"John Williams" Mission

Schooner Sails Again

By Leigh Shaw

FOR six months after the Pacific war made the Ellice-Gilbert-Tokelau- Samoa-Fiji run impracticable, the London Missionary Society’s well-known auxiliary schooner. “John Williams,” lay idle in Suva harbour. She now is in service again.

In the little oak-panelled saloon of the “John Williams” is a brass plate which reads: “To the glory of God. and in grateful memory of Andrew Hamilton, 1862-1934, designer of this ship, and of Frank Lenwood. 1874-1934, chairman of the LMS Ship Committee, who both gave long and devoted service to the spread of the Gospel through the work of mission ary ships.”

It is not true, as the awkward phrasing of the inscription suggests, that Andrew Hamilton also designed Frank Lenwood: but he did design the “John Williams.”

Which is a pity; for it is generally agreed among all who know her that he made a poor job of what appears to the casual observer to be a trim and stately little ship.

Originally planned as a three-masted auxiliary schooner, it was early revealed that the “John Williams” was no sailer, her bluff spoon bow and fat, keel-less bottom being too much of a handicap for effective collaboration with wind and sea.

The result was that the full burden of propulsion had to fall upon the 150 h.p.

Gardner diesel, and the “John Williams” became —overnight as it were—a motor vessel. Which sounds all right until you learn that her best speed under power is a good five knots.

Aboard this sailing craft, that barely sails and only moderately chugs, the most noticeable feature is the lack of a navigating bridge. Scrutiny, however,

reveals an apology for such, carefully tucked away behind the mainmast, a square box-like structure that is fami liarly known as the “conning tower.”

From here, one has a clear view, not of the ship, but of the mainmast, and — believe it or not—of the galley funnel, which is most thoughtfully placed so as to exude crude oil fumes straight into the navigator’s eye.

And —final tragedy of errors!—from this precarious perch one cannot even see or speak to the man at the wheel who, hidden away right aft, also sees nothing of the ship but a bulkhead and a com pass card. This, mind you, on a would-be sailing ship designed to weave its way through tortuous passages in reef infested and current-swept waters.

Every man to his trade, they say; and, certainly, missionaries should not design ships. It is a striking tribute to the master, Captain E. B. Kettle, that he has managed to con this slow and cumbrous craft safely through her busy annual itinerary, for so many years.