Complete New Tales of Para Handy (9 page)

Sunny Jim, whose previous sea-going experience — as a hand on the Cluthas — stopped at Yoker, was mightily relieved to have confirmation that the puffer was not intending to venture into a storm the very sound, never mind the sight, of which had given him an apprehensive, sleepless night.

“Whit's the worst experience at sea that ye've ever had wi' the
Vital Spark
, Captain?” he asked.

Para Handy scratched his right ear reflectively.

“That would have to be a time a few years back, when we wass bringin' a cargo o' brand new herrin' boxes from a Campbeltown factory up to wan o' the fush-merchants in Oban. But it wass a bad experience not because it wass dangerous at aal, Jum, but chust because it wass so doonright vexatious.

“We had to sail to Oban roond the Mull o' Kintyre, because they wass repairin' wan o' the locks in the Crinan canal and it wass closed to aal shups for three weeks. For several days afore we set oot from Campbeltown, there wass a steady wund from the west: not a gale, you understand, but chust this constant, constant wund.

“Caairyin' a bulky, light cargo like herrin' boxes meant that even wi' the hold cham-packed wi' them we still had a lot of freeboard, so we wass able to pile up a great mass o' them as deck cargo as weel. Even then, though her stern wass doon, her bows wass still up, and there wass a wall o' the boxes aboot eight foot high streetched right across the hatchway.

“Ye couldna see a dam' thing ahead of the shup from the brudge, and the Tar had to sit on the tap o' the deck cargo to gi'e us directions.

“Effery time we roonded the Mull and the wund hit us, we chust got pushed back! Even wi' Dan's predecessor, McCulloch, pilin' on the coals and near burstin' the biler wi' the steam pressure we couldna get enough power to mak' ony headway into thon wund! The pile o' boxes wass chust like a sail and we wass doin' mair speed under wund-power — but goin' astern — than we effer did under steam-power goin' ahead!

“I wass bleck-affronted. Effery mornin' for fower days we left the harbour at Campbeltown, and effery evenin' for fower days we had to turn back there to anchor overnight and try again the next day. I have neffer been so embarrassed aboot the shup even though it wass not her fault — it wass the wund. And when the fishermen in Campbeltown foond oot what wass goin' on they took a real rise oot o' us. My Chove, wan night someone cam' oot in an oarin'-boat while we wass aal asleep and pented oot the name o' the shup on the stern and pented on
Cutty Sark
instead! And the local paper printed a piece sayin' the vessel should be caalled the
Bad Penny
because she kept comin' back, and that if we stayed ony longer we'd chust as well get a Cooncil licence to give roond-the-bay trups to towerists!”

Sunny Jim turned to the engineer. “Whit about you, Dan?” he asked, “wi' you goin' foreign for so mony years you must have seen some sights!”

“The worst experience I can mind wis nothin' to dae wi' a storm either,” offered Macphail. “I wis an apprentice at the time, on a Union Castle liner tae Capetoon, and we lost the propeller aff the shaft aff the Skeleton Coast. There wisnae a dam' thing we could dae aboot it. There wis no wireless in them days, of course, so we jist had tae wait till anither shup appeared, and then hope she could gi'e us a tow.

“There wisnae a breath o' wund, and the sea jist like glass, but there wis a swell ye wudnae believe unless ye saw it! The sea had a run o' thoosands o' miles frae Sooth America tae build up a swell, and it wis like a roller-coaster at Hengler's but mich, mich bigger. The taps o' the waves wis aboot a mile apart, and aboot a hundred feet high! When ye were doon in the troughs you couldnae see a thing but the slope o' the swell either side. We went up and doon and up and doon jist like a twenty thoosand ton yo-yo, and at the same time she wis daein' that, she wis rollin' like a pendulum, and the maist o' the passengers wis that ill they thocht they wis deein'.

“In fact some o' them
hoped
they wis deein'. I wis on the poop deck wan evenin' and there wis a poor cratur hingin' ower the rail, jist as green as grass, and I said to him, no' tae worry, naebody ever died o' the sea-sickness.

“He gave me a look I'll never forget, and groaned ‘Dinna say that, boy, for peety's sake: it's only the hope o' deein' that helps me tae keep goin' !'

“When we finally got a tow in, the swells wis that deep that there wis times the shup that wis pullin' us jist disappeared frae sight completely: ye couldna even see the taps o' her masts!”

