Me again(Pain in the freckle) with a dit about dogs on Sweepers.
I joined the good ship Chawton as Cox'n in '73 when she was in the floating dock at Rosyth. We had a ship's dog named Rory, a 57 varieties, curly tailed sort from the Edinburgh Dogs Home. Rory was one of the ship's company and much loved by all the lads. In the fullness of time we left the dock and headed out for our first patrol with the Fish squadron, which, having been completed, we went alongside our base at Lochinvar.
Now, Rory was a proper sea-dog, he used to head up to the eyes of the ship for a dump and the gophers used to wash it away over the side, so no mess for the lads to clean up.When we got alongside anywhere, he used to be dragged, howling and protesting to the fo'rard bathroom where he was shampooed, covered in aftershave and prepared for a run ashore.We used to take him on a tiddly plaited lead to the nearest local hostelery and, on arrival, two of the big old pub ashtrays were laid out for him, one filled with crisps and the other with beer.The lads used to bet on when Rory would do a technicolour yawn, but, give him his due, he could hold his grog up to a point. Rory used to keep the QM and Bosun's goat company on the gangway and had been trained to bark at anyone approaching(Especially dockyard mateys in green ovvies)
Now, our CO at the time was a 2/1/2 wafoo helicopter pilot who had been awarded the Air Force Cross, so he must have done something brave to deserve that. Having said that, he WAS a bit naive to jack's sense of fair play.
Anyway to cut a VERY long story short, we came alongside under the bridge at Newcastle one fine day(Great run ashore-more of that later) and the CO had been invited to a civic reception, accompanied by Mrs CO.They had quarters in Edinburgh and she drove down for the weekend's do.Now, they also bred Beagle dogs and she was accompanied by one of their pedigree bitches.On arrival on the Friday, they had booked into a hotel for the weekend which didn't allow dogs, so the CO sends for me and tells me that the bitch would be accommodated in his cabin for the duration, Rory was forbidden on pain of death to go near it(She was in season) and that the duty watch were to look after the bitch and take it for walkies on the jetty ever couple of hours.Now, sailors are nothing but flexible in their approach to life, but THIS was a bridge too far!
Rory, being tied up in the bathroom, could sense that the bitch was on heat and was VERY excitable, growling and barking which was unusual for him.The lads, having taken the bitch for a couple of walks, got jack of it, took Rory down to the CO's cabin, opened the door and let him loose!
Anyway, we sailed on the Monday morning and all was well. Shortly afterwards the skipper had a letter from Mrs Skipper announcing that the prize bitch was up the duff and, a couple of months later-Shock-horror-she had given birth to a litter of curly tailed Beagle pups.The skipper couldn't understand it and there was no way I was going to enlighten him, having beern sworn to secrecy by the lads.
As a bit of an aside, our buffer, a killick sailor, Stevie Warwick who was going outside, obtained a grant from the White Fish Authority for a trawler in the UK (He lived on the IofW) and when we paid off for scrap, took Rory with him-he'd never have settled down to a normal dog's life ashore having been raised on board Chawton from a pup.
A tout a l'houre
I joined the good ship Chawton as Cox'n in '73 when she was in the floating dock at Rosyth. We had a ship's dog named Rory, a 57 varieties, curly tailed sort from the Edinburgh Dogs Home. Rory was one of the ship's company and much loved by all the lads. In the fullness of time we left the dock and headed out for our first patrol with the Fish squadron, which, having been completed, we went alongside our base at Lochinvar.
Now, Rory was a proper sea-dog, he used to head up to the eyes of the ship for a dump and the gophers used to wash it away over the side, so no mess for the lads to clean up.When we got alongside anywhere, he used to be dragged, howling and protesting to the fo'rard bathroom where he was shampooed, covered in aftershave and prepared for a run ashore.We used to take him on a tiddly plaited lead to the nearest local hostelery and, on arrival, two of the big old pub ashtrays were laid out for him, one filled with crisps and the other with beer.The lads used to bet on when Rory would do a technicolour yawn, but, give him his due, he could hold his grog up to a point. Rory used to keep the QM and Bosun's goat company on the gangway and had been trained to bark at anyone approaching(Especially dockyard mateys in green ovvies)
Now, our CO at the time was a 2/1/2 wafoo helicopter pilot who had been awarded the Air Force Cross, so he must have done something brave to deserve that. Having said that, he WAS a bit naive to jack's sense of fair play.
Anyway to cut a VERY long story short, we came alongside under the bridge at Newcastle one fine day(Great run ashore-more of that later) and the CO had been invited to a civic reception, accompanied by Mrs CO.They had quarters in Edinburgh and she drove down for the weekend's do.Now, they also bred Beagle dogs and she was accompanied by one of their pedigree bitches.On arrival on the Friday, they had booked into a hotel for the weekend which didn't allow dogs, so the CO sends for me and tells me that the bitch would be accommodated in his cabin for the duration, Rory was forbidden on pain of death to go near it(She was in season) and that the duty watch were to look after the bitch and take it for walkies on the jetty ever couple of hours.Now, sailors are nothing but flexible in their approach to life, but THIS was a bridge too far!
Rory, being tied up in the bathroom, could sense that the bitch was on heat and was VERY excitable, growling and barking which was unusual for him.The lads, having taken the bitch for a couple of walks, got jack of it, took Rory down to the CO's cabin, opened the door and let him loose!
Anyway, we sailed on the Monday morning and all was well. Shortly afterwards the skipper had a letter from Mrs Skipper announcing that the prize bitch was up the duff and, a couple of months later-Shock-horror-she had given birth to a litter of curly tailed Beagle pups.The skipper couldn't understand it and there was no way I was going to enlighten him, having beern sworn to secrecy by the lads.
As a bit of an aside, our buffer, a killick sailor, Stevie Warwick who was going outside, obtained a grant from the White Fish Authority for a trawler in the UK (He lived on the IofW) and when we paid off for scrap, took Rory with him-he'd never have settled down to a normal dog's life ashore having been raised on board Chawton from a pup.
A tout a l'houre
