1: 100 exhibition model depicts the self-lifting offshore accommodation platform AV-1 of 1985, also built at Cammell Laird’s, It was built for British Gas for use in the Morecambe Bay Gas Field. This unit had four 88 m legs with a hydraulic jacking system enabling it to operate in tidal waters to a maximum depth of 47.5 m. It had a helicopter landing deck (helideck), storage areas, workshop, cinema and gymnasium. A huge crane could lift up to 150 tonnes over a radius of 50m.

A gangway provided access to adjacent gas or oil rigs. Until 1975 most of Britain’s oil had to be imported and natural gas came in liquid form on tankers from North Africa. Once natural gas and oil were discovered in the North Sea, a number of fields were developed off North East Scotland and further south. Fields were later developed in Liverpool and Morecambe Bays. Before Britain’s resources began to decline, the industry supported more than 300,000 jobs including 4,000 seafarers on various kinds of offshore and support vessels.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

A submarine is the last vessel I would choose to go to sea in – the idea of being unable to escape in an emergency would be terrifying.

Submarine crews have played a vital role in warfare for nearly a century. Their successes in the First World War sounded the death knell for the battleship era.

The submarines of the past were minnows compared to those of today. I have attended a number of naming ceremonies at Barrow-in-Furness and been astonished by the enormous size of modern subs.

The spectacular careers of two U-boat submarine aces were ended and their vessels sunk when they attacked an Atlantic convoy bringing vital supplies to Britain in the Second World War.

It was on the night of 16 March 1941 when Captain Donald Macintyre’s 5th Escort Group, led by the destroyer HMS Walker, defeated the German Wolf Pack attack on Convoy HX 122 south of Iceland.

Otto Kretschmer was captured after his U-99 was forced to surface by depth charges from the Walker.

Joachim Schepke was crushed to death when U-100 was rammed by the destroyer HMS Vidette.

A third ace, Gunther Prien, had been lost along with U-47 in combat with another escort group several days earlier.

Kretschmer (1912 – 1998) was Germany’s most successful ace, sinking 47 ships totalling 274,333 tons. He was nicknamed Silent Otto because of his reluctance to make radio broadcasts during patrols, no doubt contributing to his success.

Schepke sank 37 ships (155,882 tons). A popular figure, he wrote a book called U-Boat Men of Today and made a speech to thousands of Berlin schoolchildren about the undersea war.

Prien sank more than 30 ships (194,000 tons) including the veteran battleship Royal Oak and the Arandora Star.

A total of 833 people died on the Royal Oak, sunk at her moorings in Scapa Flow on 13 October 1939, and more than 800 on the Arandora Star.

In the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery there is a photo of Kretschmer striding down the gangway from HMS Walker at Princes Landing Stage, Liverpool, and into captivity (pictured).

There are three head-and-shoulder photos of the aces and also images of Donald Macintyre and HMS Walker. There is a model of the Arandora Star.

Almost a third (about 800) of all Allied merchant ships sunk by U-boats in the Atlantic during the war were victims of just 30 experienced officers who had joined the German Navy by 1935.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I still have the little telescope bought all those years ago and continue to be fascinated by the hidden worlds revealed by lenses.

The invention of the telescope helped transform safety at sea as mariners could now see distant shorelines and other vessels not easily visible to the human eye.

The great scientist Galileo greatly improved on the work of three Dutchmen who made the first telescope in 1608. They were Hans Lippershey and Zacharias Janssen – both spectacle makers - and Jacob Metius, an optician.

Early instruments worked on the refraction principal using two lenses to magnify objects. British scientist Isaac Newton constructed the first practical reflecting telescope in 1668, using mirrors to improve image quality.

Binoculars were developed soon after the invention of the telescope when it was realised that mounting two side-by-side had advantages. However, binoculars were slower to be developed but reached their modern form in the 1850s when prisms were introduced to improve efficiency.

There are several examples of binoculars and telescopes on display at Merseyside Maritime Museum. A pair of binoculars dating from about 1860 came from the sailing ship White Star. Pilkington and Wilson’s White Star Line was a major player in the booming emigrant trade to Australia.

An impressive stainless steel telescope was used at the Falmouth Custom House. Dating from the late 19th century, it was in service until 2000 to observe vessels entering harbour.

A set of binoculars (pictured) came from the conning tower of a Second World War German U-boat submarine. These heavy binoculars were clipped on top of a torpedo aiming device during surface patrols. Bearings from the device were automatically transmitted to officers and men inside the submarine. The grey-painted binoculars are fitted with a viewfinder on one eyepiece.

Royal Navy binos in a case stamped HMS Hood date from 1940 -1. This old battle cruiser was sunk by the giant German battleship Bismarck on 24 May 1941 with the loss of 1,400 lives.

A cased brass and wood telescope by Abraham & Co of Liverpool belonged to 'Hellfire' Sinclair, a fearsome Black Ball Line captain who came to Liverpool in the 1850s at the beginning of his career.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

Sibling rivalry can cause great competitive energy but I’m more concerned about how relatives work together to do great things.

One prominent family that springs to mind are the Holts – several Liverpool brothers who helped transform shipping. The Booker brothers are another shining example.

These three sons of a Lancashire miller ran a sugar plantation in South America and set up their own shipping company which prospered and became Booker Brothers, McConnell & Co.

Josias Booker had emigrated in 1815 to Demerara (now Guyana) as one of the first British settlers. Booker Brothers was formed after he was joined by brothers George and Richard.

Following a dispute with Liverpool shipowners, they founded what later became the Booker Line in 1835 to carry raw sugar from their plantations. Its first ship was a Scottish brig called Elizabeth.

The company bought and sold many vessels including the early vessels Lord Elgin, John Horrocks and Palmyra.  

The company ran regular cargo services between Britain, the eastern Caribbean and British Guiana (Guyana) until the 1980s.

John McConnell started working as a clerk for the brothers in Demerara in 1846. He was successful and branched out in 1874 by founding his own shipping line John McConnell & Co.

The two companies merged in 1900 and became known as Booker Brothers, McConnell & Co with offices in The Albany, Liverpool city centre. The company became Booker Line.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Liverpool: world gateway gallery there is a small 1:96 scale exhibition model of the Booker Line’s Amakura of 1949. Amakura is an Arawak name for a river in Guyana.

The passenger and cargo steamer was built by Smith’s Dock Company of Middlesborough, sailing on the Booker Line’s services out of Liverpool. The model has finely-detailed rigging and Amakura Liverpool emblazoned across the stern (pictured).

The company’s last vessels were the Booker Crusade, Challenge, Courage, Voyager and Vulcan.

Smith’s Dock Co, founded in 1810 as William Smith & Co, opened its Middlesborough yard in 1907. The company merged with Swan Hunter in 1966 and the yard closed in 1987.  

Josias Booker, who died in 1865, owned land in Allerton, Liverpool, where Booker Avenue is named after him.

The Booker Prize, awarded each year for the best original full-length novel, was named after the Booker-McConnell company which originally sponsored the award in 1968.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents or bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

Many years ago I splashed out and bought some expensive copper-plated saucepans which are still used regularly. I’m told these are the best because the copper distributes the heat evenly – an important factor even with a meat and two veg man like me.

A lot of people swear by copper for all sorts of things, including warding off the effects of arthritis and other aches and pains. However, it was in the seafaring world that the metal took on almost magical qualities and literally speeded up progress.

Until the middle of the 18th century wooden ships fell foul of barnacles and other sea life infesting the hulls, delaying voyages and making the vessels difficult to manoeuvre. Huge clusters of hard, heavy barnacles would cling to the undersides of ships which had to be regularly put into dry dock or beached so the growths could be removed. Marine worms were another hazard as they burrowed into ship’s timbers, creating leaks and encouraging rot.

Speed was increasingly important as Britain’s empire and trade expanded. Anything attached to a ship’s hull caused excessive drag.

It was discovered that sea creatures could not settle on copper and more ships began to sheath their hulls in the metal. It was first used by the Royal Navy in 1761 and over the next 20 years became regular practice. At first iron nails were used but became corroded by the copper, resulting in loss of sheathing. Copper nails were expensive but solved the problem.  

There are examples of original copper sheathing on display at the Merseyside Maritime Museum including a small section from the Black Ball Line ship Lightning.

Another display also features copper recovered from the hulk of the Jhelum. She was built in Liverpool by Joseph Steel & Son in 1849. By the standards of the day she was rather old-fashioned with bluff bows and a box-like hull. In 1870, overloaded and leaking following a passage around Cape Horn, she put into Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands where her hulk can still be seen.

Other items on display include iron and copper nails and a wooden treenail recovered during an expedition to the hulk by museum staff in 1987. There is a small 1:144 scale exhibition model of the Jhelum (pictured).

The phrase copper bottomed, meaning genuine or trustworthy, developed following the successful use of the metal. It was first used to describe ships but soon entered everyday language.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo   

Over the Christmas and New Year periods passengers on the stylish liners would have packed extra clothing to make an impression.

This would have certainly been the case in First Class but all passengers would have dressed up for festive occasions. It might be a new gown or suit to mark the occasion. Poorer people made their own.

It was, and maybe still is in some families, a tradition to have a complete new set of clothes when travelling or on holiday.

This was the age of elegance – beautiful ships moving gracefully through sparkling seas, passengers and crew equally immaculately turned out.

This is one of the most enduring images of Victorian and Edwardian times, a period of huge confidence matching the growth of Britain’s power and prestige.

All sections of society wore hand-made clothes and most people took great trouble with their appearance. The Victorian idea of casual dress was very different from our own.

By the standards of the time people tended to dress more casually when they were at sea. Among the wealthy, top hats and other formal titfers were abandoned for more practical flat caps which stayed on in the wind.

Ladies made sure they had extra scarves and hat pins to secure their headgear. Even on board ship it was unthinkable for people of all ages, rich and poor, to be seen without their hats.

Only the very poorest could not afford hats or bonnets – in Liverpool bareheaded women were called Hairy Marys. It was only after the First World War that people began to be seen out of doors without hats.

Exhibits in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery indicate what life was like for passengers on British ships from the 1850s.

A contemporary colour illustration shows a lady being dressed for dinner by her maid.

I love the hilarious colour comic strip (pictured) showing a gent struggling to dress as the ship rolls and heaves. He falls over as he attempts to get his detachable collar from his suitcase but makes it in the end.

Crews also had to be smartly dressed to match the style of the passengers. Photographs from 1889 to 1960 show the many different types of uniforms worn on passenger liners. A uniform worn by a chief engineer in 1930 is among those on display.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

I am an amateur cartoonist and caricaturist – all right, a doodler – who’s also very interested in the development of this art form since it emerged about the time of the English Civil War.

The Second World War inspired some classic newspaper and magazine drawings which kept up morale and were sometimes also used on propaganda posters and leaflets.

Captioned: 'Who's afraid of the big bad wulf? (By holding everything, including his fire, one of HM tugs brought one down on 11th January 1941'. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

Allied merchant shipping carrying vital supplies used the convoy system in an attempt to protect itself from combined U-boat submarine and air attacks during the war.

However, German sea and air forces were never fully co-ordinated as the Germans did not have anything similar to Britain’s Fleet Air Arm, the branch of the Royal Navy responsible for the operation of aircraft.

The fall of France heightened the German threat to shipping. By mid-1940 German planes based in France were increasing the peril to Allied shipping in the Atlantic.

In particular, the squadron of long-range Focke-Wulf Kondor or Kurier aircraft had been established near Bordeaux. Flying up to 600 miles into the Atlantic, the Kondors could direct U-boats on to convoys or bomb the almost-defenceless merchant ships.

In their first two months of operations they alone sank 30 cargo ships. Fortunately for Britain, the Kriegsmarine (German Navy) was never able to fully control the Luftwaffe (German Air Force) missions over the Atlantic.

Hitler’s decision not to set up an Arm meant that German air power was largely directed elsewhere away from the Atlantic.

On display at Merseyside Maritime Museum's Battle of the Atlantic gallery is a photo of the Focke-Wulf Kondor or Kurier (FW-200) long-range aircraft.

Dramatic photographs show the sinking, more than 200 miles west of Ireland, of the Elder Dempster liner Apapa by bombs from FW-200s.

The 9,000-ton Apapa had been sailing in convoy on a voyage from Freetown, West Africa, to Liverpool with 200 passengers and crew plus general cargo. Twenty-four lives were lost.

The 1941 cartoon commemorates a morale-boosting event. Jimmy Ryan of Hull was on HM rescue tug Seaman when it was attacked by a Kondor. He crawled to a Lewis gun, lit a cigarette and brought the bomber down with a deadly burst of fire.

Jimmy, a peacetime tug master, then helped to rescue the three German airmen who had ditched in the sea. He was awarded the George Medal for his remarkable success.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

In 1986 I went on a facility trip to Singapore with journalists, MPs and airline officials.

It was five days of amazing variety – gin slings and lobster at the Raffles Hotel, rides on rickshaws, visits to Sentosa Island and the National Museum plus an extraordinary variety of restaurants and other attractions.  

We went up the world’s highest hotel and even got to see the Sultan of Brunei’s house and the legendary Singapore Cricket Club. However, despite exploring the port and lagoons I failed to see a single Chinese junk which was a great disappointment.

This sailing vessel is one of the oldest and best known ship designs in the world, dating back to the Han Dynasty (200 BC – 200 AD), and still in use today.

No traditional view of China or the East is complete without the romantic vision of a junk slowly making its way across a calm bay or lagoon. They perfectly evoke the timeless grandeur of China and its ancient trading culture.

Junk is a European word deriving from the Javanese word jong, meaning large vessel.

Junks are not just beautiful or atmospheric vessels – they have well thought-out sail and hull designs and are sturdy efficient ships for use both on the sea, rivers and estuaries.

Despite the common name, there are many types of junk for different locations and uses. The interior is divided up into many sections to reinforce the structure and reduce the speed of flooding if the hull is damaged.

Junks are flat-bottomed and instead of a keel they have large stern-mounted rudders which extend below the hull and provide stability. The lugsail design incorporates horizontal battens which provide strength and shape.

Four junk models are on display at Merseyside Maritime Museum's Art and the Sea gallery.  

The largest is a fishing junk from Ningpo (literally meaning peaceful waters) in Zhejiang province on the Yong River in East China. Ningpo is one of China’s oldest cities, a thriving fishing port with a history dating back to 4800 BC.  

Ningpo was already nearly 6,000 years old when Liverpool was just a farmstead on the banks of the River Mersey at the time of Norman Conquest.

The junk carries a small rowing junk known as a sampan and two large anchors.  

A three-masted trading junk from South China (pictured) was used for carrying rice. Decorative eyes are painted on the bows as protective deities. The other models are of a Foochow trading junk and a Yangtze River junk.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents or bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I find the words on the napkin, produced to commemorate one of the worst maritime disasters of the First World War, very moving.

To many people at the time the loss of the Lusitania came to symbolise Liverpool’s suffering, as she was the city’s favourite passenger liner.

The spectacular coloured glass war memorial at one of my local churches, St James’s in West Derby, uniquely uses an image of the doomed ship to silently express that grief.

He was just 31 years old, a much-loved husband and the father of a daughter he would never see – John Henry Hayes was one of the 1,200 innocent victims of the Lusitania disaster.

On a sunny day in May, in calm seas off the coast of Ireland, she was sunk in a surprise attack by a German U-boat submarine.

The Lusitania sank in just 18 minutes amid chaotic scenes as frantic passengers and crew tried to reach the lifeboats.

John, the ship’s junior fifth engineer, had left his pregnant wife Jeanette at their home in Bootle while he took another voyage across the Atlantic. It was 1915 and the First World War had started the previous summer.

The Lusitania, which had sailed regularly on Cunard’s Liverpool to New York run since 1907, carried on despite warnings from Germany that British ships would be attacked.

Poignant Hayes family photos are on display in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress (of Ireland) gallery. We see John in uniform, his wife in a studio portrait and baby Jeanette born after her father’s death.

There are many items on display linked to the Lusitania. The sinking prompted a huge rush of commemorative items.

The memorial paper napkin was printed by the Palatine Press, Wigan. It has the headline: The Lusitania The World’s Most Popular Steamship.

Under a photo of the ship it says: "The Lusitania was one of the most sumptuous ships that ever ploughed the seas. Luxurious was her first class accommodation, but not one iota of possible comfort was sacrificed …

"In any direction the view was charming from the central hall. This spacious hall was 24 ft long, the full breadth of the ship. There were two electrically worked passenger lifts situated in the centre of the staircase."

The napkin includes other facts about the Lusitania and records: At the inquest held at Kinsale (Ireland) the verdict was "Wilful and wholesale murder against the Kaiser and Government of Germany."

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents or bookshops.

  
Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I often smile at magazine advertisements in glossy magazines promoting First Class or Business Class on long-haul flights.

They show the traveller under a blanket stretched out on a seat that folds back like a sunlounger. A porthole with the blind down indicates that the slumberer is above the clouds heading for somewhere exotic.

If it was anywhere else most people would be reluctant to endure such cramped sleeping arrangements.

I believe there is no comparison between air and sea travel with regards to  comfort - by and large, ships are the most comfortable way to travel.

Despite the ever-lengthening queues at airports, most people still prefer to travel by air – but for how long?

The Sylvania made the last Cunard passenger liner crossing from Liverpool to New York in November 1967, marking the end of a long history of sea travel between the two ports.

The Cunard Line, originally named the British and North American Royal Mail Steam Packet Company, was founded in Liverpool in 1840 by Canadian businessman Samuel Cunard.

Cunard went on to dominate the glamorous and highly-competitive North Atlantic passenger trade for well over a century.

Based in Liverpool’s Cunard Building until the 1960s, the company is now owned by the American firm Carnival Corporation. Today Cunard ships provide worldwide cruises and still make some transatlantic sailings between Southampton and New York.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Liverpool World Gateway gallery there is a small 1:160 model of the Sylvania (pictured).

The Sylvania, built in 1957 by John Brown & Co of Clydebank, was the last Cunarder built specially for transatlantic crossings – her older sisters were Saxonia, Ivernia and Carinthia.

Sylvania was originally put on the Liverpool – Montreal service in competition with Canadian Pacific liners.  In 1961 she replaced Britannic on the Liverpool – Cobh – New York route with occasional cruise work.

The regular New York – Liverpool crossing eventually ended because passengers switched to air travel after regular large-scale services between the USA and UK began.

Sold by Cunard in 1968, Sylvania was later rebuilt as a cruise ship and sailed under the names Fairwind, Sitmar Fairwind, Dawn Princess, Albatross and Genoa before being scrapped in 2004.

Today the cruise ship Oasis of the Seas is the largest passenger vessel in the world.  Built in Finland, she sailed to the United States and began her maiden voyage on 5 December 2009. Oasis of the Seas carries up to 6,300 passengers.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

I have been out at sea in the middle of the night on a few occasions and it is fascinating how different the heavens can look.

On one occasion I slept on deck on the Liverpool to Dublin ferry watching the shooting stars as I nodded off.

Everything is much darker out at sea in huge contrast to many places on land with widespread man-made light pollution.

Modern ships may be equipped with the latest radio and satellite navigation devices but light is still essential on the open seas in the pitch dark.

In the early days vessels relied on the moon and clear night skies as they made their way over largely uncharted waters. On board candles and oil lamps were used above and below decks. As ships became more sophisticated, rules and regulations were introduced to improve safety.

As steam brought about faster ships, there was a growing need for vessels to be seen especially on busy sea routes with the danger of collisions.

A fire on board a crowded emigrant ship could be devastating. Strict rules covered the use of lamps and naked lights were not allowed.

A pair of safety candle lanterns, on display in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s emigration gallery, was supplied by Price’s Patent Candle Company.

The development of electricity on board ships brought about many different types of lighting from curved passageway lights and four-bar lights to three-shade lights and post lights.

In 1848 Britain introduced regulations requiring steam vessels to display red and green sidelights along with a white masthead light.

A ship’s green starboard (right) and red port (left) navigation lights are also on display at the museum.

The rule of the road at sea requires vessels to carry lights to enable other ships to see them and be able to determine in which direction they are going.

The starboard and port lights are usually fixed to the ship’s bridge. The lights can be seen on the museum’s ship models including the Titanic and Empress of France (pictured).

The first international Maritime Conference was convened in 1889 to draw up regulations aimed at preventing collisions.

This resulted in the Washington Conference Rules adopted by the US in 1890 before they became effective internationally in 1897. These revised rules required steamers to carry a second masthead light.

More changes came in the international Safety of Life at Sea Conference of 1948 including fixed stern lights for most vessels.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

I had my first newspaper column when I was 18 and this paved the way to a successful 30-year career in journalism.

However, I thought I’d chosen the wrong job when I read that the pop singer Cat Stevens – who was also 18 – earned £1,000 a week (this was 1966).

My starting salary was seven guineas (£7.35) a week – and I gave my mum £2 10s (£2.50) towards household bills.

Scotsman William McAndrew was just 18 when he founded his shipping line in 1770 to import fruit and wine from Spain, Portugal and the Azores.

Like many successful entrepreneurs, he got in early at the right time. By this time people from all walks of life could afford things that were once luxuries enjoyed by the few.

The McAndrews Line was based in London and had an office in Liverpool where many of its ships berthed.

The vessels also carried general cargo and often had passenger accommodation. William had eight sons and eventually the McAndrew family sold the business to the Royal Mail Line in 1917.

At Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Liverpool: World Gateway gallery there is a model of McAndrews’ cargo liner Ravenspoint (pictured with me).

Built in 1918, she was one of the last ocean-going ships constructed on the Liverpool side of the Mersey. Ravenspoint was built at the Garston yard of Grayson’s of Liverpool and was acquired by McAndrews.

By the mid-19th century most Liverpool shipyards had been swept away to make way for docks in the booming port. A slight revival of the trade occurred in 1901 when Grayson’s opened at Garston, an area well away from the main docks.

They built a number of cargo steamers up to 3,000 tons but in 1921 the company closed and switched to ship repairs.

In 1942 the 1,787-ton Ravenspoint was sunk in Gibraltar harbour by a limpet mine but salvage teams soon refloated her.

The 1:48 scale model indicates that Ravenspoint was a sturdy, well-built ship. A wealth of detail includes hand-operated capstan and winches fore and aft.

In 1935 the McAndrews Line became part of the Andrew Weir Shipping Group. Ravenspoint continued in service with McAndrews until 1956 when she was sold to Thomas Leitch Shipping Ltd of London, renamed Elespoint and finally scrapped in 1960.

The McAndrews Line was bought by the French company CMA CGM, the world’s third largest cargo liner company. McAndrews container ships still trade regularly from Liverpool to Spain and Portugal.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo

I have many memories of Liverpool’s docklands when they were labour-intensive before the widespread use of containers.

Once I was flung off my motorcycle when the wheels got caught in the dock railway lines. The windscreen and front mudguard were shattered.

As I wheeled my machine past the police officer he joked: “You crunched!” (This was a catch phrase from a crisps advert of the time, 1968.)

Some 25 years earlier the Port of Liverpool fought a daily battle of survival bringing in vital supplies.

Imports were essential for Britain’s survival during the Second World War when convoys of merchant ships criss-crossed the Atlantic between Liverpool and America.

Many food products were rationed throughout the war and into the post war period. All kinds of commodities were brought in on the ships. The Germans targeted the convoys with submarine attacks in an attempt to stop as many as possible.

British Prime Minister Winston Churchill said: “The only thing that ever really frightened me during the war was the U-boat peril.”

The total amount of cargo handled at British ports in the 12 months starting April 1940 was unusually low – about half the wartime average. This was due both to Germany’s successes and the organisational problems of the ports.

For example the ports of Liverpool and Manchester dealt with 4.2 million tons – 31 per cent of UK ports’ total trade. In this period the main west coast ports handled about 60 per cent of Britain’s imports.

A photograph in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery shows Liverpool dockers unloading a ship’s cargo into railway wagons alongside a bomb-damaged dockside in April 1943 (pictured).

A modern painting by David Cobb is called 'A Convoy Arrives in Liverpool', showing the cargo vessels escorted by war ships.

No less than 1,285 convoys and an impressive total of 76,000 ships arrived in the Mersey during the war. This was an average of four convoys and 280 ships (not all in convoy) every week. A similar amount of traffic headed out of the river.

Since every convoy (or part convoy) might consist of up to 60 ships, the amount of shipping involved put a severe strain on the port workforce and facilities.

Dockers played a vital role in unloading the cargoes. Delays in unloading were generally caused by the number of ships in port and the damage caused by air raids.

By 1944 far more cargoes were being handled than before the war.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents and bookshops.

Test your skills as a docker in the online game Cargo-a-go-go.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

To me he looks hardly more than a boy but this chilling photograph clearly demonstrates the glorifying of war with little thought for the victims.

The man in the picture with German dictator Adolf Hitler is 31-year-old Gunther Prien, brilliant U-boat submarine commander. He is being awarded a medal for sinking a British battleship with huge loss of life including more than 100 boy sailors.The wreck lies upside down in just 100 feet of water – HMS Royal Oak, sunk with the loss of 833 lives.

In a meticulously-planned operation masterminded by Germany’s Commander of Submarines Karl Dönitz, U-47 crept into Scapa Flow on the night of 13 October 1939 when tides were high and there was no moon. Dönitz hand-picked Prien for the operation. Four of Prien’s torpedoes hit the anchored Royal Oak which keeled over and sank in 13 minutes.

The attack was seen partly as an act of revenge for the German High Fleet surrendering and scuttling itself at the same place following defeat in the First World War. Sinking the 29,150-ton Royal Oak, an outdated vessel launched in 1914, was also part of a German strategy to displace British warships from their haven in the Orkney Islands.

First Lord of the Admiralty (later Prime Minister) Winston Churchill conceded that the raid was “a remarkable exploit of professional skill and daring” but added that Royal Oak’s loss would not strongly affect the naval balance of power.

Prien and his crew were lauded as heroes when they arrived back in Germany. Prien was awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross while each crew member received the Iron Cross Second Class.

Prien was a U-boat ace – the U-47 sank more than 30 Allied ships including the Arandora Star, also with the loss of more than 800 lives.

Prien and all on board U-47 mysteriously disappeared in March 1941. They  may have hit a mine, suffered an accident or been hit by depth-charges.

At Merseyside Maritime Museum there are miniature models of the Royal Oak and the U-47, contrasting their sizes. A souvenir pamphlet commemorates Royal Oak’s visit to Liverpool in June 1937 as part of the celebrations to mark George VI’s coronation.

Royal Oak is now a designated war grave. Work still continues removing 3,000 tons of fuel oil that was on board when she sank. Salvage work can only be done during summer months because of difficult conditions.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Image courtesy of the Daily Post & Echo

I find some ship models remarkably appealing – they seem to carry you back to a distant era, recreating lost voyages in the mind.

M R James wrote a classic ghost story called The Haunted Dolls’ House and I am sure certain ship models also have the power to haunt.

When I look at the model mentioned below, I can almost see figures on the decks and hear cattle lowing and the throb of engines in the sweltering heat.

The Pacific Steam Navigation Company (PSNC) was set up in Liverpool by an American businessman who invested heavily in South American services.

William Wheelwright (1798 – 1873) founded the shipping line in 1838 to provide pioneering steamship facilities on the continent’s west coast.

He was born in Merrimac, Massachusetts, the son of a ship’s captain. William had similar ambitions and, with his parents’ consent, became a cabin boy on a vessel bound for the West Indies.

He proved himself very capable and rose rapidly through all the grades of seamanship to become a captain at the age of just 19.

In 1835 William sailed to England in 1837 before setting up PSNC.  By the 1870s PSNC had grown into the largest steamship company in the world. Becoming part of Royal Mail Lines in 1910, it ran passenger and cargo services until the 1960s, then tankers and container ships.

The company merged with the Furness Withy Group in the early 1980s and no longer owns or operates ships.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Liverpool: World Gateway gallery, there is the superb model of the twin screw steamer Colombia, a PSNC coastal passenger and cargo liner.

Colombia and her sister Guatemala were built by Caird & Co of Greenock in 1899. They carried passengers and mail on PSNC’s weekly service between Valparaiso and Callao in Peru.

The main decks were usually open for passengers and cattle while the upper deck had cabins for both overnight and week-long journeys.

The 3,335-ton Colombia was lost off the island of Lobos de Tierra, Peru, in August 1907.

The 1:48 builder’s model shows the vessel with a single black funnel and green and black hull. Excellent detail includes decking, hand rails and chains.

There are skilfully made benches on the top deck and finely-detailed lifeboats which add perfect finishing touches. Unusually, machinery and other features can be seen below decks.

Both Colombia and Guatemala were distinctive ships with their very long mid-ships superstructure and forward bridge.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

'PS Victory' by Samuel Walters

I hope that one day we can have a paddle steamer back on the Mersey giving regular rides over to the Wirral.

I believe the last paddle steamers in regular use on the river were the ferries to Eastham, which closed in the 1930s. However the landing stage and ticket office are still at Eastham in wooded surroundings hardly changed for more than a century. 

The ferry ride would be a major attraction, giving wonderful views over the Mersey at its widest point. We still have the capacity to manufacture such a boat locally.

The first form of mechanical propulsion on ships was the paddle wheel – it marked the start of the switch from sail to steam which transformed sea travel. Most paddle steamers were sidewheelers with paddles on port and starboard although some had single wheels in the stern. The advent of screw propulsion using propellers saw the end of paddle steamers on the high seas although they continued for many years as ferries and river boats.

Paddle wheels were largely built of steel with numerous paddle blades called floats or buckets – the idea may have originally come from waterwheels in ancient times. The first paddle boat is believed to have been an experimental craft in Roman times which used ox power. The Chinese constructed many man-powered working paddle vessels from around 420 AD up to about a century ago.

The first paddle steamer to be built was the Pyroscaphe, constructed by French aristocrat Claude de Jouffroy in 1783. She chugged along the River Saône for 15 minutes before the engine failed before disappearing into history in the run-up to the French Revolution.

The Charlotte Dundas was the first commercial paddle-steamer, hauling two 70-ton barges along the Forth and Clyde Canal in Scotland for six hours in 1802.

The first commercial success was Robert Fulton’s famous paddle steamer Clermont in New York (1807). In 1838 the Sirius became the first ship to cross the Atlantic using steam power alone. Sirius is featured in a painting at Merseyside Maritime Museum. Another shows the paddle steamer Victory, painted by renowned marine artist Samuel Walters (pictured).

Victory was built in Liverpool in 1832 for the St George Steam Packet Co of Cork. She was one of several paddle steamers operating between English and Irish ports. A flag on the foremast, featuring a horse, indicates she is carrying mail for the Post Office. Victory is depicted in heavy seas off the Irish coast with passengers in brightly-coloured clothing on deck.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Figureheads adorned ships from the days of Ancient Greece up until late Victorian times. I like the haunting qualities of many figureheads, with their staring eyes fixed on distant horizons.

I also remember the liner on which the statue once stood. Visitors could tour the ship in dock for two shillings and sixpence (12.5p) if I remember rightly.

One of the great sea myths is the legend of Aphrodite, Greek goddess of love, rising from the foaming waves.

In 1955 the Pacific Steam Navigation Company (PSNC) was commissioning art works for its new luxury liner the Reina del Mar.

One of the artists they approached was sculptor Arthur Fleischmann (1896 – 1990) who was commissioned to create a life-size statue of Aphrodite hewn from solid Perspex in keeping with the modern age (pictured).

Fleischmann created 'The Birth of Aphrodite' from a half-ton block of clear Perspex using traditional tools – a mallet and chisel. The block, built up from laminated sheets, was supplied by ICI (Imperial Chemical Industries).

Aphrodite is seen naked, floating ashore on a scallop shell. The statue originally stood in the embarkation hall of the Reina del Mar which sailed regularly between Liverpool and South America.

When the Reina del Mar was broken up in 1975, The Birth of Aphrodite was returned to the artist’s family and is now on display in Merseyside Maritime Museum.

Visitors can also see archive colour footage of the Reina del Mar’s maiden voyage from Liverpool in 1956. She passes through the Panama Canal where millions of gallons of water are lost as each ship goes through the lock gates.

Finally, the 20,234-ton ship ends her 8,000-mile journey at Valparaiso in Chile after visiting France, Spain, Bermuda, the Bahamas, Ecuador and Peru.

The 560-ft long Reina del Mar was built by Harland & Wolff in Belfast and carried 207 First Class, 216 Cabin Class and 343 Tourist Class passengers.

She entered service just as scheduled air travel was about to sound the end of mass sea travel – she was the last passenger ship on the PSNC South America route.

Reina del Mar only served for eight years on this run before being withdrawn in March 1964, to particular dismay in Liverpool.

She enjoyed continuing popularity as a cruise ship after being converted to carry 998 passengers in two classes run by the Union Castle Line and Royal Mail Lines.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

I came across this story while reading about the conflict at sea during the First World War and was filled with gloom.

This liner seemed to have been earmarked for destruction from the start and was sunk even when under the protection of warships. Her brief life had been blighted by the misfortunes of other great ships.

The 32,234-ton Justicia was built for the Dutch Holland America Line at Belfast’s famous Harland & Wolff shipyard and launched just weeks before war broke out.

She was bought by the British Government but because of war shortages she was not completed until 1917 and named Justicia.

She was originally destined to be a replacement for the Lusitania (pictured) which had been torpedoed and sunk by a German U-boat submarine in May 1915 with the loss of 1,200 lives.

Cunard was experiencing manning problems so Justicia went to the White Star Line as a troopship because it had a crew available from the Britannic, Titanic’s sister ship sunk by a German mine.

Justicia was painted in camouflage paint, in common with other troopships, and worked successfully for a time in this role.  

In July 1918 she was travelling unladen from Belfast to New York escorted by destroyers. Justicia was torpedoed by the German submarine UB-64 23 miles south of Skerryvore lighthouse, Scotland.

Her watertight doors were closed, preventing her from sinking, and she was taken in tow by the tug HMS Sonia. It was intended to beach her in shallow water.

However, another submarine – the UB-124 – caught up and fired two more torpedoes which struck her side. Justicia sank surrounded by 30 Royal Naval and other vessels. Most of the crew had been taken off but 16 engine room personnel died. The UB-124 was sunk by gunfire from three Royal Navy warships.  

The Lusitania was eventually replaced by the Imperator, known as the German Titanic. She was handed over as part of war reparations and became the Cunard flagship, later renamed Berengaria.

There are contrasting models of the Berengaria and Lusitania in the Merseyside Maritime Museum.

The Lusitania waterline model is just three feet long and was made by James McKee, the ship’s carpenter from 1908 to 1915. He used a piece of damaged teak handrail from the ship to make the model’s hull.

McKee did not sail on the Lusitania’s final voyage. He left the model unfinished and it was completed for the museum by his son John in 1982.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Greek legend says that King Midas tied a cart to a post with an intricate knot. An oracle foretold that whoever untied the knot would become King of Asia.

Years passed and the knot remained untied until 333 BC when Alexander the Great tried to unravel it. His solution was to cut the knot in half with his sword.  

The prophesy was fulfilled when he went on to conquer Persia. I suspect the knots mentioned below would have been easier for Alexander to untie.

Seafarers in the days of sail literally had to know the ropes – but knots were equally important. Ships could have 25 or more sails which harnessed the power of the wind with the aid of ropes and knots forming the rigging.

Large varieties of knots evolved over the centuries as vessels became more and more sophisticated. The knots had to be able to withstand the stresses and strains created by all types of weather and wind strengths.

The names of knots evoke the romantic era of sailing ships. Some, such as slip and reef knots, are still familiar and in common use. Less well-known are cat’s paw, crabber’s eye, Turk’s head, sheepshank, halliard hitch, carrick bend and granny knots.

Reef and bowline knots were probably the most important methods of tying ropes while the others were useful in certain applications.

Today there is great interest in knots, how they are created and their history. Basic knots can be learnt by practice which makes it easier to interpret diagrams and pictures illustrating more complex creations.

Learning how to tie knots, which requires patience and dexterity, reveals patterns in their structures and tying methods.

Complex knots can be changed and rearranged usually by pulling on rope ends in certain ways – this is called spilling or capsizing. For example, the carrick bend is usually tied in one form then capsized to make it stronger.

The invention of wire rope in the 1830s brought a strong competitor to traditional hemp rope. Wire ropes had clips and shackles rather than knots.

A spin-off from the mariner’s knowledge of rigging was decorative rope work. A number of examples are on display in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery.

A hand-worked pochette is a particularly fine example dating from 1930. It was made from cotton twine by retired Captain Eckford  when he was a passenger on a voyage.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

It seems to me that things are always getting bigger and bigger – sprawling supermarkets, huge cars, massive motorways and, of course, enormous ships.

Every time I look over the Mersey the cargo vessels seem to grow, dwarfing smaller craft such as the ferries. It came as rather a surprise to learn just how long this trend has been developing.

The first bulk carrier ship was the British coast carrier John Bowes in 1852 – she had a steam engine, metal hull and seawater for ballast.

However, it took about 100 years for bulk carriers to come into their own, following the Second World War. They are now a common feature of the maritime world.

International bulk trade expanded among industrialised nations after the Allied victories of 1945. There was a feeling that old scores should be forgotten and the expansion in bulk trading coincided with the growth of the Common Market (EU).

The focus was on European countries, the United States and its former enemy Japan.

Typical of modern bulk carriers was the Wanderer of 1973, depicted in an outstanding model (pictured) on display in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery.

Wanderer was one of three bulk carriers built for the Harrison Line in Japan. Like her sisters, Wayfarer and Warrior, she had six holds and could load and unload her own cargo using five eight-ton capacity deck cranes.

These vessels enabled Harrisons to expand their business into bulk dry cargoes such as iron ore, grain, sugar, fertilisers, scrap iron, sulphur, coal and wood. The 27,135-ton Wanderer was hired out either by the voyage (spot charter) or for a fixed period (time charter) and traded worldwide.

Harrison’s sold the Wanderer in 1987 to a Panamanian company and she was later renamed Ocean Spirit.

The model has superb details from the intricacy of the cranes to the tiny hull markings including the Plimsoll Line, a legal requirement to stop overloading.

Pictures on display include stevedores (dockers) loading general cargo into the hold of a bulk carrier for export to West Africa in 1977.

Bales of Nigerian cotton are seen on a pallet in Liverpool docks about 1970. Even after the development of containers, many goods were still packed using traditional methods.

Bulk carriers today make up 40 per cent of the world’s merchant fleets. They can range from single hold bulkers to huge ore ships capable of carrying an astonishing 365,000 metric tons deadweight.

Try your hand as a stevedore in Liverpool's historic docks in the new online game Cargo-a-go-go.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

I like to read about the huge variety of goods and commodities that have been imported and exported through Liverpool over the centuries.

International trade was the reason for the port’s phenomenal growth and one of my favourite accounts is Sir James Picton’s Memorials of Liverpool.

First published in 1873, it contains fascinating details about the history and topography of Liverpool including the docks. I have a second edition with liver birds embossed on the spine.

As in Picton’s time, most imports and exports still travel by sea as ships continue to follow trade routes that have often existed for hundreds and even thousands of years.

For example, in 18th century Britain many goods came from abroad but they were generally luxury items.

Visitors to Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery are given an  insight into the imports of the day, using a contemporary oil painting (pictured).

It shows prosperous John Bacon and his family in about 1742. Painted by Arthur Devis, Mr and Mrs Bacon are seen with their four children in their luxurious home.

Mrs Bacon’s dress is made from silk. Luxury silks were imported from India in ships owned by the East India Company. Some also came from France, renowned for its fine silk products. Silk goods were also manufactured in England and in the 1700s English producers often complained about foreign imports.

The furniture is made from mahogany – at this time most of this wood came from British colonies in the Caribbean. It was originally known as Jamaica wood and was felled and moved by enslaved Africans.

The carpet is from Turkey or the Middle East.  Britain traded with the Ottoman Empire ruled by the Turks.

Italian paintings were very popular among the British middle classes. Throughout the 1700s young gentlemen went on the Grand Tour of Europe, visiting Italy as part of their education and often bringing back paintings and sculptures.

By 1800 Britain’s top five imports in terms of quantity were sugar, coffee, corn, raw cotton and tea.

In the 19th century Britain developed worldwide trading links focusing on South America, Africa, the Far East and Australasia. The introduction of the steam ships from the 1840s enabled regular services to operate to ports all over the world.

Massive imports of many products and materials annually take place through Liverpool. They include 11 million tonnes of crude oil, three million tonnes of coal, nearly a million tonnes of edible oils and fats along with cocoa, metals, granite, chemicals and general cargo.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

Putting it down on paper not only fills time but also provides an opportunity to be creative in grim surroundings. I can well understand how even the most functional building or everyday situation was carefully recorded.

My father, a military policeman, was never captured but I treasure his wartime sketches from Italy and North Africa. He said opportunities to sketch were rare but not to be missed.

Many British and Allied merchant seamen became prisoners of war as a result of the Battle of the Atlantic with its large losses of shipping.

This was due mainly to the activities of German warships and armed auxiliary cruisers in the central and south Atlantic.

Crews were taken off sinking ships and from the sea and lifeboats in this vast arena of war. Most of the prisoners were held at Milag Nord and Marlag internment camps near Bremen in northwest Germany.

On display in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery are postcards sent by British merchant seamen from the camps.

One from Christmas 1941 carries seasonal greetings from Stalag XB Marlag and features a windjammer ship in full sail.

There are sketches made by British merchant seamen at Milag Nord. They show wire fences and a watch tower, and accommodation hut labelled Barrack 7 and dormitory accommodation with men eating and relaxing on their bunks.

An Admiralty publication called Warwork News (pictured) shows 13 dishevelled men with the caption: “For 23 days these men were adrift in an open boat … their ship had been sunk by a German raider in the Atlantic … there were 82 men crowded into a boat built to hold 50 … one of the boats finally reached São Luiz, Brazil, where the men fell exhausted on the beach.”

In a rallying call to workers at home, Warwork News adds: “The men of the Royal Navy and Merchant Navy ask you to give every ounce of effort to speed up production.”

Dramatic photos show shipwrecked seafarers at the point of being rescued from the sea.

More than 5,000 Allied merchant seamen were taken prisoner by German forces during the Second World War – most were held at these two camps which also accommodated Royal Navy personnel.

Marlag was used as a location for the 1946 film The Captive Heart starring Michael Redgrave and Rachel Kempson.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Detail of the model of the Arandora Star, on display in the Merseyside Maritime Museum.

I have climbed the tower of Liverpool’s Anglican cathedral – one of the largest cathedrals in the world - and enjoyed one of the finest views of the city.

I also attended the royal ceremony to mark the completion of this hugely inspiring building in 1978.

Years later I learnt that the tower is named after a well-known local family, the Vesteys, whose fortunes rose with the arrival of refrigeration. They paid for most of the 331-ft high tower.

The Blue Star shipping line was started by the family – originally Liverpool butchers – to carry eggs and other perishables from China.

They were among the first to introduce refrigeration into their shops - a milestone because previously meat had to be sold off cheaply on Saturdays as most shops were shut on Sundays.

This developed into a business importing meat from South America using refrigerated ships. Vestey Brothers had a huge processing factory in Buenos Aires which could handle 5,000 cattle a day.

The Blue Star Line was registered in 1911 and during the First World War its ships carried beef for Allied troops in France.

In 1920 the ships started to carry Star in their names. In 1927 five elegant sister ships of around 13,000 tons each were built – they would later be named Arandora Star, Almeda Star, Andalucia Star, Avila Star and Avelona Star.

All would have the sad distinction of being torpedoed and sunk by German U-boat submarines in the Second World War. Blue Star lost 29 of its 39 ships during the conflict, involving the deaths of 646 crew members.

There is a fine model of the most famous – the Arandora Star – on display in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery. Our picture shows the swimming pool complete with bathers and sun loungers. .

Arandora Star left Liverpool for Canada on 2 July 1940 carrying Italian male civilian internees and German internees and prisoners-of-war along with British troops. The following day she was torpedoed by the U-47 off County Donegal in Ireland with the loss of 805 lives.

From happier times, a colourful poster by Kenneth Shoesmith advertises an Arandora Star cruise taking in South Africa, Java, Malaya, Ceylon and Egypt in 1935.

The first sister to be sunk was the Avelona Star, victim of the U-43 on 30 June 1940 off Cape Finisterre.

The Blue Star fleet was rebuilt after the war with new ships and second-hand vessels. The company was disposed of by the Vestey Group to P&O Nedlloyd in 1998.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

White Star bugle on display in the Maritime Museum. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

It was with trepidation that I pursed my lips and gave the instrument a quick blast and the noise that came out almost deafened me.

Titanic had strong links with Liverpool but never visited her home port - by 1912 the White Star Line had switched its transatlantic liners to Southampton.

The organisation of her maiden voyage, including choosing the officers, was supervised by Charles Bartlett, the shipping line’s marine superintendent based in Liverpool.

Ironically he was known as Iceberg Charly because of his skill in smelling ice or sensing when there were dangerous bergs in the vicinity.

At least 90 members of Titanic’s crew on her tragic maiden voyage – about 10 per cent – were from Merseyside or had close links with the area.  Most of her key officers and crew had originally sailed from Liverpool for White Star.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress gallery there is a display of White Star items from the pre-Titanic era.

A chief officer’s frock coat was worn by William Lightfoot of Litherland, Liverpool, about 1900. Titanic’s officers wore similar coats as can be seen in photographs. There is an officer’s cap badge and uniform button.  

A White Star bugle was made by RJ Ward & Sons of Liverpool about 1885. A bugle like this was used to call Titanic’s passengers to meals.

A First Class china coffee cup and saucer of about 1905 was supplied by the famous Liverpool store Stoniers Ltd. The same design, featuring the White Star house flag, was used on Titanic. Stoniers also provided the1900 cobalt blue and gold china soup bowl made by Spode Copeland.

An iron rivet is engraved with the White Star emblem and RMS Titanic 1910. It is probably a shipyard worker’s souvenir taken from the slipway.

Bartlett joined White Star in 1894 and was given his first command in 1903. Titanic’s slightly-larger sister ship Britannic was commissioned as His Majesty’s Hospital Ship (HMHS) G618 on 13 December 1915 in Liverpool. Bartlett took command the following day as medical equipment was installed.

Britannic struck a German mine on 21 November 1916 in the Aegean off the Greek island of Kea. When he saw there was no way to save the stricken vessel, Captain Bartlett issued the order to abandon ship.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

If you have an iPhone you can now download a free virtual 3D model of the Titanic based on the model in Merseyside Maritime Museum.

We would spread out in the huge cinema with acres of empty seats and settle down with six-penny packets of popcorn for the double feature.

It may have been the Regent or the Regal, the Carlton or the Curzon but I always thought the programmes were great value – two films, a newsreel, trailers and Pearl & Dean’s glossy adverts.

Ship's telegraph from the Maritime Museum. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

The ship’s telegraph – usually housed in a brass pedestal on the bridge - transformed communications on vessels as they grew in size.

Chadburns of Liverpool pioneered the system of pulleys and levers after taking out a patent in 1870.

In the days of sail it was relatively easy for the captain to pass on commands to crew members. Sailing ships were relatively small and simple to operate, whether under canvas or entering and leaving port.

The arrival of steamships in the 1840s initially did not cause problems because these powered ships were also small. Many of these ships used a trip-gong in the engine room to transmit coded messages.

One gong meant Stop, two Slow Ahead, three Full Ahead and so on. However, this system was prone to human error. For example, if the engineer miscounted the gongs the ship could easily go in the wrong direction. Engine room staff also had to remember and verbally pass on the speed orders that had been issued.

The Chadburn pulley system telegraph enabled instructions from the bridge to the engine room to be relayed mechanically. There were also steering and docking telegraphs to control the rudder.

A ship’s telegraph in the Battle of the Atlantic gallery (pictured) was salvaged from the wreck of the American cargo steamer Steel Worker sunk by a German mine in Kola Bay North Russia in 1942.

As ships grew larger, telegraph systems grew more sophisticated. By the 1890s the successful brass pedestal telegraph had become well established.

The Titanic had three vital areas linked by telegraphs. The captain’s bridge was the navigation centre of the ship and focal point of the telegraph installation.

This was connected to the starting platform, housing the controls for the ship’s engines, and the after docking bridge.

Electric telegraphs were later introduced although the pulley system remained in use on merchant ships until the 1950s.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).
 

Stephen with 'Waterloo Docks'

I was fascinated to get close to LS Lowry’s remarkable painting, 'Waterloo Docks', now on a long loan at the Walker Art Gallery. This is a great work of art but when you try to analyse the picture’s qualities they are difficult to pin down. It is like a walk in the fields on a beautiful May day when colours and landscape become perfect for a passing moment.

Look at 'Waterloo Docks' as a complete entity and it forms a compelling whole but individual components seem no more than children’s doodles. This is the brilliant essence of its charm. Lowry, as his life studies prove, was a skilful draughtsman who developed his uniquely simple matchstick men style during years of painstaking study. 'Waterloo Docks' was painted on a visit to Liverpool in 1962, towards the end of Lowry’s painting career. It has been hung next to the gallery’s 'Fever Van', painted in 1935 – it is interesting to compare the two.

I never met Laurence Stephen Lowry but played a part in his story – right at the very end. I was a young staff news reporter with the Press Association – Britain’s national news agency – based in Manchester. Every day the agency sends out a morning schedule and on three consecutive days in 1976 you would have read the words: "MANCHESTER.  Lowry: Our reporter is waiting by the graveside".

That was me. I was despatched at 8 o’clock one bleak winter’s morning to scour Manchester Southern Cemetery for the future resting place of the recently-deceased Mr Lowry. He had ordered that the funeral be private and no details released. Lowry was a very private man and did not want crowds gawping at his coffin.

Two gravediggers loomed out of the swirling mist, working next to a large stone monument. I spotted the name LOWRY just as one hastily pulled a piece of sacking over the inscription. I checked at the cemetery office and discovered interments were only between 10 am and 4 pm. I still had to wait three grim days by the graveside and amused myself doing sketches of the cemetery.

Late on the third afternoon, as dusk descended, the funeral cortege appeared – about 10 people pursued by a Manchester Evening News photographer. I followed them into the cemetery chapel where a clergyman said a few words before we all set off to the graveside.  The mourners included two distinguished gentlemen from the Royal Academy of Arts and Carol Ann Lowry, the young woman who inherited the artist’s estate. There were just three wreathes – one from the entertainer and sculptor Tommy Steele, a Royal Academy exhibitor.  After a few words, the coffin was lowered into the brick-lined grave and covered with earth.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

Whenever I hear the name Mauretania the very sound evokes the gentle noises of the sea, the swishing of the breeze and the rolling of the waves.

The second Mauretania was a great favourite in Liverpool, built locally just before the Second World War. I remember the sadness people felt when she was scrapped in the 1960s.

As the Second World War loomed, the 35,750-ton luxury liner sailed on her maiden voyage from Liverpool to New York on 17 June 1939. She was constructed at Birkenhead’s famous Cammell Laird shipyard and at the time was the largest merchant ship ever built in England.

The beautiful vessel was the second Cunard liner to bear the name Mauretania. During the Second World War she served as a troopship. Returning to passenger duties in 1947, Mauretania II was employed mainly on the transatlantic service until 1965.

On display at Merseyside Maritime Museum is a brochure commemorating the 1938 launching ceremony – impressive overhead photographs show the keel taking shape. One is taken from a crane at the bow showing three of the lower decks in the course of construction. An intricate mass of timbers served as platforms for the shipyard workers. The other view looks towards the stern on the edge of the River Mersey.

A medal commemorating the launch was made from metal recovered from the first Mauretania launched in 1906 and scrapped in 1935. This ship was the sister of the Lusitania sunk by a German U-boat submarine in 1915 with great loss of life.

A 1939 advertisement from a popular magazine of the time called Syren and Shipping details Cammell Laird’s products including the Mauretania II and the aircraft carrier Ark Royal and battleship Prince of Wales among war vessels of every type for British and foreign navies.

Photographs show the Mauretania being launched and coming down the slipway watched by huge crowds. In August 1939 Mauretania was switched to the London – New York service and made two Atlantic crossings after war broke out. She was converted into a troopship at Sydney in 1940. During the war she travelled 540,000 miles carrying more than 350,000 troops.

With the return of peacetime she sailed mostly on the Southampton – New York route. The arrival of regular transatlantic air travel saw her being used extensively in cruising including a world cruise in 1958.

Mauretania’s last sailings were on the New York – Mediterranean service from 1963. She was scrapped at Inverkeithing on the Firth of Forth, Scotland.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Beatrice figurehead. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

Figureheads often survive long after the ships they once graced have been broken up – they are totems of a vanished way of life.

The Beatrice was a two-masted wooden schooner built on Prince Edward Island, Canada, in 1860. In Victorian times many British-owned ships were built in Canada where large supplies of timber were readily available. Beatrice survived for more than 50 years and her last owner was William Cooper of Widnes.

Her small figurehead is on display in the Art and the Sea gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum. It depicts a woman with a huge gold cross hanging from a chunky necklace while a gold tiara adorns her lustrous brown hair.

Nearby hangs Robert Dudley’s remarkable painting 'Canada timber docks, Liverpool, towards close of day'. This large artwork features a fascinating array of figureheads on sailing ships lined along the docksides.

Painted in the 1870s, it shows timber being unloaded and carried away in horse-drawn carts. The dock was opened in 1858 when Canada was Britain’s major source of timber.

By 1700 several shipyards had been established in the vicinity of the Pool, the tidal creek that gave Liverpool its name.

The early decades of the 19th century brought competition from Canada’s newly-established shipyards. These were situated close to forests supplying the raw material. This, combined with the availability of cheap labour, enabled them to undercut the Liverpool shipbuilders.

By 1840 it was estimated that almost half of Liverpool-owned ships were Canadian built. However, the advent of iron and steel ships as the steam age developed meant that shipbuilding surged on the Mersey.

Wooden ships, like all vessels, are made up of hundreds of different pieces and the frames are not single pieces of timber. Assembling these ships is a complex and time-consuming process requiring many different skills and procedures.

Small sections of wood were jointed together and these could work loose as the ship was subjected to all the stresses and strains of ploughing through many varying sea-states. This is why the ship’s carpenter was such an important member of the crew and was often paid more than the captain. The fate of a ship could sometimes rest with the carpenter so he was very highly-regarded.

A contemporary print from the 1830s shows a wooden ship about to be launched on the site where the Albert Dock now stands.  

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

The Fort George refuelling two Royal Navy ships at sea. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

I have many memories of the 1982 Falklands War – the first fully-televised conflict, bringing the stark reality of vivid images of fighting to our homes.

I was a national news agency reporter at the time and covered political and other war-related issues. Ships came to the fore because of the huge distances involved.

Merchant ships and their crews were vital in the Falklands campaign. In recent years, however, the dramatic decline in the number of British ships and seafarers has placed this traditional defence role in doubt.

Britain’s Merchant Navy has traditionally been regarded as the fourth arm of defence along with the Royal Navy, Army and Royal Air Force. In both World Wars the merchant fleet played a crucial role in ensuring the country’s survival and eventual victory.

A photograph on display at the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery shows the Royal Fleet Auxiliary (RFA) ship Fort George refuelling two Royal Navy ships at sea (pictured).

The RFA is a civilian-manned 22-ship fleet owned by the Ministry of Defence. It exists to supply and support Britain’s armed forces around the world. With about 800 officers and 1,400 ratings, it is the largest single employer of UK civilian seafarers.

In both World Wars many ships were converted for use as auxiliary warships, troop and hospital ships. Serving in the front line of Britain’s war effort, they frequently became prime targets for enemy attacks.

There are many items from troop and hospital ships on display in the museum. The RFA was established in 1905 to provide coaling ships for the Royal Navy when the British Fleet was the greatest in the world.

Replenishment at Sea (RAS) techniques were developed, especially by the United States Navy. RAS is the most important and vital role of RFA ships, which fly the Blue Ensign featuring a gold anchor.

Other merchant ships are hired by the Admiralty to assist in campaigns under Royal Navy orders. The roll-on, roll-off container ship Atlantic Causeway of the Atlantic Container Line (ACL) was one of 49 British-flagged ships in the Task Force sent to the Falklands.

On display is a plaque presented to the ship by the Admiralty Board in recognition of her role.

Two unique support ships in today’s fleet are the repair vessel Diligence and the aviation training ship Argus, a former roll-on, roll-off container ship. On active service Argus becomes a Primary Casualty Receiving Ship – the modern term for a hospital ship.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Indian Queen ship model

I find sea mysteries completely absorbing because of their finality – a ship disappearing without trace always leaves so many unanswered questions.

I only learnt about this particular disappearance recently and was fascinated by the way the sea gave up its secret after so many years.

It was a mystery that took 135 years to solve – the disappearance of the emigrant paddle steamer Pacific and almost 200 passengers and crew on a voyage from Liverpool to New York. One of the largest, fastest and most well-appointed ships of her day she vanished after sailing on 23 January 1856.

Commanded by Captain Asa Eldridge, she was one of three sister ships operated by the American Collins Line and designed to outclass its main rival – British-owned Cunard.

Captain Eldridge was renowned as a great skipper. Two years before he disappeared he made his lasting reputation sailing the clipper Red Jacket on her maiden voyage between New York and Liverpool.

She did this in a record time of 13 days and one hour – catching up with a steamer that had started out two days earlier. This transatlantic sailing record has never been broken and Red Jacket is one of the seven fastest sailing ships in history.  

This was the era when people took great interest in ships’ performances and thousands of people lined the Liverpool waterfront to see Red Jacket’s arrival.

Captain Eldridge did not have great experience of steamers when he took command of the 2,707-ton Pacific built in 1849. When she failed to arrive at New York, other ships searched for her in vain. There was no trace of the Pacific or her 45 passengers and 141 crew.

There the story may have ended but for a chance discovery by divers in 1991. They located the bow section of the ship a few miles off Anglesey – only about 60 miles from Liverpool.

After so long it was impossible to discover what had sent the Pacific to the bottom so suddenly without leaving any wreckage or bodies. The most likely explanation is a catastrophic accident, such as a boiler explosion, that made the 281-foot long ship sink like a stone.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum’s emigration gallery there are many exhibits from this era of the Victorian emigrant trade.

A stunning picture model depicts the steamer Great Britain in the River Mersey about 1857 featuring docks bristling with ship masts.

Other contemporary emigrant ship models are the Black Ball sailing ships Marco Polo built in 1851 and the Indian Queen of 1852 (pictured).
 
A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

A merchant ship exploding after being torpedoed by a U-boat. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

Those I knew returned more or less safely to resume their peacetime lives but all were left scarred to a greater or lesser degree.

The Merchant Navy suffered heavy losses in the Second World War as ships struggled against German aircraft, mines and U-boat submarines to successfully bring vital supplies to besieged Britain.

It is likely that at least one quarter of the men who were in the British Merchant Navy at the outbreak of war in 1939 did not survive until the end in 1945 – some 30,000 dead. Most of their bodies were never recovered.

This was a higher death rate than that suffered by any of the British armed services. More than 6.000 Royal Navy sailors on Western Approaches Command, and perhaps some 4,000 others, died in the Battle of the Atlantic. More than 6,000 men of the RAF Coastal Command also died.

U-boat crews suffered terrible losses but managed to retain their morale and discipline until the end of hostilities. Every crew member knew he would die a horrible death if his submarine was destroyed under water.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery there is a copy of the church service book used on smaller Royal Navy ships about 1943

A postcard and guide feature the German naval memorial at Laboe, near Kiel. A Type VII U-boat standing before the memorial is the U 995 built by Blohm und Voss, Hamburg, in 1943. U 995 sank six ships before surrendering to the British at the end of the war.

An archive newspaper report shows the unveiling of the memorial at Liverpool’s Pier Head to the 1,390 Merchant Navy officers and men who died while serving under Royal Navy orders during the Second World War.

Another report covers the unveiling of the memorial in Trinity Square, Tower Hill, London, to the 24,000 merchant seamen and men of the fishing fleet who lost their lives but have “no graves but the sea”.

A merchant ship is seen exploding after being torpedoed by a U-boat (pictured). During the six years of war, U-boats sank nearly 14.7 million tons of allied shipping.  Britain lost 11.7 million tons, which is 54% of the total Merchant Navy fleet at the outbreak of the war.

Following many years of campaigning, Merchant Navy Day became an official day of remembrance on 3 September 2000.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).
 

I think Liverpudlians sometimes overlook the special relationship many people from around the world feel they have with our city – even if they’ve never visited us.

The port is historically a romantic place in the widest sense of the word – a point of departure and loss because people set off for new lives from its docks and quaysides. Our music is also known virtually everywhere, adding to the potent emotional mix.

Liverpool has a place in the family histories of countless millions of people scattered across the globe. Many feel that this spot saw the beginning of new lives.  

Their ancestors set out into the unknown on ships that plied between Liverpool and countries that welcomed emigrants – mainly in North America, Australia and New Zealand.

Liverpool was probably the biggest emigrant port in world history when around nine million people set out for new lives in the period 1830 to 1930. They were not just British and Irish emigrants but those who came from many parts of northern Europe including Scandinavia and Russia.

Guion Line ticket from about 1894, on display in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s emigrants’ gallery. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

As a major world port with established shipping companies and trading links, Liverpool was at the heart of the emigration trade.

The port was well-placed to receive the many emigrants from Europe who crossed the North Sea to Hull and then travelled to Liverpool by train. As emigration grew, new shipping companies were set up and competition increased.

They advertised their services in Europe and it was often cheaper to travel to Liverpool to emigrate rather than leave from ports nearer to home. People might travel hundreds of miles just to get from their home towns to Liverpool – for some their first ride on a train.

On display in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Emigration gallery is a Guion Line ticket from about 1894 (pictured). In Swedish and English it gives the Guion Line address as 21 Water Street, Liverpool, and begins: “Gentlemen, please give safe passage to New York and Third Class railroad from New York …. to passengers named below.”

There are spaces provided for destinations and names, including ages. The first stage of the journey was from Gothenburg in Sweden to Hull.

The majority of emigrants arrived at their destinations safely but sea travel was always fraught with danger. Once out of port, vessels were at the mercy of the elements and storms were a great threat but as navigation skills and technology improved there were less ship losses.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Settlers in Patagonia, including some of the original Mimosa emigrants, 28 July 1890.

I like the idea of moving en masse to a distant country and setting up a community just as the Pilgrim Fathers did to found America.

Most emigrants settle as individuals or small groups in existing communities and become part of their adopted countries while retaining their cultural links. It is more unusual for large numbers to leave together, travel together and settle together.  

A group of Welsh people sailed into the unknown to found a successful settlement thousands of miles away in South America where their descendants continue to live today.

Many people emigrated from Wales in the 19th century to escape poverty - most going to the United States. As time went by the children of the Welsh settlers neither spoke Welsh nor kept up the cultural traditions of their ancestors…

The idea of creating a Welsh colony spread from Ohio to North Wales and Liverpool. The place chosen for a settlement was Patagonia, a remote region in southern Argentina where land was granted by the country’s government.

The Mimosa was a wooden clipper built in 1853 by Alexander Hall & Sons of Aberdeen and she was owned by Vining & Killey of Liverpool.

On display in the emigrants’ gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum is a model of the Mimosa presented by the Merseyside Welsh Heritage Society in September 2008. It was made by Tony Fancy of Poole, Dorset, with sponsorship from the Liverpool Culture Company.

The emigrants paid £2,500 to hire and convert the Mimosa for passenger use. The fare was £12 for adults and £6 for children although anyone willing to travel was taken on board.

Settlers included cobblers, carpenters, brickmakers, tailors and miners but few farmers  which was unfortunate when they discovered the conditions they faced.

On 28 May 1865 the Mimosa sailed from Liverpool for Patagonia carrying 160 Welsh emigrants. During the two-month voyage five children died, two babies were born and a violent storm off the Argentinean coast swept the three-masted sailing ship 300 miles off course.

On 28 July 1865 the settlers landed at Port Madryn. They then faced a trek of 40 miles south to create the first settlement by the Chubut River where many places still have Welsh names.

Today there are more than 150,000 people of Welsh descent living in Patagonia. Although Spanish is the main language, Welsh is still spoken.

A photograph (pictured) shows settlers in Patagonia taken on 28 July 1890 – exactly 25 years after they first arrived – with some of the original Mimosa emigrants.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Crowds flocked to see the QE2. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

I joined the thousands of people who braved wind and rain to walk to Liverpool’s Pier Head to say goodbye to the Queen Elizabeth 2.

This was the first and last time I saw her although I had followed her progress since building work began. I think the first article I read was in the Illustrated London News, a long-established weekly magazine still going strong in the 1960s

The QE2’s 39 foot long vivid red pennant flag is the longest in the history of the iconic Cunard shipping line. It was presented to the Lord Mayor of Liverpool during a commemorative concert at Liverpool’s Anglican Cathedral on 3 October 2008 when the great ship last visited the port.

The pennant, featuring the Cunard crest, is on display in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery.
 
A paying-off pennant is flown immediately prior to a ship leaving service and has one foot for every year of service. The QE2 (pictured) was built at the John Brown shipyard on Clydebank and launched in 1967.

She made her maiden voyage in 1969 and over the next 39 years became famous throughout the world. QE2 was Cunard’s flagship until she was succeeded by the Queen Mary 2 in 2004.

The 70,300-ton QE2 carried many famous passengers including film stars, members of the Royal family and world leaders.

She carried 2.5 million passengers during her long career and travelled an astonishing 5.6 million nautical miles, earning the distinction of being the longest-serving ship in Cunard’s history.

Liverpool enjoyed a close relationship with the QE2 as the original home of Cunard where the ship was designed in the Cunard Building at the Pier Head.

The QE2 had a long and distinguished career after being conceived in the 1960s when air travel took over from the liners that once regularly plied the Atlantic. She replaced the Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth which both dated from the 1930s.

In 1982 she took part in the Falklands War, carrying 3,000 troops and 650 volunteer crew members to the south Atlantic conflict.

The QE2’s hull was extensively damaged in 1992 when she ran aground while returning from a cruise along the coasts of the United States and Canada. Two years later she was given a refurbishment costing millions of pounds.

QE2 is now berthed permanently in Dubai where plans to convert her into a floating hotel have not yet materialised.  

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Cammell Laird's fitting-out basin, September 1940. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

I believe shipbuilding is vital both as an industry and as a means of remaining independent and self-sufficient in times of crisis.

A strong navy is essential for an island nation because the vast majority of goods travel by sea. The Second World War demonstrated how important it was to be able to make and repair ships quickly to enable Britain to survive against terrible odds.

Three of the most famous warships of this period - the Prince of Wales, Ark Royal and Rodney – were built at Cammell Laird’s shipyard in Birkenhead.

During the war the yard constructed more than 100 warships, mainly submarines, and several merchant ships. On average Laird’s completed one ship every 20 days while also doing a great deal of ship repair and conversion work.

Between 1939 and 1945 more than 100 warships and 2,000 merchant ships were repaired by the company.

Photographs on display at the Merseyside Maritime Museum's Battle of the Atlantic gallery include the launch of the Prince of Wales battleship on 17 March 1939. Merchant and war ships are seen in Laird’s fitting-out basin in September 1940 (pictured).

During the war more than 20,000 men and women were employed on Merseyside in vital ship repairing. Among the main firms involved along with Cammell Laird were Harland and Wolff, Archibald Brown and Grayson Rollo Ltd.

Employees at these yards worked round the clock to mend thousands of merchant and naval ships. Their contribution to the war effort was enormous.

As well as repairing damage due to enemy action and the fierce Atlantic weather, they also fitted merchant ships with guns and other war equipment. Everything was done to tight schedules so that ships would spend the least possible time in port.

Salvage teams from the Mersey Docks and Harbour Board with help from the Liverpool and Glasgow Salvage Association saved more than 200 ships which had been sunk and stranded in the River Mersey and its approaches.

These salvaged ships, most of which had been bombed or mined, were invaluable to Britain later in the war. A map shows major ship casualties in the Mersey docks and river. About half (21) of the ships shown were salvaged – the rest were eventually broken up and removed.

Harland and Wolff workers are seen working on a section of the hull of SS Merton on Tranmere beach, Birkenhead, in 1942. The Merton had been salvaged after sinking in the Mersey off Brunswick Dock.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

The wreck of the Conway. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

It was 1954 and I was an excited six-year-old on the coach with my parents and brother heading for two weeks’ holiday in an ancient cottage at Llanddona, Anglesey.

As we moved slowly over the Menai Bridge, everyone instinctively looked down. There, on the seaweed covered rocks, was a wrecked galleon just like something out of the hit film of that year, Long John Silver.

The rip-roaring yarn starred Robert “Jim Lad” Newton as the one-legged rogue. The wreck was HMS Conway and the remarkable sight remains vivid - I remember particularly her dark hull and yellow gun ports.

Last year marked the 150th anniversary of the founding of HMS Conway where thousands of cadets trained to be Merchant Navy officers between 1859 and 1974.

The Mercantile Marine Service Association set up the school after the Admiralty offered the Conway, a frigate used as a coastguard ship. She sailed from the naval base at Devonport, Plymouth, to the River Mersey where she moored off Rock Ferry. The school was opened on 1 August 1859.

The original was replaced after two years by the larger HMS Winchester which was renamed Conway. In 1876 there was another swap to accommodate growing numbers of cadets when the former HMS Nile became the final Conway.

A traditional wooden warship, the Nile was a 92-gun second rate ship of the line launched in 1839. She was converted to screw propulsion in 1854.

HMS Conway was a popular sight moored on the Mersey for decades. However, in 1941 Liverpool became a prime target for German bombers and Conway was moved to the Menai Straights off Anglesey to avoid the Blitz.

In 1953 it was decided to take her back to Liverpool for a refit. Sadly, the lovely old ship ran aground near the Menai Suspension Bridge and broke her back. She lay there for three years before being destroyed by fire.

From 1953 the Conway flourished as a stone frigate or shore establishment at Plas Newydd, Anglesey.

Its eventual closure followed the decline of Britain’s Merchant Fleet and on 11 July 1974 the last 85 cadets laid up the colours in Liverpool Cathedral.

Conway’s huge anchor can be seen outside the entrance to Merseyside Maritime Museum.

Famous Conway cadets included Poet Laureate John Masefield, Captain Matthew Webb, the first person to swim the English Channel, and Sir Arthur Rostron the captain of the Carpathia who rescued the Titanic survivors.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

HM Rescue Tug Storm King in March 1943, from the Merseyside Maritime Museum. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I was surprised to discover that tugs sailed with convoys of merchant ships bringing vital supplies to Britain during the Second World War.

The role of the tugs was to assist stricken vessels after they were damaged by enemy attacks. Their vital work boosted the war effort by saving hundreds of warships and their crews,

The Royal Navy’s Rescue Tug Section was set up at the beginning of the war to provide suitable ocean-going tugs to save torpedoed ships. This was dangerous work requiring the greatest skills to ensure that ships were brought to safe havens despite bad weather, the presence of U-boat submarines and enemy aircraft.

At the start there were only four Royal Navy tugs and eight civilian requisitions available for deep-sea work. However, these inadequacies were remedied by concerted action. By the end of the war, due to newly-built additions from British and US shipyards, this number had grown to more than 80.

The rescue tugs were largely manned by Merchant Navy crews serving under Royal Navy orders. From 1941 they were based at Campbeltown, Scotland, and from 1943 a rescue tug was attached to every transatlantic convoy.

By the end of the war the 'Campbeltown Navy' had helped to save more than three million tons of Allied shipping, over 250 warships and hundreds of Allied seamen, mostly in the North Atlantic. Twenty rescue tugs were lost on active service.

A photograph in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery shows HM Rescue Tug Storm King in March 1943 (pictured).

When the war started, the Royal Navy with the help of Canadian, French and other Allied navies took on the job of defending British and Allied merchant ships from German attacks.

As in the later stages of the First World War (the years 1917 – 18) the main method of defence against such attacks was the convoy system. This involved groups of merchant ships sailing in close formation under the protection of one or more escort warships.

On display is a silver salver presented to Pay Lieutenant Commander Richard Rankin RNR by the commodores of the North Atlantic convoys about 1942. The square salver is engraved with about 50 facsimile signatures. Rankin, an officer of the Naval Control Service, was based throughout the war in Liverpool’s Royal Liver Building. His main job was liaising with convoy commodores – a key role which he fulfilled with great success.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Captain Thomas Jones. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

This is an inspiring story when a ship came to the rescue just in time and saved a crew from almost certain death.

As the ship battled through mountainous seas something happened that all seafarers dread – the cargo shifted, threatening to capsize the vessel. The Italian cargo ship Monte Grappa had left Montreal for Venice loaded with grain in November 1922. At first everything went to routine for the crew of the new vessel.

Things turned sour when the southerly gale blew up in the mid-Atlantic sending the ship plunging and lurching. For two days she struggled onward until the shifting boards (portable bulkheads) gave way and the grain moved.

The ship immediately took a heavy list until her rail was under water. It seemed she was about to turn turtle and sink. Frantic efforts were made to right the vessel by filling the ballast tanks and pumping out the boilers – to no effect.

Crew members then worked feverishly to jettison the cargo but water cascaded into the stokeholds until the firemen were working up to their waists. Both port lifeboats were swept away and the starboard boats could not be lowered.

The Monte Grappa’s SOS call was picked up by the White Star liner Pittsburgh commanded by Captain Thomas Jones (pictured) who was 185 miles away. He immediately responded and raced through the storm to the stricken vessel.

A distress rocket flared and the Monte Grappa loomed into sight. Two boats were lowered by the Pittsburgh and fought their way through the churning waves to reach the sinking ship.

While passengers watched from the liner, every member of the Monte Grappa’s crew was brought to safety and their ship left to her fate.

This was just one incident in the long career of Captain Jones, whose cabin has been recreated in Merseyside Maritime Museum. Among the exhibits is a Liverpool Shipwreck and Humane Society medal awarded for his involvement in the Monte Grappa rescue.

Thomas Jones (1869 – 1957), from Cardigan in Wales, became a steamship master at the young age of 24. His distinguished career spanned the age of sail and steam. As well as the Pittsburgh, he captained the White Star liners Haverford and Canada.

Many of his personal items are on display including his dressing gown, chair and concertina – one of his numerous hobbies while on voyages.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).
 

The Tayleur. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

However, when things go horribly wrong there is always a clamour for the rules to be tightened up. If ever a tragedy highlighted the inadequacies of Victorian seafaring, it was the wreck of the Tayleur.

This elegant sailing ship was the largest merchant vessel of her day but she was wrecked on her maiden voyage with the loss of 372 lives.

Built at Warrington for owners Charles Moore & Co, she seemed destined for years of profitable service in the booming emigrant trade.

She set sail from Liverpool in January 1854 heading for Melbourne carrying 652 passengers and crew. Most of those on board the brand spanking-new vessel were families heading for new lives in Australia.

Two days later the 1,750-ton Tayleur (pictured) struck a reef off Lambay Island, five miles east of the Irish mainland. She sank within 30 minutes and many of the emigrants were among the victims although most of the 71 crew survived.

An inquiry revealed a chronicle of faults – the compasses didn’t work because of the iron hull, the rudder was too small, rigging was faulty and there were only 37 trained seamen among the crew. They thought they were travelling south across the Irish Sea when in fact the Tayleur was heading west to disaster.

There are four small items on display at Merseyside Maritime Museum that were recovered from the wreck many years later.  They are a wine bottle encrusted in barnacles, a Chinese-style bowl, a tea cup made from flow blue china and – poignantly – a small metal dog collar.

The wreck of the Tayleur was just one of several emigrant ship losses during this period. On display is a cross-section plan of the Liverpool assisted emigrant ship Bourneuf of 1852, unusual for its day because the sexes were separated.

It was usual for emigrants to hire berths consisting of large wooden pallets below decks which could be curtained off for privacy. Until the 1870s most people emigrated to Australia and New Zealand by sailing ship – a journey taking between 10 and 16 weeks. There is a fascinating life-sized recreation of such an emigrant ship steerage area in the museum, complete with tables and benches and storage space for trunks containing belongings.

Conditions gradually improved through a series of Passenger Acts between 1842 and 1855.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

The model of the Titanic at Meresyside Maritime Museum. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

I think the best film about the Titanic disaster is 'A Night to Remember' which I first saw in a Liverpool cinema shortly after its release in 1958.

It depicts the ship’s baker, Charles Joughin, who drinks a lot of whisky to help him survive in the icy sea. My aunt revealed that he had lived near her in Grasmere Street, Liverpool, but left his family and went to live in America after the disaster.

When the film was made survivors were still around and some advised the film makers including the Titanic’s fourth officer Joseph Boxhall.

The original 20 ft builder’s model of the Titanic, now on display at Merseyside Maritime Museum, was used by the film’s researchers.

This stunning unique model (pictured) originally depicted both Titanic and her sister Olympic and was used to advertise the great White Star ships. It was built at the Harland and Wolff shipyard in Belfast where the liners were also constructed.

After the loss of Titanic on 15 April 1912 the model was altered to represent Britannic, the third ship of the class, which became a hospital ship and was sunk during the First World War. The rearrangement of the windows on the upper decks was the most important change. In the 1920s the model was altered again to represent the refitted Olympic.

It was later put on display in Blackpool before being given to Liverpool museums in 1951 and in the early 1980s was restored and displayed in the Merseyside Maritime Museum as Titanic.

Second Officer Charles Lightoller (played by Kenneth More), the most senior officer to survive, gives an interesting description of Titanic’s Captain Edward Smith in his 1935 autobiography Titanic and Other Ships.

Lightoller served with him on different ships over many years. Smith was known affectionately as EJ and was quite a character in the shipping world. The tall bearded captain, despite his appearance, had a pleasant quiet voice.

"A voice he rarely raised above a conversational tone – not to say he couldn't", recalled Lightoller.

"In fact, I have often heard him bark an order that made a man come to himself with a bump. He was a great favourite, and a man any officer would give his ears to sail under."

