Marine Orders Part 3 [Qualifications]

and

‘Tinny-to-Tanker' Proposals

Despite the best of intentions in trying to have AMSA create a ‘BRIDGE' between Class 3 and Watchkeeper for those who do not possess a Trade, AIMPE made some errors in the graphic representation of that, and subsequent supporting text, printed in On Watch. Whilst a correction was posted on our website it is appropriate to set the record straight on what was the Institute's actual position. In essence AIMPE's submission to AMSA on the Class 3 / MED standards was as follows:-

1. AIMPE supports the current state & federal certificate structure as set out in Marine Orders Part 3 currently. ...... we debated it with AMSA and approved it in 2005 and we have not changed our mind about those things since then.

2. Also the Institute has worked long and hard with the Operations division of AMSA on arguing for constructive liberalisation of some elements of Trade-equivalency. For example in 2005 AIMPE proposed and AMSA agreed that when assessing whether a Trade was suitable one shouldnot only look at work done during the apprenticeship, but AMSA should now also have regard to the post-Trade work-experience to help a candidate get over the line. In the 4 years since AMSA and AIMPE have done work about making up deficiencies in the case of applicants with good practical experience [for entry to Watchkeeper course] culminating in our proposals tabled to AMSA in October 2008 to do this for candidates who hold Class 3 but have NO Trade whatsoever.

3. Whilst none of these things appeared in the initial Tinny-to-Tanker proposals from AMSA they are matters already agreed with AMSA and so we expect they will naturally appear in the final form of the regulation and AIMPE remains confident that the more problematic parts of AMSA¡¦a original proposals [ such as the dismantling of MED certificates] will be amended as well.

4. AIMPE also trusts that our proposal for a BRIDGE to Watchkeeper, for those Class 3 holders without a Trade, will in due course be established in the revised Marine Order, with all decision-making power in relation to engineering certificates expressly given back to the Principal Examiner Engineers [not a 'Manager', who is not required to hold engineering qualifications] and we remain of the view that this is most robustly done through a stand alone Engineering Qualifications Marine Order. Note that this was the position up until the move to ‘competency-based' training led to the removal of the knowledge-based [or curriculum-based] training in which the course content was stipulated in a separate Engineering Marine Order and a separate Nautical Marine Order. We note that there is much industry and professional dissatisfaction with the ‘competency-based' training approach; this may yet lead to a reassessment and return to the knowledge-based training/education and necessitate a return to the previous separate Engineering Qualifications Marine Order.

5. As you know Marine Orders 3 stipulates there are only 2 ways of qualifying for entry to the Watchkeeper course:-

• Cadet Entry to those with HSC English, Maths & Science; or
• Trade entry for those holding approve Trade-qualifications

Whilst a Class 3 holder has always been able to gain entry to Watchkeeper if possessing the Cadet-entry standard in English Mathematics and Science many members would not meet that and many do not hold a Trade... so currently there is no way for them to achieve Watchkeeper. However, as well as AIMPE arguing for wider discretion by AMSA in alternative Trades, AIMPE is arguing that for the first time there should be such a way.

Changing this is a difficult question and requires considerable consideration by AMSA to determine what is equivalent to the technical trade-training plus 4 year apprenticeship and we will have to see precisely where we reach a landing on this but AMSA is responding positively to the challenge and we expect a determination from them in the near future. We are hoping they will accept this model, below, in lieu of the lacked trade-training and 4 year apprenticeship:-

• AMSA to create the BRIDGE to Watchkeeper for those Class 3 holders without a Trade but can demonstrate 30 months of qualifying sea service MAINTAINING + operating on vessels above 750kW whilst holding Engineer Class 3; and
• If rather than the Class 3 workshop modules the applicant did the Watchkeeper-level workshop [competencies from Cadet-course] before this 30 months experience in lieu of a Trade then the period is reduced to 24 month; and
• evidence of this qualifying sea service and maintenance-experience via affidavits for existing engineers and moving forward a training and record of service document would probably be developed.
• If the qualifying sea service meets the Watchkeeper qualifying sea service requirements a candidate who meets the above could gain entry to the Watchkeeper course and may immediately sit the AMSA Orals for Watchkeeper.

