Para Handy was affronted.
“No, Cot bless you sir, no! Don’t you even be thinking of such a thing. But there iss chust the wan wee favour, if you could see your way to obleege us with it, that wud mean more than we could effer say.”
Which is why, if you should find yourself aboard the Vital Spark at the right time of the day: if the crew have taken kindly to you: if the prognostications are right: and if the Captain is in good trim: if all of these imponderables have fallen into place then you might, just might, be offered a mug of tea in the fo’c’sle of the finest vessel in the coasting trade.
Tea prepared in a very, very special tea-pot to be found on no other puffer, or indeed other vessel of any description, on the Firth.
A tea-pot, polished to blinding brilliance and handled with due ceremony and respect, bearing a proud legend: RMS Lusitania.
FACTNOTE
In the early years of the twentieth century supremacy on the lucrative and prestigious North Atlantic passenger services lay with the two German companies Norddeutscher Lloyd and HamburgAmerika (Hapag).
Ships like the Kaiser Willhelm der Grosse, the Kronprinzessen Cecilie and the Deutschland provided standards of luxury and levels of comfort and service hitherto undreamt-of, and helped the German shipping companies to capture more than half of the Transatlantic passenger business.
Cunard replied with two stunning sister ships (built with the help of government loans and subsidies), one — Lusitania — from John Brown of Clydebank: the second — Mauretania — from Swan Hunter on the Tyne.
With a length of 762ft and a beam of 88ft these vessels were the largest ships yet built. Lusitania was ready for launching three months before her sister. Her launch weight of more than 20,000 tons represented the greatest mass which man had ever tried to move. She came down the Clydebank yard’s slip on June 7th 1906 and sailed from Southampton on her maiden voyage 15 months later — recapturing the Blue Riband from the Germans in the process.
Lusitania, as everyone knows too well, was treacherously and tragically torpedoed off the Irish coast by a German U-Boat in 1915 with appalling loss of civilian life. Mauretania survived the war and stayed in service (ending her days as a precursor of today’s Caribbean cruise liners) before finally going to the breaker’s yard in 1935.
Because of her short life-span and tragic end, Lusitania has tended to be overshadowed by her sister ship in the litany and legend of the North Atlantic. In fact she started as the more famous of the two ships — really by virtue of being the first into service. The Americans in particular adored the Lusitania and though Mauretania has been called, with some justification, the most famous and best-loved ship of all time, it has to be remembered that this was only because of the sad and early end of the Clyde-built vessel.
Had she survived, the two ships would undoubtedly have shared the honour, the esteem and the affection which they both — equally — deserved.
THE FASTEST WAY TO CROSS — Blue Riband holder Lusitania at speed was an impressive sight as the largest ship in the world thrust her 31,000 gross tonnes through the seas as fast as a family car. As well as a quicker crossing, she also brought to the passage standards of comfort and cosseting beyond the most sanguine expectations of her 2000 passengers as she wrested transatlantic supremacy back from the German fleets.
30
The Downfall of Hurricane Jack
I had always been intrigued by the chequered career of Para Handy’s oldest and dearest friend, Hurricane Jack, who had for long been on a seemingly irreversible downward spiral from the heights of his time as the revered Captain of a record-breaking wool-clipper, then a temporary officer with MacBrayne’s, and by way of the skipper’s berth on the Vital Spark in her early days on the Firth, to his present state-of-affairs as occasional odd-job man on any vessel prepared to give him a part-time berth.
Para Handy would occasionally make some oblique reference to Hurricane Jack’s departure from the puffer, usually in terms of ‘Jeck’s doonfall’ but all my efforts to elicit more information about the circumstances of it were to no avail, and led merely to a swift change of subject.
Then one morning, as I was changing steamers at Rothesay on my way from Helensburgh to Inveraray, I came across the Vital Spark in a corner of the inner harbour with her skipper seated on an upturned fishing box on deck, and studying a copy of the Glasgow Herald. The intermittent sound of heavy hammering and the occasional muffled curses which came from the engine-room were evidence that Dan Macphail was struggling as usual with more running repairs to that temperamental piece of machinery, but of the Mate and Sunny Jim there was no sign.
