Engineering as it used to be Part 5. Continued

Now where was I………………………………..?

Oh yes I was in the boiler room. It has been pointed out in the comments that I haven’t given a good description of the properties of superheated steam. Most of us think of steam as the wispy stuff emanating from the spout of the kettle. Wrong. The wispy bit is actually water vapour condensing from steam. It’s the bit you can’t see close to the spout that is steam. 

Pure steam is a transparent gas. At standard temperature and pressure, pure steam (unmixed with air, but in equilibrium with liquid water) occupies about 1,600 times the volume of an equal mass of liquid water. In the atmosphere, the partial pressure of water is much lower than 1 atm, therefore gaseous water can exist at temperatures much lower than 100 °C (212 °F) (see water vapour and humidity).

In the above paragraph you’ll note that you can’t see real steam.

The one thing that may save your life is your hearing. Superheated steam at 600 psi (41 bar) and at a temperature of 800 deg F (426 deg C), makes a noise when it is issuing from a small hole or leaking gland. As I said in my last post don’t believe that noise is a drunken motorman whistling. Another valuable aid involves a piece of stick and a captured sea gull. *Now you really think I’m losing my marbles*  It’s really quite simple. Take one feather, attach it to the stick, hold stick in front of you, and when the feather magically disappears you know the rough vicinity of the steam leak.

Technical bit over for now.

Damn. Lost my train of thought.

Anyway the ship set sail for an exotic location. So I thought. I was wrong. Instead we sail across the Indian Ocean till we nearly hit Africa. Then we stopped. What was our purpose you ask? We were to maintain a blockade of the Rhodesian (Zimbabwe)  port of Beira to stop the import of fuel to the then, white Government of Ian Smith who had declared unilateral independence.

All in all we spent months of that coast. Sometimes at a crawl up the coast, sometimes drifting, even sometimes going in large circles just to break the monotony. Occasionally we would meet up with other ships in the task force and competitive sports would be played. deck Hockey being one of them. All to win that most coveted prize. “The Beira Bucket” (Mentioned in my last post).

The trophy for these sporting activities was a battered old metal bucket which at the end of each sporting contest was hung triumphantly from the winning ship’s yardarm. Now housed in the Portsmouth Naval Museum it remains as a reminder to crews and naval personnel of those Indian Ocean patrols in the years 1966 to 1971.

Decorated with ships names and crests, the bent and battered Beira Bucket is an unusual reminder of those years in the Mozambique Channel, and has been the subject of a number of fond reunions in the past years.

After months of patrol I would happily have kicked the sodding thing over the side.

*Technical stuff alert*. Look away now if you hate technology.

The one thing that I had plenty of time do though, was to actually find out how all this strange machinery worked. Right we’ve had the steam in all it’s forms bit so I’ll give you and idea what to do with it.  First it would meander it’s way through large, lagged pipes until it arrived at the throttles in the engine room. (Think huge tap) . The two throttles, one for forward and one for backwards (Even ships need a reverse gear. Especially if someone shouts out “Iceberg ahead”), were controlled by what looked like large steering wheels.

An actual picture of the control station of The Tidereach

The steam (superheated type) would then whiz over and into the turbine which is made up of steam injection nozzles and rows and rows of  rings with blades on them. Pretty much the same as a modern jet engine.

 

Of course this turbine would spin at several thousand RPM which is not a very practical speed to turn a ships propeller. A bit akin to permanent wheel spin. So just like a car you need a gearbox to achieve an output speed somewhere in the region of 100 RPM.

Whilst all this is going on all that steam wizzing out of the boilers causes the water levels to drop therefore it needs to be replenished. This is where those handy little items, condensers and feed pumps come in. The steam leaving the turbine is no longer superheated, as it has given up much of it’s energy to produce motion, and is now a saturated vapour. This vapour is cooled in the condenser by sea water(Plenty of that. The volume of the oceans and their seas is nearly 1.5 × 109 [sic] cubic kilometers"), and then pumped back into the boilers.

Now you know as much as me about steam engineering. After all I’m qualified as a Motor Engineer.

Are you bored yet?

Next time on Lost Fe’s adventures at sea will be Sembewang, voyage on a destroyer, a broken light bulb (You think I’m joking. Oh No), Japan, and  Ladies of the night, and Portland harbour.

Mind you I might just blog about the local elections or the Royal wedding. Your choice. You have been warned. Don’t blame me if it ends in tears.

AVing a larf.

Maybe this is how you should use your referendum ballot form.

H/T to the Frog

Engineering as it used to be–part 5

I hope that you’re all sitting comfortably with your popcorn and drinks for my next instalment of how young and inexperienced I was in my younger days.

When I left you last I was on the motor ship, RFA Retainer. I spent approximately four months on that greyhound of the seas (If you can call 13kts, speed, then you’ll be under the impression that a tortoise can win the National,), and learnt all the essential engineering skills of drinking, drinking, and more drinking. Engineers were always warned that because of the high engine room temperatures, we should always ensure we kept up a high fluid intake. Of course we followed the leadership of the ship’s doctor, who not having anything to do, spent most of his time in the bar. He was our Role model in all things healthy.