Henning Christiansen

FEDERAL SECRETARY

McAndrew's Hymn

By Rudyard Kipling.

McAndrew was Chief Engineer on a vessel of about 6,000 tons, trading between the UK and New Zealand. This is his story of life ‘down-below’ as told by Rudyard Kipling who probably was on a voyage on McAndrews vessel in about 1891.

If you are interested in how to become a marine engineer in more modern times click here to download explanation and guidance notes on training and qualifications for the modern marine engineer officer

Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,
An', taught by time, I tak' it so - exceptin' always Steam.
From coupler-flange to spindle-guide I see Thy Hand, O God -
Predestination in the stride o' yon connectin'-rod.
John Calvin might ha' forged the same - enorrmous, certain, slow -
Ay, wrought it in the furnace-flame - my "Institutio."
I cannot get my sleep to-night; old bones are hard to please;
I'll stand the middle watch up here - alone wi' God an' these
My engines, after ninety days o' race an' rack an' strain
Through all the seas of all Thy world, slam-bangin' home again.
Slam-bang too much - they knock a wee - the crosshead-gibs are loose;
But thirty thousand mile o' sea has gied them fair excuse....
Fine, clear an' dark - a full-draught breeze, wi' Ushant out o' sight,
An' Ferguson relievin' Hay. Old girl, ye'll walk to-night!
His wife's at Plymouth.... Seventy-One-Two-Three since he began -
Three turns for Mistress Ferguson.... an' who's to blame the man?
There's none at any port for me, by drivin' fast or slow,
Since Elsie Campbell went to Thee, Lord, thirty years ago.
(The year the 'Sarah Sands' was burned. Oh roads we used to tread,
Fra' Maryhill to Pollokshaws - fra' Govan to Parkhead!)
Not but they're ceevil on the Board. Ye'll hear Sir Kenneth say:
"Good morrn, McAndrew! Back again? An' how's your bilge to-day?"
Miscallin' technicalities but handin' me my chair
To drink Madeira wi' three Earls - the auld Fleet Engineer,
That started as a boiler-whelp - when steam and he were low.
I mind the time we used to serve a broken pipe wi' tow.
Ten pound was all the pressure then - Eh! Eh! - a man wad drive;
An' here, our workin' gauges give one hunder' fifty-five!
We're creepin' on wi' each new rig - less weight an' larger power:
There'll be the loco-boiler next an' thirty mile an hour!
Thirty an' more. What I ha' seen since ocean-steam began
Leaves me no doot for the machine: but what about the man?
The man that counts, wi' all his runs, one million mile o' sea:
Four time the span from earth to moon.... How far, O Lord, from Thee?
That wast beside him night an' day. Ye mind my first typhoon?
It scoughed the skipper on his way to jock wi' the saloon.
Three feet were on the stokehold floor - just slappin' to an' fro -
An' cast me on a furnace-door. I have the marks to show.
Marks! I ha' marks o' more than burns - deep in my soul an' black,
An' times like this, when things go smooth, my wickudness comes back.
The sins o' four and forty years, all up an' down the seas,
Clack an' repeat like valves half-fed.... Forgie's our trespasses.
Nights when I'd come on deck to mark, wi' envy in my gaze,
The couples kittlin' in the dark between the funnel stays;
Years when I raked the ports wi' pride to fill my cup o' wrong-
Judge not, O Lord, my steps aside at Gay Street in Hong-Kong!
Blot out the wastrel hours of mine in sin when I abode -
Jane Harrigan's an' Number Nine, The Reddick an' Grant Road!
An' waur than all - my crownin' sin - rank blasphemy an' wild.
I was not four and twenty then - Ye wadna judge a child?
I'd seen the Tropics first that run - new fruit, new smells, new air -
How could I tell-blind-fou wi' sun-the Deil was lurkin' there?
By day like playhouse-scenes the shore slid past our sleepy eyes;
By night those soft, lasceevious stars leered from those velvet skies,
In port (we used no cargo-steam) I'd daunder down the streets -
An ijjit grinnin' in a dream - for shells an' parrakeets,
An' walkin'-sticks o' carved Bamboo an' blowfish stuffed an' dried -
Fillin' my bunk wi' rubbishry the Chief put overside.
Till, off Sumbawa Head, Ye mind, I heard a landbreeze ca'
Milk-warm wi' breath o' spice an' bloom: "McAndrews, come awa'!"
Firm, clear an' low - no haste, no hate - the ghostly whisper went,
Just statin' eevidential facts beyon' all argument:
"Your mither's God's a graspin' deil, the shadow o' yoursel',
"Got out o' books by meenisters clean daft on Heaven an' Hell.
"They mak' him in the Broomielaw, o' Glasgie cold an' dirt,
"A jealous, pridefu' fetich, lad, that's only strong to hurt,
"Ye'll not go back to Him again an' kiss His red-hot rod,
"But come wi' Us" (Now, who were 'They'?) "an' know the Leevin' God,
"That does not kipper souls for sport or break a life in jest,
"But swells the ripenin' cocoanuts an' ripes the woman's breast."
An' there it stopped: cut off: no more; that quiet, certain voice -
For me, six months o' twenty-four, to leave or take at choice.
'Twas on me like a thunderclap - it racked me through an' through-
Temptation past the show o' speech, unnamable an' new -
The Sin against the Holy Ghost? . . . An - under all, our screw.