I coughed politely from the edge of the quay and the Captain. looked up from his paper.
“Why, it’s yourself then,” he said. “What a surprise to see you in Rothesay: what brings you to Bute at this time o’ year?”
I explained that I was merely killing an hour till the arrival of the Lord of the Isles from Glasgow on her way to Inveraray where I was to spend a few days with old family friends.
“The Lord of the Isles, eh? Well, now there iss something of a coincidence,” said Para Handy. “for here I am chust readin’ in the paper aboot that very boat, where I see tell that she is changin’ owners, and thinkin’ back to the time when it wass her that wass lergely to blame for the circumstances that led to poor Hurricane Jeck losin’ his berth on the Vital Spark.”
“You know I’ve always wanted to know more about that sorry event, Captain,” I prompted hopefully.
“Well,” he said hesitantly: “I suppose there would be no much herm in tellin’ you aboot it after aal these years for it wass a long time ago.”
I scrambled down the iron ladder bolted into the quay wall and jumped onto the deck of the puffer and sat down on the coaming beside him before before he had time to change his mind. “Go on, Captain,” I said encouragingly: “I’m listening.”
“Ass you probably have realised,” he began, “Jeck wassna the kind of a man that wud suffer fools gledly, so at times he could occasionally be chust a little bit impatient … ”
“Impatient!” came a protesting voice from the engine-room. “He wisnae impatient at all! He wis the maist argimentative and pugnacious man on the Firth, and wis never happier than when he had his dander up and wis thrang pittin’ the frighteners on some puir innocent body that jist had the sheer misfortune tae be passin’! His temper wis aye on a hair-trigger, he wis the sort of chap that if ye gi’ed him hauf a chance he could start a fight in an empty room!”
Para Handy paid no heed.
“ … but at the same time,” he continued, as if there had been no interruption, “he had the hert of a child and wass aalways happy to do a kindness to ony o’ his fellow bein’s wheneffer he had a chance: aalways anxious to introduce a ray of sunshine into a gloomy day and gi’e folk somethin’ to enchoy at the time and talk aboot later. It wass that very spurit of goodwull that cost him his chob when he wass skipper on the Vital Spark.
“Wan time we wass lyin’ at the Albert Harbour basin in Greenock waitin’ for instructions from the owner. Jeck went ashore to go up to the telegraph office to see if there wass any message but ass he came oot onto the shore road he wass chust in time to see a smash between wan o’ the Greenock to Gourock skoosh-caurs and a hackney cab. The caur had caught wan wheel o’ the cab wi’ its step-board ass it cam’ roond the corner and though the horse, and the cab-man, wass chust fine, the passenger had been thrown onto the street and it wass clear the puir duvvle had broke his leg.
“He wass a ship’s officer by his uniform so Jeck rushed over to see if he could help. It turned oot the man wass a Captain Fairlie, and he had been on his way to Princes Pier station to catch the Gleska train, for he wass to take ower next mornin’ as a relief skipper on the Lord of the Isles. He wass pleased to see anither sailor and of course for aal he knew Jeck could have been master o’ the Oceanic, no’ chust a steam-lighter, he wass aalways so smertly turned oot.
“ ‘If
ye could jist send a telegraph for me to the Inveraray Shuppin’ Company’s Gleska office and tell them whit’s happened to me,’ he asked Jeck anxiously ass he wass bein’ strapped to a stretcher by the ambulance men, ‘I’d be mich obleeged. I’m no’ wan o’ the regular reliefs, in fact I wis engaged through their Greenock Agents so they only know me by reputation and I dinna want tae let them doon first time.’
“Jeck told him to relax, efferything would be chust fine, but ass soon ass the poor fellow wass off to the Infirmary he didna go near the telegraph office, he chust came back to the shup and told us he had to go to Gleska, the owner wanted to see him, but he’d be back the followin’ night.
“If I had known whit wass goin’ on I’d have told him no’ to be sich a fool … ”
“And ye’d have been at the Unfirmary yersel’, gettin’ a lesson in emergency repairs o’ the human anatomy resulting from an aggravated assault,” shouted Macphail from the engine-room.
