Those who have worked for the Koninklijke Nederlandse Stoomboot Maatschappij - KNSM 
refer with reverence to the House Flag as The Kroonvlag.
Kroonvlag simply means Crown Flag in Dutch, nothing special to boast about, after all,
other Dutch shipping companies also had a crown in their house flag. However,
the KNSM seafarers took it further and in 1979, when they formed an Association called
De Kroonvaarders (The Crown Traders), they adopted the company house flag as their logo
My association with the Kroonvaarders goes back to August 1951 when I first went to sea as
second radio operator on the “Willemstad” and again in January 1952 when I signed on in Amsterdam
as Radio Officer on the s.s. “Hercules”.
S.S. “Hercules” – KNSM
The “Hercules”, a passenger/cargo vessel, was built in 1914 and commissioned in 1915. During WW1 she
was trading on the US coast only to be seized in March 1918 by the US government under a nowadays little
known international maritime law called Angari Right or Droit d'Angari. For the remainder of the war she sailed
under US flag until May 1919 when she was returned to the KNSM.
Droit d'Angari gives a government the right in time of war to seize foreign vessels belonging to a friendly government
when the vessel is in her territory, the action being subject to compensation.
The word Angari is said to be derived from the Persians, among whom the king's messengers, or posts,were called aggapoi or angari.
The Persian messengers had the royal authority for pressing horses, ships and even men,
to assist them in the business on which they were employed.
When they set out to carry their despatches between the court and the provinces they were given a single horse,
when the horse is weary the angari dismounts the first man he meets and takes his horse.
There is no pardon for a traveller who refuses to let an angari have his horse, or for any other who should deny
him the best horse in his stable.
Back to the story. I returned on the s.s. “Rijn” on her last voyage under Dutch flag from Finland on
Christmas Eve and I was lucky enough to spend Xmas and New Year at home before sailing again in the New Year.
I did not realise until much later that my time on the “Hercules” was again to be a last voyage on a ship under
Dutch flag before the ship was sold to another country!
When we returned to Amsterdam from the Mediterranean in March 1952 the “Hercules” was sold to Turkey
as the s.s. “Herguler”, sold again as “Yolac Merve” in 1957 and finally sold for scrap in Istanbul in 1964.
We sailed from Amsterdam on the 2e of January 1952 for Hamburg.
All “kustreizen” (coastal trips - short trips from either Amsterdam or Rotterdam to Hamburg or Antwerp) are uneventful.
However, this time I had something to look forward to.
My cousin Alfred played in a band for the Armed Forces Network in Hamburg and he had promised to
show me around on arrival.
As soon as the ship was tied up I shot through and met my cousin at a big hotel where his band played.
This was my first trip to Hamburg and I had heard all these stories about the Reeperbahn, the hottest
mile in Hamburg and the Herbert Strasze, where wares in the form of voluptuous Fräuleins are on display in show windows.
My cousin, who was a lot older than I, was not impressed with my wicked plans and tried to talk me out of sight
seeing the red light district and suggested to go to a good restaurant for a meal instead.
He lectured me on the dangers facing young lads in the red light district and the more he talked the more
determined I became to see all this.
In the end he gave up and we set out to sink a few schooners first before looking around to find out where
the action was. We ended up in a dance hall where we sat at the table with a couple from out of town
(or so they told me) and their lovely daughter. The daughter and I got on real well and my cousin could see what
was coming so he warned me again on the dangers of one-night stands. Alas, the daughter wanted to see the ship,
Mum had no objections for her to come with me and my cousin left, defeated.
Getting on board with my newfound love was not a problem; the night watchmen had seen it all before and let us get past.
The problem was the accommodation! My night cabin was right next to the Captain's accommodation and the walls
were not soundproof, so we had to be very quiet.
It all went very well and the next morning I took my girlfriend back to the hotel where the family were staying.
Mum and Dad were very pleasant and as it turned out they did come from out of town,
as a matter of fact not far from where my cousin was born. If only he knew!
I am sure the captain must have heard what went on in the night but he never let on; it just shows there are people
that can still remember their younger days!
We left Hamburg in a heavy fog and had to find our way on the River Elbe back to sea.
There was no radar on the old “Hercules” and when the situation did not improve we had to drop anchor and ring the bell;
not a good choice on a busy water way.
We could hear the loud sound of a foghorn close by and the next minute this huge US troop ship looms out of the
thick fog and passes us within 20 metres. I was on the bridge and as the ship passed by with its superstructure
towering above us I could count the black buttons on the overcoats of the crew on deck.
A truly frightening experience I can tell you!
