My name is Fred White, I was at ts Indifacticable from 13 until almost 14 when I ran away with another boy! I was eventually sent to Wellesley Nautical School, Links Road, Blyth, Northumberland were I stayed until I was 17 years old.

It was around 1959 when I was at Inde all I can tell you from memory is the captain was a huge man, the only other officer I remember was Mugridge he was the P.T.I. Inde was heaven compared to Wellesley! I ran away from Indefatigable because the P.O.of the dorm told me to, how I regret that looking back, I spent a night out in Snowdonia it was late November and very cold, we were both taken to LLandudno Junction hospital for a check up and to thaw out.We were both drummed out when we returned to Inde, drummer playing a role, cap band ripped off cap thrown on the ground, silks ripped off and collar, you can not imagine what that did to a 13 year old boy at that time, then we were taken in doors to the captains office and received 6 strokes of the cain across our bum, given a train pass and escorted off the ship.

The school was a tough place to be when you were a kid, I was in Drake division, the petty officers who ran the divisions were cruel, it was a kicking every night for supper, and first thing in the morning while polishing the wooden floors. I remember a boy called Fritz Sale he hung himself in the paint stores they found him the next morning. The thing I remember about him was how beautiful he played the bugle on special occasions.He was a bugler in the band, and I was a drummer.

Every sunday the ships company would march down to Blyth to church, and every sunday night the ships company would go to service in the school chapel.We only had two uniforms, best with silks tapes and collars.working clothes were Naval blue shirt, dark blue jean type material bottoms, no pockets. Most of the buildings are still there or at least they were in 1985 when I paid a visit, however the boys do not have uniforms and live in beautiful new two storey dorms, I believe it is a local authority home for bad boys. Boat drill was rowing up and down the Blyth river, shipping oars ect.

.For almost 3 years I looked after the boilers in the school, that was my full time job! my nick name was Chalky. The day I left the school was one of the saddest days of my life. The school had an old mtb moored in Blyth harbour if I remember correct it was powered by 3 Rolls merlin engines.

I never went to sea, the policy was only geared to seaman ship 1 and 2 boys, a lot went to sea on trawlers from Blyth or North Shields, I can remember a couple of boys being lost over board in my time, I do not know there names or if there bodies were ever recovered, I can remember a service being held in the Wellesley small chapel.

For almost 3 years I looked after the boilers in the school, that was my full time job! my nick name was Chalky.I shovelled coal, looked after the boiler houses that fed the school with hot water and heating for almost all my time at the school, they never even gave me an education. A few more names of the lads who were there at the time! One was a kid called Saddler came from South wales he was sent by the P.O.of Drake division to test how hard I was the first day I arrived at the school. We fought for an hour him ending up with missing teeth me with a green stick fracture of my left hand were I had missed him and hit the wall.

The next person it was my unfortunate luck to meet was the P.O. of Boscawen,( ginger) Barry, again from South Wales! You stood there while he hit you, if you cried you got double, all the P.O.s were sadistic bastards. Another officer there was the Gardener, a Mr Henderson, he would get two boys fighting just for the hell of it!

The sick bay was run by a small tubby woman we all called the witch! The cooks were civvies I can only remember the one Jim real nice guy, as was Mr Liddell the building instructor. Another civi worker, Boby Hughes, was my mess mate or backer wacker, as we called a lad who shared his rolling tobacco with you!

Pay day was every week in those days about 5 shillings, all the ships company would go before the captain to be paid, caps off he would put the money in your cap. You would sign the book take a step back and put your cap on your head the coins jingling about under neath the cap! Lots of boys never got to keep there money the bully boys soon had it away from them.

I remember the bed packs we had to make up each day and put on top of the mattress which was folded in half. Sitting on your bed during day time was taboo, if court by an officer it meant a punishment like cleaning the communal heads, if court by a P.O. it met a kicking, or holding your boots out at arms length until you dropped your arms, or hanging from the beams that ran across the dorm, ether way you got a kicking!

I remember as if yesterday the row of spotless white sinks in the dorm wash area, how the taps shone like gold, the red painted deck immediately behind with the black marker line running round it, the buckets gleaming silver, and the deck scrubbers, how white they were, all displayed neatly.

Opposite was the boot and locker room. When you were called in there you knew what to expect, the P.O. and his second in command had come up with a new form of torture, and they wanted to experiment. I can remember a kid called Wheeler, his arm held by the P.O.and then the P.O. kicking him under the arm. When the P.O. saw how affective it was the whole division had a bit of the same.

For entertainment some nights a P.O.would send you to another dorm to fight and vice versa, P.O.s used to bet on individual lads, either way, win or lose, like the boxing, you never came out a winner.

At 17 I could barely read or write, now I'm a published poet, have letters on my wall from the Queen, Hillary Rodham Clinton. I am also an engineer dealing with automotive failures, member of the institute of motor engineers, have travelled the world , China 7 times, walked on the great wall, sat on the last emperors throne in the forbidden city, have 4 wonderful children, not bad for a lad who from the age of 4 until 13 spent his time in an orphanage, pushed from pillar to post. You can see my work or at least some of it if you go to http://www.poetry.com/ look under the author Fredrick White .

We see on the movies, and hear on the air,

Of killing and stealing crime everywhere,

We look and we say as we notice the trend,

This young generation, where will it end?

To much money, to much idle time,

To many movies of passion and crime,

To many kids encouraged to roam,

By to many parents, who won't stay at home,

Kids don't make the movies,

kids don't write the books,

That paint a gay picture of gangsters and crooks,

Kids don't make the liquor, kids don't run the bars,

Kids don't make the laws, kids don't drive the cars,

Kids don't make the drugs that destroy the brain,

It's all done by older folk, greedy for gain,

Thus in so many cases it must be confessed,

The label delinquent, fits older folk best?

F.W.White 1968 or 69