“ … but nane o’ us had ony idea whit wass whit, and so off he went. He spent the night wi’ a kizzin o’ his in Yoker and at half past six the next mornin’ he presented himsel’ on board the Lord of the Isles at the Brudge Wharf and let on his name wass Fairlie and that he wass the relief skipper.
“Naebody asked eechie or ochie aboot that at aal, he wass chust accepted ass bein’ who he said he wass, for they wass aal expecting a new man and why should they jalouse that there wass shenannigans goin’ on?
“Jeck wass in Paradise! He’d had plenty of high-jinks in the Hebrides two years earlier wi’ Mr MacBrayne’s Flowerdale, what wi’ her twin screws and her cheneral mobility, but she wass ass an ageing cairthorse to a young thoroughbred compared wi’ the Lord of the Isles, which wass less than a year old and chust at the height o’ her powers! She wass one-third again ass big ass the Flowerdale, wi’ enchines to match and, bein’ a paddler, she wass chust ass lissom ass a greyhound and you could turn and spin her like a young gyurl dancin’ the Gay Gordons!
“At 20 meenits past seven, Jeck gave the order to raise the gangplank, cast off the bow and stern ropes, and rang doon for half speed ahead, and off they went. The regulations on the river stopped him givin’ her her heid till she wass past Clydebank, but then he whustled doon to the enchineers and promised them aal a dram from the first-class salong bar when they got to Inveraray if they made the trup in six hours, which wass 10 meenits less than her best time ever, and anither wan for effery extra five meenits they could knock off that!
“Jeck stayed on the brudge till efter they wass through the Kyles for they wass callin’ in at maist o’ the piers and he wanted to be sure they were in good trum on each occasion, but wance they had cast off from Tighnabruaich, wi’ the next stop no’ till Crarae, he left the First Officer in cherge on the brudge and went into the Captain’s day cabin. There he found some oh-de-colong and macassar oil belonging to the regular captain, spruced himself up, set his kep on three hairs, then went perambulating through the first-cless salongs and the dining room.
“You know how gallant Jeck aalways iss wi’ the ladies, and he wass at his best form that day, bowin’ to aal the young gyurls and sweepin’ his kep off nearly to the ground in a gracious manner it wass a privilege to behold, givin’ the grups to their faithers, and kissin’ the backs o’ their mithers’ hands ass if they had been royalty.
“He wass a great success wi’ aal the chentry on board and by the time the shup reached Inveraray — which she did in a record time o’ chust under five hours and fufty meenits — the maist of them was wishin’ they didna have to go ashore to choin the Chook on a shootin party, or trevel on up to Loch Awe for the fushin’, but could chust bide aboard for the return trup to Gleska in sich distinguished hands and stylish company!
“It wass that return trup — and Jeck’s fondness for fun and his pleasure in bringin’ high-jinks to his fellow man, whateffer the cost to himsel’ — that wass his doonfall!
“They left Inveraray right on time and, since Jeck knew fine that he daurna reach Brudge Wharf earlier than the printed schedule or there would be questions asked, he took things easy on the trup back through the Kyles and then on by Rothesay and Dunoon.
“Their last caal before the run upriver to Bridge Wharf wass at Greenock Princes Pier, which wass chust a couple of hundred yerds from the basin at Albert Harbour where we wass waitin’ for the man to return from Gleska where, you’ll mind, we thought he wass in confabulation wi’ the owner.
“Jeck chust couldna resist it. Ass he said to me after it wass aal over, ‘Peter, I had to show ye whit wis whit, and let ye join in the fun! It would have been a poor hert that couldna rejoice and share the spree that wass on, given whit I had at my haun’s that day!’
“What he did — instead of headin’ oot into the upriver channel when he cast off from Princes Pier — wass to bring the Lord of the Isles through the narrow entrance into Albert Harbour at ass good a speed ass he could get up, and then throw her into full astern. By jinkin’ from ahead to astern wi’ the helm hard over he spun her roond in a tight pirouette not chust the wance but no less than three times in the muddle of the dock, whiles he wass oot on the brudge wing wi’ the steam-whustle lanyard in his hands, givin us aal a cheery wave and blastin’ oot on the shup’s whustle like the early mornin’ hooter at Singers’s!
