This is an excerpt from my latest book Tales from Great Passenger Ships. This tells the stories of 36 famous passenger ships:
By 1965 I had become familiar with many of the world’s seaports as my London based company, specialising in ship’s photography, sent me from ship to ship as a relieving onboard photo unit manager. I had joined a variety of ships in such places as New York, Boston, Genoa and Southampton, but never had I been sent to Harwich. This was then a very small port on the Essex coast in the southeast of England and although I knew the town had a ferry to Holland, I could not imagine a passenger ship ever fitting into such a small haven.
My London based bosses had sent me here with only two days’ notice to join her as a last-minute replacement. They had no chance to give me a proper briefing and all I knew was my new ship was called the Stella Polaris, was formerly Norwegian but now Swedish owned and she did world cruising as well as trips to the North Cape and the Mediterranean.
Getting off the train from London in Harwich, there was not a glimpse of any passenger ship to be seen. No funnels broke the skyline and there was none of the usual boarding hustle and bustle at the railway station.
However, an obliging taxi driver found her and deposited me on a small dock at the foot of her gangway. I gaped. Before me was something like an early steamer with a long nose and a bowsprit. This was more private yacht than any suggestion of a passenger ship.
In the previous years I had worked on ships from 38,000 tons to as small as 15,000 tons, but now London must be joking. To put it in proportion, the Stella was a tad over 5,000 tons, which made her a fortieth of the size of today’s cruise ships. I checked my boarding paperwork again and the name on the vessel’s stern. They matched, so up the gangway I marched to find not a single soul insight.
I wandered freely around. I decided to start at the top and checked in at the bridge. There was no one there. No officer of the watch, no master of arms. Surprising. But even more surprising was the bridge itself, a very simple affair with lots of polished brass. Later I was to discover that originally the bridge had been completely open to the air.
In the 1930s, from the Artic and across the Equator she would go with the bridge offering little protection for the poor bridge officers. I imagined mahogany faced sailors with icy beards gripping binoculars with thickly gloved hands and swaddled in layers of cable-knit polar-neck jerseys, topped off with long duffle coats. They must have been a tough lot.
The small boat deck hosted four lifeboats and there was a motorised tender on each side. Spartan, but I guess and prayed that was all that was needed.
Down the companionway and onto a small promenade deck, I found the music salon, a veranda café and a smoking room. Oh my! Very classy. Everything exuded luxury.
On C deck I found a magnificent dining room with rich carpeting and fine furniture set for between 100 and 150 guests. On the ceiling were a mass of coloured lamps arranged to form a star. Very impressive. Definitely a place for millionaires. I guess it was more the private luxury yacht you have when you don’t already have one of your own.
Six to a Cabin
Coming back up the companion ways I ran into a tall Swedish man in a steward’s black uniform sporting two silver stripes on his sleeve. He welcomed me aboard and explained nearly all the crew were ashore as the passengers were not due to embark for another three hours. He took me along to see the Chief Steward in his cabin. It appeared that outside navigation and mechanical duties, he was the man that ran the ship.
His stewards were mostly blond male Scandinavian types who lived crammed cheek by jowl in the confines of the focsle. As I was a ‘foreigner’ representing a concession holder, he said I could have a passenger cabin and drink socially at the bar, but I must remember his word was law. The offer of a passenger cabin was a relief as I had noted the crew accommodation mainly consisted of four or six to a cabin affairs.
Can you imagine six young blokes living together in the confines of a small space? Probably best not. However, this was quite common on ships in those days, but so far, a nightmarish hell I had the good fortune to avoid. So, it was to be a passenger cabin for me. This was a particular bonus as these passenger cabins were very classy affairs furnished in fine woods. Jackpot.
He asked what other ships I had worked on, and I reeled off six well-known liners. He sniffed. His passengers, he insisted were a very elite and a special group and I was not under any circumstances to take a photograph of any passenger unless they specifically requested it.
I gulped. How on earth was I going to make money for my company under such circumstances? I didn’t. But I had a wonderful trip up to the North Cape and the Land of the Midnight Sun. Plus I went to some of the best crew parties of my life.
I fear that at such revelries I might have been fed some dubious stories. I was told the ship was ordered to be built by the exiled Kaiser Wilhelm ll. However, although the Kaiser had a penchant for the occasional personal yacht and didn’t die until 1941, I cannot find any historical record of the Stella having been originally commissioned by him.
These doubts are fuelled by the fact that at this merry party I was told that during the Second World War the Stella was at one time sunk across a fjord in Norway to prevent the Germans entering. However, the invasion succeeded, and the Germans raised the Stella and converted her into a floating brothel for the recreational use of U-Boat submariners.
A wonderful story. And, as a matter of fact, I do believe the last part is true. History does indeed record the captured Stella Polaris was used as a ‘rest and recreation’ boat for German U-Boat crews. And we can all imagine what that entailed. After all, US navy folk lore claims that a liberty boat is seven sailors with seven ‘hores. However, I cannot find any record of the Stella ever being sunk as a blockade ship. But it was a wonderful party.
Stella Polaris was commissioned by a Norwegian company called Bergen, a fore runner to Royal Viking Lines, and they claimed she was the first designed and purpose-built cruise ship. If she was not the actual first, she certainly was amongst the very first
Work was started in Sweden by Gotaverken in Goteborg in 1925 and she was launched with great fanfare and media acclaim in September 1926 by Miss Lehmkuhl, the daughter of Bergen Steamships director.
