River Ouse Bargeman

by Lewis, David;

  Cartoon by an unknown artist of a family in a barge cabin.

  Diagram of layout of a barge cabin.

  ‘We sat round the cabin table on the polished mahogany seats. Mam and Dad sat at the starboard side of the cabin table and Frank and me, we sat at the port side. That was called the “spare side”. Over our heads swinging from the deck head was a brass paraffin lamp, which was the only light we had. Toilet facilities were primitive – either use a bucket or do it over the side!

  It was said that if you found an unidentified body in the river you could tell if it was a bargeman – he’d have a bucket-shaped ring around his backside!

  ‘Frank and I were soon back on deck to see what was going on. We could see and hear the water rushing by. It took us six hours to go from Selby to Hull. When we arrived in Hull and got moored up, all the Hull men went home.

  ‘After getting moored up, it had come round to late afternoon, so Mam made tea and Dad rigged a sail up in the cob boat. My brother and I sailed all round the dock having a wonderful time. We also did a lot of fishing and if we caught flat fish, Mother would fry them for our teas, but if we caught any eels we would throw them back. They made a right mess of our lines with all their slime. Sometimes if we went into King George Dock there would be a Blue Funnel ship in, discharging bananas. They were still green needing time to ripen. Of course, if any fell in the water, we’d collect them and put them in a dark cupboard in the Taurus’ cabin to do just that.

  ‘There were numerous barges moored all round us in the dock, many with their families living on board, and on the warm summer evenings the bargemen used to sit round the cabin deck smoking their pipes and cigarettes, many of them “roll their own”, supping a mug of sweet tea, telling stories of their voyages up and down the river, and singing music hall songs of the day.’

  Some of these songs are described in Appendix 2. Sam may have had to censor one or two lines for the sake of the young lads’ ears. Another thing that youths had to watch out for was the ‘kid catcher’. The school truancy inspector would often do his rounds in and amongst the barges, and any under-fourteen-year-old could be dragged off, possibly literally, from the barge back to the classroom. Not so much fun for them, and one less hand to help on board.

  ‘Hull Docks serviced not only the shipping along the Ouse, but also the trade up the Trent. The barges that used to go up to Gainsborough belonged to Farley’s, who had a flour mill there. Those which went further up the Trent to Newark and Nottingham belonged to the Trent Navigation Co. who had a powerful tug, the Frank Rayner, which towed the barges all the way from Hull to Nottingham.

  Common cargoes were grain for the flour mills and timber for construction. There was also traffic on the canals and waterways of South Yorkshire by connecting into the rivers Aire and Don around Goole.

  ‘Many different barges used to go through the locks at Keadby on their way to Thorne with wheat, and some of the bargemen’s names which come to my mind were the Carters, Deans and Blacknells.’

  With all these bargemen meeting up for a chinwag over a cuppa, there was clearly a good chance of spreading news and gossip about the waterways. On summer nights, and possibly around the time of Hull Fair in October too, light-hearted bargemen’s sports such as the greasy pole challenge might be organised.

  In this a well-greased wooden pole was stretched some thirty feet or so from the dock-wall over the harbour. A flag was fixed to the far end, and the challenge was clear. Take a good run at it, sprint along the pole, grab the flag and you’re ‘cock of the walk’; sometimes there was a small prize. Of course, this was much more difficult than it sounds, and many a lad got a soaking in the docks – but eventually someone would make a despairing dive and snaffle the flag. That was usually a sign for a bit of rejoicing and drinks all round. Other sports events included women’s sculling races, where wives and daughters would scull the cob boat around a course, sea-horse races, where a ‘horse’ would be made from an empty barrel and some planks and rowed around a course and swimming races across the width of the dock and back.

  ‘At night when it was dark we sat in the cabin and the only light we had was the brass oil lamp hung in the middle of the cabin and as the ship rolled, so the lamp would swing backwards and forwards. I used to love that hypnotic rhythm.

