Page 20 - Willem Barentsz

broadcasting music was concerned, we also had our "Radio Uskadadara". A transistor transmitter
with an output power of a few Watts and a range of about ten miles. Continuous music. There was no
further distraction on the catchers, but there was usually no time for that either. Yet there was no
grumbling about it. People had voluntarily chosen this existence. The food onboard the catchers was
excellent. There was the so-called Norwegian system. This meant that four meals a day were served,
of which the one at four o'clock in the afternoon was the only cold meal. The cook therefore was the
most important person on board and where not. When we received the store lists on the "Willem
Barendsz", we sometimes got jealous. All those delicacies. We didn't have a bad time on the factory
ship, but the catchers took the cake. Once every ten days, the catchers came alongside to bunker and
take stores. This was usually done at night, so as not to lose time, sometimes during the day if
circumstances permitted. Only in exceptionally bad weather we could not take the catchers
alongside. In extreme need, fuel could then be delivered while sailing over the stern.

Brawling

Of course, the catchers were also happy when the end of the season came. The days were getting
shorter, the weather rougher and the temperature was getting lower. At the ice edge you could see
the ice growing. A fantastic view. First the crystals, then "slush" and then "pancake ice". When
bunkering, everyone wanted to be the first to arrive in the Cape as quickly as possible. Our modern
motor catchers were the first, because they had already bunkered enough fuel. Their range was
much, much greater than that of the steam catchers. So, they only had to hand over the surplus
materials and could leave. Whoever bunkered first was not always the first to be at home. I
remember that a catcher, who was steaming homeward bound and barely audible on the 1995 kHz,
wanted to speak to the doctor. There had been a fight on board and knives had been drawn. They had
tried to sew up the stab wounds with sailing thread, but to no avail. Such things never happened
during the season, but always after, then there were fights and a few suicides. On the journey home,
someone went missing once when they started work. That meant steaming back to the position that
corresponded to the time the missing person was last seen. On a journey home, that's not so much
fun. After a few hours, a servant came pale on the bridge. He had found the man. Hung up in the
toilet. It was one of our Germans, a group that had been on the pre-war German whaling industry
and had been on board with us for years. There have also been cases where the clogs were found
near the railing. It was a great community and a long journey. I have experienced several cases of
people who no longer saw it as a good thing. Once upon a time there was someone who wanted to
call home at any moment and reproached us the bitterest if that didn't work. Having the dead-on
board was a normal thing. They were put in a freezer room and transported home. When changing a
watch, we once lost five men at the same time when a fire corridor of a boiler collapsed, and glowing
steam spurted into the engine room of a catcher.

The doctor certainly did not have an easy time. Difficult decisions that he faced alone. What do you
do with someone who has a stomach perforation, cannot be operated on and keeps using blood
plasma? The stock cannot be replenished. If the doctor then decides to stop using plasma, the patient
miraculously recovers. Problems abound and not only for the doctor. But at the end of the season,
everything is forgotten. When you set course for Cape Town, the normal sea watch is started, you
start to live a bit of normal life again.

Civilization

When you see civilization again after a good four months, it takes some time getting used to. The
shore is always a break from the rhythm, an intrusion into the closed community on board. Still, it