BILL McMaster

Aruba.
I cannot say the exact date when my family first arrived in Aruba and those who could have told me have now unfortunately passed on.
However I can say that my father commenced working for Lago Shipping Company in June 1927, though it is possible that he was in the Caribbean area before that date.
Both my parents came from a small peninsula on the East Coast of Northern Ireland, called Islandmagee – where at that time every eldest male son inherited the family farm and it was left for the younger siblings to seek their fortunes elsewhere. The majority tended towards seafaring and at this time, most British ships had at least one crewmember from that place sailing onboard, as in that period during and after the great depression, making a living on the land and indeed elsewhere was very difficult.
My grandfather was a shipmaster - as was his father before him - and had been born on the small family farm. My grandmother, in addition to raising the inevitable children, who ultimately numbered eleven in total, that arrived regularly after his vacations, worked this - cows for milk & butter, hens for eggs and eating, and a large vegetable garden for all the family. It is also possible that adult relatives helped, or casual outside labour was hired, as necessary for ploughing and cutting grass and making hay for winter cattle feed. Undoubtedly all of the growing children helped with the chores as much as they could, both before and after school and during the school holidays.
My grandfather served in a foreign going sailing vessel as Chief Mate from 1887 and then Captain between 1891 until 1893. One of my aunts described how the family existed in those days before social security, during his long periods away at sea.
This sailing ship, the Braque Polly Woodside, the 1885 product of another Belfast shipyard, sailed around the world. Its voyages took it from Europe to the West coast of South America on the nitrate trade, to Australia and New Zealand for grain and wool. In 1904 it then was sold to New Zealand then Australian owners before finally being used as a coaling hulk, then in 1922 being left to rot, falling victim to the onslaught of the steamship.
Much later it was recognized as one of the last vessels of its type and was extensively rebuilt and brought back from a decaying hulk in 1987 and is now on permanent display in a park beside the Yarrow River in Melbourne, Australia.
A small history of my grandfather, during his time onboard, including pictures, is included in a book entitled "The Braque Polly Woodside (Rona) by Vin Darroch, an Australian, who was involved in collecting information on the ship and also involved in its reconstruction. The book is long out of print, however I have recently managed to obtain a second-hand copy from that country.
The more famous Belfast shipyard of Harland & Wolff in 1925 received its first order to build four shallow draft tankers from Lago Shipping Co. These ships and sixteen subsequent orders that were built at that shipyard were originally managed and crews supplied by Andrew Weir of Glasgow. With new ships coming off the slipway, crew were needed and I can only assume that is how my Father went to Venezuela. Bearing in mind at this time certificated captains sailed as AB’s and ordinary seamen were unable to get positions on ships.
Certainly there are photographs in our house (some of which I have included) showing him on various "lakers" along with various cousins - Islandmagee was also a place where everyone was related to everyone else, and the news would spread rapidly by word of mouth, of the opportunities to had in the West Indies.
At one time the following people from Islandmagee worked there and were my fathers cousins; Capt. Jimmy Kerr, Tom Mann, Capt. Hugh Jackson, Samuel M. Kane. Captain John Kane also from the same place was not a relation.

 

 

 

My parents married in 1932 and soon after, my mother moved to Maracaibo, where I was born in 1935.

Another photograph shows me being carried by my Father on the bridge of a ship.

On the back is written " Bill at four months old, on his first trip". I believe this vessel to be the s.s. Invercorrie. It may also explain why I too, followed in my father’s footsteps and chose seafaring as a career.
Another relative - this time of my mothers, though by marriage, was James (Paddy) Young - Norman & Kenneth’s father. He was third engineer on one of the "lakers", torpedoed on 14th February. A non-swimmer and a very brave man, he gave his lifejacket to the Chief Engineer – also a non- swimmer when they abandoned ship, but managed to survive although badly burnt. He never returned to the fleet, but when recovered from his wounds, worked for the marine department within the harbour. Because of shore based work he was a frequent visitor to our bungalow. He taught my sister and I to swim, gave me extra tuition in math to try and improve my grades – he probably did not realize how difficult a task he was letting himself in for. He also had the unenviable task of telling me that my Dad had been killed in September 1944.
Even after we returned to Northern Ireland, during his vacations home, he took time to take me shooting: ducks in the winter, rabbits and pigeons during summer ones and fishing. He also took me to watch the Ulster Grand Prix motor races and motorcycle TT races whenever possible. My Mother, sister and I owe him a great debt of gratitude for the many kindness he showed to our family.
During a vacation home to Ireland in late 1937, my mother again found herself pregnant but remained there until after the birth of my sister in April 1938. I do not know why she remained there until December that year but I now write with certainty, because on December 23rd. 1938 the Shaw Savill & Albion Line twin screw steamer, the s.s. Tamaroa sailed from Southampton; amongst those shown in the passenger list are Mrs. A. A. McMaster, Master William McMaster and Miss Pamela McMaster. (See attached copies of the Shaw Saville & Albion passenger list), all scheduled to disembark at Curacao. This vessel a 12,500 gross ton mail steamer, called at Curacao, then transited the Panama Canal on its way to New Zealand. What date we arrived at Willemstad, Curaçao and how and when we were transported to Aruba I cannot say, but certainly sometime in early January 1939.