Dougie, a notoriously timid sailor and a man who had spent his entire career on the puffer routes in the west, shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable when Jim swung round and looked enquiringly in his direction.

“You needna be askin' Dougie,” said Para Handy, “for he hass nothin' at aal to tell you aboot the perils o' the deep. Whiles some of us hass been stravaigin' across the oceans o' the world — I've been to Ullapool masel', and twice to Belfast — here iss a man who could be feart for hiss life crossin' on the Govan Ferry on a summer's afternoon! Iss that no' right, Dougie?

“Onyway, while you're tryin' to think up some heroic tale for the laad, I will chust tak' a dash up to Harbour House and see what my old friend the Piermaster is thinkin' the weather might be doin', for if we are to be marooned mich longer we wull have to speak nicely to his good-wife aboot the len' o' some proveesions.”

And the Captain pulled on his heavy oilskin coat and clambered up the companionway and out into the wild of the storm.

“He thinks he iss very funny,” said the embarrassed mate, “but I have a story for you Jum, for aal that: and by the time I've finished tellin' it Para Handy wull be sorry he needled me in the first place!

“The worst conditions that ever I experienced had nothin' at aal to do wi' the weather — but a very great deal to do wi' a certain steam-lighter Captain!

“Before oor time on the
Vital Spark
, Jum, Para Handy and I wass workin' for a man in Girvan that had a sailin' gabbart caaled the
Elizabeth Jane
. Wan time we wass in Campbeltown wi' a load o' lime from the quarry at Glenarm in Antrum, and wass due to sail back ower to Ireland for anither wan.

“The herrin' fushin' in Kilbrannan Soond and Loch Fyne wass absolutely in its prime at the time. The skiffs wass comin' in each mornin' nearly sinkin' under the weight o' the fush they had on board. There wass such a glut o' herrin', you couldna give the fresh fush away in Gleska, and the kipperin' sheds and the picklin' factories couldna keep up wi' the supply.

“Para Handy wass chust a young man, and he wass aye lookin' for ways to turn a coin. He had an uncle that wass a fush merchant in the toon and when he saw the glut o' fush there wass, Para Handy went to him wi' a proposition. The
Elizabeth Jane
would cairry a load of fresh herrin' in barrels ower to Glenarm, where there wissna mich o' a fushin', and sell them there, and the pair o' them wud split the profit on the trup.

“I didna like the soond o' it, and said so. But Para Handy wass convinced he wass aboot to mak' his fortune and he wouldna listen to reason. So off we went on Tuesday afternoon wi' aboot a hunder barrels o' fresh fush in the hold, which wass to be sold in Glenarm ass soon ass we docked the next mornin'.

“It was a bonnie day, wi' chust the right north-easterly breeze to gi'e us a good passage.

“But by mudnight, the breeze had dropped tae nothin' and we wass chust druftin' aboot wi' aal sails flappin' and us gettin' nowhere. For three whole days there wassna a breath o' wund and we lay like a piece o' druftwood, goin' a mile here and a mile there wi' the tide and the current, and the sun wass chust bakin' doon!

“We could see the hills of the Irish Coast to the sooth, and Kintyre to the north, but they could have been the mountains o' the moon for aal the chance we had to reach them. We got the sweeps oot and tried to row her, but wi' the weight of the fush we had in the hold we didna mak' a hundred yerds an hoor and we dam' near drapped wi' the effort o' it.

“By the third day the fush wass in an interestin' condeetion and there wassna mich fresh air on board, I can tell you! They wassna fresh fush at aal by noo, those herrin': they was in gey poor trum, cooped up in barrels in yon hot-hoose o' a hold under a bleezin' sun. By the fourth mornin' you chust tried no' to breathe, if at aal possible.

“On the fifth day, thank the Lord, the wind got up again, from the sooth-west: there wass no point in tryin' to sail against it to Glenarm, for naebody wud buy the fush noo, so Para Handy headed back for Campbeltown to dump the cairgo — before it got up and waalked ashore on its own. Ass we came in the harbour you could see the folk on the quayside stert sniffin' and then run for cover, and the piermaster wouldna let us berth the gabbart, never mind unload it!

“We had to pit oot to sea again, and spend the night wi' a scairf tied over our noses and mooths, winchin' the barrels oot o' the hold and drappin' them quick ower the side o' the boat. The smell wass chust unbelievable!

