One of the canon experts told me he had a farm called Kanonkop not far from where wee lived in Cape Town's Durbanville suburb and he had something I might be interested in. It turned out to be an old cannon, made in Falkirk and sent out with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders when Napoleon was causing all the trouble. The Brits took over the colony to prevent it being used to threaten the route to India. The general in charge was a Scot called Baird, who fought two 'battles' in which there were a few sprained ankles and red faces but at least one of his canon is preserved at Kanonkop. The canon was cast at Falkirk in the Carron works and bears King George's insignia of the time.

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Old Canon

Old Canon - I started this talking about how I started as a journalist and got as far as the model boats when Vernon and the Bismark intervened. I was taking pictures at a Navy day at Simonstown when it was announced there would be a canon firing at noon. Having been a Hornblower fan I went to watch and things took off at a tangent. I was given a lecture on preserving old canon. If you take one from the sea and let it dry out it will just crumble into dust. The salt must first be leached from the molecular structure of the cast iron. I tried to get a picture of one shooting out flames but all I got was a picture of a cloud of smoke.

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Having put down my notes of interviews from Vernon and his naval experiences from clipper ships to sinking Bismark and being sunk by Japanese bombers, I must get back to my other journalistic notes. I'm in the last stages of editing a book of short stories and that made me wonder if I could turn the notes on Vernon, the 1740 silver mining scam and the Cape Corps in East Africa in 1915 into a kind of series. Not short stories exactly but maybe three books in one. Something to think about anyway.

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I thought I'd finished with Vernon's story when he brought out photographs of his brothers. One was in the army with the Dukes at Tobruk. (Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh granted the CTVR the title "Duke of Edinburgh's Own", after it had formed a guard of honour for him during a visit to Cape Town. The nickname "the Dukes" appears to have come into use in the 1880s.) Another was with the RAF as an aircraft fitter and saw service in Somalia and Italy. Quite a contribution by one South African family to the war effort during WW2. People tend to regard South Africans as being tainted with racism but I never heard Vernon say anything that indicated anything other than concern for others. His comment about his medals - that he wouldn't wear awards he had been given for trying to kill young men from the Bismark that could have been his friends in different circumstances - was typical.

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Vernon's wife had been looking after us with coffee and cake and it was natural to ask how they met. Vernon looked slightly embarrassed and began - My brother had arranged for me to meet someone and I was on my way when I saw two toughs pushing about an old shipmate, who suffered badly from shell-shock. I lost my temper and got stuck in. Fortunately my brother came along and stepped in. 'What were you trying to do? I arrange for you to meet a nice girl and the first thing you do is get into a fight with two rough characters - with only one hand!!
Some days later Vernon was at a dance and met the 'nice girl' and married her.
Vernon and his old shipmates stuck together and in 2007 the last two still got together.

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After spending seven months, from April to November in Addington Hospital, Vernon was released. The Navy contacted him.
'I'm disabled!' he told them, but the Navy in typical fashion had an answer.
'Not in the head, you're not. Report for duty at Simonstown.'
Vernon became a Naval Liaison Officer in the signals room at Simonstown. To get to wok he had to go through three locked doors. At the third, he had to knock three times before he would be admitted. Once inside he was in for his eight hour shift. It wasn't without interest, however, because the room was the first to hear of news of the war and he followed its progress with interest.
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HMS Oxfordshire dropped the survivors of HMS Dorsetshire in Durban and the wounded were taken to Addington Hospital. Just over the hill from the hospital was an airfield where pilots were being trained in Harvards. One day the learners thought it would be a good idea to"buzz" the hospital. I don't know where the others were, Vernon Brill told me. I was under the bed. Vernon hesitated but his wife Joyce urged him on and Vernon began a reluctant story about his paybook. 'Inside the paybook was my Liberty Book, the little book you had to have when you were on shore. If you went ashore without it the MPs would lock you up as a deserter, so it was always in a safe place. When we were bombed it was two decks below but when I was in Addington, the Sister came with a paybook in her hand and asked me if it was mine. The Liberty Book was still inside. Who brought it, or how it got to Addington, I have no idea,' Vernon told me.
I thought that would be the end of Vernon's story but there was more to come.

