The Commodore & the Banana Boat

The allure of the sea is too strong for some mariners, such as the late Commodore Geoffrey Marr. His association with the Cunard Line ended after a lifetime at sea and he settled into a well-deserved retirement at his home in England.

But it did not last long. Captain Bob Arnott (most famously of the QE2) describes what happened in his book, Captain of the Queen:

When he retired, Geoffrey quickly became bored and generally disenchanted with life ashore. And after a Cunard career culminating in command of the great Queens, he signed on as second mate of a banana boat. His fellow officers on the West India freighter knew all about their second mate's illustrious past, and used to call him "The Commodore."

There may have been a reason as to why Marr chose a banana boat.

After graduating from the training ship HMS Conway in 1924, his first job was with a company called Elders and Fyffes - "banana specialists," as the Commodore called them. It seems possible that perhaps his new, post-Cunard assignment reminded him of his earliest days at sea. But this is purely speculation on my part.


References: Captain Robert Harry Arnott, Captain of the Queen: The autobiography of the most famous sea captain of them all. (London: Quadrant Books, 1982), 126.

Commodore Geoffrey Marr, The Queens and I: The Autobiography of the Captain of the Queen Mary and the Last Captain of the Queen Elizabeth (London: Adlard Coles Limited, 1973), 13.

Commodore Marr & Myself

On January 15, 2011 I was given the great and rare privilege to wear the late Commodore Geoffrey Marr's uniform. He was the last master of the RMS Queen Elizabeth, and sailed the ship to her berths in Florida and later Hong Kong. Shortly after his retirement from Cunard, Commodore Marr went back to sea as Second Mate aboard a banana boat; the allure of the ocean is too strong for some people. He passed away on March 4, 1997 and was ultimately buried at sea.

This particular uniform (Marr had several) is in the possession of my good friend, Everette Hoard, who actually knew the Commodore in his later years. He mentioned to me one day that the coat would probably fit me, which really got this idea underway. It turns out, actually, that the coat fits me perfectly and my friend was gracious enough to take a few photos for me.

Everette says that "there's a certain kind of magic about that uniform," and he is completely right. As soon as I slipped it on I instantly felt a connection to Commodore Marr and his life. I think it's amazing how certain objects can hold such power and significance; and it makes sense in this case. This uniform represents Commodore Marr's entire life and career; from his early days aboard the HMS Conway to chasing down the Battleship Bismarck aboard the HMS King George V to commanding the RMS Queen Elizabeth. All this and more is symbolized by this old jacket and hat.

It truly was an experience that I'll never forget for as long as I live. I don't think that I could ever convey enough thanks to Everette for letting me do what I did.

"We're going in."

Docking a ship - any ship - requires tremendous skill, ability and resolve. Even more so when the weather is bleakly uncooperative. But master seamanship is what wins the day, as Captain Bob Arnott (later of the Queen Elizabeth 2) witnessed firsthand aboard the RMS Carinthia in 1960, under the command of the future Commodore Geoffrey Marr:

[He] was a great talker, words tumbling from his lips at an amazing rate, and his gift for rhetoric was superbly demonstrated in his lecture presentation on the sinking of the Bismarck. Geoffrey had served in the Royal Navy Reserve on one of the ships that sent the German battleship to the bottom on 27 May 1941, so his graphic descriptions were wholly authentic.

Yet I remember him not so much for his oratory as for a remarkable piece of navigation that brought Carinthia safely to the Pier Head in Liverpool when the Mersey was cloaked completely in blinding black fog. We were anchored in the river waiting for the solid blanket to lift; even the ferry boats across the Mersey were unable to move. Suddenly Geoffrey's fine voice called: 'We're going in.' He talked our tugs to us over the VHF radio and, with visibility down to zero, took the huge 22,000-ton liner cleanly into the landing stage. Passengers, already resigned to another night at sea, cheered in relief and delight, and the crew, anxious to get home to loved ones, were equally elated. It was a magnificent achievement by the Captain, considering the quite elementary navigational aids of 1960 in comparison to today's sophistication.

Captain Arnott then explains how he believes Captain Marr accomplished this feat:

It's a matter of record that some Captains have a sixth sense in fog; they can 'see' things quite invisible to the eyes of ordinary humans, and have often made apparently inexplicable decisions which, within seconds, have saved ships and lives.

Perhaps it is either ouf of modesty that many captains do not wish to talk about it. Perhaps it is due to the fact they themselves cannot explain.

In any case, Captains generally won't discuss the matter, and that includes the normally prolific talker, Commodore Geoffrey Marr.

References: Captain Robert Harry Arnott, Captain of the Queen: The autobiography of the most famous sea captain of them all. (London: Quadrant Books, 1982), 125-126.