That storm blew by but left behind her anchor-shiftin' swell,
Thou knowest all my heart an' mind, Thou knowest, Lord, I fell -
Third on the 'Mary Gloster' then, and first that night in Hell!
Yet was Thy hand beneath my head: about my feet Thy care-
Fra' Deli clear to Torres Strait, the trial o' despair,
But when we touched the Barrier Reef Thy answer to my prayer...
We dared na run that sea by night but lay an' held our fire,
An' I was drowzin' on the hatch - sick-sick wi' doubt an' tire:
"Better the sight of eyes that see than wanderin' o' desire!
Ye mind that word? Clear as our gongs-again, an' once again,
When rippin' down through coral-trash ran out our moorin'chain;
An' by Thy Grace I had the Light to see my duty plain.
Light on the engine-room - no more - bright as our carbons burn.
I've lost it since a thousand times, but never past return.

Obsairve! Per annum we'll have here two thousand souls aboard -
Think not I dare to justify myself before the Lord,
But-average fifteen hunder' souls safe-borne fra port to port-
I am o' service to my kind. Ye wadna' blame the thought?
Maybe they steam from grace to wrath - to sin by folly led -
It isna mine to judge their path - their lives are on my head.
Mine at the last - when all is done it all comes back to me,
The fault that leaves six thousand ton a log upon the sea.
We'll tak' one stretch - three weeks an' odd by any road ye steer -
Fra' Cape Town east to Wellington - ye need an engineer.
Fail there - ye've time to weld your shaft - ay, eat it, ere ye're spoke,
Or make Kerguelen under sail - three jiggers burned wi' smoke!
An' home again, the Rio run: it's no child's play to go
Steamin' to bell for fourteen days o' snow an' floe an' blow -
The bergs like kelpies overside that girn an' turn an' shift
Whaur, grindin' like the Mills o' God, goes by the big South drift.
(Hail, snow an' ice that praise the Lord: I've met them at their work,
An' wished we had anither route or they anither kirk.)
Yon's strain, hard strain, o' head an' hand, for though Thy Power brings
All skill to naught, Ye'll understand a man must think o' things.
Then, at the last, we'll get to port an' hoist their baggage clear -
The passengers, wi' gloves an' canes - an' this is what I'll hear:
"Well, thank ye for a pleasant voyage. The tender's comin' now."
While I go testin' follower-bolts an' watch the skipper bow.
They've words for everyone but me - shake hands wi' half the crew,
Except the dour Scots engineer, the man they never knew.
An' yet I like the wark for all we've dam' few pickin's here -
No pension, an' the most we earn's four hunder' pound a year.
Better myself abroad? Maybe. I'd sooner starve than sail
Wi' such as call a snifter-rod ross .... French for nightingale.
Commeesion on my stores? Some do; but I can not afford
To lie like stewards wi' patty-pans. I'm older than the Board.
A bonus on the coal I save? Ou ay, the Scots are close,
But when I grudge the strength Ye gave I'll grudge their food to those.
(There's bricks that I might recommend - an' clink the fire-bars cruel.
No! Welsh-Wangarti at the worst - an' damn all patent fuel!)
Inventions? Ye must stay in port to mak' a patent pay.
My Deeferential Valve-Gear taught me how that business lay,
I blame no chaps wi' clearer head for aught they make or sell.
I found that I could not invent an' look to these - as well.
So, wrestled wi' Apollyon - Nah! - fretted like a bairn -
But burned the workin'-plans last run wi' all I hoped to earn.
