John Farley - His story
from the T.S. Indefatigable.
John Farley's - 1959/60.
John Farley and Chief Derrick
For some time my father and I had not seen eye to eye. Of course,
in those days kids were expected to be seen and not heard. All
I knew was that I did not want to be what he had in mind for
me. He had made attempts before to get me into the army as a
cadet. I rebelled at his attempts; in fact I rebelled against
his form of discipline. He, like his father had made the Army
his life, and I guess he thought it would be good enough
for me.
The last secondary school I attended was a typical school of
its day, Linden Road Secondary Modern, the sort of school that
movies were made from in later years, a breeding ground for young
hoodlums.
In those days Britain was a huge industrial nation and I believe
we were only given enough education to man the ships, factories
and mines.
I was A little kid and for protection from bullying I became
involved in the school gang.
This led me on a path that must have caused my parents much grief
as I know the boys in blue were involved from time to time. My
father was an RSM in charge of a regiment and yet he was powerless
to control a fourteen year old boy. I’m not proud of those
times but I still think it adds to the general tapestry of ones
life.
My father made one last attempt and we had moved to another suburb
so that I could be admitted to a different school. I believe
now that I had somewhat of a breakdown. I had been moved for
the last time, or so I thought.
My older sister and I started at the new school at Longlevens
in Gloucester. Something had snapped inside of me and I did
not go to class. Instead I looked for somewhere to hide. On the
playing field there was an old Double Decker bus. It was used
as a sports equipment store room. I slid underneath and found
a small trapdoor. That was my hidey- hole and for three days
I happily amused myself. On the fourth day at about lunchtime
the grounds man came walking towards the old bus and I freaked.
I thought the game was up. Of course he had no idea I was in
there but in the state I was in, my young mind went into overdrive.
I crawled out from under the bus and sneaked away. I needed somewhere
else to hide for a couple of hours. An unused chicken coop offered
me sanctuary and I crawled inside.
I later heard the other kids making the noises that kids do when
they are released from school for the day and I knew it was time
to go home.
I remember walking into the back door. My mum took one look at
me and the look of shock stunned me. I didn’t realize it
but I was covered from head to foot in flea bites. Of course
I could offer no explanation.
She immediately called my father who would have had to leave
his duties at the barracks. He was not very impressed. Before
I knew it I was in his car and whisked away to the army clinic
at Robinswood barracks. They recognized the rash for what it
was. I was stripped and then painted from head to foot with Calamine
lotion. We were soon on our way home.
Unbeknown to me, my mum had rung the school, asking what the
heck was going on and they had informed her that I had not attended.
The game was up!
Something had to be done and it was at this time that my father
showed me a little blue covered book. “Read this and tell
me what you think.” He walked away into the kitchen leaving
me to give this thing a cursory glance and put it aside to watch
this new invention called a television.
It had been an interesting little book. Boats and water, uniforms,
swimming pools, tennis courts and other stuff, but at fourteen
years of age I was more interested in the TV.
He came back into the room and asked. “Well what do you
think?” I replied “Not much”.
He crouched down so that we were eye to eye, so close that I
could smell the Woodbines on his breath. “Well think again
boy because you’re not staying here!” It was not
long after that and I was off to the Indefatigable.
It was only recently that my sister told me that for her it is
something she still has some trouble with. One day I was there
and the next I was gone. She did not know where and nobody offered
her an explanation. The only memory she has is a conversation
she had much later with our mother, concerning my father pleading
with the courts not to send me to a Borstal. I still don’t
know if that is true.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
This is a little poem I wrote. It came from my fathers eyeball
comment, something that stays within me.
The Blue Liar
I can remember clearly, when my father said to me;
“
I’ll give you a proposition, there's something I want you
to see.
I want you to read this little blue book, at a series of pictures
I want you to look.
I’m going to wash the things in the sink, you read the
book and have a think.
I did as he asked, I read the book, and at the pictures I had
a look.
I put the book down to watch TV, why did he give this book to
me?.
My question was answered very soon, my father gave a look of
gloom.
He must have known that I'd been bad, and what I'd done had made
him sad.
The book was to show me what was to be, was he really going to
get rid of me.
I read it again, but I felt fear, “Get used to it boy,
your not staying here.”
What did I do, what did he mean?, I’d done good and bad,
but only bad’s seen.
There’s nothing to do, my mum looked sad, Always my father,
never my dad.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=
Some arrangement had been made and I was soon on my way. We drove
up to North Wales, through Bangor, over the Menai Bridge and
on to Llanfair. Driving between those sphinxes that guarded the
entrance to the school was like entering another world. Finally
the school emerged and my father came to a stop at the entrance
to an old mansion.
He went inside, ordering me to wait outside. I wandered around
peering through the windows of what was the indoor swimming pool.
I walked around the corner and the view opened up to show the
grounds that led down to the Menai Straits. I heard a car start
up and turned to see my father driving away. I can’t explain
my feeling at that time.
I walked back to the entrance where I was met by a large meaty
faced man. He was Captain George Washington Irvin. He smiled
openly and for some reason I felt at ease and a sense of peace
came over me.
Chief officer Derrick was the next in line. It was only later
that I found it was best not to get on the wrong side of him.
They were both in their full naval dress and very impressive.
They were to be a part of my life for the next two years.
I was taken to the store and issued with my kit. Naval uniforms
with all its paraphernalia were not new to me. I had been involved
with both the Sea Cadets and Sea Scouts in my past. With arms
holding all the gear, I was led to one of the dormitories and
shown the skills required for keeping a tidy house.
Joe Earl’s description of the place is pretty typical and
he has written it extremely well.
I remember sometimes it was just as pleasurable not to be given
leave on a Saturday afternoon. Much time was spent in the woodlands.
Hazel nuts were in plentiful supply when they were in season,
chestnuts too. Picking shellfish off the rocks was another pastime
and cooking them in the galley always drew a hungry crowd.
Being a drummer in the band made life pleasant and I still wonder
how the locals felt about having their peaceful existence disturbed
at that ungodly hour of the morning.
The true account of daily life escape me but daily events always
started with a bad rendition of reveille and a quick dip in the
pool. In winter it was not too pleasant. I was one but I’m
sure there were many more that would splash a bit of water on
the head and then run out past the duty officer hoping he wouldn’t
tumble to the ruse.
Clean ship, inspections of both self and dorms, all timber decks
were to be polished to a high shine. Normal school work of course.
Seamanship was also a large part of what we did and the cutters
and whalers were made good use of. Discipline was always hovering
around and a boy soon learned how to exist and live within its
limits.
Only once did I err enough to be given the ultimate. On reflection
it was the defining moment when I ceased to be a rebel and instead
became some semblance of a decent human being. It was only after
receiving six of the very best. I’d had them at other schools
but nothing compared to the way it was done at this school. I
described it in other writings like this:-
Whenever punishment was dealt out, it was done properly, navy
style; that’s how I know the drill.
At morning parade I and a couple of others were called out for
punishment and marched off to the boiler room. I guess each of
us wondering what was about to occur. The boiler room was down
in the depths of the school and all bums were turned to the boiler
for warming.
I was the last to be marched out and after hearing the noises
of canes cracking and the howls of protest I was feeling just
a tad nervous to say the least.
Finally the duty officer came and ordered me to follow him. I
did this and ended up standing before the captain who read out
the charges. The chief officer asked. Do you accept the charges”?
I didn’t see that I had any choice but to accept. “The
punishment for such a crime is to be six cuts of the cane, do
you accept the punishment”? Again, what could I say? It
must have been the weakest
"Yes sir” that had ever
left my lips
“
One step forward” he barked, and before me was a box which
was for me to bend over and expose the area to be treated, I
did this and then waited for the inevitable. Bell bottom pants
were tight standing up, bending over made them even tighter.
There was a little bit of shuffling around and then Thwack! Shit!
I thought I had been cut in half. If I had to describe the pain
I would have to say exquisite, there were five more to follow.
I had no option but to just grit my teeth and not make a sound.
When it was over and I had wobbled to an upright position, I
turned to face them and all three seemed to have a look of respect
on their faces. This was something new to me. I even felt
then that none of them received any pleasure from what had just
occurred.
I was marched away and ordered to go to the mess for breakfast.
The other boys were like me and we all stood up for breakfast,
our rear ends being a bit tender.
That was the only time I went through that sort of thing. It
was so different from all the other times in other schools, a
real learning experience. I felt that if you could admit your
wrong and take the punishment, then you would earn respect.
This was the defining moment for me and it was only after that
time that I began earning good conduct stripes; I had all three
by the time I left to go to sea.
Who said corporal punishment doesn’t work??
I wrote my life story so that my children could know their father
and what had shaped his life. Even more importantly they would
know where those good principles passed on to them had been learned.
I learned them the hard way and passed them on with love in my
heart so that they could grow and prosper, hopefully passing
those same indefatigable principles on to their children.
The Indefatigable will live on for ever even if the name is forgotten.
I have described the Inde as my spiritual home and I now know
it is for many others.
This is my year to revisit the place that I have no memory of
ever leaving.
I just know that all the lessons, such as honesty and genuine
caring, especially for the underdog or the less fortunate have
stayed with me.
Integrity, able to take a practical approach to a problem and
resolve issues.
To be able to take command by using natural leadership and without
being bossy.
Personal things like always being true to yourself first and
to always treat others as you would like to be treated.
One of the practical lessons was, never tie a knot you cannot
undo. That lesson can be applied in many situations and not just
when tying rope.
So many of life’s lessons were learned at the Inde. I just
never realized it at the time.
I don’t know, maybe I never did leave the place. Not a
bad thought when I think about it.
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