A new exhibit in the Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress gallery is a builder’s half-model of the Mount Temple, one of the ships that rushed to the aid of Titanic but arrived too late.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

I don’t hold with the saying that you have to be a comedian to live in Liverpool, although there are probably more here than anywhere else.

I’m convinced much of this is down to our seafaring tradition – mariners tend to have a strong sense of humour to help deal with the many challenges faced on the briny.

Ships’ crews carried out bizarre rituals at sea such as the Crossing the Line ceremony for passengers and crew going over the equator for the first time. Initiates appear before King Neptune and his court and are plunged into water and subjected to other indignities.

Two lesser-known rituals are examined in the Life at Sea gallery in Merseyside Maritime Museum. Life on sailing ships left crews with little time for recreation. Despite this, sailors developed various customs that reflected their way of life.

The ceremony of Dropping the Dead Horse originated in the 19th century when seafarers were allowed their first month’s wages in advance to pay for gear and clothing. During this month they felt they were working for nothing or 'flogging a dead horse'.

The end of the month was marked by dragging a canvas horse stuffed with wood shavings and stones along the deck before hoisting it up the main mast and dropping it into the sea to cheers and raucous laughter.

On display is a picture of the Dead Horse being prepared for dropping overboard. It was on the John O’Gaunt while sailing to Melbourne, Australia, in 1889.

Music has always been popular at sea and crews often formed small Foo-Foo bands as a way of relaxing. These enabled musicians to disturb everyone else by making an appalling din while dressed up in ridiculous clothes.

A photograph shows a Foo-Foo band (pictured) on a British sailing ship in 1900 with members dressed in funny hats and playing an assortment of instruments including mouth organs and a squeeze box.

Once ashore fun could turn to fear for sailors on a spree. Sea ports around the world have a reputation for being violent and dangerous places. Mariners often took steps to protect themselves.

Crews paid at the end of voyages could get several months of back pay. There were many people in port ready to separate seafarers from their cash once they got ashore.

Another display features a switchback knife and leather cosh carried by sailor Robert Bruce when he was in the Merchant Navy in the early 1940s.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

'A view of Liverpool' by Henry Freeman James from Merseyside Maritime Museum

I find the subject of slavery deeply disturbing and the more we find out about its workings, the greater the sense of disbelief.

It is astonishing that misery, disease and death could be imposed upon other human beings on such a vast scale. There are many important lessons to be learnt from the slave trade.  

The native peoples of the Americas and Caribbean were profoundly affected or exterminated and their cultures largely destroyed following the arrival of Europeans.

As colonies were set up and plantations established, there was a chronic shortage of labour because the local people had died in vast numbers.

The transatlantic slave trade happened because Europeans needed workers for their colonial enterprises. This resulted in the largest forced migration in human history as Africans were enslaved in their millions and transported across the Atlantic Ocean to the Americas.

When European explorers arrived in the 15th and 16th centuries, they exploited the riches of the new lands. Initially Spain and Portugal took the lead and were followed by England, France and the Netherlands.

These were the countries that developed the transatlantic slave trade. The Portuguese began growing sugar in Brazil in the 1540s. As Europeans acquired a taste for sweetened food and drink, the demand grew and plantations were established in Caribbean colonies.

Other profitable commodities also entered the plantation system including coffee, tobacco and particularly cotton which was later to play a big part in the growth of Liverpool, Manchester and other Lancashire towns.

On display in the International Slavery Museum, in the Merseyside Maritime Museum building, are two stone implements from the Taino culture  - rare survivals of the original inhabitants of the Caribbean.

Europeans looked to Africa for a new supply of labour. Liverpool was not involved in early English slaving but came to dominate the transatlantic slave trade by the closing decades of the 18th century.

On display is an oil painting by Henry F James showing Liverpool in 1811 (pictured) just four years after the abolition of the slave trade. During this latter period of the trade, dealings with the West Indies generated about 40 per cent of Liverpool’s wealth.

A Wedgwood creamware bowl of 1786 features a hand-painted view of a sailing ship called the Lord Stanley. It was almost certainly made for presentation to John Smale, the ship’s captain, prior to his departure to West Africa on a slaving voyage.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Dr Clem Fisher and the Dodo skeleton

I’m not a great pigeon fancier but I do have a soft spot for the biggest of this breed – the long-dead Dodo. Depending on what you believe, the flightless bird waddled or strutted into history around 1693 when it was wiped off the face of the earth.

There is a very rare skeleton of a Dodo temporarily on display at World Museum. It is going to be featured on Radio Merseyside at 8.20 am on Monday 25 January 2010 as part of the BBC’s exciting series, A History of the World. Our picture shows curator of vertebrate zoology Dr Clem Fisher, who was recently interviewed for the show, with the incomplete composite skeleton. It has been in our collection since 1866 and has not been on display for at least 40 years.

Clem will tell listeners how specimens continue to reveal secrets: “The skeleton was made up from various Dodo bones found in a bog and is quite complete. However, we recently discovered that the foot bones had been skilfully carved from wood – probably in Victorian times.”

I have discovered that there is quite a controversy over what the Dodo actually looked like when alive. Live ones were brought to Europe from its only home, the island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. These captive specimens grew fat and waddled about their cages. One was painted by Jan Savery and his depiction led to the popular perception of the creature as a bird buffoon.

We now know the reality was rather different and that Dodos were more likely lithe birds that strutted around. Being flightless, they must have been pretty agile to find food in competition with other species. This interpretation is backed up by the 1991 rediscovery of long-lost drawings showing a slightly plump but alert bird. 

Then there is the theory about how Dodos became extinct. The popular story is that they were killed by the crews of passing ships. The Dutch, however, thought the Dodo tasted loathsome. I suppose it would depend how hungry you were. Some people said Dodo meat was tough but good to eat. There were other birds and animals on Mauritius to tempt the palate. Looking at the World Museum skeleton, I am reminded of the turkey after Christmas dinner so perhaps seafarers had the same idea. Turkeys were discovered in North America by the Spanish more than 400 years ago during the time Dodos were being hunted.

The name is probably of Dutch origin, shortened from dodaars meaning knot-arse, referring to the knot or tuft of feathers making up its tail. The Dodo had a relation on the neighbouring island of Réunion called the Solitaire. Sometimes known as the White Dodo, it became extinct some time after 1705.

'West Derby off Egremont' by Thomas Dove, from the Merseyside Maritime Museum. Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

Like most boys of my generation, spotting trains, boats, planes and buses was my hobby. It started with car number plates before graduating to ships when I was in my mid teens.

This was the early 1960s and Liverpool was still a great port to look at vessels before tight security and containerisation swept away the old scenes.

I would cycle along the dock road or take the ferry to Birkenhead and Wallasey Docks. Among the many ships I recorded were those of the famous Harrison Line whose vessels were once common on the River Mersey and in ports throughout the world.

T & J Harrison Ltd was founded in Liverpool in 1853 as the port steadily grew in capacity and importance. The company, headed by Thomas and James Harrison, had small beginnings focusing on the wine and brandy trades.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum's Art and the Sea gallery there is a fascinating oil painting of one of the earliest Harrison ships – the West Derby, named after an historic village in Liverpool where I live.

West Derby off Egremont was painted by Thomas Dove (1811 – 1886) and shows the sailing ship making sternway – drifting slowly backwards so that the anchor takes hold in the riverbed.

In the foreground is an early Liverpool steam tug which has helped the West Derby into the Mersey. The painting shows five crew members furling (rolling up) a sail. Four stand precariously on the yard hauling up the sail while the fifth stands below manoeuvring the sail upwards.

A Harrison tradition started in 1857 with the naming of Philosopher, a full-rigged ship. From then on most of the company’s ships were named after trades and professions.
Harrison’s first two steamers were the Gladiator and the Cognac, both built in 1860 The last sailing ship was sold in 1889 and the company began to develop its routes which from 1902 included South Africa.

The most famous Harrison ship was the Politician, wrecked in 1941, which inspired the classic 1949 Ealing comedy Whisky Galore. She foundered off the Isle of Eriskay with 50,000 cases of scotch on board.

The Harrison Line (now Charente Ltd) sold its shipping interests to P&O Nedlloyd in 2000.

Shortly afterwards the huge Harrison archive was donated to the Merseyside Maritime Museum archives for use by researchers. A total of 134 boxes of records covering the period 1860 to 1980 give a remarkable insight into the expansion and day-to-day operation of the line.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1 p&p UK).

Officers and men from HM Trawler Northern Wave at Wallasey Dock. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I recently appeared on the Liverpool KVFM community radio station hosted by local children and was asked why Liverpool suffered so many German air raids.

The answer was that the city was the main port for the convoys of merchant ships that brought vital supplies to Britain. Liverpool played a key part in the Battle of the Atlantic by serving as a base for escort ships defending the Second World War convoys.

Until mid-1941 only a small force of naval escort ships was based in Liverpool. A fleet of Fleetwood trawlers was established at Wallasey Dock, Birkenhead, for minesweeping and convoy escort work.

A group of destroyers was based in Gladstone Dock, Bootle. A few auxiliary merchant cruisers – fast, well-armed former liners taken over by the Navy – also sailed out of Liverpool on North Atlantic patrol duties.

From the summer of 1941, however, as more escort ships became available, the naval presence in port grew rapidly. Liverpool became one of the Royal Navy’s main escort bases for Atlantic convoys.

Eventually nearly 60 naval escort ships, excluding trawlers and other auxiliaries, sailed regularly from Liverpool. They ranged from destroyers and sloops to frigates and corvettes.

While Gladstone Dock supported by other docks provided berths for larger ships, many corvettes were based at Albert Dock. This is now the home of Merseyside Maritime Museum with its many convoy-linked displays in the Battle of the Atlantic gallery.

This 1945 photograph shows officers and men from HM Trawler Northern Wave at Wallasey Dock. Another image shows the armed merchant cruiser HMS Patroclus, formerly of the Blue Funnel Line, leaving the Mersey for escort duties in 1940.

Just five days later Patroclus was torpedoed and sunk by the notorious U99 submarine which sank 40 British and Allied merchant ships before being sunk by a British destroyer.

There is a photo of 19-year-old Nigerian seaman Douglas Memberre who was engaged as a steward’s boy on the Mattawin at Lagos in December 1941. Douglas survived after his ship was sunk by a U-boat in the North Atlantic in June 1942. He later returned to sea and eventually settled in Liverpool.

Merseyside became the main home of the Merchant Navy in wartime Britain. In 1939 Liverpool-owned and registered ships formed at least one-fifth of Britain’s entire ocean-going merchant fleet.

Many were taken over by the Government as armed merchant cruisers, troopships, hospital ships, assault vessels and other auxiliaries.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Wilson's cooking apparatus poster. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

I enjoy cooking and this weekend helped prepare a traditional Christmas meal for six at Lowlands, the Victorian mansion in Liverpool where I am a trustee.

You do not need a great deal of space to cook a good meal – I once went on a French submarine for breakfast and was amazed at the tiny galley. They dished up their own Gallic version of black puddings.

Good food is very important at sea both to seafarers and passengers and this is even more so over Christmas for those who find themselves away from traditional family gatherings.

In the past, sailing ship crews were unlikely to get much change from their everyday diet of water, bread, ship’s biscuits, salted meat, dried peas, rice, tea, coffee and sugar. The best they might expect at Christmas was a double ration of salt pork followed by plum duff (thick flour pudding).

It was not possible to have fresh food on board ocean-going ships before the advent of steam and refrigeration.

However, some innovative cooks might use the bounty of the sea or land they were passing at Christmas. There are reports of crews being dished up such delights as penguins, turtles and even porpoises.

Robert Louis Stevenson captured the atmosphere in his poem Christmas at Sea:

The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;
For it’s just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)
This day of our adversity was blessed Christmas morn,
And the house above the coastguard’s was the house where I was born.

The advent of large liners transformed catering at sea for passengers. British companies manufactured top-of-the-range equipment so that ships’ kitchens could produce top class meals.

On display at Merseyside Maritime Museum is eerie film footage taken on the wreck of the Empress of Ireland which sank off Quebec, Canada, in 1914 with the loss of more than 1,000 lives.

A huge cooking range looms out of the gloom, clearly embossed with the words Henry Wilson Co Ltd, Cornhill Works, Liverpool. This company supplied and fitted most of the kitchen, pantry and bakery equipment for such ships as the Titanic, Lusitania and Empress of Ireland and many other passenger liners. Its cooking ranges for Titanic and her sister Olympic were at the time possibly the largest ever made.

This contemporary advertisement from the summer 1911 issue of Shipbuilder shows one of the huge ranges.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Print depicting a 1850 government medical inspectors office. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

The more I learn about travel in the past, the more I am convinced that our ancestors were a much tougher lot than us. They may have had to put up with more disease and hunger but they certainly had great reserves of strength and stamina – just look how they spread across the globe.

Emigrating in the 19th century was a hard and demanding process with lots of hurdles to jump before you even went to sea.

People seeking new lives had to raise the money for the fares, plan the journey, pack up all their worldly possessions then set off into the unknown.

Once they arrived in Liverpool – probably the greatest emigrant port in world history with nine million people passing through between 1830 and 1930 – they were beset with a number of hazards.

Just arriving in the port could be a bewildering as well as exciting experience for emigrants, who came from all over northern Europe as well as Britain and Ireland. Many had never left their homes before and found the place both frightening and dangerous.

Tired and hungry from long journeys, many of the emigrants were accosted by rogues known as runners who worked for dishonest ticket sellers and lodging house owners.

Not everyone was bad and Liverpool’s economy benefitted hugely from the emigration trade. It generated business for many including shipowners, brokers’ agents, shopkeepers and lodging houses.

Emigrants could spend up to 10 days waiting to set off on a sailing ship because journeys were at the mercy of the weather. Most of them spent the time in squalid, overcrowded lodging houses. Even respectable establishments offered only boards to sleep on – and no blankets.

Insanitary accommodation was an ideal breeding ground for diseases such as cholera and typhoid. Conditions eventually improved in line with improvements to ships fuelled by competition between shipowners. By the late 19th century emigrants could stay in lodging houses owned or supervised by shipping companies.

Displays in the new emigrant gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum include this print depicting a government inspector’s office in 1850. Here passengers were checked for diseases prior to departure.

However, these were hardly rigorous examinations - as many as 3,000 people could be seen daily by just three doctors.

In the exhibition’s life-size Waterloo Road display there is a sign saying “Maurice Dalton. Emigrant Lodging House. Good Beds. 4d per night”. A weary emigrant enters the lodging house, confronted by a fierce-looking dog.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Crowds see off the Lucania. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

It is unlikely that we will ever see the likes of this ship again because she was very much a product of the age which inspired her.

I find it difficult to imagine what it would have been like travelling on such a vessel. The reactions of the passengers and crew can only be guessed when they first saw her amazing interiors.

The beautiful Cunard liner Lucania offered the most luxurious First Class facilities  available to Victorian travellers.

She and her sister Campania were the embodiments of late 19th century opulence. The high quality and attention to detail were sea-going reflections of the confident and prosperous late Victorian era and would never really be matched on any other ships.

Although the predominant style was Art Nouveau, the top-paying passengers could relax in surroundings reflecting other golden ages of the past. For example, the forward First Class entrance hall was in the French Renaissance style.

The Lucania’s top public rooms and en-suite upper deck staterooms were mostly heavily panelled in the finest woods with thick carpets and velvet curtains muffling intrusive sounds. The finest room was probably the Italian-style First Class dining saloon with a coffered ceiling rising three decks to a skylight.

There was a novelty in the Elizabethan First Class smoking room – the first open fireplace ever fitted on a passenger liner. This was truly a home-from-home on the ocean wave.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum there is brief and tantalising film footage from 1901 showing Lucania at Liverpool’s landing stage. Crowds in Victorian finery wave enthusiastically to friends and loved ones.

There is no foreboding of the sad end that would befall this popular vessel just eight years later in a nearby dock.

Both the Lucania and Campania had the largest triple-expansion engines fitted on Cunard ships.The two ships were partially financed by the British Admiralty, no doubt because of justifiable fears of impending war. Cunard also had to agree that the ships go on the naval reserve list to serve as armed merchant cruisers if necessary.

Lucania thankfully never went to war. Following the arrival of the super liners Lusitania and Mauretania, Cunard decided she was no longer needed. Laid up in Huskisson Dock, she partially sank after being badly damaged by fire on 14 August 1909.

Lucania was sold for scrap and the beautiful interiors that had escaped the flames were sold to the highest bidder.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I am particularly moved by this story which graphically demonstrates the caring nature of people placed in extreme danger. We cannot comprehend what the victims of this disaster went through - many died but the surviving children were tenderly cared for as they awaited rescue.

The sinking of the passenger liner City of Benares with the loss of 81 of 100 children on board brought home the ruthlessness of German U-boat submarines to newspaper readers and radio listeners all over the world.

The 11,081-ton Ellerman Line ship left Liverpool on 13 September 1940 as leading vessel on the19-strong convoy OB213. Ninety of the child passengers were part of a government scheme to evacuate them from heavily-bombed British cities to the safety of North America.

On 17 September the convoy’s naval escort ships had left to accompany another convoy. Some hours later the City of Benares was spotted and torpedoed by the German U48 submarine.
 
There were more than 400 people on board and 250, including the children, were lost. As a result, the evacuation of children by sea was scrapped.

The attack came during a period of the Second World War known to the U-boat commanders as the Happy Time. This came after the fall of France in June 1940 when the Germans were able to use the French Atlantic ports as bases.

This allowed U-boats to reach far out into the Atlantic and the Mediterranean for the first time. Germany soon began to wage unrestrained U-boat warfare around Britain’s coast.
 
Despite the continuing shortage of submarines and air support, the U-boat fleet commanded by Rear Admiral Karl Dönitz became increasingly successful. For the first time, small U-boat pack attacks were used with devastating effect against still largely unprotected British convoys.

On display at Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery is a contemporary newspaper report of the City of Benares disaster under the headline “Hitler’s Worst Crime”.

A photograph (pictured) shows five of six boy survivors who were rescued after spending eight days in a crowded open lifeboat. They are pictured being given piggy-back rides by rescuing sailors.

Another shows a heroine of the disaster, accomplished classical pianist and music teacher Mary Cornish who had volunteered as a children’s escort. She was awarded the MBE for looking after the six small boys during their horrific lifeboat journey.

Miss Cornish, from London, calmed the terrified children by telling them: “It’s all right, it’s only a torpedo.”

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The Wanderer. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I like this story because I have kept diaries and holiday logs like the boy who wrote about the Wanderer.

Personal accounts are of great importance as they help future generations understand earlier eras. I believe not many personal narratives will survive from today because few people record their experiences in any depth.

The 19th century left a rich legacy because so much was recorded in minute detail, from records of meetings and speeches to long business and private letters on every subject. Newspapers and magazines were crammed with articles skilfully crafted to answer every query.

A 14-year-old apprentice left a remarkable account of the maiden voyage of the Wanderer, one of the last sailing ships built in Liverpool – a beautiful vessel that brought bad luck in her wake.

The captain died in a raging storm on that first voyage in 1891 and just 16 years later – following numerous unsettling incidents - the Wanderer sank after being rammed by a German liner.

The boy’s name was H Watson and a section of his detailed log is on display alongside a fine 1: 100 scale model of the Wanderer in Merseyside Maritime Museum.

Watson gives details of the death of Captain George Currie and several other incidents which blighted the initial voyage.

Captain Currie died less than two days out of Liverpool heading for San Francisco:

“It was near midnight and the captain was on the poop (the raised stern deck) firing rockets as signals of distress. While thus engaged he was struck by the skysail yard (a wooden spar used to suspend a sail) and knocked down on deck insensible.

“The second mate was first to see him and he, along with the third mate and steward, got him into his room. He lay insensible until 4 o’clock on Monday morning and then expired.”

The Wanderer was a four-masted barque built by W H Potter & Sons at Queens Dock, Liverpool, At 309 ft long and displacing nearly 3,000 tons, Wanderer was said at that time to be the biggest sailing ship ever built.

John Masefield, a former seafarer who trained on HMS Conway in Liverpool, was fascinated by the ship. His first book after being appointed Poet Laureate in 1930 was called The Wanderer of Liverpool. Wanderer’s end came in1907 while she was at anchor in the River Elbe. She was sunk by the Gertrud Woermann in 24 ft of water but thankfully this time no-one died.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Presenter, Paul Martin, and I at the Albert Dock

My appearance on the popular BBC 2 afternoon auction show Flog It! was broadcast on Wednesday – recorded on the Albert Dock with presenter Paul Martin.

It was shot back in April when the crew spent the day at three separate locations. My main role was setting up and supervising the BBC’s visit. The six minutes of screen time took almost three hours, including setting up the camera and getting the angles right.

Our picture shows Paul and I with the Merseyside Maritime Museum in the background - the chap in the front holds an enormous collapsible reflector which aims to literally put us in the best possible light.

You can watch the full show on the BBC iplayer. It's available until 4.29pm this Wednesday (18 November).

There was a script of sorts but the director stressed this was only meant as a guide – obviously with takes from different angles there had to be continuity. Some wasn’t used, including a close-up of my hand affectionately patting one of the huge cast iron columns.

In between takes, Paul told me that he started out as a professional musician and became involved in Flog It! through his interest in antiques. I shared some memories of the TV shows I watched as a child. They were always live and anything could – and did – go wrong.

I vividly remember two major stars on separate occasions suffering the indignity of their false teeth slipping,  watched by millions of viewers.

I’m a big fan of the Flog It!, when I can see it, and also The Antiques Roadshow on which I appeared recently talking about some 1960s films discovered at Lowlands community centre, West Derby, Liverpool.

I last appeared on Flog It! about five years ago doing a three-minute tour of the Lady Lever Art Gallery with one of the programme’ specialists, Kate Bliss. We did it in our stocking feet because of the echoes from the polished floors.

Flog It! is an in-house BBC production and takes a lot of careful preparation to bring to the screen.

The rest of the National Museums Liverpool footage is scheduled to be screened at 3.45 pm on Monday 30 November, focusing on the stunning new Museum of Liverpool on the city’s waterfront.

The show visits our workshops where some of the museum’s fabulous exhibits are being conserved. Paul interviews land transport curator Sharon Brown in a carriage from the legendary Overhead Railway.

Also featured are the Lion steam locomotive, star of the Ealing comedy classic The Titfield Thunderbolt, and the first Ford Anglia off the assembly line at Ford’s new Halewood factory in 1963.

The feature ends at the Museum of Liverpool where operations manager Martin Hemmings takes Paul on a hard-hat tour of the magnificent building.

The sheet reads: The Liverpool Journal of Commerce is now enlarged and contains later and more comprehensive shipping and commercial news than any other paper. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

Sometimes you have to leave a place to find it again, if you know what I mean.

Liverpool once had many small shipping offices which did good business supplying goods and passengers to the many vessels using the port. Gradually they largely disappeared and are now a fading memory.

Some years ago I went to Las Palmas, the busy capital of Gran Canaria and a shopping mecca. I wandered off to the dock area one sunny day and stumbled across busy little shipping offices. They were like those I remembered in Liverpool with wide wooden counters and ornate metal grills.

In keeping with much of modern business, most ships today are owned by large multi-national companies. These enterprises are often involved in other ventures such as property development, finance or leisure facilities. They operate on a global scale whether by raising money, buying ships or engaging crews.

Many ships are registered in countries like Liberia or Panama where regulations are less stringent than in Britain. Until the 1950s, most ships using British ports were owned by British shipping companies with familiar names such as Blue Funnel.

Most of these concerns were founded in the mid-1800s and were often controlled by families with long maritime traditions. However, only a few independent shipping companies survive today.

On display in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery is a colourful spread from Liverpool’s Journal of Commerce of 1882 (pictured) showing flags and funnels of shipping companies that figured in the boom years of the port.

Britain, as an island nation, will continue to rely on merchant ships and seafarers long into the future. Most goods still go by sea and sea travel is growing in popularity.

A new exhibit in the gallery illustrates the impact of container ships in modern sea transport and trading. It is a 10 ft long model of the Liverpool Bay, built in 1971. The ship was built in Kiel, Germany, for the Ocean Steamship Group founded by renowned Liverpool shipowner Alfred Holt in 1865.

The 58,000 tonne Liverpool Bay was one of the new generation of ships designed to handle containers. She could carry more than 2,300 containers and was one of five sisters built at the same time, originally sailing to East Asia.

Huge ships are now a familiar sight on the Mersey but I remember vividly the impact of vessels like the Liverpool Bay arriving for the first time in the early 1970s.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Sarah Jane Parsons in Bridlington, 1950. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

Homesickness is like seasickness – you only feel better once you’ve stopped travelling. I have suffered from both and hope I never experience them again.

Longing for home gnaws away at the soul and is almost impossible to eradicate. I found that it was just as much the loss of my cultural roots as the absence of family and friends.

The logistics of moving huge numbers of emigrants through Liverpool involved everything from supplying cabins to the plates they ate off – it was very big business indeed.

Around nine million people moved abroad through Liverpool between 1830 and 1930 making it probably the greatest emigration port in world history. It was often very emotional for the passengers as they left their old familiar homes behind for new lives in unknown countries.

Many descendants of those emigrants still have strong emotional attachments to Liverpool because it was the last place their families saw before taking the leap into the dark.

However, some did not like their new lives and returned home. There were a number of reasons for this including work and financial issues but often it was simply homesickness.

The new emigration gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum focuses on many different aspects of this mass migration.

From the tail end of the era there is a fascinating model of the Blaco portable cabin from around 1920-30. They were made by F C Blackwell & Co of Crosby, Liverpool.

Portable cabins were used by shipping companies involved in emigration from the 19th century onwards. The detailed wood and metal demonstration model was used when shipping companies such as Cunard and Canadian Pacific employed Blaco cabins. They could be quickly installed to cater for individual needs of emigrants.

A wooden trunk was used by the Parsons family when they emigrated from Liverpool to the United States in 1906. Oliver Charles Parsons and his wife Sarah Jane were originally from Wakefield, Yorkshire.

After arriving in the USA they lived with their young family in Tennessee, Kentucky and Wyoming before returning to England in 1914.

Oliver died during the flu pandemic of 1918 and Sarah had to raise here five children alone. She kept the wood and metal trunk with its many memories until her death in 1965.