I digress. This is not a post on drinking prowess. Oi. wake up at the back.

As I said, having settled in nicely, and really still hadn’t learnt the difference between a pump and a compressor, I received a shock that shocked me to the core.

I was going to be subjected to a “pier head jump”.

You can imagine what went through this callow youth’s mind. What had I done that was so terrible that I was going to have to undergo some sort of “walking the plank” punishment? Of course, if I’d bothered to read my terms and conditions, I would have realised that I was to serve on different types of ships in this phase of my cadetship. (Then again, how many teenagers read the bold print in their T & C’s, let alone the small print). A pier head jump just means a swift transfer.

God, I really am rambling now

I went whistling up the gangplank of RFA Tidereach……………………

Not. As before I struggled up an even steeper gangway than the Retainer due to the Tidereach being low in fuel and therefore high in the water. Did I mention the heat and humidity in Singapore? Oh I did. OK.

This time I found my cabin slightly easier than the last ship. It was only hours, not days. However for some strange reason the cabin I was sharing with another cadet was in the forward accommodation, a deck below the bridge (That’s the bit that has the steering wheel). Strange seeing as my workplace, the engine room, was at the other end of the ship and at the bottom.

Eventually I was let loose into the machinery spaces………

What a contrast. It was quiet compared with the last ship’s engine room. Why may you ask? Because this ship had a different means of propelling itself through the water. It was steam powered. No big main Diesel Engine thumping away and diesel generators clattering like a horde of metallic banshees. No, just the hiss of superheated steam (800 deg F), and the whirring of the ventilation fans.

The Engine room was split into  two spaces, the boiler room and the turbine  room. The Boiler room (I’m adding a little bit of detail here as requested by a commentor on my last post), was filled with three large main high pressure boilers used for propulsion. These were Babcock Wilcox sinuous header boilers producing the steam for propulsion and steam to the steam steam generators which converted energy from superheated steam into non superheated steam to supply essential steam services whilst underway.

The remaining boiler was a scotch boiler which was a very worrying thing I learnt later. Not because it was tartan clad or anything, they just had a habit of blowing up if not watched carefully. Why you ask?

There are two types of boilers in use. Water tube boilers where the water flows inside the tubes are pretty safe, insofar that if a tube was to split very little water in comparison would fall into the furnace.

Not so with a fire tube boiler such as the Scotch boiler. In this type of boiler the fire goes through the tubes which are surrounded with several tons of water.

It was not uncommon for the water level dangerously falling, causing those tons of water to end up in the red hot furnace with catastrophic results. Usually turning those who were unlucky enough to be in the same space, into deep boiled lobster look- a -likes.

One novel side effect is that the the force of the steam generated in the furnace had a habit of propelling the boiler through the ship’s side at Mach 1 or more. This was not popular with ship’s captains as the big hole caused, usually meant the ship would sink. Captains hate that, as it is universally expected that the captain should go down with their ship. (Bugger being the Captain, I would just clamber over the wimmin and cheeldren and get in the first available life boat. After all I’m young and my parents love me, etc, etc).

Am I being to technical or alarmist?

Then again those other boiling machines were not with out their downside. Steam at 800 deg F and at  a pressure of 600 Psi can hurt you slightly. It was a case that if you heard a whistling noise in front of you, you didn’t assume it was a stoker in a good mood. More likely that if you continued you were likely to have some part of you expertly amputated by the steam leak you were too stupid to avoid. (The wound was well cauterised, therefore the ship’s doctor might be able to save your life. If he wasn’t too pissed).

To be continued………………………………

I know that you’re just waiting for the smutty bit. You’ll just have to wait.

Monday Miscellany

These are classified ads, which were placed in a U.K. newspaper:

 

FREE YORKSHIRE TERRIER.

8 years old.

Hateful little bastard...

        Bites!

FREE PUPPIES.

1/2 Cocker Spaniel, 1/2 sneaky neighbour's dog.

FREE PUPPIES...

Mother is a Kennel Club registered German Shepherd.

Father is a Super Dog, able to leap tall fences in a single bound.

COWS, CALVES: NEVER BRED.

Also 1 gay bull for sale.

JOINING NUDIST COLONY!

Must sell washer and dryer £100.

WEDDING DRESS FOR SALE.

Worn once by mistake.

Call Stephanie.

 

**** And the WINNER is... ****

FOR SALE BY OWNER.

Complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica, 45 volumes. Excellent condition, £200 or best offer. No longer needed, got married, wife knows everything.

 

Statement of the Century

Thought from the Greatest Living Scottish Thinker--Billy Connolly.

"If women are so bloody perfect at multitasking, how come they can't have a headache and sex at the same time?"

Engineering as it used to be–Part 4a

For those of you who wanted some technical details about my last post on Engineering as it used to be.

What you are seeing in this old and grainy movie, is the upper pistons and cross heads of a Doxford engine moving up and down.

