by Sanyanya » Sun Jun 19, 2005 9:22 am
Hurricane Jeck must be a good age right enough. I'm sure that he was older than the moose, and he lived well into his nineties and died about 20 years ago.
Strong tea and maloogrum were his secret elixirs. Still riding his bike into his nineties, and probably still wearing the soft hat & bicycle clips now....
My father once told me that he met Para Handy and the boys down at Portrigh. He was down doing his public service thing, tidying up a few 'Black Nuggets' left on the beach. The 'Fital Sperk' was just starting to float by the heid, and Sonny Jim had been dispatched in the punt to throw off the head rope and Dougie & Jeck were up at the bow roaring instructions.
Anyway, Jake took the turns of rope of the cleat just as Jim was about to pass under the mooring. MacPhail had been oiling around the steam winch forard earlier that day (Not Like him to do anything volantarily) and had inadvertantly splashed oil all over the heid rope that was coiled on top of the anchor chain at the stem. Well, the rope slipped through Jakes' hands, like a conger through a pair of size eight and a half gloves. Jim had a good bit of way on, as the rope dropped like a snare behind him. The boats momentum kept her chapping for the beach, but poor Jim stayed with the rope.
Apparently it was colossal. Jim was hinging from the rope by the hands and turned down boots. Dougie and Jeck were trying their damnedest to keep a strain on the rope, but with the 'Spark' now floating, their efforts were in vain. The harder they pulled, the more the puffer came aheid, and Jim's erse was dooked into the icy cold water. 'Captain MacFarlane' would give her an odd jab astern, which would momentarily lift him out of the briny. However, fear of her stern kicking out to Port and nearer the jagged rocks, meant that he couldn't keep the strain. Well that's what Para Handy told Jim, in that sort of concerned and caring tone, if you get my drift.
My faither got his hands on the punt, but the oars were away in another direction. Anyway, he hauled the punt out along the rope and rescued the exhausted Sonny Jim, who by this time was trembling with the cold.
Jim presented the old fella with his favourite bobbly hat, a pail of salt herrin and a couple of bottles of Dunsade from MacPhail's bunk. My faither knew there was a fine selection of poached game hinging in the forepeak, but the furtive MacFarlane also knew that my faither daren't mention it. If he had, it would have opened another can of worms, ie how did he know about that. (Well hungry mooths to feed and all that) However, needless to say our tent was always like toast if the Vital Spark was landing coal in the village.
Talking of boats on the beach, its changed days indeed. When you think of the ringers all taking their turn on the beach at the quay during the summer. Its funny how some things remain with you. The smell of Galbraith & Cochranes gloss paints mixed with International vernish, Nitro-Mors, boiled linseed oil, hot fenders and baked scouders on the hot sand.
They were smerter looking going into clean than most of the boats nowadays are when they come off the slip. Even the legs had the waterline carefully painted onto them. A bit like the baker's shop really, well once the red edging is feenished. We used to offer to go aboard and tidy up all the old lemonade bottles, but it didn't matter how early we got there, someone much cuter, had beaten us to it!
Aye, everyone of them had their day as 'Lily of the fleet.' The old boats remind me of Jeck in many ways. With a bit of TLC their engines would have gone for ever, but a lifetime of hard graft left the external woodwork and mechanical couplings a bit worse for wear.
Anyway, I don't know why I bothered getting up so early. Its gone back to that awful smoorachy rain, and I forgot to lift a packet of bacon when I was over at the bakers earlier. Abernethy biscuits for breakfast, have your ever heard the likes. If my mother was still wae us, we would at least have had dumpling or soup. Aye the dumplings were another story. She would bile them in an old pair of kneeckers. My faither would say that it gave them a bit of body. We never knew whose kneeckers she used, because she never bothered with any of that nonsense! Was anyone losing any wae the big long legs around 30 years ago? She preferred these, as it allowed her to bile 2 at once!
Was there a power cut last night? I could have sworn that the street lamps dipped last night, or was it just that bothersome Bochan. I expect it was him that launched the water at the twins and caused a short circuit! Campbeltown No More, Southend No More, Carradale no More, No more Kintyre!
Strip the Willow was a trade long before the devil turned it into a dance!
Sanyanya