“It aal cost Para Handy a pretty penny, he had to pay for the barrels, but worse we both lost oor chobs, for the owner foond oot why we wass so late gettin' back to Glenarm and when we reached Campbeltown wi' the second load of lime there wass a new skipper and a new mate waitin' to tak' oor berths.

“And though, for all Para Handy says, I have neffer in my life been
sea-sick
I can tell you Jum, that for the maist of that particular trup I wass sick at sea. Very sick. And so wass the Captain!”

F
ACTNOTE

The Minches, those stretches of water which separate the long arm of the Outer Hebrides from the Inner Hebrides and Mainland Scotland, can be unpredictable and stormy at almost any time of the year. Littered with islets and rock skerries they were a maritime graveyard for centuries, and despite the proliferation of light-houses and automatic lights as an aid to their safe navigation they still claim the occasional victim.

The Treshnish are a group of tiny, uninhabited islands a few miles west of Mull. They cannot rival world-famous Staffa and the dramatic basalt columns of Fingal's Cave closer inshore but their dramatic silhouettes do make an unforgettable sight. One, also known as the ‘Dutchman's Cap', has every appearance of the traditional ‘pirate' hat made familiar to cinema-goers in all Hollywood manifestations from Treasure Island to Captain Blood. Only the skull-and-crossbones is lacking!

Tiree has a wild beauty but is also notorious as the windiest place in Scotland: and the flattest island in the Hebrides. It is less remote today than in Para Handy's time, with a regular vehicle ferry service from Oban and plane from Glasgow.

Largely due to their lack of power, and a lack of ‘grip' in the water caused by their hull shape, the puffers were notoriously unmanageable when riding ‘light' in even a moderate wind and the problems faced by Para Handy as he attempts to round the Mull of Kintyre are based on the actual experience of a Ross & Marshall puffer in the 1950s.

Off the west coast of South Africa the Atlantic swells running in from the Roaring Forties have been known to reach gigantic proportions in which a 10,000-ton ship can apparently, and frighteningly, ‘disappear' with ease as she drops into the trough of the waves.

At the height of the herring fishing on the Clyde there could be such a glut of landings that the shore stations were unable to cope with them. I never had experience of that but when we lived in Shetland I saw at first hand just how enormous herring landings could be, given the right circumstances. In the early days of purse-netting, Icelandic and Scandinavian boats brought in quite unbelievable catches. None more so than a Reykjavik purser which came in to Lerwick harbour with only the whaleback and the poop above water: her main deck was actually submerged with the weight of fish on board. When her skipper discovered that he could only sell the catch for fish meal and not on the more lucrative processing market (I cannot remember the legal details but such was the position at the time) he then actually tried to put to sea to sail his catch home — and had to be forcibly prevented from doing so by the harbour authorities!

8

Macphail to the Rescue

T
he
Vital Spark
had never visited Loch Etive before, but Para Handy knew enough of the reputation of the fierce tide-rip in the shadow of the railway bridge at Connel to time his arrival at the narrows to coincide with the slack of the tide, when the otherwise steeply rushing waters lay relatively at peace.

In this he succeeded: but nevertheless took the precaution of whistling down the speaking-tube to Dan Macphail in his noisy domain to ask for full power.

“Power!” a contemptuous voice echoed back: “the day there's ony power on this hooker Ah promise you'll be the very first to know aboot it! It's a miracle we've got this far but hoo the owner has the nerve tae send this tub ony-where ootside Garroch Heid is beyond me. Wan o' these days we'll jist no' get back, she'll peg oot on us and dee o' auld age.”

“Chust so, Dan,” said the Captain in a placatory tone, “but I am certain you will see us safe home again —” and turning to the Mate who was standing at his side he whispered “— Dan's in duvvelish bad trum this week! What iss wrong wi' the man?”

“He's no been himsel' since he visited yon spae-wife at Minard Fair last week,” said Dougie, “and had his hand read.”

“He should have more sense,” said Para Handy, “than to pay ony attention to the ravin' of a wumman wi' nae mair knowledge o' his future than he has o' the workin's of a turbine enchine.”

The Mate tactfully resisted the temptation to remind Para Handy of the occasions on which he himself had slipped into a fortune teller's candy-striped tent at country fairs, with his shilling grasped firmly in the grubby hand which he was about to present for a mystical interpretation. Such a service was usually offered by the wife of the round-about proprietor, disguised in spotted red head-kerchief and borrowed floral robe, prodigally (and deliberately) burning so much incense for atmosphere that it was almost as difficult to breathe as it was to see.