Photographs show Sarah at Bridlington in 1950 (pictured) and her daughter Minnie Chesters in 1954. Minnie was the couple’s eldest child and had emigrated with her parents.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Emigrants on the Guion Liner, Wisconsin. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

The nearest I’ve got to emigrating is briefly wanting to flee to the Isle of Man - in the summer it matches any other exotic island in the sun. It was a bright sunny day and I was taking a lunchtime stroll while covering a heavy-going criminal trial at Liverpool Crown Court. Balmy breezes drifted off the sea. Down at the Pier Head the Manx ferry was waiting with last boarders being called.

I was sorely tempted to dash up the gangplank but then common sense kicked in.

Emigration is a drastic step into the unknown and there are usually very good reasons for people wanting to make new lives in different countries

People emigrate for three main reasons – poverty, persecution and ambition. In the great movements of people around the globe in the 19th century, many were fleeing from hardship and poverty.

Emigration was also a way of fleeing political and religious persecution. Many Jewish people left east Europe for this reason.

However, a lot of people were simply attracted by the opportunities offered by life in such places as the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. The Gold Rush years in North America and Australia triggered mass emigration from Europe as prospectors sought wealth beyond their wildest dreams.

The new emigrants’ gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum looks at many different aspects of the trade that helped generate wealth in Liverpool for shipping companies, hotels and many other businesses.

A fascinating colour print shows the emigration of Russian Jews in 1891 (pictured). They are seen crowded on the deck of the Guion liner Wisconsin as she prepares to leave Liverpool.

Other exhibits are linked to the Gold Rush. A 19th century board game called A Race to the Gold Diggings has a box emblazoned with a colourful scene, tiny model sailing ships and a set of rules.

A contemporary poster advertises the Royal Charter emigrant steamer run by the Liverpool and Australian Navigation Company. Saloon passengers paid top prices of between 60 guineas (£63) and 75 guineas (£78.75) – around £4,500 in today’s money – for the voyage while Third Class paid between 16 and 20 guineas.

The Royal Charter met her cruel end in October 1859 when, heading for Liverpool, she was wrecked on the Anglesey coast with the loss of 498 lives. Exhibits include items from the wreck including a section of ornately-carved wood believed to be from the ship’s stern. There's more on the Royal Charter on our main site.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Model of RMS Mauretania

Throughout our lives chance can play a decisive part – perhaps I am tempting fate but I believe you can change the course of events. I do not subscribe to the theory that events follow a predestined path.

The following story, though, tests my credulity. It really looks as if this was all pre-ordained, not simply a German U-boat captain seeing his chance and ruthlessly taking it.

They were both hugely popular in Liverpool but one of the beautiful sisters was to have a tragic end while the other carried on until the close of her natural life.

The Lusitania and Mauretania were both built in 1907, the pride of the Cunard fleet. They were bigger, faster and more luxurious than any liners before them – but were soon eclipsed by other giants of the seas as the race to capture lucrative business became ever faster.

The two ships were the first express transatlantic liners fitted with steam turbines. Although more renowned for their luxurious elegance, they also carried many Third Class passengers emigrating to the USA on the Liverpool – New York route.

The 31,550-ton Lusitania had a successful career until she was torpedoed by a submarine in May 1915 while heading for Liverpool, with the loss of 1,201 lives.

There were plenty of famous people on board, many of whom died. The artistic world lost such talents as the playwright Charles Klein and the founder of Dublin Art Gallery Sir Hugh Lane.

The business world was devastated by the loss of leading moguls such as multi-millionaire Alfred Vanderbilt and Paul Crompton, a director of the Booth Steamship Co, who died along with his wife and six children.

Lusitania sank in just 18 minutes and there was a terrifying scramble for the boats, and many people were trapped below decks because of the speed of the sinking.

An etching by W L Wyllie in the new emigrants’ gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum shows the Lusitania in the River Mersey shortly before the First World War.

A 1:6000 scale model depicts the Mauretania at the Princes Landing Stage in 1911 (pictured). Among other ships on the river are tugs, a paddle steamer, ferry boats and fishing craft.

Mauretania captured the coveted Blue Riband (westerly) in September 1909 when she crossed the Atlantic at an average speed of 26.06 knots – a record which lasted 20 years.

She served as both a troopship and hospital ship during the First World War before resuming passenger services. Mauretania was scrapped in 1935.

There's more on the Lusitania, including items recovered from the ship, on our main site.

Maritime Archvies has also put together an information sheet on the Lusitania. There are also sheets on the great transatlantic liners and the Cunard Line. 

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

An Illustrated London News image showing a Cunard ship leaving Liverpool in 1881

My great aunt married as a very young teenager in Malta (this was 100 years ago).

The child bride later settled in Knotty Ash after giving birth to three children in quick succession nicknamed Boy, Girl and Baby.

Girl became a GI bride in the Second World War and emigrated to the US with her new husband, leaving Boy and Baby behind. Years passed and Girl wrote to say she was coming home to Liverpool for a visit.

Boy and Baby and their families went to meet her at the Princes Landing Stage but when she came down the gangplank no-one recognised her. Girl had totally changed her appearance – and spoke with a strong American accent.

It is many people’s dream in the crowded cities of Europe to escape to the wide-open spaces of North America and enjoy a much-improved standard of living.

By the early 19th century Liverpool was well-placed to cater for the huge growth of the emigration trade to the United States and Canada.

As a result, Liverpool became Britain’s most important international passenger port for more than a century. During the period 1830 -1930 Liverpool was probably the greatest emigration port in world history, handling a stunning nine million passengers from as far away as Russia.

It was not until 1927, when transatlantic emigration was in decline, that Southampton finally surpassed Liverpool for international passenger traffic.

Liverpool-based shipping companies ran regular passenger services to every continent until the 1960s.

There are many displays at Merseyside Maritime Museum focusing on Liverpool’s passenger ships. An Illustrated London News image (pictured) depicts a Cunard ship leaving Liverpool in 1881. A photograph shows either the Cunard liner Carmania (or her sister Caronia) at the Princes Landing Stage on 2 June 1923.

Between 1800 and the1920s the busiest ocean travel route in the world was between the British Isles and North America.

From 1850 many emigrants also headed for Australia and other British colonies around the world. From 1900 more and more people became tourists and travelled the seas for pleasure rather than necessity.

In recent years, business and holidaymaking have been the main reasons for travel. A map shows the sea routes taken by British migrants between 1815 and 1930.

As a child in I remember people queuing up at New Zealand House in Liverpool for their £10 tickets to new lives. My friends, who lived next-door-but-one to me, took this huge step in 1958 and I remember everybody waving them off as the headed for Southampton.

Our Maritime Archives department has produced an information sheet for people wanting to learn more about Emigration to USA and Canada. The sheet gives a brief history of the route, information on searching for people who travelled, details of the shipping companies involved and the records we hold on those firms.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

My postcard of the Republic

I sometimes go to postcard fairs and join the throngs of people leafing through piles of illustrated epistles mailed long ago with every sort of message and greeting. Each stall has cards sorted into themes and one of my favourites is ships and shipping. Recently I bought this card showing the Republic. I added it to my collection simply because I liked it, only later discovering the unique role this vessel once played.

One hundred years ago radio technology pioneered by Italian inventor Guglielmo Marconi and others became reality in saving lives at sea.

Two significant centenaries are being celebrated in 2009 – the first radio sea rescue and the award of the Nobel Prize in Physics to Marconi and Karl Ferdinand Braun for their contributions to the development of wireless telegraphy.

In the early hours of 23 January 1909 the 15,378-ton passenger liner Republic, owned by the Liverpool-based White Star Line, was steaming from New York to the Mediterranean with 742 passengers and crew. She entered thick fog off Nantucket Island, Massachusetts, and sounded her whistle 

Suddenly another whistle was heard directly in front of the ship. Republic’s engines were quickly thrown into reverse and her helm swung hard-a-port but then a ship’s bow loomed out of the fog and sliced into the Republic amidships.

As water poured into the disabled Republic’s engine and boiler rooms, radio operator Jack Binns wired his new Marconi set with backup batteries and sent out a distress signal using Morse Code – CQD, later replaced in popularity by SOS.

CQD is understood by wireless operators to mean All Stations: Distress (not Come Quick, Danger as is often thought).

The call was relayed to all ships in the area but the first ship on the scene was the Lloyd Italiano liner Florida – the ship that had crashed into the Republic. Passengers were transferred to the Florida, which was in no danger of sinking. Attempts by the captain and some crew members to save the Republic failed and she sank the day after the collision.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress gallery there are many Titanic-linked exhibits including the 20 ft long original builder’s model used to publicise the ship.

Both CQD and SOS were used by wireless operator Jack Phillips as the ship went down but it is a popular myth that this was the first time SOS was used. Phillips, who did not survive, and junior operator Harold Bride, who did, were employed by the Marconi International Marine Communication Company.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Stephen with the photo of Lizzie Christian

We would drive around Liverpool in a mini chasing news – two six footers crammed in the tiny car.

Stephen Shakeshaft was already an established staff photographer at the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo in Victoria Street when I joined as a news reporter in April 1970.

Even as a young man he was very distinguished-looking, tall with an aristocratic nose and an excellent head of hair (which he still has). Stephen was also very funny ha-ha, veering between droll comments and biting sarcasm. We got on well and often traded insults.

It was obvious that he was a rising star among some other very talented people in the office including John Sergeant, Tony Wilson and Roger Alton.

This is not to mention others making their mark such as Phil Key and a youthful, pipe-smoking Joe Riley. I worked with them all until September 1973 when I joined the Press Association in Fleet Street.

Stephen sometimes gave the impression of being rather cautious and methodical. This was deceptive as I could see he was always looking out for a good picture.

I have never seen him at a loss or flustered in any way. I think he may have sometimes regarded his day-to-day work as unchallenging – such things as head-the-ball shots at soccer matches, people scurrying out of the criminal courts or competition winners.

Stephen always poked behind the scenes for gold and about 70 of these largely hidden treasures are on view in his new exhibition Stephen Shakeshaft: Liverpool People at the National Conservation Centre until 24 January 2010.

I find this show totally and utterly fascinating. These brilliant studies capture a Liverpool going through great change from the 1960s onwards.

This is the third of Stephen’s exhibitions I have helped to publicise. I think it is the best because it demonstrates his great ability to capture the personalities of ordinary people.

He has also recorded some of the city streets as they were before pedestrianisation, CCTV, pelican crossings and hideous steel shutters.

This is a world before superstores sucked the life out of our corner shops and closed local pubs, where most people got around on shanks’s pony or took public transport.

To me the pictures evoke a time when people enjoyed mucking in together and laughing at the experience.

I also remember some of the people in the pictures. One of my favourites is this famous shot of greengrocer Lizzie Christian at her city centre barrow (shown). Mrs Christian always had a ready smile for everyone, lighting up the street around her.

Other pictures I like include a crowded wash house which was a great place for exchanging news, Prime Minister Harold Wilson at a packed public meeting and two dockers with a traditional wooden handcart.

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

I met the late Lord Sefton (1898 – 1972) several times walking around his country estate with his dogs in West Derby when I was a child out with my father. The 7th Earl was the last of the mighty Molyneux family who dominated Liverpool for centuries until merchants successfully challenged their power. After that they more or less retreated to their estates. I am involved in preserving their memory on the committee of the Friends of Croxteth Hall and Country Park supporting Liverpool’s own stately home.

Liverpool remained virtually the same size for hundreds of years – seven streets dominated by its medieval castle. For the first time the town started to grow quickly – and it was all down to ships bringing trade and prosperity in their wake. After the Civil War, when Charles I lost his crown and his head, big changes started happening in the growing port. The townspeople rebuilt their homes and their livelihoods while incoming entrepreneurs encouraged the expansion of trade.

A small group of wealthy merchants became the most important citizens and started to dominate the borough, setting a pattern that would continue into modern times. They believed Liverpool’s future success depended on its political freedom. The merchants resisted the influence of the nobility and landed gentry with few interests in trade. They refused to elect the local landowner Sir Edward Moore as either Mayor or the town’s MP in 1660. In 1668 they challenged Viscount Molyneux’s rights to land close to Liverpool. Their victory over him in 1672 gave the borough a large rental income.

In order to raise the £12,000 (£1.4 million today) needed to build the first dock in 1715, the merchants who controlled Liverpool Corporation mortgaged the whole town.

In 1799 alone Liverpool ships transported more than 45,000 enslaved Africans across the Atlantic. Between 1801 and 1901 Liverpool’s population mushroomed from 77,693 to 685,000 – an increase of almost 800%. An 1847 print (pictured) shows St George’s and Albert Docks on the busy waterfront as Liverpool boomed.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Staff Captain james Clarke Anderson. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

Some years ago I took my father to the Old Head of Kinsale in Ireland where we stayed in a remote hotel with superb views over the Irish Sea. Underneath the choppy, sunlit waters lay the twisted wreck of the Lusitania. Dad felt particularly sad because one of his earliest memories was seeing a mob attack a German baker’s shop in Liverpool after the sinking.

The destruction of the Cunard luxury liner by a German U-boat submarine sent shock waves around the world.

The disaster was one of the most horrific incidents at sea during the First World War (1914 – 18) and came as the ship was heading for Liverpool, a port where she was much-loved.

She was sent to the bottom on a bright sunny day. Early that year the German government declared that all Allied ships would be in danger of attack in British waters. Lusitania sailed from New York on 1 May 1915 with 1,962 people of board.

At 2.10 pm on 7 May the liner was struck by a torpedo fired by U-20. It blew a massive hole in Lusitania’s side and she sank in less than 20 minutes with the loss of 1,201 lives.

The sinking of this unarmed passenger ship caused international outrage and there were riots in Liverpool, London and other cities around the world.

The German government claimed that Lusitania was carrying military supplies and there is some evidence to support this. However, British and American inquiries later declared the sinking to be unlawful.

This event devastated the tightly-knit dockland communities in north Liverpool where most of Lusitania’s crew lived. A total of 404 crew members died, including many Liverpool Irish seamen.

A photo on display (pictured) shows Staff Captain James Clarke Anderson, the most senior Lusitania officer to die in the sinking. His body was returned to Liverpool and buried in Longmoor Lane Cemetery, Fazakerley.

The fascinating exhibition Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress at Merseyside Maritime Museum looks at the tragedy. There are a number of items from the ship with stories behind them

There is a lifebuoy from the Lusitania – a rare survivor of the sinking.

Captain William Turner, from Crosby, survived after struggling for three hours in the sea. The British government tried to blame him for loss of his ship but he was cleared of any wrong-doing by the official inquiry. A picture on display shows him on deck.

The Maritime Archives and Library also hold a lot of relevant material about the Lusitania. You can read more online with information sheet number 42: RMS Lusitania.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Image courtest Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I always relish the anticipation of travelling – it is enjoyable to plan your journey and visualise what you will see and do. It is wonderful that many people can now travel relatively cheaply for pleasure. Once people stayed put and only journeyed out of absolute necessity.

In the early days of mass emigration many travellers probably thought of their approaching voyages with dread. It was often an exhausting ordeal just getting to your embarkation port and successfully boarding a ship.

Emigration was boosted by steamship development and by the 1870s most emigrants travelled this way rather than by sail. Steam power at sea – like the railways on land – made journeys quicker and also led to regular reliable timetable services. No longer did passengers have to cope with many delays mostly caused by bad weather.

In the second half of the 19th century, shipping companies such as White Star, Cunard, Allan, Inman, Guion and National ran regular services out of Liverpool. They took trade from the American sailing packet services, bringing money and business to the port. Importantly for the benefit of emigrants, they brought competition. Fares and charges were driven down as the shipping companies fought to attract business.

Publicity was often focused on First Class as the liners developed and became more luxurious. However, emigrant passengers provided the bread-and-butter profits for the shipping companies.

In the winter some rooms were now heated, unheard of in the days of wooden sailing ships where accommodation was invariably cold and wet.

On shore, appalling conditions experienced by emigrants gave cause for concern and moves were made to relieve their plight.

In the new emigrants’ gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum there is a contemporary print of a Government-funded emigration depot (pictured). It was opened in Birkenhead in 1852 for British emigrants heading for Australia. The depot provided meals, warm shelter and safety until its closure in 1868 when general conditions for emigrants had improved.

The accommodation which the depot offered helped to increase sailings from Liverpool and shipowners competed for lucrative Government contracts. In the depot you had to behave and follow the rules.

Liverpool-based Thomas Ismay’s White Star Line (Oceanic Steam Navigation Company) become one of the major transatlantic emigration operators which later built the Titanic.

On display are several items which saw daily use on emigrant ships. There are large coffee and tea pots embossed with the famous White Star flag. A soup ladle was made for the Guion Line in 1871.

Our Maritime Archives and Library have information on firms involved in emigration. There's more on the experiences of emigrants in our 'Leaving from Liverpool' feature.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

A hogshead barrel at Merseyside Maritime Museum. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

The Beatles’ song 'Being for the benefit of Mr Kite' is particularly evocative for me because of the seaside fairground memories it conjures up. I think the organ sounds create images of garish 1950s roundabouts and hot dog stands. John Lennon’s words were inspired by a 19th century poster but the musical arrangement is pure New Brighton.

John would have visited Liverpool’s own seaside resort on a ferry across the Mersey where his senses would have been bombarded with the sights, sounds and smells of the fairground surrounding the Tower Ballroom.

The Beatles sang about Mr Kite challenging the world with his act featuring acrobats, the Hendersons, leaping through “a hogshead of real fire”.

A tobacco hogshead on display at Merseyside Maritime Museum (pictured) makes you appreciate the bravery of the Hendersons.

This huge round barrel is more than four feet tall and about the same diameter. It was found in the Albert Dock warehouses – now housing the museum – where tobacco was stored on arrival (there's more on the history of the dock and it's warehouses on our main site).

Although today most goods within Britain travel by road and rail, ships carry some cargoes between British ports. In particular, it can be more convenient and profitable to use ships for goods carried in large quantities such as petrol and aviation fuel.

Two hundred years ago, before proper roads and railways, it was often easier and cheaper to carry goods by sea or on rivers and canals.

There are exhibition models of coastal vessels in the museum’s Life at Sea gallery. The three-masted Liberty and Property was built in Whitby in 1752.

One of the largest coastal trades in the 1700s and 1800s was carrying coals from Newcastle and other ports in the north east of England to London. The expression “Carrying coals to Newcastle” means a pointless action. There was a huge demand for coal in London and south east England, mainly as a household fuel.

A modern coastal vessel is the Mersey Fisher which was added to the fleet of James Fisher & Co in 1998. She carries liquid petrochemicals to ports in the UK and north west Europe. The model was commissioned with the generous support of the Sir John Fisher Foundation as a reminder of the firm’s long association with the port of Liverpool.

Among the museum’s ship collection housed on the Historic Quaysides is the De Wadden, an auxiliary schooner based in Arklow, Eire, from 1921 to 1961. She was the last sailing ship to trade in and out of the Mersey.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Cpt Henry Saalmans OBE. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

I prefer the cold to the heat – at least you can usually escape into the warmth when temperatures plunge. It is more difficult to get away from excessive heat. However, those who were on the Arctic convoys in the Second World War endured the dual hardships of battling both the enemy and the cold.

More than 100 Allied merchant ships on Arctic Ocean convoys were sent to the bottom by the Germans during a four-year period. Between June 1941 and May 1945 one in every 20 Allied ships (a total of 104) sailing to and from north Russia was sunk.

These figures are comparable with the worst annual sinking rates for 1942 for the much more numerous North Atlantic convoys during the war. The cost of the Russian convoys to the Royal Navy was also high. Among the 22 ships it lost were the cruisers Edinburgh and Trinidad. The German navy lost four surface warships and 31 U-boat submarines.

On both sides casualty rates among crews were often even higher than in the Atlantic due to the bitterly cold Arctic weather. In mid-September 1942 the strongly-protected convoy PQ18 lost one third of its merchant ships (13 out of 39) to German aircraft and U-boats.

Just two months earlier the disastrous PQ17 had lost two-thirds (24 out of 35). The main damage to both convoys had been caused by aircraft. The switching of many of these aircraft to other theatres of war led to much lower losses on later Arctic convoys.

On display in the Battle of the Atlantic gallery in Merseyside Maritime Museum is a picture showing a convoy PQ18 ammunition ship exploding after being attacked by aircraft.

There are wartime mementos of Liverpool-born Captain Henry Saalmans OBE (pictured). He was master of the 3,000-ton Empire Bard which sailed in convoy to Russia in March 1942.

After surviving heavy air attacks, Empire Bard arrived at Murmansk on 6 May. For the next 10 months, in the absence of cargo-handling equipment on shore, she used her own deck cranes to help Allied merchant ships to unload their cargoes.

By the end of her stay in Murmansk, despite being damaged several times by air attacks, she had handled a mammoth 27,000 tons of war supplies for Russia. Captain Saalmans was awarded the Order of the British Empire and the Lloyd’s War medal for his efforts.

Exhibits include these medals along with his sheepskin coat lining worn on Arctic convoys.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Liverpool Customs House. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

Great vanished buildings always hold a certain mystique and the Liverpool Custom House was one I would have loved to explore.

There are many pictures of the exterior of this huge H-shaped structure crowned with a dome but I have yet to see any of the interior. In its prime this was one of the busiest places in the port with people beavering away and rushing hither and thither.

The Custom House was damaged in the May 1941 Blitz and later demolished – although many believe it could have been saved.

On display in the new Seized: Revenue & Customs Uncovered gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum there is a large contemporary wooden model of the Custom House, built in 1837 from a design by John Foster Junior (circa 1787 - 1846).

Trade brings profits and those who do business through ports have to pay the appropriate duties and taxes on many items that are imported.

From the 1700s Britain’s trade with the rest of the world grew hugely. It fell to Customs officers to control it and protect the revenue so that the Government got its share.

On the quaysides and in the warehouses of Liverpool and every other port, amid the hustle and bustle of unloading ships and moving cargoes, the Customs officers went about their daily business.

Each man had a special job. For example, front line officers known as tide waiters met each incoming vessel and stayed with it until the cargo was unloaded. Some weighed and measured cargoes while others toiled at paper work in the Custom House.

Custom Houses were once the hub of every port. They were run by the comptroller who had immense power. He could prevent ships from unloading their cargoes or leaving port.

The Long Room was the heart of his domain where captains arrived from months at sea to present their paperwork to bench officers who made out a warrant and copied out six extracts. These were then sent to six different colleagues elsewhere in the building.

On display is a fascinating aerial view of the Custom House taken around 1935 (pictured). It shows the Overhead Railway station outside the entrance so that Customs officers on foot had fast and easy access to all the Liverpool docks.

An enamelled notice from about 1909 declares: “The Commissioners of His Majesty’s Customs and Excise hereby give notice that spitting is strictly prohibited in all parts of this building. By order.”

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The Mauretania II about to launch

My ancestor Henry Guy was one of many Liverpool shipwrights in 18th century Liverpool where life was often short and hard. Henry, of Peters Alley, died in 1763 aged 35, just six weeks after his wife Jane. They had been married for 13 years.

I think it is very difficult for us to imagine how hard life could be for people of those days. The poor struggled to survive – the rich may have had more comfortable lives but mortality was high among all sections of the community.

With so much activity on the docks in the 19th century shipbuilding, repair and supply became important local industries.

We have recently seen the resurgence of the former Cammell Laird’s yard in Birkenhead securing big Royal Navy contracts for ship repairs and renovations.

Until the 1860s wooden sailing ships and clippers were built in Liverpool’s Kings and Brunswick Docks. From this time onwards, the Mersey Dock and Harbour Board took measures to concentrate shipbuilding around Birkenhead.

Liverpool concentrated on repairing ships between voyages and this employed up to 20,000 people. Thousands more worked to supply the many items necessary for successful voyages – from ropes, flags and sails to brass fittings, telegraphs, tableware and kitchen equipment.

Laird’s yard in Birkenhead dominated shipbuilding on Merseyside by 1900. It built many great warships and liners including Cunard’s Mauretania II in 1939 (you can zoom into a photo of the launch on our main site) and Union Castle Line’s Windsor Castle (1955).

On display at the Magical History Tour exhibition in Merseyside Maritime Museum is a sailmaker’s tool kit in use with the Alexandra Towing Company until 1984.

It includes:

• Needles of various sizes for different jobs.
• Cord and twine for sewing seams and bolt ropes. (Bolt ropes are the ropes around the edges of awnings and sails.)
• Beeswax to waterproof the twine, making it easier to use when sewing.

The tool kit was stored in its own bag which was custom-made from sail canvas.

A Liverpool Shipbuilding Co brass tally dates from 1855. Nearly all shipbuilding and repair work was casual and workers were taken on only as required. However, some companies would give favoured workers such tallies so they could get work more frequently.

The Liverpool Shipbuilding Co (formerly Jones, Quiggin & Co) was one of dozens of companies in mid-19th century Liverpool building wooden ships.

There is a 1935 advertisement for J W Pickering & Sons, ship repairers. This was one of many small companies operating from graving docks scattered across Liverpool’s dock estate.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

I have always been interested in the Anglo Saxons who dominated England before the coming of the Normans and it’s astonishing how long they ruled. The great Anglo Saxon historian Bede said that his people were descended from three Germanic tribes – the Angles, Saxons and Jutes.They migrated from northern Germany and Scandinavia from the 5th century onwards, seeking better lives in the fertile lands of England. They subdued the native people, the Celts.

At one time it was thought that the Celts literally fled to the hills and moors to form distinct Welsh, Scottish and Cornish peoples. However, most historians now agree that the native Celts were assimilated into the new Anglo Saxon kingdoms from 400 onwards. These lasted around 600 years until William of Normandy invaded England and defeated the last Anglo Saxon king, Harold II, at the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

Anglo Saxon enthusiasts Linda and Sonnie Raee

This Sunday 19 July 2009 from 11am to 4pm visitors have a chance to meet the nearest you will get to a real Anglo Saxon, at an exciting free event called 'Clues from the Grave' at World Museum Liverpool. Part of the Festival of British Archaeology, it features a group of Anglo-Saxons carrying out a burial in the museum’s Weston Discovery Centre.