  ‘When it was time to go to bed, it was a quick wash in an enamel bowl filled with a dipper and a jug from the tank on deck. We slept in the spare side of the cabin and Mother and Dad slept in the “bed hole” as it was called, which was on the starboard side. There were two doors that folded back to let you in. It was like sleeping in a large cupboard that had tongue and groove boarding with a skylight over your head for illumination.

  ‘When we woke up in the morning, light was streaming in through the skylights in the deckhead, and coming down the cabin hatch, the lovely smell of bacon being fried on the cabin stove. If the cargo holds were empty, Frank and I could go down and have a kick about or play cricket in the empty space using a rolled up sack or paper as a ball, or just run around. It was a huge space to play in.

  ‘Dad would go to Whittaker’s office on Alexandra Dock to get his orders as to where we had to load.’

  Whittaker’s were shipping agents in Hull. Whether you were working for a company or as a by-trader, independent of the major firms, the shipping agent was the point of contact between ships that had to be unloaded and lighters or barges that were available to do that unloading.

  ‘When we were loaded and moving back up river, Frank and I sat behind the weatherboard, which was like a little wooden windbreak and kept the spray off us.

  ‘Once we’d got back to Selby and moored up, Mother would pack up our clothes and we would all walk home to 1, Mirkhill Road. It did feel strange being home after being on board for ages, as the round trip was at least six days. You’d have one day going down to Hull, the next three days you’d be finding out what your load was and getting the cargo from the big ships, then you’d have to wait for the tide and the tug back up river. Sleeping at bedtime was the strangest, being in a proper bed and not hearing the water lapping outside. nor seeing the oil lamp’s hypnotic sway.

  ‘When I left school at fourteen, I got a job as an errand boy at the Cooperative on Flaxley Road. I stuck it for a year, but had some bad times with the manager. Although I worked from 8.30 in the morning till 6 at night, all for nine bob a week, one day he asked me to come in on a Sunday for some extra work as it was stocktaking time – but he said he’d see me right. So, as promised, I turned up at 8am and worked a straight five hours. Then at lunchtime came the bonus – a box of chocolates!

  ‘That was enough for me so in 1937 I decided to go mate with my Dad on the Taurus, something I’d always wanted to do. I packed my bags, bought some sea boots, Mam knitted me a proper jersey and I got myself a cap and I walked through town to the Railway Jetty. I got to the Taurus and jumped aboard. At last I’d got the job I’d always wanted, I thought. We were away down the river to Hull and that was the start of my life as a boatman.

  ‘I used to go mate on other barges too, to get a bit of extra cash. I remember being with one old keelman and his wife, and after I’d been steering for a bit he told me to go down into the cabin for some grub. Well his wife put some pork and spuds on my plate – and then poured the potato water over it as if it were gravy. Being a young lad I didn’t mind a bit and I ate the lot.

  ‘My father taught me how to become a bargeman. He showed me how to splice ropes and wires, and how to make fancy ships’ fenders, the knotted ropes that protect the side of a boat from collisions. I learnt how to paint and how to do graining. That was where you made a piece of wood look like it had the grain showing. You had to paint it with some burnt umber first, then some red ochre and yellow ochre on top and draw a brush across it before it all dried. It was quite a skill. I made many friends in Hull, especially Harold Wray and Ted Taylor, who were mates like me on their father’s ships, the Selby Capella and Leeds Jupiter.

  The
river journeys could give rise to incidents that gave a man a nickname for life. One such incident happened one foggy night.

  ‘One time it had come in thick fog at South Ferriby so we had to ride at anchor. Someone suggested we should go ashore in the cob boat and have a drink in the village pub. So a few of us sculled the cob boat and tied up inside South Ferriby sluice and went to the pub. Me being a lad I only had a half but the others had a drink or two. When we all sculled back we decided it would be a good idea to make a pan of stew. Everyone got their tinned stuff open and put it in the pan, and it was all boiling away nicely when Ted Taylor said he’d got a tin of herrings. We all thought it would be a good idea to put those in too. Can’t remember what the stew tasted like, but he was always called “Herring” Taylor after that!

