Millions of Jellyfish: The Bosporus Through a Sailor's Eyes
Foreign ports are often remembered for their famous landmarks. Sailors, however, frequently remember something else entirely.
A city may be known throughout the world for its history, architecture or culture, but those serving aboard a warship often experience it through the routines of their work. Their memories are formed not only by what they see while ashore, but by the places they pass through, the people they encounter and the unexpected details that make an ordinary day impossible to forget.
For those aboard HMS Glamorgan during a Mediterranean deployment in about 1973, Istanbul provided exactly that kind of memory. The ship was secured to a chained buoy in the Bosporus rather than alongside a jetty, which meant that the small boat crews spent much of their time travelling between the ship and the shore.
From the deck of the liberty boat, Istanbul revealed itself as a working city. The Bosporus was not simply a scenic waterway separating two continents. It was busy, crowded and constantly moving. Ferries crossed back and forth, commercial vessels made their way through the channel, and smaller craft added to the general activity.
For the boat crew, this was not a sightseeing trip. They were there to work. The same journey was made repeatedly, carrying passengers between ship and shore, handling the boat safely and fitting themselves into the rhythm of one of the world's busiest waterways.
Yet repetitive work does not mean uninteresting work. When sailors spend enough time in one place, they begin to notice details that a visitor passing through might never see. The small changes in weather, the habits of local people, the behaviour of other boats and the peculiarities of the environment all become part of the memory.
In the case of Istanbul, one detail stood out above all others.
The water appeared to contain an almost unbelievable number of jellyfish.
They were everywhere. Large ones, small ones, and countless others between the two. Looking down from the boat, the impression was of an entire population drifting slowly through the Bosporus. The numbers seemed impossible to calculate, and naturally the lower deck supplied its own explanation.
Somewhere in the Black Sea, it seemed, Mr and Mrs Jellyfish had produced an enormous family. Generation after generation had floated south through the Bosporus in a great migration before eventually spreading into the Mediterranean. The story was clearly nonsense, but it captured the way sailors made sense of unusual sights.
Humour has always been part of naval life. Long watches, repetitive duties and uncomfortable conditions are made easier when sailors can find something amusing in their surroundings. The joke does not have to be sophisticated. Often the simplest observations become the ones that survive longest.
The jellyfish were not dangerous enough to prevent the work being carried out, but they were certainly memorable enough to become part of the story. They provided an additional thought for anyone contemplating an unexpected swim, and they gave the boat crew something to discuss while making yet another crossing.
There was also something about the contrast that made the memory endure. Around the boat was one of the great waterways of the world, carrying ships and ferries through a city with centuries of history behind it. Yet the detail that remained most vivid was not a famous building or historical event. It was the sight of countless jellyfish drifting through the water while sailors went about an ordinary day's work.
This was how many sailors experienced overseas deployments. They did see remarkable places, but they often saw them from unusual angles. A city viewed from a warship, a harbour seen during boat duty, or a foreign shoreline observed while carrying out routine tasks could create memories entirely different from those of ordinary visitors.
Years later, the mention of Istanbul or jellyfish could immediately return that moment: the sunlight on the water, the constant movement of the Bosporus, the small boat carrying out its routine and the strange spectacle beneath the surface.
It was not a dramatic event. Nothing extraordinary happened. It was simply one day during a deployment, doing an ordinary job in an extraordinary place.
For many sailors, those are precisely the memories that remain.
Istanbul part 4 - 'Pigs', Gentlemen and Professionals: Officers and the Lower Deck in the Royal Navy
Primary source: RN-007
RN-E-136
Comments