This is the upper piston reciprocating (Big word) attached by side rods conveying power to the crankshaft. At the same time there is a lower piston travelling in a reverse direction. When at their closest point, Heavy fuel oil is injected in to the space which ignites, and forces the pistons apart. The running speed varied from about 30 RPM to 120 RPM. Consider that your diesel driven car’s engine usually runs between 1000 RPM and 4500 RPM.

Just so you know.

Good and bad.

Bad: The monitor on my main computer has thrown in the towel.

Good: I went to the races and backed the winner in five out of six races. Easily enough to buy a new monitor.

There must be a deity that is watching over me. Or the Easter Bunny has come early.

Aaaah. A past life.

Just some technical info to bore you stupid.

Long since gone.

Engineering as it used to be - Part 4

In Part 3 I left you at my hotel prior to joining my first ship. Now comes the start of what was to become my career for 43 years…………….

And I strolled up the gangway whistling……………………..

No I didn’t. I struggled up that gangway lugging those two suitcases, sans wheels, sweating my bollocks off in 35 deg of heat and 100% humidity.  At the top of the gangway I was met, by a nigh on, geriatric individual, who demanded to see my ID. Not knowing what rank he was, (He could have been the  captain for all I knew. He in fact turned out to be a quartermaster), I fumbled out my seaman’s card which was readily accepted with a cursory glance. After a bit of questioning by me I was pointed in the direction of the Officers accommodation and given rough directions to the engineer’s office. Needless to say I got hopelessly lost. For a person that has never been on a ship before, directions like “ It’s on 01 deck, For’d, Port side” is akin to being spoken to in a Martian dialect.

Eventually I did find it after two days without sleep, water, and food, and met my boss, The Second Engineer (The Chief Engineer is GOD and never wants to see cadets). Surprisingly, he was very nice and showed me to my cabin which I was to share with another engineer cadet.

Anyway a week later the mighty vessel set sail. (I didn’t want to bore you with tales of drunkenness, debauchery, and the tale of falling into a monsoon ditch complete with Akai reel to reel tape deck, as I know that, is of no interest to readers of this blog. I have high standards to uphold).

That day I descended into the ninth circle of hell. The Engine Room. The moment I opened the door, two things hit me. Heat as I’d never experienced, and a noise that would keep the dead awake for all eternity.

Most of this was brought about my the most humungous piece of machinery in the middle. The main engine. A six cylinder J type Doxford. All the rage in those days. This was an engine that had two pistons in each cylinder (yes you heard me directly, TWO), whilst one went up, the other went down. They nearly meet in the middle. (An interesting fact is that they had common rail , fuel injection. The very system that modern car manufactures boast about).

More noise was created by four diesel generators producing 110V DC. (DC is the electrickery that comes out of your battery to start your car. AC is wot we use to light our houses and power our computers, etc). DC was the medium that powered the electrical circuits of ships in those days.

Have you had enough yet?

No, Ok I’ll continue.

The sheer size of the engine room left me flabbergasted. The height alone was equivalent to a four story building. And in every corner there was some sort of contraption of, which at the time, I had no idea of it’s purpose.

After a couple of days of being allowed to wander round , I was told that I was going to be on a watch. What’s a watch you say? Well, before we had automation and unmanned engine rooms, someone had to be up and around. Therefore the day and night were split up into four hour watches. I was nominated for the 4-8. Ie, 0400 – 0800 & 1600 – 2000. Hell for an eighteen year old.

However I did managed to survive this vessel. Just an interesting side note. It’s cargo was ammunition and smoking was allowed almost anywhere. Mind you, you weren’t allowed to smoke in number two hold. That’s where the big bangs were kept. (Think Hiroshima).

Would you like to hear about my next ship? It involves lady boys, the Beira bucket, and more ramblings that will bore even me.

World leaders still.

After having dug to a depth of 10 feet last year, Canadian scientists found traces of copper wire dating back 200 years and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network more than 150 years ago.

Not to be outdone by their neighbours, in the weeks that followed, an American archaeologist dug to a depth of 20 feet, and shortly after, a story published in the New York Times:
"American archaeologists, finding traces of 250-year-old copper wire, have concluded that their ancestors already had an advanced high-tech communications network 50
years earlier than the Canadians".

One week later, the British authorities reported the following:
"After digging as deep as 30 feet in North Yorkshire, Jack Arkwright, a self-taught archaeologist, reported that he found absolutely f*** all.
Jack has therefore concluded that 250 years ago, Britain had already gone wireless."

Just makes you bloody proud to be British, don't it!
Don´t stop believing !

Don't you just love the RAF!

Conversation overheard by civilian airliner on the VHF Guard (emergency) frequency 121.5 MHz while flying from Europe to Dubai.

Iranian Air Defence Site: 'Unknown aircraft you are in Iranian airspace.   Identify yourself.'

Aircraft:   'This is a British aircraft.    I am in Iraqi airspace.'

Air Defence Site: 'You are in Iranian airspace.   If you do not depart our airspace we will launch interceptor aircraft!'

Aircraft: 'This is a Royal Air Force GR4 Tornado fighter.  Send 'em up, I'll wait!'

Air Defence Site: ( .... total silence)