To tell the truth my mother rather disapproved of him. He was a grizzled old sailor with a fondness for rum. He was married to my father's eldest sister and the couple had married late and had no children although I believe Uncle Dick had a daughter from an earlier liaison but I never met her.

Uncle Dick died in February 1954 while I was still at primary school and I don't remember whether or not I attended his funeral. I probably did because my father was close to his sister, my Auntie Ada, and after Uncle Dick's death we (that is my father and me) used to visit her most Saturday mornings. Occasionally they would talk about Uncle Dick and that is how I learned that he has been at sea, under sail, since he was a boy and sailed, as a deckhand, on the last Jersey-built sailing ship, the topsail schooner Miss St. John, to embark upon the 'golden triangle' in 1912.

For those not familiar with the phrase, the 'golden triangle' involved a voyage from Jersey to northern Spain, usually Vigo or La Coruna, with general cargo, from northern Spain to either the West Indies or Pernambuco in Brazil with casked wine, from Pernambuco with balsa wood or from the West Indies with sugar and molasses to New England, from New England to the Grand Banks and one of the ports of the Gaspé coast, to load dried and salted cod for Spain. The voyage, more of a four or even five-sided triangle really, would last a year. The 'gold' came from the fact that such a voyage could often yield for the vessel's owners and skipper enough to retire. 'Cod houses', country mansions built on the proceeds of the trade, are still to be seen in the Jersey countryside.

Early in the 19th century, following the defeat of Napoléon Bonaparte, the victors declared 'freedom of the seas' which outlawed privateering. The Channel Islands had been very adept at privateering - a form of legalised piracy that allowed privately-owned ships armed with cannon and a 'Letter of Marque' to attack and capture the ships of the King's enemies (and gave the King a share of the loot) - and 'freedom of the seas' deprived the Islands of a major source of income. By way of compensation to the Jersey fleet the British government conferred exclusive trading rights to the Gaspé peninsular near the mouth of the St Lawrence River in eastern Canada. It was along the Gaspé that the teeming cod of the nearby Grand Banks were landed to be salted and dried for export to the Catholic countries of Europe so that their peoples could eat fish on Fridays. Jerseymen in particular had fished the Grand Banks since the 16th century and local families had established themselves, and profitable businesses, on the otherwise bleak Gaspé. Now thanks to the British government, all the fish caught and processed had to be carried in Jersey-registered vessels. There were fortunes to be made. Incidentally, since the trade had been established the dried fish not deemed of sufficiently high quality to sell in Europe was shipped to the West Indies and Southern States of America to feed the slaves on the plantations. For almost a hundred years, until the turn of the 20th century, sturdy schooners, brigs and barques were built in shipyards at West Park, Havre des Pas and Gorey to provide the vessels for this lucrative trade.

Miss St. John returned to Jersey just in time for the crew to join in the Great War. Uncle Dick remained in the Merchant Navy and had at least one of the vessels in which he served sunk under him by enemy action.

An abiding memory was going to St Helier harbour with my father. He was fascinated by ships, even the modest craft that plied between the Channel Islands and what we knew as 'the mainland'. Many times we watched from the pier-head as the mail-boats of what so recently had been the Southern and Great Western Railways were warped into their berths and (in those days before the harbours hosted hundreds of yachts in marinas) the cargo ships high and dry on the mud alongside the Albert and New North Quays. One in particular stood out for even in the 1950s she was an anachronism, the former three-masted topsail schooner now re-rigged as an auxiliary ketch, the Result. Her home port was Braunton in North Devon and she plied, at never more than a stately five knots fully loaded, between the ports of the Bristol Channel, principally Cardiff and Swansea and the Channel Islands with cargoes of coal and fertilizers.

The Result in the 1950s

The Result had been built in 1893 in Carrickfergus in N. Ireland. Her frames and plates were of steel and she measured 122 gross tons. At her launch she was described as the finest small sailing vessel ever built in Britain.

Under the command of her owner Capt. Tom Welch she spent the Second World War in the Bristol Channel trade carrying coal from South Wales ports with my Uncle Dick as a deckhand, but in the Great War the Result assumed an entirely different role for, in January 1917, she was converted at Lowestoft into Q-23 and let loose to hunt German U-boats off the Dutch coast a week later. Q-23 was armed with two 18 cwt. 12 pdr. guns, one forward and one aft of the mainmast, in gunwells sunk in what had been the cargo hatches. She also had a 6 pdr. gun on the port side forward, two fixed 14" torpedo tubes aft, one on each quarter, depth charges and a 'cargo' of sand ballast to absorb enemy shellfire.

The crew, all volunteers, totalled 23 and were commanded by Lt. PJ Mack RN with her civilian skipper, Capt. J Reid, retained as sailing master. More than two hundred British coastal sailing ships had been sunk by enemy mines or U-boats and it was hoped that in her new guise, Result might even up the score a bit.

Q-23's career was a short - she was decommissioned in August 1917 - but eventful one. During this time she masqueraded as being both Dutch and Swedish, the hope being that U-boat commanders would not only not waste a torpedo on a neutral but, under the cruiser rules, venture close enough to allow the Q-ship to drop her neutral disguise and open fire. Despite several encounters with enemy submarines, Q-23 could claim no submarines destroyed although sustaining little damage herself in what were often quite prolonged gun duels. Nevertheless her activities earned a 'Mention in Dispatches' for Lt Mack and Capt. Reid.

Capt. Reid resumed command and, returned to her owners, Result resumed her role as a cargo carrier, the severe shortage of merchant shipping at this time meant that she was no less vital to her country's fortunes. I would have liked to believe that my Uncle Dick might have served in Result when she sailed under false colours as a lure to prowling U-boats but her complement, except for Capt. Reid, was made up entirely of RN personnel.

Back under the Red Duster and as a plodding cargo carrier, Result soldiered on, undergoing several changes of rig and acquiring a diesel engine to boost her stately five knots up to nine.

When my Auntie Ada died in 1980, my father inherited an old chipped and grubby Victorian ewer and basin which, having no room in his modern bathroom, he gave to me, being aware that my wife and I had a liking for such gaudy Victoriana. While cleaning years of accumulated grime from the ewer I discovered that amongst the miscellaneous debris inside were two medals - the British War Medal and Board of Trade Medal - awarded to Victor Turpin (my uncle has always been known as Dick for obvious reasons). Their ribbons were discoloured and frayed and the medals themselves has assumed the same grubby patina but diligent cleaning and latterly new ribbons purchased on E-Bay have restored both to a gleaming and framed pride of place on the wall above my desk.

Since the vast majority of merchant seamen who survived the Great War were awarded Uncle Dick's two campaign medals, the distinction is hardly unique and the experience of having at least one of his ships sunk from under him was not unique either. Nevertheless my Uncle Dick shared a unique experience with the 12,460 Channel Islanders (6,292 from the Bailiwick of Jersey and 6,168 from the Bailiwick of Guernsey) who rallied to the defence of their Sovereign to honour the pledge made to King Edward I.

Editor's Note: Looking for Peter's Uncle Dick in the Mercantile Marine section of JRoH&S it appears that he was listed as Turner, and not Turpin, unfortunately another error which does not help today's researches into family or military history! Fortunately in this case Peter has the evidence to prompt a change.