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HMS Oxfordshire picked up HMS Dorsetshire's wounded from the beached hospital ship and made for Durban. 'It took three weeks,' Vernon remembered. HMS Oxfordshire broke down in the warm sea around Mombasa doing Vernon's injured hand no good. By the time they got to Durban the hand wass smelling and gangrenous. First opinions were that it must be amputated but Dr Wassing intervened and and, although inflexible, Vernon still has his hand- no doubt with the help of the new miracle drug Penicillin.

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HMS Enterprise took the survivors of HMS Dorsetshire on board and made for the ship beached on one of the islands that was being used as a hospital ship. A Petty Officer took a look at Vernon's leg and said he could see the end of a bullet sticking out. The PO sucked his teeth and muttered,'That will have to come out before it suppurates.' 'Get on with it,' Vernon told him and the PO took out a pen knife, heated it like John Wayne, and dug out the bullet. Vernon grimaced at the thought. They could do nothing about his hand, however, and that had to wait for another pick up.

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I am tempted to add atmosphere and detail to my notes from Vernon but that is for a day when I write it up as a novel. For the present let me stick to what he said.
Vernon was in the water not far from the sinking Dorsetshire. He found a piece of timber an clung to it. His bum smarted but the salt water would cleanse it and he was more concerned about the noise of the Japanese planes . One came and machine gunned those in the water. Vernon couldn't see if anyone was hit but later learned it killed the doctor and the priest. The plane, or another, came back again but Vernon just clung to his driftwood. Some time later, someone in one of the lifeboats that had survived said, 'Look at Brilley's hand.' When Vernon looked there was a hole right through his left hand. They later found two bullets in his leg so he must have had a lucky escape.
There were bodies floating among the survivors but no sharks came. From time to time someone would ask about so-and-so. Sometimes someone had seen them, sometimes not.
One of the first to go was the chief killik of vernon's mess. Although firm friends, they had had a bad start. The killik had a bad habit of touching Vernon's plate as he ate. After a bad night looking through frost rimmed binoculars, the killik touched Vernon's plate and, before he had time to think, Vernon laid him out on the floor.
'What could I do?' Vernon asked me. 'It was a serious offence to hit a superior.'
Defaulter's parade.
The captain listened to the story, remembered the bitter cold watch and decided they should settle it on deck with boxing gloves.
'After a few knocks we apologised and became really good friends,' Vernon commented.
Day passed into cool night and now and then Vernon could hear people shout as he hung on to his bit of timber. In the morning things settled down and one or two adventurous spirits swam races between the boats. Vernon just hung on and by evening knew that, if they weren't rescued, he wouldn't see another dawn. Just as they grew desperate, HMS Enterprise appeared and they were hauled on board.  

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After all the excitement of meeting the King and the Princesses, the Dorsetshire had several other adventures chasing German raiders and U-Boat supply ships and was sent to the Indian Ocean to calm things down there. Having searched for a reported Japanese attempt to infiltrate the Indian Ocean Dorsetshire and her companion HMS Cornwall were despatched to Colombo to refuel.On Easter Sunday the two ships were about 300 miles from Colombo when, according to the tattered pages of an old Illustrated magazine, the crew knew 'stood to' at dawn but knew there was 'something up' when the bugle which announced the opening of the NAAFI didn't sound at 7am. In mid morning a Japanese scout plane appeared and shdowed the ships but stayed well out of range of their guns. About 2pm Vernon saw the planes come and start to dive and bomb the ship. There were so many and they came so fast the guns had no chance, Vernon commented. Vernon was at his gun position when there was an explosion. He came to on the deck below, looking up at a gaping hole where the gun had been. His legs had no feeling and the ship started to list. He saw the steps of a companionway ladder and managed to claw his way up to the main deck. The deck was sloping and he began to slide down.A marine with one arm badly wounded and his face damaged told him he'd better get off the upslope side as the 'abandon ship' siren had gone. When Vernon pointed out he couldn't move his legs, the marine dragged him up and over the side. Vernon slid down the side bumped against the bilge keel and scraped his bum on the barnacles before slipping into the water.
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