An early passenger was the famous English writer Evelyn Waugh who made his Mediterranean cruise the subject of his first travel book: Labels. Wrote Waugh: ‘She was certainly a very pretty ship, standing rather high in the water, with the tail-pointed prow of a sailing yacht, white all over except for her single yellow funnel, and almost ostentatiously clean…’.
The Stella’s career nearly came to an early end in 1937 when she was in a collision with another vessel carrying a cargo of dynamite and ammunition. Fortunately for the Stella, the munitions vessel, the Nobel, sunk, taking her dangerous cargo with her. The Stella’s bow was damaged, and her previously famous long bow sprit was dramatically shortened. For maneuverability the captains must have decided this was a great improvement as it was never returned to its former length.
Although the great depression had not seemed to impact her cruise bookings for the Mediterranean, North Cape and around the world cruises, the Second World War did. Norway tried for a neutral role, but Hitler was looking for some ice-free ports for his navy to control the Atlantic approaches to Britain. So, he invaded Norway. The excuse used was that Germany wanted to protect Norway from the British and the French.
The outbreak of war put an immediate end to cruises and the Stella was laid up in Oslo until the German troops landed in Norway. In an attempt to conceal her from the enemy, she was immediately moved into the wilds of Osterfjorden, but seven months later she was found and seized by German forces. For the next three years she flew the German flag and provided her comforts to U-Boat crews.
At the end of the war, she came under the management of the Ministry of War Transport and was used to transport Russian prisoners of war to Murmansk. She also helped repatriate many of the troops.
When, in 1945, she was finally handed back to Bergen Line, she had been thoroughly and utterly trashed. All the fine furnishings ripped apart and the artworks gone. The departing Germans thought that if they couldn’t have her, nor should anyone else. Oddly enough, out of respect, or the fact that they were out of sight, the engines were still in good condition.
Bergen returned the ship to the builder’s yard for complete repair, restoration and the installation of a new ventilation system. This was completed in eight months, but at a cost more than the original build. To meet new safety regulations, the number of cabins was reduced to a capacity for 189 passengers. This created the space for a new dance salon.
With a very varied cruise itinerary, Stella stayed with Bergen until the company accepted an offer from the Swedish Clipper Line. The offer did not include the numerous artworks onboard, so these were taken off and the ship sent for another makeover, which apart from new carpeting and artworks, included the installation of air conditioning.
Back in service at the end of 1951, she now sailed under the Swedish flag, but resumed a similar cruise itinerary, but without the world cruise offer. But her reputation as being one of the finest and most luxurious afloat continued to build.
She did have her adventures. While cruising the fjords, a massive rock fall from the sheer cliffs nearly hit and sank the Stella. On another cruise one young lady passenger with a broken heart committed suicide by jumping into the cold waters off the south coast of Sweden. Apparently, her parents had decreed she was not to marry her Australian soldier sweetheart.
On board food storage was limited, so orders were cabled ahead of the ship’s arrival. In Calais, there was a major communication breakdown and an order for four hundred flowers to decorate the ship resulted in the delivery of a ton of cauliflowers - not quite the décor the chief steward had in mind.
She was also the victim of a robbery. Her priceless art collections had already been through trials and tribulations both during the war and in the change of ownership, but in one of her refits in 1968, while in her home port of Malmo, thieves managed to raid the new artwork.
In spite of this Clipper Line maintained the Stella Polaris in top order throughout her life, but while she had plenty of bookings, the aging ship was having trouble meeting the new maritime safety laws. This led to most refits having to reduce the number of passengers carried and by 1954 she was only licensed to carry 155 passengers
But worse was to come in 1968 when, to meet the latest regulations, new refrigeration and storage facilities on board had to be built to meet hygiene standards, reducing the number of passenger cabins to just 70.. Gradually, but surely, the Stella was being squeezed out of existence.
She was still a fine ship and a fine place to be but the cold fact was that it was no longer financially wise to keep this marvellous unique ship in service. Forgive old-fashioned me, but I doubt the word ‘unique’ has crossed my keyboard before as I respect it’s true meaning of one and only and shudder at the mere thought of modifiers such as ‘almost, most, and totally’. TheStella Polaris is indeed fully deserving of the use of the word unique. Nevertheless, she was put up for sale.
She was sold in 1969 to be a floating hotel in Japan. Her thirty pieces of silver amounted to $850,000. In October that year she left Lisbon flying the Japanese flag.
On arrival, the two propellers were removed. This last act of emasculation was to enable lower taxes by classifying her as a building and not a ship. But the name Stella Polaris was still on her bows.
After the novelty waned, business suffered, and the hotel operation was shut down. But tourist visitors and the restaurant remained open offering a Scandinavian-style smorgasbord. They were all the rage those days.
After more than 30 years in Japan, there was a movement gathering in Sweden to bring her back. If she was to be a floating restaurant and hotel, why couldn’t she do this in Stockholm? The deal was done and the old lady was to be patched up to make the trip home to the land of her birth.
Maybe she would still be alive today and there wouldn’t have been no sad end. However, a Chinese company was engaged to prepare her for her voyage back across the world. But while they had her under tow to Shanghai for the preparation work, she gave up the ghost. On
September 2nd, 2006, she sank in seventy metres of water just south of Nagoya.
So no, she wasn’t sunk as a blockade ship in the Second World War. She was sunk by the Chinese in 2006.