The Last Trip

Kia Ora, The Crescent
Maghull, Lancashire;
Dear Chauncey:
Re the last trip of the great S.S. Leviathan, we got away on the Tuesday from Pier 4, Hoboken, about 4.30 P.M. and we certainly put some smoke over Lil Old New York and kept that up all the way across the ocean. We anchored off Staten Island the same evening to take on 1800 tons of fuel oil to make up our complement for the passage across. That night we had a fire in one of our boilers and burst it right out.
At 5 A.M. next morning we weighed anchor and proceeded to Ambrose Channel Light Vessel to adjust compasses; finished adjusting about 9.15 A.M., landed pilot and adjuster, and proceeded. Before passing the A.C.L.V. the surgeon reported having no medical stores on board, so I returned to anchorage, awaiting these stores, which were being sent out by tugboat, there being some mistake about their not being on board as part of the survey. At 2.30 P.M. tug arrived. Weighed centre anchor, but on heaving up same the cable parted, so lost it — accident No. 2.
Anyway we started on our journey at 3.32 P.M., wondering what the next accident would be. About two hours later a phone message from the engine room asked for the surgeon to be sent down, as one of the engineers had fallen down a ladder and broken his jawbone — accident No. 3.
We had nice weather, but the crew was awful. The American senior engineers were O.K., but most of the rest of the engine staff were the worst type picked up in Hoboken. Just out to see how much money they could obtain for the trip across and how little work they could do. The deck hands and the victualing department were got on the cheap from Canada to work their passage across, but they had to sign on for ten days’ pay and one month’s bonus the same as the rest of the engine staff, so we had a lot of thugs on at big pay.
I was afraid of fires in the passenger quarters, but am pleased to say we had none; the seven fires we had all happened in the boiler rooms, so we were able to cope with them. I decided after leaving to go via North of Scotland to try and catch the last of the spring tide, and succeeded in getting there in time, but owing to so much wind they would n’t allow us to dock. We had only twelve men on deck outside the carpenter and bosun, four men on a wateh. nighttime, two on the lookout and two for steering, none of whom were any good; found that two men could steer, and the others were from two to three points off their course. Had fog on the Banks, then a snow blizzard for about six hours afterward. Clear weather with a gale on our quarter.
One day the steering gear went out of order. Through the man at the wheel keeping it over too long one way, the liquid ran out over the side so that she would n’t steer, so we tried to turn her round the other way, but nothing doing — for over an hour she wanted to go back to New York. Then everything got all right, and back on our course we went. The same night the fog whistle started blowing for some reason every minute, although it was a clear night, and we searched round to find out what happened; but it stopped on its own, so we never really knew what was going to happen next.
We had no observation all the way across, but picked up the Butt of Lewis Light all right, so were quite pleased after the steering we had, and decided to go through the Pentland Firth to save the tide on Thursday, as it saved seventy-one miles, instead of going past Fair Isle. The agreement on the articles was that either at anchorage or at dock the crew were finished and to be paid off. We anchored Thursday, February 3, passage seven days, seventeen hours. Average speed 17.1 knots. Distance 3164 miles from Ambrose Channel Light Vessel to Inverkeithing Island on the Firth of Forth.
Next morning it was blowing a gale, and although all hands were still on board no work was done, as they were all packed up, waiting for their money; no steam in the main engines when the ship dragged her anchors, and we drifted nearly on the rocks of a small island named Haystack. A few British engineers ran below and got a little steam up so that we were able to weigh anchor and just managed to save the ship, and in time had enough to steam up to the anchorage again.
We had nothing to eat that day and managed to get the American engine greasers, water tenders, and oilers, also the deck and victualing department, on shore by a tugboat, but still had the British engineers and a few British oilers left on board and the three deck officers. They brought us out some cooked food and a few cases of beer, so we had that at midnight. Then we got a new crew next day from Leith and some men to keep watch on deck for the ten days we had to remain at anchor.
We lived much better now than we did on the way across, as I believe that one of the two cooks we had was a plasterer — the bread was terrible. I ate the biscuits out of the lifeboat all the way across, for I could n’t tackle the bread. Now Sunday the thirteenth arrived to take her into dock; we weighed anchors, and on turning the ship round to go under the Firth Bridge an oil pipe burst and we lost all steam. The ship was heading right across the Firth and I could n’t go ahead or astern, so I lost the tide and had to anchor until Monday, which cost another 1000 pounds sterling.
She was a hoodoo ship all right — I was glad when we docked.
So there you have the last voyage of your greatest merchant ship of America. Everyone who has had anything to do with her since she first came out lost money, and now she will never go to sea again, as we flooded her No. 1 hold to sink her in the mud in Rosyth Dock, so she won’t blow around the dock while they cut her up for scrap. Her boilers leaked, her water pipes leaked, her steam pipes leaked all over, and she was only fit for scrap. I would n’t undertake another job like her for 500 pounds sterling, but am glad we got her over safe. She is the largest vessel ever to have gone through the Pentland Firth, and I ‘m proud to say I commanded her and that was at 2 A.M.
Well, good night, Chauncey, and kind regards to all old friends.
Yours sincerely,
J. W. BINKS