“You can imachine that the officers and crew, neffer mind the passengers, were taken aback wi’ this: there wass somethin’ of a commotion aboard the shup: and there wass proper uproar on the quayside ass well.
“The out-turn wass that somebody telegraphed the shup’s owners in Gleska and when Jeck docked her at Brudge Wharf — which he did bang on time, and ass nice ass ninepence, like efferything else he did — the polis wass waitin’ wi’ the Directors o’ the Company, and it wass the high chump for Jeck.
“ ‘My fault entirely, Peter,’ he said when we met up the next day efter he’d been let oot on bail. ‘If I had chust taken her up to Gleska and then disappeared, naebody would have been ony the wiser about who took Fairlie’s place and there would have been no trouble at aal. That wass what I meant to do. But when it came to it, there wass no way I wassna goin’ to share it wi’ you! I’d been given the very best toy and the very biggest toy I ever had to play wi’ in my whole life, so I chust had to let my oldest friend get at least a flavour o’ the sheer joy and happiness of bein’ a bairn again!’
“So that wass how Jeck took a tumble, and how I got the command of the shup, for the owner sacked him on the spot.
“But I wush it had never happened that way, for Jeck didna deserve such a fate when aal he wass tryin’ to do, as aal he ever tries to do, wass to bring some sunshine into the lives of his fellow men.”
FACTNOTE
Two Clyde steamers carried the name Lord of the Isles. The first was launched from D&W Henderson’s Meadowside Yard in 1877 for the Glasgow & Inveraray Steamboat Company Ltd. She was from the first locked in rivalry with the Columba and that has been well-captured in John Nicholson’s dramatic painting of the race between them.
It was something of a shock when the Company sold the paddler to English owners just 13 years later, in the autumn of 1890, and though she was replaced by the launch the following Spring of the second Lord of the Isles from the same builders it still remains a little mysterious that the changeover took place when it did.
The two ships were almost identical in dimensions, the second being just nine feet longer at 245ft: had similar machinery, though of slightly greater power in the ‘new’ Lord, giving her marginally more speed and (with a newly-developed steam steering gear in place) greater manoeuvrability: and they were of broadly the same appearance.
The main difference, and probable reason for the change, was that the saloons on the new ship ran the full width of her hull and thus gave significantly enhanced passenger space. As she had to compete with the Columba, whose onboard facilities were legendary, this may have been the logic behind the whole project, for the Lord of the Isles on the Inveraray run a
nd her great rival on the Ardrishaig run were catering for the wealthy tourist, not the Scottish working class family on holiday.
Hurricane Jack’s imaginary ‘day out’ is set in 1892: and the ship really did change hands — twice: firstly in 1909 when she was sold to the Lochgoil and Inveraray Steamship Co: and again in 1912 when they went out of business and the ship was bought by the pioneers of the new generation of civil marine power not just on the Clyde but worldwide, Turbine Steamers Ltd, who had come into being to operate the then brand-new King Edward just 11 years earlier.
Paddlers were, generally speaking, more manoeuvrable than their screw-steamer sisters, particularly in a confined space, partly thanks to a significantly shallower draft which allowed them to be ‘spun’ rather more easily through the resistance of the water: partly because the larger surfaces of the paddle-blades could more quickly bring the vessel to a standstill and get her moving again in the opposite direction.
And yes, I have grossly exaggerated their sprightliness but as any storyteller might claim, a tall tale should be a tall tale!
31
Pushing the Boat Out
The possession of a sturdy, seaworthy dinghy of one sort or another is an essential prerequisite on board a steam-lighter. There are occasions when the vessel must anchor off outlying communities where either there is no jetty at all, or else such facility as does exist is too small and in waters too shallow to allow the parent puffer to berth: thus if the crew are in need of provisions, or a refreshment, the puffer’s dinghy is their sole means of communication with the shore.
I am sorry to have to place on record, though, that in the case of the Vital Spark the role of its dinghy is frequently a more nefarious one, for no other vessel in the coasting trade on the west coast has a more infamous reputation for the poaching activities of its crew.
Complete New Tales of Para Handy Page 22