  We lived at #717 from then until our departure from Aruba late 1944 after my dad was killed following a collision between his ship, the "Punta Gorda" and the s.s. Ampetco on September 20th.

 

CABIN CLASS PASSENGERS ~ continued.

 

 

Disembarking

CURACAO-continued.

Mr. C. Lockwood

Mrs. A. A. McMaster

Master W. McMaster

Miss P. C. McMaster

Mrs. K. L. Newman

Mrs. G. Partridge
I know we left the “Rock” by a KLM flight on 11.10.1944 on aircraft PJ- AKA,

Pilot - te Koller

Co-pilot  - unnamed

Engineer – Weststrate

Wireless operator - Welschen

calling at Port au Prince and Camaguay in Cuba and thence to Miami.
I know we left the "Rock" by a KLM flight on 11.10.1944 on aircraft PJ- AKA, with Pilot - te Koller, Co-pilot - unnamed, Engineer – Weststrate, Wireless operator - Welschen, calling at Port au Prince, Camaguay in Cuba and thence to Miami.
My days in Aruba were some of the happiest of my life. A tropical island paradise, with no winter weather, an ideal place for children with few natural hazards. At first, free from the horrors of war that was beginning to ravage Europe at that time.
It was a time of long summer holidays spend at the beach, complete with swimsuit and towel and the ever essential book of club tickets for drinks and ice cream at the Esso Club, with non-stop swimming, diving from the "T" dock into the warm tropical waters, protected by a lagoon and shark nets. Of finding the body of a shark on the reef. A very sobering moment.
However there were incidents, fractures to left collar bone, right collar bone and right wrist – all in quick succession causing my mother, anxiously, to ask a doctor at the hospital if I suffered from brittle bones. He replied "No – just unlucky". A little while later I was almost even more unlucky.
When in a temporary house, ours being painted; I ran from behind the school bus at lunchtime, without looking and was struck by a passing car. This time – undamaged but obviously in shock, I freed my self from the front of the car, sprinted across the road, up the steps, through the kitchen – past my startled mother, into the bedroom and hid under the bed. The unknown driver who’s quick braking saved my life pursued me, to see if I had been hurt. His rushed arrival in the kitchen at the run, "had she seen a little boy run past", a quick explanation then both adults following me into the bedroom and finally finding me under the bed.
Comical now, but at the time could have ended more seriously.
Of Christmas parties at the Marine Club, with a large decorated tree, a real Santa with gaily-wrapped presents for every child.
And then in February 1942, of watching the night sky, red with burning oil from tankers that had been torpedoed at the reef, and going to the top of the hill overlooking the church to see the cause. My fathers cousin Samuel M. Kane being one of those lost when the s.s San Nicolas was torpedoed that February day.
Later after the islands defenses were bolstered by the arrival of American forces, my sister and I, joining other young school friends and going up to the army camp early Saturday and Sunday mornings and inserting our selves, nonchalantly into the chow line for breakfast. And of begging shoulder badges and equipment from the ever patient and congenial friendly soldiers.
I can remember only one of my teachers. Miss Myrtle Parham being the one who sticks in my memory and strangely enough, the teacher sitting at the back of that classroom photograph of the third grade, taken in 1944.
Since our departure, I have been back to the island many times. The first time in November 1953 during my first year at sea when we called at San Nicolas to load a cargo of oil for Europe. In 1957 I was there many times and again in 1972, the last time being in 1993 when the refinery was being re-commissioned and operated by Coastal.
I still have to fulfill a promise to my wife that I would take her there to show her my childhood home.
Probably not this year but certainly before very long.

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