  Laurie as a teenager at Scarborough in 1938. (Laurie Dews)

  ‘When the Taurus was laid over in Hull Docks for the weekend, Dad would go home on the train, but I’d stay on board and go round Hull with my mates, sometimes staying at Harold Wray’s house in Victor Street, and at other times staying on board the Taurus, laid up at Alexandra Dock.’

  Victor Street was in the Holderness Road part of Hull, and had a reputation, as Laurie put it, of being a ‘bit of a rum area’. Whilst Sam was safely back in Selby, Laurie was getting a different kind of education with some of his mates out and about in Hull.

  ‘There was a cafe just off the King George Docks called the Klondike and lots of the sailor lads would go in there. The owner had a big bull whip hung on the wall behind the counter. Any sign of trouble and he’d get it off the wall and literally crack the whip. Any trouble was soon settled!’

  Laurie also encountered a different form of so-called ‘trouble’ when out with his barge mates.

  ‘There were some right places around Alexandra Dock. One night the lads said, “Come out with us, you’ll enjoy it.” So they took me to the Bell, the King Billy then we ended up at this place called the Society Tavern. We all sat down in the best room and obviously the lads had set me up 'cos this bloke came into the room, eyed me up and down and said in a camp voice, “Well, I’ve never seen you before,” sat down next to me and started putting his arm around me. Well ... I’d never seen anything like it before.’

  The Society Tavern building still exists today, but it has been converted to flats. The King Billy and the Blue Bell remain licensed premises close to the former docks area.

  Chapter 6

  PICKING UP CARGO IN HULL DOCKS

  Working barges and tug boats around Hull Docks was a time-consuming and complicated business, requiring plenty of skill and strength. Everything was subservient to the state of the tide. The Humber has a very large tidal range, and entrance to the docks depended on the depth of water. If you missed the tide when the river water was at the right height to enter the lock, you had to anchor up and ride out the tide until the river was at the required level again. Many of the BOCM crews lived in Hull, in which case they used their bikes, kept on board, to cycle home once their craft was securely tied up. Laurie and Sam were based in Selby, so missing the tide meant a wait of up to twelve hours. Laurie describes the procedure needed.

  ‘Firstly, we had to get into Alexandra Dock, from the River Humber, where the cargo ships were ready to be unloaded. This required going through the lock. The tug Robie left all the barges outside the dock where all the tow ropes were knocked off and the barges moored up against the jetty. Robie then returned to Hull Corporation Pier to tie up until the morning ready to tow loaded barges back up to Selby.

  Diagram of method of entry to Alexandra Dock. (Alice Prince)

  ‘Meanwhile, the barge crew had to get into the lock to access the Dock and the cargo boats that were moored there. One of the mates would climb up the jetty (no ladders!) to ask the gatemen if they would let us in. A bit of banter and barter normally went on, and the going rate was about 2/- from each boat for the gateman to let us in. That was called penning money and is more like a fiver nowadays. Of course, the barges weren’t powered, so it was only muscle power that could move the craft. There were two ways to do this, boat hooks or warping lines.

  A Wren using a boathook, showing the way it could be used to propel an unpowered craft.

  ‘My boat hook was a long pole of about twenty-four foot [6m] with a spike and a hook called a ‘grain’ on one end and a padded round piece of wood called a pummel on the other end which you placed against your shoulder to push the barge along.

  ‘If it was very windy, we would use a warping line to winch the barge along, by one of us getting into the cob boat and sculling across the dock with one end of the line and securing it to the ship we were going to load from. Then you would signal to your mate and he would start winding the handle on the winch and as the line was wound in by hand, the barge would start moving across the dock.

  ‘Ships were moored stern to the dock so that there could be barges to unload cargo into on both sides of the vessel. Another advantage to this was that the ship owners didn’t have to pay wharfage costs as they were at right angles to the wharf rather than alongside it, and a further saving was in using their own kit not the wharf cranes to unload.’