Ye know how hard an Idol dies, an' what that meant to me -
E'en tak' it for a sacrifice acceptable to Thee....
Below there! Oiler! What's your wark? Ye find her runnin' hard?
Ye needn't swill the cap wi' oil - this isn't the Cunard.
Ye thought? Ye are not paid to think. Go, sweat that off again!
Tck! Tck! It's deeficult to sweer nor tak' The Name in vain!
Men, ay an' women, call me stern. Wi' these to oversee
Ye'll note I've little time to burn on social repartee.
The bairns see what their elders miss; they'll hunt me to an' fro,
Till for the sake of - well, a kiss - I tak' 'em down below.
That minds me of our Viscount loon - Sir Kenneth's kin - the chap
Wi' russia leather tennis-shoon an' spar-decked yachtin'-cap.
I showed him round last week, o'er all - an' at the last says he:
"Mister McAndrew, don't you think steam spoils romance at sea?"
Damned ijjit! I'd been doon that morn to see what ailed the throws,
Manholin', on my back - the cranks three inches off my nose.
Romance! Those first-class passengers they like it very well,
Printed an' bound in little books; but why don't poets tell?
I'm sick of all their quirks an' turns - the loves an' doves they dream -
Lord, send a man like Robbie Burns to sing the Song o' Steam!
To match wi' Scotia's noblest speech yon orchestra sublime
Whaurto - uplifted like the Just - the tail-rods mark the time.
The Crank-throws give the double-bass; the feed-pump sobs an' heaves:
An' now the main eccentrics start their quarrel on the sheaves.
Her time, her own appointed time, the rocking link-head bides,
Till - hear that note?-the rod's return whings glimmerin' through the guides.
They're all awa! True beat, full power, the clangin' chorus goes
Clear to the tunnel where they sit, my purrin' dynamoes.
Interdependence absolute, foreseen, ordained, decreed,
To work, Ye'll note, at any tilt an' every rate o' speed.
Fra skylight-lift to furnace-bars, backed, bolted, braced an' stayed,
An' singin' like the Mornin' Stars for joy that they are made;
While, out o' touch o' vanity, the sweatin' thrust-block says:
"Not unto us the praise, or man - not unto us the praise!"
Now, a' together, hear them lift their lesson - theirs an' mine:
"Law, Order, Duty an' Restraint, Obedience, Discipline!"
Mill, forge an' try-pit taught them that when roarin' they arose,
An' whiles I wonder if a soul was gied them wi' the blows.
Oh for a man to weld it then, in one trip-hammer strain,
Till even first-class passengers could tell the meanin' plain!
But no one cares except mysel' that serve an' understand
My seven thousand horse-power here. Eh, Lord! They're grand - they're grand!
Uplift am I? When first in store the new-made beasties stood,
Were Ye cast down that breathed the Word declarin' all things good?

Not so! O' that warld-liftin' joy no after-fall could vex,
Ye've left a glimmer still to cheer the Man - the Arrtifex!
That holds, in spite o' knock and scale, o' friction, waste an' slip,
An' by that light - now, mark my word - we'll build the Perfect Ship.
I'll never last to judge her lines or take her curve - not I.
But I ha' lived an' I ha' worked. All thanks to Thee, Most High!
An' I ha' done what I ha' done - judge Thou if ill or well -
Always Thy Grace preventin' me.... Losh! Yon's the "Stand by" bell.
Pilot so soon? His flare it is. The mornin'-watch is set.
Well, God be thanked, as I was sayin', I'm no Pelagian yet.
Now I'll tak' on....'Morrn, Ferguson. Man, have ye ever thought
What your good leddy costs in coal? ...I'll burn em down to port.