senojekips
Active member
Aboard HMAS Hobart (an Australian Charles F. Adams class DDG) in about 1972 I was teaching my watertender to steam the boilers in No. 2 Fireroom. Seeing he was fairly proficient, I used to take the liberty of climbing up the emergency escape trunk and sitting in the cool night air on the door step to the upper deck where I could get back in a hurry if anything went wrong.
One night I noticed that the Cooks had left the scuttle (port hole) open into the Galley, being the middle watch (12 to 4) and knowing how much my steaming crew would appreciate some goodies I decided to have a look inside, it was all in darkness. So with a little acrobatics I managed to get in through the scuttle and being very quiet decided to have a look around. The lights were on in the cafeteria and the duty watch were in there talking or attempting to snooze so I had to be very quiet, there was just enough light coming in under the servery slide for me to see what I was doing but that was about all.
There was nothing!! not a bloody sausage, however I did find a packet of Cadbury's drinking chocolate (Cocoa) snookered away in one of the cupboards, Lovely... iced chocolate. I found a large billy can and carefully, very carefully I opened the fridge, shielding the light with the door, and ladled a gallon of milk into the can on the floor, then after shutting the door shook a liberal helping of Drinking Chocolate into the milk using a small ladle to give it a stir. Being duty bound to try it myself before I should ask my crew to drink it, took a really good drink of it. The chocolate hadn't dissolved very well in the cold milk making it a bit lumpy but other than that it was bloody lovely.
Carefully covering my ill gotten booty with a tea towel I departed the scene and returned to the Fireroom very pleased with my effort.
Whatcha got? "Iced chocolate sez I" (Three cheers, Spike for President and all that stuff) and with a flourish, off with the tea towel, only to discover that the top of the milk was covered in dead roaches, not one or two but literally many hundreds of them.
Y'know the bastards (an Aussie term of endearment) actually laughed at me when I was trying vainly to bring it all up in the bilges. No more iced choccy for them, bugger 'em. No more Mr. nice guy.
One night I noticed that the Cooks had left the scuttle (port hole) open into the Galley, being the middle watch (12 to 4) and knowing how much my steaming crew would appreciate some goodies I decided to have a look inside, it was all in darkness. So with a little acrobatics I managed to get in through the scuttle and being very quiet decided to have a look around. The lights were on in the cafeteria and the duty watch were in there talking or attempting to snooze so I had to be very quiet, there was just enough light coming in under the servery slide for me to see what I was doing but that was about all.
There was nothing!! not a bloody sausage, however I did find a packet of Cadbury's drinking chocolate (Cocoa) snookered away in one of the cupboards, Lovely... iced chocolate. I found a large billy can and carefully, very carefully I opened the fridge, shielding the light with the door, and ladled a gallon of milk into the can on the floor, then after shutting the door shook a liberal helping of Drinking Chocolate into the milk using a small ladle to give it a stir. Being duty bound to try it myself before I should ask my crew to drink it, took a really good drink of it. The chocolate hadn't dissolved very well in the cold milk making it a bit lumpy but other than that it was bloody lovely.
Carefully covering my ill gotten booty with a tea towel I departed the scene and returned to the Fireroom very pleased with my effort.
Whatcha got? "Iced chocolate sez I" (Three cheers, Spike for President and all that stuff) and with a flourish, off with the tea towel, only to discover that the top of the milk was covered in dead roaches, not one or two but literally many hundreds of them.
Y'know the bastards (an Aussie term of endearment) actually laughed at me when I was trying vainly to bring it all up in the bilges. No more iced choccy for them, bugger 'em. No more Mr. nice guy.