You can find out what the clues in the grave tell us about the lives of people who lived in England more than 1,000 years ago. Visitors can also discover how these ancient peoples used leeches, what they ate, their clothes, weapons and much more.

I met two of the Anglo Saxon enthusiasts when we did a media photo opportunity to promote the event. Linda and Sonnie Raee, of Wallasey, are pictured at the museum entrance. They are wearing authentic Anglo-Saxon style clothes and carrying weapons essential in those far-off days. Sonnie says: “Clues from the Grave gives an insight into the world of the Anglo Saxons. Visitors get a sense of what it was like to live in a very different England.”

My ancestors probably came over with William the Conqueror and I wonder what they made of their new home – the most beautiful islands on earth. I love the names of those long-gone Anglo Saxon kings – Egbert, Aethelwulf, Ethelred (the Unready) and Eadwig along with the more familiar Alfred, Edward, Edmund and Harold. It is a joy to occasionally come across people with ancient names in our own time.

SS America. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

I’m a great admirer of beautiful ships but in the tough realm of trading it also helps to be practical and economical.

In the shipping world, like any other commercial enterprise, you have to be competitive – there is no sentiment in business and profits literally keep ships afloat.

The steamship America was a stunningly lovely ship, as a 1:48 scale model in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s new emigrant gallery clearly demonstrates.

This is my favourite ship model in the museum, displaying the graceful lines of the America to perfection. Her two black and white funnels are finely proportioned and tiny detailing such as individual deck planking adds an air of reality. The remarkably-detailed figurehead shows a woman in flowing white robes.

Perhaps the America was too good for the work she had to carry out – a transatlantic passenger liner with the Liverpool shipping company, National Line. The 5,528-ton America was built in 1884 for National by J and G Thomson of Clydebank. Her owners hoped she would be faster than any of her rivals in the highly-competitive north Atlantic passenger trade. The 442 ft long liner was powered by 9,000 hp engines and could travel at 18 knots.

On her first voyage between New York and Liverpool she made a record crossing of six days, 14 hours and 18 minutes. As is so often the case, her moment of glory was soon eclipsed and the record was beaten by other vessels on the route.

America was an elegant ship looking like a very large steam yacht. However, her large coal consumption and high fares made her too expensive for the north Atlantic with its cut-throat competitiveness.

Just three years after being built the America was sold to the Italian Government, renamed Trinacria and was used by the Italian Navy. She was scrapped in 1925. There is more on the SS America on our main website.

Another model of a J and G Thomson ship is on the gallery - the Friesland (more on that ship on our main site). However, she was a profitable ship that saw many years of service on the north Atlantic. Friesland was built in 1889 for the Red Star Line’s Antwerp to New York passenger trade which she served until 1903.

Red Star was eventually absorbed into American financier J Pierpont Morgan’s International Mercantile Marine along with White Star, Dominion, Leyland and Atlantic Transport Co shipping lines.

The International Mercantile Marine was set up in an attempt to monopolise the North Atlantic shipping trades.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Type VII German u boat. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I like to think that the courtesies of life can be observed in even the most challenging situations so this particular story is very appealing to me. A pair of threadbare khaki trousers stand testimony to a compassionate wartime gesture after a German U-boat submarine sank a British ship.

On display in the Battle of the Atlantic gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum, the overall trousers belonged to a crew member on U-41.

They were given to James Kearon, of Arklow, Eire, a crew member of the steamship Darino of Liverpool after she was sunk off Spain in November 1939. He was one of 11 survivors who were taken on board the U-boat for three days before being transferred to an Italian ship bound for England.

Sadly, such acts of humanity by captains were forbidden by U-boat command later in the war.

In the late 1930s Karl Donitz, officer commanding U-boats, had estimated that Germany would need at least 300 U-boats in the event of war with Britain. In September 1939, however, Germany had just 57 subs with less than half having the range to operate in the Atlantic.

Until early 1945 all the German U-boats were based on First World War designs. By this time more than half (704) were of the Type VII (pictured) or its variants, the largest class of warships ever built in numerical terms.

Together with the larger Type IX, the Type VII Atlantic boats spearheaded Germany’s war at sea. The diesel–electric type VII was designed as a submersible, ocean-going torpedo boat.

In its original form it was only some 218 ft long with a displacement of 745 tons. This small size made it manoeuvrable and difficult to locate.

The Type VII had a fast surface speed of 16 – 17 knots, submerging in just 30 seconds. Its average range was more than 4,000 miles making it well-suited to ocean-going operations. Until mid-1943 these subs enjoyed remarkable successes in the Atlantic campaign.

Up to June 1940, U-boat operations in the Atlantic were limited because no more than 10 boats were usually available at any one time. Faulty torpedoes and the withdrawal of some boats to support operations in Norway were other handicaps.

German High Command, fearing American entry into the war, also placed strict limits on U-boat activities. Despite this, U-boats sank more than 200 British, Allied and neutral ships in the Atlantic during this period at the rate of 22 per month.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

My perfect cup of tea is made from loose leaves spooned carefully into a warm teapot before being drenched with water just off the boil. I’m interested in all aspects of the quest to make the perfect brew. This is mission impossible because what makes a great cuppa is very subjective. My grandmother hated weak tea, calling it maiden’s water.

Entrepreneur Robert Crawford Johnson discovered how to avoid spilling your tea while on board ship – he invented a square teapot that would not tip over. For years designers had wracked their brains to create the ideal teapot for sea travel. What was needed was one that didn’t drip the golden nectar when poured, would not overturn in rough weather and could be easily stored without chipping the spout. Rather than change the whole design, other designers concentrated on one of these defects in their endeavours.By creating a square teapot with the spout neatly tucked away in a corner, Johnson solved all the problems at once.

He registered his Cube Teapot in 1917 but it was not put into production until 1920. Some other companies decided to muscle in on Johnson’s brainchild by producing similar pots which were not under licence. Johnson hit back by forming Cube Teapots Ltd in 1925 under an Accept No Imitations marketing banner. Sales stunts included a “living window display” featuring a lady pouring the perfect cup of tea from a Cube Teapot.

Square teapots were adopted by major shipping companies such as Cunard. There are several featured in displays at Merseyside Maritime Museum – they were used on the Queen Mary and earlier Cunard ships. Plant’s Bird of Paradise pattern dates from the 1920s. It was mixed freely with the Pink Rose pattern (pictured) on ships such as the Aquitania, Mauretania and Ausonia II.The designs were still in use on the Queen Elizabeth 2 at late as 1968 although the pattern and manufacturers changed over the years.

The Queen Mary was the first British liner to embrace the Art Deco style embodied in ivory-coloured tableware with touches of golden brown, grey and black. Jewish passengers were catered for with a kosher kitchen and separate crockery. A kosher coffee cup and saucer are inscribed “meat” in English and Hebrew.

In the Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress gallery can be seen a First Class china coffee cup and saucer of the same design used on Titanic.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Image courtesy of the Liverpool Daily Post & Echo.

The first class dining room on the Carmania. Image courtesy of Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I believe the attraction of sea travel will continue to grow because there is one priceless thing that crossing the waves gives you – time. Once on board ship you are largely cut off from the rest of the world which to me is great news. There are no phones ringing, texts or e-mails demanding responses or friends and relatives calling.

I think it is pointless to answer mobiles or emails when travelling – nothing is so urgent that it can’t wait until the end of the voyage.
 
Shipping companies involved in the emigrant trade, such as Cunard and White Star, made their biggest profits from large numbers of steerage or third class passengers who were packed into dormitories.

The luxury first class side of the business was often seen as a marketing tool – glamorous, wealthy passengers gave ships such as Titanic and Lusitania a glittering aura which persists to this day.

People seeking a new life made up the bulk of passengers on liners 100 years ago. Others were travelling on business – very few people travelled for pleasure, as is the case now. The reason was that the liners, in the days before cheap air travel, were the only way large numbers of people could get overseas.

In the heyday of emigration by sea, in the years up to the First World War, even third class passengers enjoyed a relatively relaxing crossing. They had comfortable bunks, decent washing facilities and excellent wholesome food.

However, travel was a very different experience for wealthy people who were emigrating or moving to British territories overseas either for business reasons or in service of the Crown.

Before boarding ship, their domestic servants packed and organised the luggage, leaving their employers to enjoy the attractions of Liverpool. Once on board, rich people travelled in style.

Exhibits in the new emigrants’ gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum include a photo of the first class dining room on the Cunard liner Carmania about 1913 (pictured here).

The opulent surroundings include potted palms, starched white damask napkins neatly arranged in place settings and beautiful display cabinets – all under ornate plaster ceilings supported by fluted columns.

On display is the ultimate luxury accessory – a pair of grape scissors used on Allan Line ships about 1900. Elegant ladies and gentlemen did not pull grapes out of the bunch as the juice might squirt over their gloves, gowns or shirts. Instead, they neatly snipped the stalks then languidly nibbled the fruit.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

'Smugglers unloading barrels in a rocky cove entrance' by Thomas Luny

Two of my ancestors, John Guy (1731 – 1792) and his younger brother Peter (1736 – 1791), were Customs officers in Liverpool during a period of great growth in the port.

They were both tide waiters who would meet incoming vessels arriving on the high tide and make sure they tied up at the right place on the quayside. Tide waiters needed to ensure that the cargo was not unloaded out of sight of three other officials – the Customs controller, collector and surveyor. 

The brothers also spent periods as mariners. Peter was Liverpool’s only letter carrier (postman) about 1775 when the people of Liverpool applied to the Post Office for more postmen to be appointed. However, the application was rejected because only one was allowed in any town in England.

Only two years earlier Liverpool street names were marked and the houses numbered, making Peter’s life a lot easier.

Since the days when tobacco and brandy were landed on remote beaches from sailing ships, beating smugglers at their own game has taken ingenuity and daring. Watching what is going on at our ports, airports and other access points is where much of the day-to-day work lies.

Front line officers check containers, vehicles, ships and aircraft – sometimes examining their contents. They are on constant lookout for suspicious-looking passengers and goods, often acting on information received from law-enforcement agencies abroad. Until the 1960s this was a male-dominated world. It’s only recently that female officers have joined the front line.

These days some tasks once undertaken by Revenue & Customs are carried out by the Border and Immigration Agency.

There are fascinating displays in Seized: Revenue & Customs Uncovered, the gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum.

There is a tuck stick disguised as a walking stick. Manufactured by the Dring and Fage instrument company of London in the late 19th century, it was used by Customs officers to detect contraband. It would be used to probe bundled products such as tea and cotton.

An oil painting, Smugglers Unloading Barrels in a Rocky Cove Entrance by Thomas Luny (pictured), captures the atmosphere of covert contraband operations.

There are examples of seals used by officials. A waterguard’s button seal was used to stamp red wax seals on taxed goods after inspection after 50 years ago. There is an official reference manual from the same period.

A 1960s Customs officer’s cap shows a portcullis topped by a crown, the symbol of Customs until 2005 when the new Revenue & Customs service was created.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

I can see it now – the strange carving of a man’s head on a stout wooden pole half hidden in the shady garden. It was one of the curiosities brought back by the man whose family lived at the house. He was a sea captain who did not return from the Second World War.

The head and pole looked Polynesian, hewn from the wood of a tropical forest before ending up in a Liverpool garden. The face would stare at me as I swung languidly in the hammock slung between the pole and a tree – an indelible childhood memory.

Before 1914, accommodation on British merchant ships was very primitive. Crews usually lived together in cramped quarters with basic washing, eating and toilet facilities. Even the cabins occupied by the captain and other senior officers were usually very small and basic.

Living conditions didn’t greatly improve until the 1950s and 60s when old steam ships were replaced by motor ships. On today’s ships crews have many facilities including comfortably-furnished cabins, excellent food and sporting and leisure amenities.

Displays at Merseyside Maritime Museum include a seaman’s hammock dating from about 1900. Hammocks were used for hundreds of years before bunks and beds became common. Seafarers would sling their hammocks in some convenient place and, when not in use, they could be easily stowed away. If a sailor died, his body was stitched up in his hammock and buried at sea. Hammocks were used on both Merchant and Royal Navy ships until the 1950s

A seaman’s horsehair mattress from the 1920s was used on the steam coaster, Enid. Wooden bunks were fixed to the sides of fo’c’sle (forecastle) below decks in the ship’s bow (front). Mattresses were placed on the bunks. They were known as “donkey’s breakfasts” because they were traditionally filled with straw.

1848 illustration of the fo'c'sle of a sailing ship.

An 1848 drawing (pictured) shows the basic conditions in the fo’c’sle of a sailing ship.  It graphically illustrates the damp, claustrophobic conditions. Two seafarers are seen trying to relax after a makeshift meal as the ship lurches heavily in rough seas.

Crews had to supply their own bedding, towels, soap, a plate, mug, knife and fork.

Photographs include washday on board a modern steamer in the 1930s. On many older ships dhobying or washing clothes was done in a bucket on deck. In contrast is the officers’ saloon on the BP tanker British Duchess in the 1960s. By this time, officers enjoyed particularly good living conditions on board ship.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The Revenue cutter, Harpy, chasing a smuggler. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

In the 1980s I spent several happy holidays in the Canary Islands where you could buy fabulous big Cuban-style cigars very cheaply. The Canaries – although part of Spain - were not in the EU so only a limited amount of duty free tobacco could be brought home. However, the Los Cubanos were so cheap I’d buy lots and declare them at UK Customs. The officer would weight them and work out the duty to be paid. A receipt was handed over as proof of the transaction.
 
Smuggling has been around ever since duties and taxes were levied on goods and commodities. From the days of sailing ships to the present day, Customs officers have relied on the latest technologies to counteract smuggling.

Both in the 18th century and now they have used some of the fastest and most manoeuvrable boats available. These cutters, as they are known, enable officers to chase and board vessels at sea and in remote ports.

In 1779 nearly four million gallons of gin and more than five million pounds weight of tea were smuggled into Britain, landed on beaches up and down the coast. At that time tea was a very expensive luxury which was kept in locked caddies usually in the homes of the rich. More than two-thirds of the tea consumed in Britain during the 18th century was smuggled.

The Commutation Act of 1784 slashed the tax on tea, smuggling it ceased to be profitable and the smuggling trade vanished virtually overnight.

Today tobacco and spirits are still smuggled and have been joined by Class A drugs such as heroine and cocaine. Between 1996 and 1998, the London-based Wright Gang smuggled in at least three tonnes of cocaine on yachts. In April 2007 they were jailed after an 11-year investigation.

Seized: Revenue & Customs Uncovered at Merseyside Maritime Museum looks at many different aspects of smuggling and related issues.

Two ships models show the development of the Customs cutter. The Sprightly was used by the Revenue service at the end of the 18th century. She was heavily armed, fast and could be moved with dexterity and skill. The other cutter model shows the Vigilant, one of a fleet of five cutters that today patrol the waters around Britain. The 42-metre long vessel was built in Holland in 2003.

An 1840 coloured engraving (pictured) shows the Revenue cutter Harpy chasing a smugglers’ ship. Casks are bobbing in the water after being jettisoned by the smugglers.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The hastener

I was never caned at school but was threatened with it on one occasion for failing to whiten my pumps for PE. Another time the class bully - a hefty blonde - flicked ink at me. I told the teacher who sent Muriel to the female deputy head for two strokes on each hand. Muriel was as nice as pie to me after that.

Life for the ordinary seaman on sailing ships was hard with poor food, atrocious living conditions and frequently diabolical weather. There was also very harsh discipline to make sure crew members literally “toed the line” – believed by many to be a seafaring expression referring to the lines created by deck planks.

Captains ordered wrongdoers to be flogged. This involved the culprit being whipped on the back, usually with a cat o’ nine tails – a whip with nine thongs or tails. Very young seafarers were flogged with a lighter model with just five tails known as a boy’s cat. It was administered on the bare backside while the culprit was “kissing the gunner’s daughter” (bending over a cannon). The cane was also used but rarely on the hand, as this could hinder the victim when hauling ropes or doing other work.

One of the most feared punishments in the Royal Navy was being flogged around the fleet. The total amount of lashes was divided by the number of ships in port. The offender was rowed between each ship for the crews to witness his punishment. The gravest offences – such as sedition and mutiny – could attract a sentence of hundreds of lashes. However, a surgeon was present and could stop the flogging if it endangered the culprit’s life. A tally was kept of how many lashes were still to be carried out. Once the wounds had healed, the floggings would be resumed. As a result, sentences often took months or years to complete.

The ultimate punishment was execution by being hanged from the yardarm, again witnessed by the crew.

Apart from formal punishments, crew members were often thumped and hit as a matter of course.

In Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery there is a hastener from about 1877. These were applied by bo’suns (boatswains - junior officers) to keep crews in order. This hastener on display was used on the iron ship Eulomene of Liverpool. It is made of cane with the end formed into a Turk’s head knot. It is more than 18 inches long and as thick as a man’s thumb.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Carving of Marco Polo's head

I grow my own rhubarb and am a strong believer in its health-giving properties – as was the great Venetian explorer Marco Polo who is credited with introducing the sweet vegetable to Europe from China. Just simmer the chopped stalks for about 10 minutes in water with a spoonful of sugar, put in a bowl with some of the liquid, add dried mixed fruit, let it cool then add some natural yoghurt – delicious.

Liverpool’s initial prosperity was built on the successes of shipping lines with fleets of sailing ships. It took several decades for steam to become the dominant source of power. One of the most successful of all the sailing ship lines was Black Ball with its emigrant packets on the Australia run.

The Black Ball Line was started in 1852 by James Baines of Liverpool. Baines operated a regular service between the port and Australia, principally Melbourne. Black Ball packets were renowned for their fast voyages. The company captured much of the emigrant trade during the Gold Rush years between 1851 and the late 1860s when the Australian state of Victoria dominated world gold output.

The new emigrant gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum features an exhibition model of the renowned Black Ball ship Marco Polo. Built in 1851, she made record-breaking voyages to Australia. The model shows the ship refitted for the emigrant trade.

Two richly-coloured replica stern carvings from the Marco Polo show him wearing 19th century Western and Eastern dress. In reality, he lived between 1254 and 1324.  One of the life-sized figures (pictured) shows clean-shaven Polo in a green frock coat, plumed hat and black boots. In the other he is bearded and sports traditional Eastern headgear and matching blue, pink and gold gown.

There is a picture model of another Black Ball three-master, Indian Queen, depicted with pennants flying.  The model belonged to Capt John McKirdy, of the Isle of Bute, Scotland, master of the ship 1854 – 5.

A fearsome Bowie knife is inscribed with the name of the infamous Black Ball Capt James Nichol Forbes. He was known as “Bully Forbes” because of his harsh treatment of both passengers and crews.

A major competitor of Black Ball was Pilkington and Wilson’s White Star Line (predecessor of the later Titanic line). The White Star was an emigrant sailing ship between Liverpool and Melbourne. A pair of binoculars, dating from about 1860, came from the White Star when Captain T Kerr was in command.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The silver centrepiece

Beautiful gold and silver items are always a joy to the eye but I think they are much more interesting if there is a story behind them. This particular piece of gilded silverware is linked to a very famous story indeed.

The White Star line – which later included the Titanic among its fleet – was founded in Liverpool in 1869 by shipping mogul Thomas Henry Ismay. Known also as the Ocean Steam Navigation Company, White Star eventually led the way in building prestigious luxury liners such as Titanic and her almost identical sisters Olympic and Britannic.

When Ismay died in 1899, White Star was the most successful transatlantic passenger line. In 1902 it was bought by the huge American firm, the International Mercantile Marine Company.

Ismay’s son, Bruce, became the first president and managing director of the new company. He remained in control of White Star and its ships continued to fly the British flag. J Bruce Ismay, as he was known, continued his father’s close partnership with the Belfast shipbuilders Harland & Wolff which led to the construction of Titanic and her sisters.

Thomas Henry Ismay’s original home can still be seen at Beach Lawn, Waterloo. He later built a huge mansion called Dawpool at Thurstaston, Wirral, but this was demolished many years ago. J Bruce Ismay – who survived the Titanic sinking by escaping in one of the last lifeboats - lived at a large house called Sandheys in Mossley Hill, Liverpool.

In the Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum there are parts of the magnificent Ismay Testimonial silver.  This parcel gilt dinner service was presented to Thomas by the company’s shareholders on board the White Star liner Adriatic in 1884.

The service, made by London silversmiths Hunt & Gaskell, is one of the finest of its kind. It was intended to “illustrate the progress of the art of navigation from the earliest times to the present day”.

The centrepiece (which there's more about on our main site) depicts commerce on top of the world with figures of the legendary navigators Jason (of Argonauts fame), Vasco de Gama (first European to sail to India around the Cape of Good Hope), Christopher Columbus (New World explorer) and British naval explorer Captain James Cook.

There are beautiful models of tiny vessels used for fishing and hunting – a kayak, canoe and coracle. Most of these pieces could be used for condiments such as salt, pepper and mustard. A large sweetmeat dish is flanked by two contemporary (1884) seafarers – a merchant navy officer and a sailor.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Plaque of Sir Alfred Jones

It’s strange to think that bananas were once considered an exotic luxury in Britain.

My grandmother Lillian Potter, who was born in 1885, remembered them being hawked around the streets by a “banana man” - they were not cheap.

As late as 1915 bananas were still rather glamorous and featured in society soirees, as illustrated in the classic music hall song: “I’ve just had a banana with Lady Diana, I’m Burlington Bertie from Bow”.

Sir Alfred Jones (1845 – 1909) is credited with introducing the banana to Britain when he transported the fruit on refrigerated vessels run by his Elder Dempster shipping company.

We now take for granted refrigeration for perishable goods travelling by land, sea and air. This has enabled all manner of meat, fish, fruit and vegetables to arrive in our shops throughout the year.

Little more than 100 years ago this would have been unthinkable and it was pioneers like Sir Alfred who helped transform the way we eat.

At Merseyside Maritime Museum’ s Life at Sea gallery there is a wax plaque of Sir Alfred, who was the dominant figure in the development of the trade with West Africa (pictured).

He looks the epitome of the Victorian businessman with his formal jacket, starched collar and fancy whiskers. Born in Carmarthenshire, Sir Alfred started work at the age of 12 with the African Steamship Company in Liverpool. He made several voyages to West Africa and was manager of the business when he was only 26.

He then started business on his own account with two or three small sailing ships. In 1891 he was headhunted by Liverpool-based Elder Dempster which, through purchasing shares, he later controlled.

Sir Alfred had wide territorial and financial interests in West Africa. He played a key part in opening up the West Indies to trade and tourism. In addition, he was instrumental in setting up Liverpool’s School of Tropical Medicine and left large charitable bequests in his will.

Other exhibits include a visiting card case commemorating the 1902 trials of the Elder Dempster ship Burutu.

A vintage illustrated poster declares: “Travel in comfort, travel in style, travel better - travel Elders”.
 
Elder Dempster operated mainly between its Liverpool base and West Africa. In later years it ran three still fondly-remembered liners – Aureol, Accra and Apapa – to Ghana and Nigeria.

Eventually the Elder Dempster line name came to an end in 1989 when it was bought by a French company. However, the company continued as shipping agents before being wound up in 2000.

There's more on Elder Dempster, and the company records we hold in our archives, on our main site.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Just looking at this plan of a slave ship hold almost makes me break out into a cold sweat.

As regular readers of this blog will know, I have a strong aversion to crowded enclosed spaces. This print of 1789 brings home to us all the hideous nature of the slave trade.

Liverpool’s slave ships carried their human cargoes from West Africa over the Atlantic to the Americas and Caribbean on journeys that took six weeks or more. The Africans were held in atrocious and dehumanising conditions – violence, terror and degradation were everyday occurrences.

They had already suffered terrible hardship before reaching the coast. Sometimes the slaves were forced to march hundreds of miles from the interior of Africa. Sold several times over, they passed from one owner to another, their sense of disorientation and dread increasing with each sale. However, the prisoners took every opportunity to escape. One group of women tracked their husbands for several days before breaking them free.

Some African leaders were actively involved in the trade but others took a stand against slavery. They included Tomba, leader of the Baga in Guineas and Agaja Trudo, king of Dahomey.

The slaves’ final destinations on land were forts and places such as the island of Goree where they were held before boarding ships. The message to potential escapers was clear – skeletons of those who tried to make a run for it were impaled on spikes as gruesome warnings.

The horrors of the Middle Passage, as it was known, were made worse because many of the captives had never seen the sea. They were packed into unbelieveably hot, cramped and suffocating conditions in the holds. The men were kept separated from the women and children. In good weather they were brought on deck.

The men were humiliated and forced to ‘dance’ for the crew. This also have an ulterior motive – to keep the slaves fit and healthy so they would fetch higher prices. Women were abused by crew members and rape was common.

The physical conditions, fear and uncertainty left many of the captives totally traumatised and unable to eat. Some preferred death and took their own lives. Disease and brutality took their tolls. Between one tenth and one quarter of enslaved Africans died on every journey. Mortality among crew members was also high.

At the International Slavery Museum, in the Merseyside Maritime Museum building, there are displays which explore slave voyages including a model and painting of slave ships.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The crew of a Norweigan tanker with their simian and canine crewmates.

I remember the widespread introduction of containers on ships in the late 1960s but little realised how it would transform the character of Liverpool.

Seafarers were once highly visible around the city with their distinctive clothing and style. This photograph of Norwegian tanker crew members with a monkey and dog reminds me of similar scenes once common around the dock road. The almost universal use of roll on – roll off ships means that crew members now rarely spend much time ashore. We have lost much of the colour and vitality mariners brought to our streets by their presence.

In both the First and Second World Wars members of Britain’s merchant navy and those of its allies were on the front line in the struggle for survival. Until 1939 most people involved in British shipping used the terms Merchant Service or Mercantile Marine in relation to the merchant fleet and its sailors. It was only in the Second World War that the title Merchant Navy became the accepted usage. This development was greatly influenced by the issuing of a Merchant Navy buttonhole badge to be worn voluntarily by seamen from January 1940. There is one on display in the Battle of the Atlantic gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum.

In 1938 the British Merchant Service employed more than 190,000 seafarers. Of these, more than 130,000 were British residents while 50,000 were Indian and Chinese mariners. Women seafarers were relatively few and were usually employed either as stewardesses or children’s nurses on passenger liners. When the war began, most of these women lost their jobs as ships were converted to troop carrying and other duties. Some, however, continued to go to sea throughout the war.

