Original subtitles

Once upon a time, in the Eastern Mediterranean,

a Greek sailor got lost on his way home

and sailed out of the Aegean Sea westwards,

past Malta and Gibraltar.

Then he turned north and sailed until he came to the lands

where it's day and night at one and the same time.

The Greek was Ulysses and his voyage, the Odyssey.

Today, we've turned the tables on mythology.

Now, it's the northerners who are running their vessels south-by-east.

Gibraltar.

In the bay of Gibraltar lies a British steamship,

unloading stores for the naval base.

She has a Greek name. She is the Ionian.

Registered Liverpool, 4,000 tons, Captain William Smith,

new, clean, fast, average 13.5 knots.

Out from London with a cargo of steel, explosives,

cement, beer, telegraph poles,

corrugated iron and aeroplane spares,

for Gibraltar, Malta, Alexandria and Haifa in Palestine.

Always running eastwards against the sun.

At noon, Captain Smith is shooting the sun

and measuring its altitude with a sextant.

The sun strikes full on the sea.

Dressed for the heat, the 2nd Engineer takes the engine room temperature.

The engine must be kept from overheating.

The Ionian is coal-fired, and coal-firing is hot in any waters.

Here, it's sometimes 120 degrees in the bunkers

and 130 degrees in the engine room.

Going east, the temperature of the sea itself goes up and up,

from 70 to 90 degrees.

The first day out from Gib, the bosun sets the men to rig up awnings

as a protection against the sun.

Here's Joe, one of the apprentices, "dobying",

it's a sailor word for washing.

From Gibraltar to Malta is two and a half days.

A day off Malta, Sparks the wireless operator morses Malta Radio.

The Ionian runs towards Malta past the island of Gozo

and will come into the grand harbour of Valletta 6:00 Sunday evening.

Between daylight and lamplight,

the Ionian passes the naval dockyard and the floating dock.

In the floating dock is a battleship, the Barham.

Next morning, the Ionian unloads steel parts and angle iron

for the repair shops in the dockyard.

Mr Martin and Mr Humphries, the 1st and 2nd Mates,

are checking the work.

Out of the holds and onto the lighters come the general stores

for Malta's development.

Cement for roads and buildings, telegraph poles.

There aren't trees suitable for telegraph poles in the Mediterranean.

Now the tugs come and pull the lighters away.

Now the ship is cleared.

All over the world, there are big and little ships,

some luxurious and some dirty.

But tramp and liner belong to the same family,

the family of merchant steamers.

When a British merchant steamer passes

one of His Majesty's fighting ships,

they dip their ensigns

to recognise the relationship between the two services.

It's the job of the merchant ships to keep our larders full,

to increase foreign trade, to take out stores to naval bases and navy ships,

and to furnish men for the Naval Reserve.

And in its turn, the Navy protects the merchant ships,

their cargoes, their passengers and their men.

Now, a more westerly wind comes down from the Adriatic,

and the sea's choppy.

Off watch, the trimmer from Newfoundland is yarning

with the 2nd Cook.

The bosun and deckhands set to measuring, cutting and sewing canvas

as stiff as a board.

They're making boat covers.

Nobody waits on the seamen.

As they knock off, the sailors and firemen get their own food

from the galley and take it down aft.

Heavy cargo means hard wear on the winches.

Extra strong steel runners have to be oiled and fitted.

New blocks have to be rigged to take the strain of the heavy gear

which the Ionian is to unload in Alexandria.

From Malta to Alex is three and a half days.

A day off Alex, Sparks radios the Ionian's agent,

"SS Ionian. We expect to berth 8:30 Friday."

Early Friday morning,

the Alexandria lighthouse suddenly shows up out of the sea.

In the harbour, the Imperial Airways planes come down

like enormous flying fish.

And away on the Ionian starboard bow

lies one of the battleships of the Mediterranean fleet, the Malaya.

The Malaya's a very different vessel from the Ionian.

She's in the same class of battleship as the Barham at Malta.

Oil-burning, 31,000 tons,

a speed of 25 knots,

crack, fast battleships armed to the teeth,

1150 men.

That dark flag's red, the powder flag.

It means explosives onboard.

This dangerous cargo is the first to be cleared.

Great care is taken. Signs are made.

The winchmen handle the boxes delicately.

These boxes contain stores for the Navy and the Naval Air Arm.

Carefully stowed inside these crates are aeroplane parts

for the RAF depot at Abu Qir Bay,

where Nelson smashed Napoleon's navy over 100 years ago.

Now comes the heaviest part of the whole cargo,

the chains and anchors for the new naval floating dock

on the far side of the harbour.

The strain on derricks and winches is terrific.

Mr Humphries is worried about the new blocks.

Now comes material for Egypt itself.

Cement for new motor roads running through Upper Egypt towards Sudan.

All the time, destroyers and cruisers are passing in and out of the harbour.

Finally, Nile boats carry the cement toward the Mahmudiyah Canal

and down to the Nile.

From Alex to Haifa is a day's run.

At 4:00am, the coast of Palestine

shows on the horizon across the water.

Haifa is unlike any of the harbours the Ionian has tied up in on this trip.

More compact, newer.

That's Jim, the other apprentice.

Across the water lie four G-class destroyers.

Garland, Grafton, Griffin and Greyhound.

Built in 1936, fast as whippets,

four 4.7-inch guns, eight torpedo tubes and 145 men.

As they clean the torpedo tubes,

they can hear the Barcarolle across the water.

Not a whistle nor a siren.

Only one winch on the Ionian unloading corrugated iron.

Shattering heat falls from the sky and comes up from the decks.

In the foreground, the oil dumps of the famous pipeline from Iraq.

In the background, Mount Carmel.

'It doesn't say they're the only plants you can plant

'in your sink garden by any means or even smaller ones than that.

'No doubt if you get a start with them, you'll soon be looking for others...'

The Ionian leaves the same day for Cyprus.

At Cyprus, she has to call at each of the little ports around the coast.

It's only at the first port, Famagusta, that the Ionian ties up right alongside.

Behind the harbour rises a sort of English Gothic cathedral.

The interior of the island is still quite Greek.

At Larnaca, the next port, the Ionian has to lie about a mile out to sea.

There is no harbour.

She lies right alongside the Shropshire,

a cruiser of the county class.

That's the cook watching the Shropshire's seaplane.

At Larnaca, the Ionian unloads the last of her cargo.

Now she rides light. Her holds are empty.

She goes round to the north of the island to Kyrenia.

The Ionian came out with a cargo of steel and explosives,

cement, beer, telegraph poles, corrugated iron and aeroplane parts.

Now she begins loading locust beans and oil and wine.

And this is Limassol.

The last port is Paphos,

where once upon a time stood the Groves and Temple of Venus.

Back in Alexandria again, the Ionian waits just long enough

to pick up oil cake, cotton and onions.

The loading goes on into the night.

Early next morning, she leaves Alexandria for home.

Past the cruiser Amphion...

...past the Malaya...

...past the Warspite.

Westward.

Throughout her voyage,

the Ionian has met with ships of the Mediterranean fleet.

Past Gibraltar, she heads north

in the waters where the home fleet are on the watch.

By the Tower of London she unloads her cargo,

cargo brought safely from Cyprus and Alexandria,

under the protection of the British Navy,

the greatest navy in the world.

In only a week or two, the Ionian will turn round

and steam along the Thames again and out on the dawn tide

with a new cargo for Gibraltar, Malta,

Alexandria and Haifa in Palestine.