  Cargo being unloaded into barges by a variety of methods in Hull Docks in the 1950s. Loose seed is being tipped from a rippedopen sack down a chute into the lefthand barge. The large towing ropes can be seen coiled in the foreground, and the smaller warping line is wrapped around a roller. The barge on the immediate right is receiving full sacks into its hold, whilst more tipping is going on further along the deck. (Waterways World)

  Wharfage was a charge made on ships when they were tied up in port. It could be levied against the tonnage of the ship, the length of time the ship occupied a berth and the length of dockside that the vessel covered. It was clearly in the ship owner’s interest to moor up at right angles to the dock to reduce the third of these charges. The daily rate payable was another incentive for vessels to be unloaded as rapidly as possible.

  ‘If we were loading ground nuts or palm kernels in sacks, it would take about a day and a half to load 225 tons. This was heaved out of the ships hold with the ships derrick, five bags at a time in a rope strop, with all the mouths of the bags facing the same way. When they landed on the ship’s deck, they were picked up again, dropped on a staging on the side of the ship where they were ripped and tipped down wooden chutes into the barge’s hold. The emptied sacks weren’t wasted. Once the contents had been tipped out, dockers would stack them in piles of twenty-five and throw them into the barge hatches. Once back at Selby, they’d be taken to the Bag House where women would wash them, repair any holes and return them to the factory for bagging the leftover ‘meal’ after the seed had been crushed for its oil.

  ‘Blokes’d stand at the end of the gangway and the foreman would look ‘em up and down. Then he’d go along the line and say, “I’ll have you ... and you ... .and you” and so on until he’d got as many men as he needed, and if you weren’t picked that was it for that ship. Some blokes would find out which pub the foreman drank in and ‘leave a pint behind the bar’ for the foreman hoping that would get them some work the next day.

  ‘If the load was rice meal, the bags weren’t split but had to be lowered into the hold by a derrick and the captain and his mate helped to stow the cargo assisted by two dockers. If the load was copra, cottonseed or locust beans, owners would put extra hatches on the side of the combings to increase the volume of the hold to allow more cargo in, as these materials “weighed light”. Whatever the cargo, the covers had to be pulled over the hatches and wedges knocked in to keep them fixed. If the weather was bad, towing upriver meant that waves would wash right over the hatches as there were only a couple of inches of freeboard, that is how much the barge was above water level. So the covers were needed to keep the cargo dry.

  ‘When we were fully loaded, we were given our orders to go to Selby, and told which tug was doing the towing. The lock was now hugely busy, as the lock gatemen opened t
he top gates and all the bargeman heaved and pushed their barges into the pound by boathook and warping line, to get the barges into position in the pen.’

  The state of the river was again crucial. The tide that rushes in from the North Sea past Hull carries itself a long way inland along both the Ouse and Trent. As far as the Ouse is concerned, the incoming flood tide reaches as far as Naburn, several miles above Selby, can travel at anything up to eight knots and, at the extreme Spring tides can produce a considerable difference in depth of water in the river. To harness such a force of nature clearly makes for a more efficient journey upstream, so the tug and its barges planned to travel with the tide. The moment when the tide started flowing is called tide time and runs for around five hours at Hull. Irrespective of time of the day or night, bargemen and tug skippers had to be ready to take advantage of the flow.

  Awaiting the tide, barges were penned up together to allow the tug to gather up her craft for the journey to Selby. The trip to Selby normally consisted of four loaded barges, towed in pairs. Mates on the two barges that were going to be at the front of the squadron passed 100 feet (30m) of rope to the barges that were to be in the rear, ready for the journey. These ropes were sturdy, usually 10in (25 cm) diameter, made of natural hemp, and possibly wet through. Quite a weight!

  Next, the tug came astern into the lock and the mate threw a 120ft (35m) heaving line to be made fast on each of the barges which were to be nearest the tug. There was one towing line from each of the tug’s hooks – one on the starboard side, one on the port. Tug and barges were now ready. As many as twenty barges with their associated tugs could be nosing their way around the lock with cargoes for Gainsborough, Nottingham, and Lincoln via the Trent, Leeds via the Ouse and Aire, and Goole and York via the Ouse as well as Selby itself. Coal fumes from the cookers on the barges melded with steam from the tug’s funnel and the odours from oil or coal-fired boilers on the tugs made for a heady and never-to-be-forgotten aroma signalling departure from Hull.