The fiercely-independent, multi-racial body of civilians sailing under the Red Ensign had a long history of poor pay and working conditions.

In 1917 Parliament approved a standard uniform for general use by the Mercantile Marine. But during the Second World War most seafarers on British merchant ships wore either the uniforms of their own shipping companies or just ordinary clothes. A display of archive photos of merchant navy uniforms was held recently at the Maritime Archives and Library.

In May 1941 a shortage of manpower prompted the Government to set up the Merchant Navy Reserve Pool. By this, all seamen and some 60,000 former seafarers were obliged to register with the Pool.

Other exhibits include a Ministry of Information poster showing two gunners on an armed merchant ship with the slogan: “To the Merchant Navy – thank you!” and an officers’ Mercantile Marine cap badge from 1917 onwards.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

'Mauretania in Dazzle Paint' by Burnett Poole

I have just finished reading the fascinating 1935 autobiography of seafarer Charles Lightoller whose amazing career stretched from sailing ships to ocean liners. His book kept me spellbound with tales of shipwrecks - most famously when, as second officer, he survived the Titanic disaster. Lightoller saw service on merchant ships commandeered for operations in the Great War and also helped in the Dunkirk evacuations in the Second World War.

British merchant vessels and their crews have often been required to support military operations in a variety of ways. In both world wars, for example, many ships were converted for use as auxiliary warships, troop ships or hospital ships. The Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life At Sea gallery has a section focusing on these roles.

The loss of the troopship Lancastria was one of the worst disasters to hit Britain. On the declaration of war in 1939, this Cunard passenger liner was requisitioned for troop carrying. On 17 June 1940 the Lancastria was anchored off the coast of France taking on board retreating British troops. There were more than 5,000 troops as well as civilians and crew when she was subjected to a heavy enemy air attack. To this day it is not known exactly how many people died but it was many thousands.

On display is a menu for lunch on the day Lancastria went down. A watch was worn by survivor Sidney Dunmall, of the Royal Army Pay Corps, as he leapt into the sea from the stricken ship.

A discharge book belonged to the Lancastria’s assistant butcher, Gerrard Walsh of Liverpool. There are also two miniature Lancastria souvenir trophies owned by Royal Engineers who also survived, Arthur Pownall and Corporal Bray.

A spectacular painting by Burnett Poole (shown here) shows the famous Cunard liner Mauretania in camouflage dazzle paint when she was used as a troopship and hospital ship during the First World War.  More on this work on our main site.

A handbook called War Instructions for British Merchant Ships 1917 contained a safety device. It was weighted so that, in the event of attack, it sank when thrown overboard rather than falling into enemy hands.

Handcuffs came from the troopship Antenor. She was used to repatriate troops at the end of the Second World War. The handcuffs were kept on board to restrain anyone under arrest, especially if troops got carried away during victory celebrations.

A plaque records the role of the Ebani as a troopship between 1914 and 1919 when she carried 50,000 sick and wounded troops.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Prince Rupert. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

I’ve always admired the style of Prince Rupert, probably the most famous cavalier of the English Civil War. He lived in an age when a man had to be able to fight and when not using his sword could elegantly trip a dainty measure (dance) with a lady.

However, Liverpool gave Rupert a massive challenge when he marched his Royalist army to the heavily-defended town expecting a walkover. The sea has always provided a means of escape from danger and this was true in this famous siege.

In the war Royalist cavaliers were led by King Charles I and the Parliamentarian roundheads by Oliver Cromwell. Dashing Prince Rupert was Charles’ nephew and besieged Liverpool held for Parliament by the town’s governor John Moore, member of a powerful local merchant family. Moore was also a vice-admiral and commanded a small fleet of six ships which inflicted substantial damage on the Royalist fleet in the Irish Sea.

Rupert camped at Everton, which was then a small village on the hill outside Liverpool. When the siege started, he haughtily dismissed Liverpool as “a mere crow’s nest which a parcel of boys might take”. However, it was a month before Rupert took Liverpool after a constant cannon bombardment and the loss of more than 1,500 of his own troops.

Moore concluded that the town was no longer defensible. He and his men escaped by sea in ships that had been moored in the Pool, the creek which gave Liverpool its name. Moore’s action was taken without consulting the local civic leaders and the town was left defenceless. Many citizens fought on and Rupert’s men had to take Liverpool street-by-street. No mercy was shown and about 400 people – many unarmed – were slaughtered. The troops were then allowed to ransack the town. Liverpool was recaptured by Parliament a few months later in November 1644 after it was cut off by land and sea. Moore became governor again.

There is a fascinating display of Civil War armour and weapons in the Magical History Tour exhibition at Merseyside Maritime Museum.

A breast plate carries a small dent indicating that it was proof against pistol shots. A mortuary sword was a common type of cavalry broad sword. It is believed to get its name from the basket hilt resembling a human rib-cage.

Part of a timber beam is believed to have come from the cottage on Everton Brow which served as Prince Rupert’s headquarters.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The Cretic on display in the museum. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

Great oaks from little acorns grow is a real truism and one that particularly applies to ships.

I like to think of early adventurers taking to the water countless centuries ago, presumably on logs that were later hollowed out to make primitive boats. The technology got better and better and today we are still improving our ships which seem to increase in size as each year passes.

The first steamship on the River Mersey was the paddle steamer Elizabeth which arrived on 28 June 1815 to serve as a ferry boat. This was also the dawn of a new era of comparative peace that was to last a century. The Elizabeth’s arrival came just 10 days after the Battle of Waterloo at the end of the Napoleonic Wars. Although regarded by many people as a passing novelty at the time, ships such as the Elizabeth were in the vanguard of change which would see the maritime world transformed.

A 1:48 scale model of the Elizabeth in Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Art & The Sea gallery shows how small she was. Models on the same scale appear giants alongside the tiny wooden ship. The Elizabeth was fitted with an eight horse-power engine and inaugurated the ferry service between Liverpool and Runcorn. She made just one trip daily travelling at between nine and ten knots.

The first experimental steamboat was built in 1704. However, it was the brilliant English engineer James Watt (1736 – 1819) who realised the importance of steam and its great potential. His work inspired others to develop the concept of steamships. The first practical steamboat was the Charlotte Dundas which towed barges along the Forth and Clyde Canal to Glasgow in 1802. Her success opened the floodgates to steamship development in Britain and abroad.

The 1:48 scale model of the 13,518-ton Cretic (pictured), in the same case, shows the huge changes in steamships in less than a century since the Elizabeth was built. It is like comparing a whale to a sprat.

Cretic was a passenger and cattle carrier with the famous White Star Line of Liverpool. She was bought by White Star in 1904 and remained with the company until 1923.
Cretic could carry 245 passengers while the Elizabeth could only transport a fraction of this number and had no cabin accommodation.

Steamships continued to be built until recent times. The Queen Elizabeth 2 was the last passenger steamship to cross the Atlantic before being converted to diesel in 1986.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

Teamwork is vitally important in human endeavours but teamwork is nothing without leadership – and I think this is especially so in wartime.

Arguably the most important theatre of the Second World War was the convoy system that brought vital supplies to besieged Britain standing alone against Hitler’s legions. There were many examples of great leadership on different levels as the Allies battled with the U-boat submarine menace. I believe leadership at sea can be one of the most testing because of isolation and lack of back-up.

The dominance of Germany’s U-boats was broken in the spring of 1943 with a decisive victory during the Battle of the Atlantic. In late April and early May, the escorts of convoy ONS 5 (UK to Halifax, Nova Scotia) scored conclusive success over the Wolf Packs.

For eight days and nights, the British B7 Escort Group led by Commander Peter Gretton on the destroyer HMS Duncan and assisted by two Brirish Support Groups, beat off attacks by 40 U-boats. They sank five and damaged many others for the loss of 12 merchant ships. Two other U-boats were sunk by the Royal Canadian Air Force and RAF aircraft. Even for the largest U-boat packs the cost of attacking convoys had become too high. This defeat marked the end of the U-boats’ ascendancy in the Atlantic.

Displays in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery include this photo of three heroes of the ONS 5 battles. Commander Gretton is seen between Lt Cdr Raymond Hart (HMS Vidette) (left) and Lt Commander James Plomer, Royal Canadian Navy Volunteer Reserve (HMS Sunflower). Commander Gretton had a distinguished naval career, later becoming a vice-admiral. Among his many honours was a knighthood in 1963.

A map shows the positions of U-boats in May 1943. A 1944 poster features a painting of a convoy seen from an escort ship.

In 1943 most of the American and Canadian troops and supplies needed for the Allied invasion of Europe were sent across the Atlantic. Victory in the Atlantic was essential if the Allies were to win the war in Europe.

While most of the naval escort work during the Battle of the Atlantic was done by the Royal Navy, the ships of many other navies were also involved.

A photo shows the Free French corvette Aconit on convoy duty in the North Atlantic. In March 1943 she and the British destroyer HMS Harvester sank the U 444.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

At one time I had a yen to be a commercial artist but decided, at the age of 12, to become a reporter instead.

Public artworks that made the biggest impressions on me were the huge posters that screamed at you from Liverpool’s many cinemas. One I particularly remember for its wonderful colourful images advertised the classic double horror feature “The Blob” and “I Married a Monster from Outer Space”. It certainly grabbed everyone’s attention on the bus.

Later I learnt about the big contribution artists made to the war effort by boosting morale and passing on information.

Liverpool was Britain’s most important port in the Second World War, handling at least one third of the country’s imports brought in by convoys running the gauntlet across the Atlantic. Greatly assisted by other west coast ports, she was the main terminus for the convoys. By early 1941 Liverpool had also become a major naval base and the HQ of Britain’s North Atlantic campaign.

Recognising the port’s key role, Germany made her the target for 68 bombing raids – more than any other British port outside London. Liverpool’s ships and merchant seamen played a crucial part in ensuring Britain’s survival, as did her dockers, ship builders and repairers. 

Posters on display in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Battle of the Atlantic gallery highlight key areas. There are two showing variations of the Careless Talk Costs Lives campaign, perhaps the most famous in the Second World War. One shows a group of men talking in a pub and a picture of a ship sinking with the slogan: “She sails at midnight. He talked … this happened”.

The second is headed S.O.S and includes the lines:

Idle words – things heard or seen
Help the lurking submarine

A colourful poster shows ships entering harbour and being unloaded. The cargoes are put directly into steam trains similar to the ones that steamed along Liverpool’s dock road until the 1960s. In another, shown here, a cloth-capped dock worker is told by a soldier:

“Go to it chum! That’s war work – we get munitions in return for that lot!”
Our good go out. Food and munitions come in.
"We must have exports", Ernest Bevin

One declares: “Dockers help nail these lies! Back up the seamen – speed the turn-round.” This His Majesty’s Stationery Office (HMSO) poster is illustrated with a German propaganda leaflet dropped over Britain in 1941.

Merseyside’s 30,000 dockers, whose average age was over 50, played a vital role in the unloading of cargoes. Younger men joined the armed forces or went to other industries.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Me waiting in the wings before my Clare Balding interview at Aintree

All reporters remember big stories they worked on and the 1993 Grand National was for me one of the most memorable. It was the year the race was famously declared void after demonstrators disrupted the world’s greatest steeplechase.

This week I was quizzed by BBC racing presenter and former top amateur jockey Clare Balding about my memories of that amazing day. It was for an edition of The One Show being screened in the run-up to this year’s big race.

The show’s producers were prompted by my collection of passes, pamphlets, statements and press releases amassed on that day in the mayhem of the press room at the renowned Liverpool racecourse. Some years ago I donated them to National Museums Liverpool and they feature on our website where BBC researchers spotted them. This 1993 ephemera is destined for display in the new Museum of Liverpool opening next year.

It was decided to do the interview in the bitter cold in front of the County Stand. I admitted to Clare that the last time I had been to the course was when they secretly buried legendary winner Red Rum at the winning post. Since then I had watched the race from the Blue Anchor Bridge, a spot where you can be a spectator for free and avoid the crowds.

As we talked, my memories stretched back to my first visit in 1961 when Nicholas Silver won and I placed an unsuccessful sixpenny bet with exotic tipster Prince Monolulu.

I was there when Gay Trip won in 1970 but remember most the tiny comedian Jimmy Clitheroe, dressed in a suede coat, with his horse. That year I walked around the track with local MP Dick Crawshaw attempting an endurance record. I interviewed the formidable owner of Aintree Mirabelle Topham on the telephone – a major coup. 

In 1978 we had the ‘will he, won’t he?’ saga of Red Rum making his final appearance at Aintree. I met TV personality Angela Rippon when she cantered on Rummy along Southport sands.

I was there in 1981 to see cancer victim Bob Champion’s epic win on Aldaniti on a glorious sunny day.
 
But nothing could prepare me for the Race That Never Was. I told Clare it was like being on the Titanic steaming on regardless after being mortally wounded.

Nobody seemed to know what was going on in the press room until racecourse chairman Lord Daresbury took the helm at a news conference. The race was declared void because of two false starts.

This picture was taken by assistant director Sophie Wallace-Hadrill and shows Clare preparing to interview me as cameraman Tim Sutton and director Hamish Summers get things right. The structure in the background is the biggest marquee I’ve ever seen.

A street trader at St George's Dock, Liverpool in 1895. Courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

When I was young, slavery was rarely mentioned either at home or in school – it was rather a taboo subject. Grown-ups would point out parts of Liverpool, saying things like “That’s where the slaves were sold”. In reality very few enslaved Africans were sold in the port although merchants, traders and ship owners grew rich on the trade.

Liverpool was the leading European slave trade port in the later decades of the 18th century and people of African descent were living in the town from at least that time. A number of merchants brought slaves from the West Indies to work as servants in their homes.

Some African chiefs sent their sons to be educated in Britain. In the 1790s more than 50 of these children were at school in Liverpool.

With the development of the palm oil business after the abolition of the slave trade in 1807, African seafarers were increasingly employed to crew the ships. Many of these seafarers settled on the outskirts of the town in the area now known as Liverpool 8.

There were significant numbers of Black people in Britain in the 18th century. By 1800 London may have had a Black population of around 10,000. Although they had a variety of jobs including serving as soldiers and sailors, most were domestic servants to the rich.

This is illustrated on a coffee pot among the displays at the International Slavery Museum in the Merseyside Maritime Museum building. Other exhibits include a print showing a dock and sailing ships which also features the first known images of Black people in Liverpool – two youngsters near the dock side.

An 1895 photograph, shown here, taken by Charles Frederick Inston, shows a Black street trader at St George’s Dock. An item from a 1756 edition of Williamsons Liverpool Advertiser announces  the sale in a shop of “three negro men, two negro women, two negro boys and one negro girl” along with quantities of raisin wine, cider and flour.

A notice of the sale of “11 negroes” at the town’s Exchange Coffee House appeared in the same newspaper in 1766. For wealthy English families, a servant was an asset to be shown off as evidence of wealth and status. These notices show how enslaved Africans were part of the consumerism of the time. Africans were exotic accessories and would often be exquisitely dressed to reflect the riches of their masters.This hid the reality that Black servants were often brutalised in their daily lives.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Miss Francatelli's apron

I have an open mind about psychic happenings and the alleged auras that surround people and things. A simple apron from a distant time has a profound effect on me. Whenever I stand next to it I feel the icy blast of the sea, hear the cries of people in distress and experience a sense of despair.

The starched white apron bears silent witness to the terrible night when the luxury White Star liner Titanic hit an iceberg and sank with the loss of more than 1,500 lives.

It is among exhibits in the Merseyside Maritime Museum’s exhibition Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress which looks at three great shipping tragedies. The Empress was the Empress of Ireland whose loss was overshadowed by the others.

The full-length cotton apron, with lace-trimmed top, was worn by survivor Laura Francatelli on the night of the disaster. It may be the only item of such clothing on display in a public collection.

Miss Francatelli was personal maid and social secretary to the fashion designer Lady Lucile Duff-Gordon. Miss Francatelli was travelling First Class with her employer and Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon, baronet, a champion fencer who represented Britain in the 1908 Olympics. They boarded the ship at Cherbourg travelling under the names Mr and Mrs Morgan, presumably to prevent them being pestered by social climbers.

Miss Francatelli and the Duff-Gordons were among the first to escape from Titanic. They boarded Lifeboat No 1 which had just two male passengers and seven crewmen although it was built to hold many more people. On board the rescue ship Carpathia, Sir Cosmo asked Miss Francatelli to write out £5 cheques to each of the seamen who were in the lifeboat. This led to allegations of bribery.

However, the British inquiry stated that the nature of the Duff-Gordons’ departure from Titanic was “within the acceptable bounds of civilised behaviour”. Also on display is a photograph of the occupants of Lifeboat No 1 taken on board Carpathia. Miss Francatelli, who later married and lived until1967, is pictured standing between Sir Cosmo and Lady Duff-Gordon. There's more on the apron, the Duff-Gordons and Miss Francatelli on our main website.

Most of the Titanic’s crew from the Liverpool area were lost in the sinking. On display are personal items linked to local crew members who died. A Bible, pipes and smoking accessories belonged to junior second engineer John Henry Hesketh, a 33-year-old single man from Kirkdale, Liverpool.

A poignant letter was written by a young girl called May Louise McMurray to her dad William McMurray, a bedroom steward from the city’s Kensington district. You can see the letter here.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The Malancha with her guns at her stern

I love studying photographs, drawings and plans of the mighty Dreadnought battleships that dominated navies about 100 years ago. I admire the high-quality engineering which combined with great design to produce beautiful fighting machines gleaming from end-to-end with polished brass and steel armour plating.

However, submarine technology advanced during the First World War when undersea warfare became a reality and, along with the development of bomber and fighter aircraft, marked the beginning of the end of battleships.

Dreadnoughts and other huge warships bristling with guns that marked the arms race in Edwardian Europe were sitting ducks to much smaller war machines swooping from the skies or lurking beneath the waves.

Upon the declaration of war in 1914 Britain had around 50 submarines while her allies the French had more than 70. The Imperial German Navy, under Kaiser Wilhelm II, had between 30 and 40 diesel and petrol-powered U-boats.

By the end of the war the UK had 137 submarines in service with another 78 being built, having lost 54 subs during hostilities. The German Navy had more than 170 operational U-boats which were surrendered to the Allies.

In the First World War submarines were slow, fragile and only capable of staying under water for about two hours at a stretch. Early submarines had five or six torpedo tubes and deck-mounted guns, making them also dangerous on the surface.

Around 5,000 ships were sunk during the First World War by U-boats. The most famous was the Cunard liner Lusitania, torpedoed off Ireland in 1915 with the loss of 1,200 lives. There are a number of exhibits from the Lusitania in the Merseyside Maritime Museum exhibition Titanic, Lusitania and the Forgotten Empress.

The most famous victim of a U-boat was probably British general Lord Kitchener, whose face graced the recruiting poster with the slogan “Your Country Needs You”. He died on a mission to Russia in 1916 when the cruiser HMS Hampshire hit a mine laid by the U-75 off the Orkney Islands.

The Maritime Museum’s display Liverpool: World Gateway has two models of ships linked to submarine warfare in the Great War, as it was also known. One is a superbly-detailed model of the cargo liner Malancha, (shown here) built in 1918 for the Brocklebank Line. It has two quick-firing guns mounted near the ship’s stern as protection against submarines.

The other is the Johnson Line’s cargo liner Barnesmore of 1905. After being sold and renamed Whitehall, she was torpedoed and sunk in the North Atlantic in 1917.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Environment can help nurture talent and I think this is particularly true of Liverpool with its amazing architecture and maritime setting.

One of the great vanished buildings of the city was the Custom House (pictured below) which stood partly on the site of the new Liverpool One development. Bombed in the Second World War, this great sandstone pile was cleared in the post war rush to modernity.

Liverpool has always had more than its fair share of talented people who were either born here or settled for various reasons. For centuries Liverpool was little more than a village dominated by a castle. The 1660s and 70s saw big changes as the discovery and settlement of the Americas opened up different overseas markets.

At the same time a new breed of business people started arriving in the town. Some came from London to start again after the devastation caused by the Great Plague of 1665 and the Great Fire of the following year. Others were from the local area - all were keen to exploit new opportunities. Soon Liverpool was the fastest-growing port in the country after London, overtaking its local rival Chester in 1699.

Imports of luxuries such as sugar, tobacco, cotton and spices transformed the small fishing village into a thriving port with worldwide links.

Three remarkable watches on display in the Magical History Tour exhibition at Merseyside Maritime Museum illustrate how talented people settled and thrived in Liverpool. Two were made by Thomas Aspinwall around 1607 and 1620 and the third by his son Samuel Aspinwall about 1660. The Aspinwalls were the earliest recorded watchmakers in one of the first centres for the craft outside London.

Liverpool Customs House. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

By the late 19th century Liverpool’s port provided direct employment for 60,000 people – about one-in-five of the male working population. Work on the docks was dangerous and men were recruited on a mainly casual basis. The system offered workers the chance to earn high wages but it also brought uncertainty and poverty. Commercial clerks kept business in Liverpool moving. By 1906 they made an amazing 750,000 entries at the Custom House each year – all delivered by hand.

Other exhibits include the huge metal key to Heywood’s Bank from about 1800. The bank building still stands in Brunswick Street.

Bryant & May’s Lifeboat Matches were among specialist products produced in Liverpool to serve the maritime industry. They were specially produced in watertight Bakelite containers to be included in the emergency kit of ships’ lifeboats.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Des in his workshop at the Maritime

Des Newton, who has died after a long illness aged 67, was one of the world’s leading ship bottlers and I, Stephen Guy, admired him for his astonishing dexterity and well as his cheerful personality.

Des made ship models with amazing skill and precision and it was a delight watching his hands daintily getting things to work.  He could also talk at great length about the history of ship bottling, dealing with the most difficult questions effortlessly. I asked him how seafarers kept the bottle steady as sailing ships pitched and tossed on rough seas. He immediately produced an ancient photograph illustrating the answer – they rested the bottle on a stick.
Des, who also made ship models for the Royal family, was one of the best-known personalities at the Merseyside Maritime Museum where he had a ship bottling and model workshop for 20 years.

He was born in Barrow-in-Furness, Cumbria, the son of a seafarer. After his apprenticeship, Des became a welder working on submarines in the Vickers shipyard. He later became a professional entertainer and musician learning his trade on the nightclub circuit.

This was time well spent because anyone seeing Des demonstrating his ship bottling skills knew they were in the presence of a great entertainer. He always jokingly referred to himself as a Glass Receptacle Miniature Artefact Inserter.

Des - who lived in Bootle, Liverpool - appeared on television several times, most notably on Blue Peter and the panel game What’s My Line?

He supported Merseyside Maritime Museum at many exhibitions and events and this led to him demonstrating his skills at maritime festivals around the country. Even after retirement in 2004, Des was still in demand demonstrating his knowledge and skills on cruise ships as well as back at the Maritime Museum where he held his last workshop in September 2008.
Des was passionate about lifeboats and was a former crew member of the Barrow lifeboat and a RNLI life governor. He raised thousands of pounds towards the purchase of a lifeboat through running the annual Southport Model Lifeboat Rally.

Des made a model of the Royal Yacht and presented it to the Queen when she visited Merseyside on board the Britannia in 1993.

There's more on the world's smallest ship in a bottle, created by Des in 1990, and on making ships in bottles in general on this website.

The metal rings in the huge walls took on a menacing aspect when my father pointed to them with the chilling words: “The slaves were chained to those before being sold”. This was the Goree warehouse near the Liverpool waterfront. I was little more than a toddler when we would explore its colonnades with the sinister rings. Later I learnt that the rings were probably for tying up horses rather than people and that comparatively few enslaved Africans came to Liverpool.

However, Liverpool was the European capital of the slave trade from the 1780s to British abolition in 1807. Mersey ships transported nearly 1.5 million Africans into slavery – more than 10% of all known slaves transported by Europeans to the Americas and Caribbean.

Liverpool was not involved in early English slaving. Merchants from London and Bristol were the first to be involved but from the 1740s Liverpool had overtaken them. Liverpool merchants were sharp and successfully undercut their rivals’ costs, reduced turnaround times and increased the flexibility of operations.

Trade goods on display at the International Slavery Museum, in the Merseyside Maritime Museum building, include horseshoe-shaped pieces of metal known as manillas. They were used as a source of metal for casting in Africa and also as currency, particularly on the Niger delta.

Colourful trade beads, like those shown here, were imported mainly from Venice, Prague and Silesia (Germany) and were much in demand for necklaces and bracelets. Among those displayed is a string of agate beads recovered from the wreck of a ship which sank off the Isles of Scilly.

Preparing a ship for a slave voyage was complex and expensive. Vessels had to be equipped and loaded with goods carefully chosen to appeal to African traders. Ships were usually fitted out by a single merchant on behalf of the owners – fellow merchants, bankers, politicians, landowners and other investors. The average cost of sending out a ship in 1790 was the colossal sum of about £10,000 – roughly £550,000 in today’s money.

Goods to buy enslaved Africans were selected to appeal to particular African traders. The trade was conducted formally at forts on the African coast run by Europeans. There were two such forts on the island of Goree, south of Cape Verde, West Africa. It gave its name to the huge vanished Liverpool warehouse still commemorated by a stretch of road called Goree which runs parallel to The Strand.

Elsewhere captains negotiated directly with Africans and generally had to pay customs and dues for trading rights. There's more on the history of slave trading on our main site.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

I have always enjoyed looking out for famous people going about their everyday lives. Among my coups were screen goddess Bette Davis sightseeing in Liverpool’s Castle Street and Brief Encounter star Trevor Howard wolfing down beans on toast in a Southport café.

Liverpool has always been a great place to people spot – particularly in the days of the great liners.

Sea travel has undergone enormous changes in the past 50 years with the rise of cheap air travel across the globe. Liverpool was, until the 1960s, a major port for transatlantic liners. At that time I was starting work as a junior reporter, but veterans would regale me with stories of meeting film stars as they came down the gangplank.

National newspaper journalists were based in Liverpool so they could meet and interview leading showbiz personalities, politicians, business chiefs and other people in the news as they disembarked at the Princes Stage.