Our first port of call was Izmir in Turkey. On the way we had some rough weather in the Bay of Biscay and I remember
looking aft and seeing the waves and following swell far above our heads every time the bow went under water but
she kept riding it very well.
There is little I can remember of the rest of the voyage. How come that one can recall so many events on
one ship and almost have a blank memory of what happened on other ships?
When we arrived in Izmir I went ashore and walked around. The only vivid picture in my mind is that of a
Turkish soldier on sentry duty. Why was that? The only explanation I have is that this soldier looked so
miserable that it made a deep, everlasting impression on me. Obviously he was a private, no stripes
or any other signs of rank. His uniform was of a poor quality material, badly made and it hung on him like a potato sack.
Remember, I am talking about the year 1952 when the economic situation in Turkey was at rock bottom and most
of the people still lived in poverty.
The government would not have spent any significant money on its army and the result was obvious.
We called into Istanbul and I went ashore to do some sightseeing but whatever I looked at is now a blur to me,
I can't recall anything of interest.
Whilst I am still in this revisited black mood I must mention my first hand impression of what drugs can do to people.
Although I had read about the use of hashish in the Arab culture I had never actually seen an addict or heard
of the effect it can have on your personality.
One day there was a commotion on deck and some of the crew were running around covered in blood.
Apparently one of them had gone berserk after smoking hashish and went on a rampage.
He got caught and was taken off the ship for treatment and punishment I suppose.
This incident made me make up my mind never to get involved with so called harmless drugs seeing what it can do to you.
How things have changed in Turkey! When my wife and I went there on holidays in 1997 it was an entirely different place.
People looked happy, the economy was thriving, plenty of sunshine, lovely beaches and wonderful historic sites.
Nothing left of the gloom I experienced all those years ago.
On our way back to Amsterdam we called into one or two ports on the African coast.
Once again nothing worth reporting, I did not go ashore and used the time in port to maintain the radio room
batteries and the radio equipment.
In the 50's and 60's most of the older ships still had a spark radio transmitter as emergency transmitter in case the main,
valve operated medium wave transmitter failed. Part of the maintenance program was to regularly polish
the discs that formed part of the spark assembly.
After cleaning I re-assembled the stack and with the cabinet still open I started the transmitter up.
The spark transmitter cabinet sat on top of the workbench and to make adjustments inside the transmitter
I had to lean over the bench.
In our practical radar training we were taught to keep one hand behind your back or in your pocket
if you are working on live equipment with the other hand; it would minimise the shock you could receive.
I practised what I had been taught but when I leant over my body touched the morse key and I copped the full RF
high tension power between the spark stack and earth on my steel wrist watch band.
The shock threw me clear out of the radio shack onto the deck outside. When I came to my senses I found that
my steel watchband had evaporated and left me with a big burn mark on my wrist.
This incident has taught me a healthy respect for sparks transmitters!
We arrived back in Amsterdam on the 12 of March 1952 and on the following day I was transferred to
another “Kroonvlag” ship, the m.v. “Hestia”, bound for Peru via the Panama Canal.
Farewell “Hercules”, hello “Hestia”.
M.V. “Hestia” - KNSM
The m.v. “Hestia” was a cargo ship with accommodation for 13 passengers, built in the US during the last year
of the Second World War.
She was one of six other C1-M-AV1 ships acquired by the KNSM in 1947.
These ships were different from the traditional “Three Island” design of cargo ships;
these Cimavis had the engine room, bridge and crew & passenger accommodation all at the aft end of the ship.
(Or the stern, if you prefer that description!)
The accommodation was similar to that on the Victories and Liberties; in other words sparse and very hot in the tropics.
The radio equipment on board these “Cimavis” was either RCA 4-U or Mackay, similar to the gear on
Victories and Liberties. On the “Hestia” there was an RCA 4-U, comprising HF, MF and emergency
MF transmitters, main and emergency receivers, Automatic Alarm Equipment, generator and battery
charging facilities all in one console. Powerful gear and easy to operate,
Radio Holland installed this type of equipment on newly built ships for a number of years until they returned
to Dutch designed and manufactured communications equipment.
One of the disadvantages of having the accommodation aft was propeller or propeller shaft vibrations,
worst when the ship was empty. The radio room was situated below the bridge deck and had the engine
exhaust running nearby which did not help at all in the warmer climate.
As we got closer to the Caribbean I was able to pick up the local broadcast stations.
On the high seas I would normally tune in to Radio Luxembourg or the US Forces on shortwave radio to listen
to music and the news; both stations had very good music. But nothing compared to the South American or
Latino music and the rhythms that I could now hear on the broadcast band, no wonder I got hooked straight away.