Model of the cargo liner, Media. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

With the growth of air travel, the passenger liner was replaced by the jet airliner and the sea cruise liner. During this period traditional ferries were replaced by multi-deck car ferries, high-speed vessels and hovercraft. For most people travel by sea became much more a matter of choice than necessity. While luxury and style were still available on many ships, the trend was towards cheaper and more accessible transport for all.

One of the ships which fell victim of the growth of air travel was the 13,345-ton cargo liner Media, the first ship to be built for Cunard after the Second World War. She was built by John Brown & Co of Clydebank and began her maiden voyage from Liverpool to New York in August 1947. Both Media and her near-sister Parthia struggled to compete with the growing competition of aircraft in the Atlantic passenger trade in the late 1950s. They were sold in 1961.

A fine 1:64 model of Media by Bassett Lowke Ltd (shown here) is on display in the Art and The Sea gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum. It was given by the Liverpool, North Wales and Irish region of the GMB union in 2005.

Exhibits in the Life at Sea gallery include cocktail “swizzle sticks” from Canadian Pacific passenger liners in the 1950s. A small red plastic holdall was bought on the Southern Cross sailing from Southampton to Cape Town in 1961. Less glamorous but no less evocative is a sea sickness bag from a modern passenger ferry.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The customs display in the Magical History Tour exhibition. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

When I was growing up in Liverpool in the 1950s and 60s it was quite a common sight to see exotic animals including a large ferocious monkey that was kept chained up in a garage. Brightly-coloured parrots squawked and screeched in many homes and even businesses – one used to throw bits of fruit at customers in our local plumber’s.

Animals were brought in through Liverpool by traders and sailors to sell or keep as pets. There were less legal restrictions in those days.

Liverpool’s success was built on trade and the huge variety of goods passing through its docks illustrates the origins of its wealth.

In the Magical History Tour exhibition at Merseyside Maritime Museum there is a display (pictured) dominated by an image of the domed Custom House destroyed by enemy action in 1941. There is a cast-iron road sign for Custom House Lane dating from about 1920.

A small handcart of the standard Mersey Docks and Harbour Board pattern dates from around 1965. The letters PLS indicate that it was once used to trundle baggage around the Princes Landing Stage where the big transatlantic liners docked.

Luxury goods usually bring big profits and from 1600 there was a growing demand for tobacco, sugar and cotton in particular. The first tobacco arrived in Liverpool in 1648 and by the 1660s its ships were regularly sailing to Virginia, then a North American British colony, for cargoes. Imports rose from 200,000 lbs in 1670 to an estimated six million pounds weight in 1750, the trade growing rapidly as part of the triangular slave trade between Liverpool, West Africa and the New World.

Beginning with imports from Barbados in the West Indies in the 1660s, the trade in raw cane sugar was another of Liverpool’s most important trading relationships. Sixteen thousand tons was imported in 1785 as plantation sugar became another key component in Liverpool’s slave trading role. Until 1805 all sugar imports came from the West Indies but later in the 19th century other supplies came from Asia, USA and South America.

Raw cotton was shipped to Liverpool from America, Egypt, Brazil, Asia and the West Indies. By 1900 the city handled about 75% of British imports. Finished cotton goods from Lancashire and Manchester mills were shipped through Liverpool as exports to markets across the British Empire and the rest of the world.

Today about 60% of the world’s cotton is still traded under Liverpool rules.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The Athenia

There’s a lot to be said for having old heads on young shoulders but I think the terrible tragedy of the Athenia underlines the error of giving major responsibilities to inexperienced individuals.

Scores of innocent people died when a young U-boat submarine captain sent a passenger ship to the bottom. The Second World War was just eight hours old when 26-year-old Kapitauleutnant Fritz-Julius Lemp sank the 13,581-ton liner Athenia with the loss of 112 lives.

Outrage was caused on both sides of the Atlantic by the sinking. The Athenia, operated by the Donaldson Atlantic Line, sailed from Liverpool for Montreal on 2 September 1939. She was torpedoed, without warning, by the U-30 at 7.39 pm the following day about 250 miles north west of Ireland. Of her 1,103 passengers and 315 crew, 93 passengers – including 22 Americans – and 19 crew members were lost.

Britain had declared war on Germany just eight hours earlier and the Battle of the Atlantic had begun (our main site has more on the campaign).

Lemp wrongly assumed from the Athenia’s lone, zig-zag course that she was an armed auxiliary cruiser. He then attacked and sank her, an unarmed passenger ship, contrary to both international law and the strict instructions of U-boat Command. Lemp also broke a pre-war international agreement by not offering help to survivors. When the U-30 arrived back in Germany, Lemp and his crew were sworn to absolute secrecy.

However, the sub arrived in port with victory pennants flying on her conning tower - one showed 14,000 tons, representing the Athenia. Lemp was ordered to falsify his war diary, re-writing two complete pages so there was no mention of the Athenia sinking.

At Merseyside Maritime Museum there is a display of illustrations about the Athenia including photographs of survivors of the tragedy. News cuttings from the time reflect the horror caused by the sinking. One headline screams: “The Monster Strikes Again!”, referring to the Lusitania sinking by a U-boat in 1915 (more on the Lusitania on our main site).

In 1939 the German Navy (Kriegsmarine) was not strong enough to risk a major battle with the Royal Navy, still the largest navy in the world. Instead, Germany aimed to defeat Britain by ruthlessly attacking her merchant ships and those of other countries that supported her. This long and bitter campaign was fought worldwide but was at its most relentless in the north Atlantic. The Germans used submarines, mines, surface warships, armed merchant ships and aircraft. Winston Churchill later wrote: “The only thing that ever really frightened me during the war was the U-boat peril.”

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Jack on a cruise earthenware plaque from 1780

Let me say from the start that I have never been a great one for celebrating New Year. To me there seems to be a lot of phoney emotion around at this time and for quite a few people it’s just an excuse to drink too much. However, it is a good time for families and friends to get together.

New Year and the festive season can be lonely times for seafarers who find themselves in distant countries far away from their loved ones and friends.

Today ships spend little time in port because of the swift turnarounds introduced more than 30 years ago with the arrival of containers carrying cargoes. Few seafarers have opportunities to sample port life. In the past, however, ships often spent several says or even weeks in port. For many mariners, life in port – especially overseas – was one of the main attractions of going to sea and made up for whatever privations there were on board ship.

All seafarers look forward to reaching their destination, particularly after a long and stormy voyage. Ports all over the world - including Liverpool - had sleazy sailor town districts near the waterfront. Many seafarers headed straight for these areas.

Sometimes life in port turned out to be even more dangerous than life at sea. In the early 1800s, press gangs wandered the streets of British ports forcibly recruiting seamen for the Royal Navy. In the 1900s crimps made money by delivering drunken or drugged seamen to ships in need of hands.

From the early 19th century, sailors’ charities saved many mariners from the clutches of the land sharks by providing them with safe havens in port – work which is still carried out today. For example, the Mersey Mission to Seamen has been operating since 1865 (more on them on the Port Cities website).

Floating churches, seamen’s missions and sailor’s homes were established in ports all over the world.

A display at Merseyside Maritime Museum has exhibits reflecting life in port. There is a sailor’s trophy from the 1950s – a red head-dress worn by the waitresses at the Moulin Rouge Club in Recife, Brazil. These were much-favoured trophies among seafarers visiting the club.

There are membership and introduction cards from sailor town clubs around the world in the 1950s.

An amusing decorative earthenware plaque from about 1780 (shown here) depicts Jack on a Cruise while ashore. The smartly-dressed sailor sports a plumed hat, striped trousers and a sword as he swaggers in the wake of a pretty girl dressed to the nines and carrying a furled parasol.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

A 1950s liner's souvenir shop. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

Christmas is, for me, best spent at home but to many people a festive cruise is their idea of bliss. You don’t have to mess about with Christmas trees or decorations, bother about cooking or the washing up. On second thoughts I might try it …

Holidaymakers enjoy sea cruises in warmer climes to escape the cold weather and among the presents they take home are souvenirs from the ship’s gift shop. Cruises recently sailed from Liverpool on a regular basis for the first time in many years visiting such locations as the Canary Islands, Portugal, Spain, Norway, the western Mediterranean, France and Ireland.

There is a souvenir shop display in the Merseyside Maritime Museum featuring some of the items sold on British ships from 1900 up to the present day. They range from cigarette lighters and dolls to books and toys.

On display are playing cards, small construction kits of the original Queen Mary, pens, china and other metal smokers’ paraphernalia includes ships’ crested ashtrays and cigarette cases along with tea spoons. A handkerchief shows the Empress of France while a table mat depicting White Star Cunard’s Britannic dates from the 1950s.

A Norah Wellings sailor boy doll carries the name Lancastria on his cap. The luxury liner completed many cruises before becoming a troopship in the Second World War. She was sunk in 1940 with terrible loss of life.

Bringing the tradition up-to-date, there are souvenirs from Cunard’s Queen Mary 2 (QM2) – billed as the largest, tallest and widest passenger vessel ever built when she made her maiden voyage from Southampton in January 2004. She lost this distinction to Royal Caribbean International's Freedom of the Seas in 2006. QM2's facilities include 15 restaurants and bars, five swimming pools, a casino, a ballroom, a theatre, and a planetarium. The latter is said to have been inspired by the Planetarium in World Museum Liverpool.

For 100 years there have been books of comparisons produced to emphasise the huge size of the liners. The first one appeared in 1907 to celebrate the maiden voyages of the Mauretania and her doomed sister Lusitania (more on the Lusitania on our main site).

The idea was revived in 1936 for the original Queen Mary. The most recent version shows the Queen Mary 2 in imaginary situations. She is seen on the Mersey waterfront where she is as high as the huge Port of Liverpool Building.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Regular childhood trips on the Mersey ferries gave me my first taste of the sea even though we didn’t go further than New Brighton. I have never sailed on the high seas apart from in an ocean-going yacht around the Canary Islands - the Isle of Man and Irish ferries are more my style.

The Mersey ferry is perhaps the most famous ferry service in the world – deservedly so because of the dramatic maritime setting of river estuary, open sea and Liverpool waterfront.

The song Ferry ‘cross the Mersey is known all over the globe and is played on the Mersey ferries as they ply their triangular route between Liverpool, Seacombe and Birkenhead.

We have to go back to the 1150s for the start of the Mersey ferries when the monks at Birkenhead Priory would row passengers across the estuary for a small fare. At that time it was a wild and desolate area when the Priory was the biggest building for miles around – there was no castle or tower at Liverpool. This was 50 years before King John granted Liverpool’s charter in 1207. Even then the population never exceeded 500 until the 16th century.

A painting at Merseyside Maritime Museum dates from the era when steam was just beginning to make an impression although sail still held sway in the maritime world. The Rock Ferry (shown here) was painted by leading marine artist Samuel Walters about 1834 (other Walters paintings can be seen on our main site). It gives an insight into the type of craft in use before the advent of steam. Relying upon sails and oars, crossing the Mersey was often unpredictable. The ferry boat in the painting is the James, built in 1826 by Mottershead and Hayes of Liverpool. Walters shows the return trip to Liverpool laden with passengers along with fresh fruit and vegetables from the Wirral.

In the past there were up to 10 ferries between Liverpool and the Wirral – Rock Ferry, Eastham, New Ferry, Tranmere, Birkenhead, Woodside, Egremont, Seacombe, New Brighton and Monks Ferry. There was also a ferry terminal at Garston, Liverpool.

Also on display is a designer’s prototype model of the paddle steamer Alliance of about 1854, showing the dramatic change in ferry boat design in just 30 years. She was later built in Glasgow and served as a ferry on the River Clyde. Unusually, the model has identical stern and bow, each housing a small paddle wheel, with four funnels arranged in a square.

On our main site there are a number of ferry related features including a 1945 photograph of the Royal Daffodil II, a 1959 photograph of the Pier Head and ferry, and an information sheet providing a brief history of the Mersey Ferries.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The Clara Monks

The idea of a fleet of small ships being mustered to support the Normandy landings in the Second World War is something I find very inspirational.

It was part of an audacious plan to hoodwink Hitler’s forces but it paid off handsomely. I also think this element of surprise is very British and the D-Day landings rank with other victories over the centuries.

They were workhorses of the sea, but 362 coasters played a vital role in Operation Neptune – the landings in northern France which heralded the end of the war.

The Battle of Normandy was launched on 6 June 1944 when the Allies landed on the beaches of German-occupied France.

Once they had a foothold and had forced the Germans back, substantial Allied contingents poured through the beachhead and joined the battle to liberate Europe.

One of the little ships involved was the 577-ton Clara Monks, a sturdy Liverpool-owned steam coaster dating from 1920.

She was part of convoy ETC.16 which left Southend on 23 June 1944, arriving the following day at Seine Bay, east of Cherbourg, with crucial supplies.

There were a total of 24 merchant ships in the convoy, with two escort ships. Small coasters were perfect for maintaining the continuous flow of supplies of ammunition, cased petrol and general stores from more than 20 Allied ports to the Normandy beaches.

There is a model of the single-funnelled Clara Monks in the Life at Sea gallery in Merseyside Maritime Museum which captures the robust construction of the original ship.

She had a long and varied career carrying diverse cargoes around the west coast of England for John S Monks of Liverpool, one of the major coastal companies of the day. After the war the Clara Monks carried goods between Le Havre and the Channel Islands and Liverpool before being scrapped in 1959.

A photograph shows her at sea with members of the crew on the monkey island (the roof of the wheelhouse).

Two similar ships are featured in the display – the Cornish Trader, also of 1920, and the Slievenamon.

A plan of the Cornish Trader shows the layout of crew accommodation as well as cargo holds. There is a page from the cargo book of the Slievenamon dating from 1922, the year of the Irish uprising, when her cargoes included coal, stout – and IRA prisoners.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

'Clytie' being manoeuvred into place at the gallery

I have always been intrigued by Frederic, Lord Leighton, who is very much an unfathomable figure to me.

A couple of years ago I visited his former London residence, the Leighton House Museum, off London’s Kensington High Street, and was mesmerised.

This amazing villa in Holland Park Road has a room that reminded me of beautiful tiled palaces I had visited in Morocco. In the entrance a photograph shows Leighton gazing at a statue of a naked youth. All around there are hints of what his contemporary Oscar Wilde called “strange sins” – dark corners and sumptuous furniture set in gloomy rooms.

Despite this, bachelor Leighton lived a life that was squeaky clean – it must have been because Queen Victoria ennobled him. Any whiff of scandal and the Royals cast you into outer darkness in those days.

Leighton was the first painter to be given a peerage, in the New Year Honours List of 1896 just days before his death.

When distressed friends and colleagues went over his house they found Clytie – his final great painting – standing unfinished in Leighton’s huge studio.

Now this stunning work is on display at the Lady Lever Art Gallery for a year. This is because Leighton House Museum is closed for a £1.3 million refurbishment until the end of 2009.

Clytie was placed at the head of Leighton’s coffin before being removed to the Royal Academy, where Leighton was president. The painting depicts a heartbroken nymph who, abandoned by her lover Apollo, spends nine days in a wild and isolated place imploring his return and watching him drive his chariot across the sky. 

Clytie joins several other Leighton paintings in the Lady Lever collections including his massive masterwork The Daphnephoria (more of his work can be seen in the Leighton featured artist section). Sharp-eyed visitors will see a tiny study for Clytie nearby in the main hall.

Our picture shows skilled members of the National Museums Liverpool handling team hanging the picture using specialist equipment.

Clytie was acquired by Leighton House this year. Supported by the National Lottery through the Heritage Lottery Fund and The Art Fund, the UK’s leading independent art charity.

Photo sent by Mrs Alice Solomon in Sierra Leone to her husband. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo.

A young Merchant Navy officer lived opposite us and for months his mother would wait with growing anticipation for him to return home on leave. There was always a big party when Gordon arrived – so packed that they took the downstairs doors away to make more space. The following morning empty beer bottles were placed neatly around the front gate – and at intervals all the way to the bus stop.

The downside of going to sea can be that seafarers leave home, family and friends for weeks or months at a time. In the days of sail they could be away for several years and no-one would know whether they were alive or dead.

While many mariners and their families are often able to cope with this occupational hazard, others cannot. Long voyages and lack of contact made family life especially difficult for the crews of sailing ships. Sailors on steam and motor ships usually benefitted from shorter voyages and faster communication. Occasionally, captain’s wives and children accompanied them.

Today seafarers stay in regular touch and close family can even accompany them on some ships. The arrival of mobile ‘phones, texting and e-mails in recent years means that mariners can communicate with home in many parts of the world and even on the high seas with cheap satellite links.

On the other hand, many seafarers have found leaving the sea to be a painful experience. The longer someone is at sea the harder it may be to leave or “swallow the anchor”. My late cousin Ken Guy was a chief petty officer in the Royal Navy and experienced major challenges after he left. He was so used to people obeying his commands that he had few interpersonal skills.

Marriage and parenthood often marked the beginning of the end of a seagoing career. For many the experience was made worse because jobs were hard to find ashore.

In the Life at Sea gallery at Merseyside Maritime Museum there is a display called Family Life.There are photographs sent by Mrs Alice Solomon from Sierra Leone to her husband who served as a clerk on the Volta Palm in the early 1950s (one is shown here).

A creamware jug inscribed The Greenwich Pensioner was possibly made in Liverpool between 1780 and 1800. Two retired sailors, one with a wooden leg and the other with a hook for a hand, are seen sitting outside an inn.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Mr and Mrs Ogden with Captain Rostron. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

If anyone deserved a medal it was Captain Arthur Henry Rostron – a man I have always admired because he kept cool and saved hundreds of lives in the Titanic disaster. Recently I went to have a look at his house in Crosby, Liverpool, not far from where the Titanic captain Edward Smith lived. It’s strange to think that these two major players in one of the greatest sea dramas were near-neighbours.

The sinking of the Titanic in 1912 continues to fascinate people and Captain Rostron of the Cunard liner Carpathia is remembered as the shining hero of the rescue operation. The Titanic hit an iceberg on her maiden voyage to America and sent out frantic distress signals as she began to sink. More than 1,500 people were to die in the icy waters.

Harold Cottam, the wireless operator on the Carpathia, left his headset on while dressing for bed - in those days there wasn’t 24-hour radio cover. He heard the distress signal and alerted the captain who immediately ordered Carpathia to race towards Titanic. Capt Rostron showed great skill and courage in moving his ship so quickly through vast ice fields to rescue all 712 survivors.  It took more than three hours to reach Titanic but Rostron made good use of the time. A list of 23 orders was successfully implemented by the crew to prepare Carpathia for taking on survivors. These included getting accommodation, food, drink and blankets ready and ordering his medical crew to stand by. Rostron, a devout Christian, was seen praying quietly.

Six of Capt Rostron’s awards are on display at Merseyside Maritime Museum, loaned by members of his family. There is a huge inscribed silver loving cup presented personally to him by a heroine of the disaster, ‘The Unsinkable’ Molly Brown, on behalf of Titanic survivors.  A stunning gold medal of the US Congress was presented by President William Howard Taft in the name of the American people. There are also gold medals from the Liverpool Shipwreck and Humane Society and the Life Saving and Benevolent Society of New York, a US Cross of Honor and a bronze medal presented to the captain, officers and crew of Carpathia by the survivors.

Capt Rostron is pictured here relaxed and smiling after the task of picking up survivors was complete. He is seen standing between Mr and Mrs Ogden who took photos of Titanic’s lifeboats approaching Carpathia.

There's more on the Titanic and related objects in our collection on our main site.  

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

The figurehead. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

Lord Hastings is one of those larger-than-life characters I would have liked to have met – he had a very colourful career and seems, for his time, to have been rather a good egg.

I was amazed when I discovered how he literally had a hand in his wife’s funeral.

The massive wooden figurehead depicting Francis Rawdon-Hastings, 1st Marquess of Hastings, looks straight ahead with features nobly bland as befitting a governor-general of India. Lord Hastings (1754 – 1826), is depicted wearing a magnificent uniform with gold epaulettes, gleaming medal and foaming cravat. The figurehead, now at Merseyside Maritime Museum, once graced the bows of HMS Hastings named after this soldier who was born into the Irish aristocracy.

The 74-gun warship was built in Calcutta for the East India Company in 1818  and acquired by the  British Navy the following year. At this time Lord Hastings was enjoying a brilliant career helping to carve out the burgeoning British Empire by extending territories in India and the Far East.

HMS Hastings’ figurehead is typical of the type found on British naval ships in the early 19th century. It was probably English-made and fitted on her arrival here in 1819.

The warship travelled many thousands of miles as she plied the seas between Europe, the Mediterranean and East Indies. Eventually she came to Liverpool as a coastal defence vessel in 1857 before becoming a Royal Naval Reserve training ship in the port. After ending her days as a coal hulk in the south of England, she was broken up in 1886.

And what of the Lord Hastings who gave his name to the dependable warship? He was governor general of India from 1813 to 1823, a period marked with many military victories against peoples opposing British rule. However, things later turned sour with mud-slinging against Lord Hastings over financial issues. He resigned and left India exhausted by his labours.

Far from having enriched himself as governor-general, when he arrived back in England he had to seek employment. He became the popular governor of Malta and died at sea off Naples in 1826.

Lord Hastings married when he was 50 and fathered five children. On his death, he left a bizarre request - his right hand was cut off and preserved until the death of his wife, when it was placed in her coffin.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

'The barque Rockshire off a rocky coast' by Jospeh Heard. Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

I have always wondered about my reactions if I was shipwrecked but thankfully this is one particular challenge that hasn’t come along yet. I don’t think any of us could say with any accuracy how we would behave in that sort of situation.

Full fathom five they lie, shipwrecks of all types scattered over the floors of the world’s oceans and seas along with the bones of countless seafarers and passengers. Each is testimony to disasters, accidents and mishaps caused by age-old dangers such as foul weather, fire, war, collision, bad navigation, stupidity or simply bad luck.

The safety of everyone on board a ship depends on good navigation - knowing where you are and where you are going. This is a simple truth that has been disregarded on innumerable occasions.

Before 1850 bad navigation alone caused the loss or damage of many British ships. Captains and other senior officers often had inadequate navigational skills and equipment. There were no clear rules to prevent collisions. After 1850, however, masters and mates had to be trained and examined in navigation. Methods and equipment were improved. By the 20th century ships became much safer due to radio, radar and other electronic equipment. Today most ships depend on satellite navigation systems.

In the past seafarers also faced hazards from pirates and privateers. Pirates such as the legendary Blackbeard, Henry Morgan, Anne Bonny and Captain Kidd stole or took control of ships from their lawful crews. Privateers operated in times of war up to the 1850s. They were armed merchant ships which attacked enemy merchant vessels. There's more on privateering on our main site.

Merseyside Maritime Museum’s Life at Sea gallery has a display which focuses on navigation and safety at sea. A lifelike portrait of a sea captain, painted in oils about 1900 by WH Walton, captures the character of the veteran ship’s master.

There is a telescope which belonged to Captain A W “Hellfire” Sinclair who came to Liverpool in the 1850s at the start of his seafaring career. Sinclair was the hard-driving captain of packet ships operated by the famous Black Ball Line.

A jug, possibly made in Liverpool around 1780, tells the sad tale of man overboard. The black-and-white image shows men in a rowing boat throwing a rope to a man in the sea.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Image courtesy Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

Looking at this masterly portrait, I have to admit a certain liking for Captain Hugh Crow.

He was very much a man of his time and did what he did efficiently and well despite condemnation in his own day and now. Of course he was wrong in his actions and, with all his charm, personified the end of an evil era.

Captain Crow stands wearing his top hat and clutching a cutlass, sporting a billowing white linen shirt and blue trousers with matching necktie – a man at ease in retirement. At his feet are other relics of his prime - a pistol and a megaphone used for enforcing orders on a sailing ship ploughing across the ocean.These are subtle clues to the former occupation of this distinguished-looking man in a finely-observed watercolour portrait painted by A R Burt in 1820. 

Captain Crow was the last of the slavers.

The picture is among exhibits at the International Slavery Museum in the Merseyside Maritime Museum building.

Crow (1765 – 1829) is best known as the captain of Kitty’s Amelia, the last British slave ship cleared for sailing from Liverpool in July 1807 just before the trade was outlawed. Crow was master on six other slaving voyages. On retiring from the sea he wrote his memoirs – an engaging, rare first-hand account. He remained a staunch supporter of the slave trade.

Crow claimed he treated both the crew and enslaved Africans on his ships comparatively well. However, like other ships’ masters, it was in his interests to keep the captives healthy so they would fetch a better price. The voyage of the Kitty’s Amelia was eventful – she caught fire and they also rescued the crew of another ship that had been wrecked.

Another exhibit is the original account book of the Liverpool slave ship Enterprize for a voyage in 1794-5. The accounts reveal that the ship’s carpenter Daniel Small was perhaps considered the most important person on the ship – he was paid £5 10s (£5.50) per month. He could save the wooden ship if she sprang a leak or was damaged. Surprisingly, the captain, William Young, was paid less - £5 a month. However, a captain was entitled to commission on slaves he sold plus one or two privilege slaves he could sell himself. This was probably worth up to an additional £200 per voyage.

A new Maritime Tale by Stephen Guy appears every Saturday in the Liverpool Echo. A paperback – Mersey Maritime Tales (£3.99) – is available from the museum, newsagents, bookshops or from the Mersey Shop website (£1.50 p&p UK).

Image courtesy of Liverpool Daily Post and Echo

Whenever I look at Merseyside Maritime Museum’s collection of miniature ship models I marvel at these wonders created without the aid of plans or drawings. I could manage plastic construction kits of HMS Hood and the Bismarck but when I see these beautiful sailings ships – some little more than and inch long – I’m amazed. They are the ship model equivalents of beautiful humming birds – tiny vessels built by French prisoners-of-war.

Many of these models have - comparatively speaking - as much detail as those at the other end of the spectrum in the museum’s collections, such as the 20 ft-long model of the Titanic.

The Pilkington Collection of French Prisoner-of-War Models illustrates a vanished art when prisoners used materials such as wood chips or shavings, bone and straw to create wonders of model building. This collection of 39 miniscule warships and boats is one of the museum’s outstanding treasures.