As we got closer there were more and more stations to choose from and amongst all that throbbing,
driving music and rhythm this stupid powdered milk commercial would be played - “Leche Klim, Leche Klim,
good for her and good for him” – it still goes around in my mind!
We went through the Panama Canal on our way the Peru and it was a worthwhile experience.
It was definitely an engineering feat that only the Americans could have pulled off in those early days.
As we got near the Latin American ports on the Pacific Ocean the Chief Steward put notices out regarding
smuggling of contraband into these countries. He warned us that Customs were out to catch anyone with any
quantities of tobacco, cigarettes or spirits over the limit in their possession. In the same breath he informed
us that these officials were as corrupt as they come and that he had to keep an unofficial “Bribery Store” that
held whiskey, tobacco, cigarettes and other spirits to pay off Customs, Immigration and Port Authority officials.
As he explained, “No goodies for the officials, no berth in port, no pilot, no clearance, no nothing!!!!!”
I wonder if corruption in these ports still exists after all these the years? Perhaps things are now handed
over in brown paper bags.
Our last port of call was Callao in Peru. To our surprise a young woman and her little child came on board as passengers.
She was Swiss born and very attractive but spoke very little English. Her husband had put her on board to visit her
parents in Europe whilst he stayed behind to run his business.
She became friendly with the second mate and I and we used to talk to her a lot on deck.
Every time we chatted with her the captain paced up and down on the deck above us giving us filthy looks,
he was obviously jealous of us and that is a precarious situation where rank can be pulled.
As predicted, the balmy nights, the fresh sea air and the old saying “give'm a fortnight at sea and any
woman turns dangerously romantic” came true! The Second informed me that our lady friend wanted
me to teach her English, the reason being that I spoke German reasonably well and I could communicate with her
better than the second mate. She expected me in her cabin that night after I finished my watch.
How can you refuse a request from a lady? After I finished my watch I went down and knocked on her cabin door,
she opened the door and yanked me inside. Everything was prepared; where you could see through the porthole
inside the cabin through the gap below the curtains she had neatly stacked socks and all sort of other things to block
the view from outside.
The English lessons went well for a while and the pupil learnt a lot; it proves the old saying again that in order
to learn a foreign language properly you must practice it behind the klamboe. (Klamboe is a mosquito net that hangs
over the bed. Learning a new language behind the klamboe is an old Dutch saying; I am sure you all know what I am getting at!).
The captain never found out but he gave me a bad report at the end of the voyage anyway. No reasons given but we all know why.
The KNSM had a branch organisation, that I believe was called WISM, operating out of Curacao.
This company operated coastal shipping between the islands and ports in the Caribbean and drew its officers from
the KNSM officers' pool. The deck officers and engineers had to work a contract of two years in the
West Indies before being repatriated back to Holland.
We had six of these men come on board as supernumeraries in one of the ports on the way home.
They arrived with their suitcases and a large number of crates filled with rum bottles.
After they had settled in we were introduced and invited to have a drink with them to celebrate their return home.
Out came the rum and we were told the rules: “Never mind the rum but go easy on the Coke”.
Things got out of hand a bit and they decided that I, the sparks, needed a proper haircut and a shave.
They gave me Bay Rum hair treatment and started to soap my face with toothpaste and use the back
of a comb to “shave” me. It was great fun for everyone but the next day I had the worst hangover ever,
I was as sick as a dog, my face was raw and swollen and my hair stood up like a cocks comb.
The female passengers felt sorry for me and gave me face cream to put on my face but the hangover
lasted for three days and for years thereafter I could not stand the smell of rum, let alone drink it.
On the way back we had loaded a variety of cargo in the different ports. In one hold we had a bulk load
of manganese ore (I am not to certain whether it was manganese) and green coffee in bags.
To separate the two products a wooden partition was built, during the voyage the coffee began
to sweat and the moisture reacted with the ore causing the wooden partition to catch fire.
The fire spread to the rest of the coffee and other combustibles in the hold resulting in a serious situation.
We made for the nearest port and had the fire brigade battling the fire under difficult conditions.
There were no shore crane facilities in this particular port and the only cranes the agents could
lay their hands on where mobile cranes. Consequently discharging the soggy bags of coffee and the manganese
took a long time and delayed our return.
When we arrived back in Amsterdam on June 20th, 1952. I signed off and had a few days of leave before
sailing as 3 R
Radio Officer on the “Oranje” for Tandjung Priok and to be posted in the Far East for a minimum of two years.
Apart from one “kustreis” on the “van Spilbergen” in 1955 and the trials and delivery of the “Straat Johore”
in November 1957 I never sailed in European waters again.
John Papenhuyzen
Sydney, October 2005 .-.-.
Acknowledgements: