Complete New Tales of Para Handy (24 page)

The crew were strewn across the deck-cargo of rough-cut planks in the late evening sunlight, in a companionable silence.

Dan Macphail was engrossed in a new paperback romance, dipping absent-mindedly now and again into a handily-placed bag of humbugs. Para Handy was sitting deep in thought, Sunny Jim was just sitting. Dougie was thumbing idly through the pages of a week-old Glasgow paper which he had acquired from the Forestry Manager.

“Mercy!” said the mate suddenly, “Would you credit this! Here's an Eyetalian liner sunk the very meenit she wass launched frae the slipway.”

“Awa' ye go, Dougie, someone's chust makin' mischief wi' a bit o' a baur,” said the incredulous Captain.

“Naw, naw, Peter: it's a fact,” said the mate. “It chust proves that Clyde-built iss the only guarantee of quality in a shup. Listen to this!”

And, spreading the paper across his knees, he read aloud “Our Rome correspondent reports that the new Italian liner
Pri … Princip … Principesa Jolanda
sank within minutes of her launch in Genoa yesterday. The vessel had been fitted out with her masts and funnels rigged while still on the slip, as is the common practice in Italy, and was a proud sight as she slid down the ways. But within minutes of taking to the water she began to list to port and to the consternation of those aboard her, and of the thousands of spectators, she heeled right over and sank in the shallow water of the harbour, leaving only the plates of her starboard superstructure still showing above the surface …”

“My Chove,” said the Captain. “Consternation's the word! Wass there ony casualties, Dougie?”

“Naw,” replied the mate. “They wass aal rescued by the tugs that wass standing by her.”

“Well,” said Para Handy, “it'll no' be the first time, nor the last, that someone's had to fish folk oot o' the watter at a launchin' perty.”

Sunny Jim sensed a story. “Go on, Captain” he prompted.

Para Handy scratched the lobe of his right ear reflectively for a moment or two.

“Well,” he said at length, “it was like this …

“Ass Dougie knows, I've been on the
Vital Spark
since the day she wass launched, first ass mate, when Hurricane Jeck wass the skipper of her, then ass Captain when he — er — retired, ass you might say. But that's another story,” he said hastily, “of no consequence at all right now.

“Jeck and I had been hired by the owner chust a couple of days before the shup was due to be launched, and we were to stay on board her and oversee the riggin' of her and, (wi' an enchineer by the name of McCulloch from Clynder), the fittin' o' the biler and the machinery. Ass yet the owner had not decided which of us wass to be captain, and which wass to be mate. He had said he would put us through oor paces wance the vessel wass feenished.

“Now ass you can imagine, for aal that we wass the best of friends, both Jeck and I wass very anxious tae get the position for wirselves, and I think Jeck wass particularly keen for this wass no' long efter he'd lost his master's berth on the
Dora Young
, a Liverpool grain clupper. No' by way of ony shenanigans on his pairt, mind: chust the sort of bad luck the man could neffer seem to escape.

“So on the mornin' set for the launchin' of the shup, the three of us took a train from Gleska Buchanan Street Station oot tae Kirkintilloch.”

“What on earth were you goin' there fur?” put in Sunny Jim.

“Where else would we go for her launchin',” asked a mystified Para Handy, “except the yerd she'd been built in?”

“She surely wisnae built in Kirkintilloch!” cried Jim. “That's miles frae the river, there's naethin' there except the canal and there's nae room tae launch a shup intae a canal!”

“Jum, I despair o' ye. Maist of the puffers have aye been built in either John Hay's or Peter McGregor's yerds at Kirkintilloch and they still are, on a slup parallel wi' the canal. They slide doon sidey-ways, wi' chains on them to stop them duntin' into the bank on the ither side.

“When we got to Kirkintilloch there wass a real cheery holiday atmosphere in the vullage, for the launch of a shup is always an excuse for a celebration. You'll understand though that the
Vital Spark
herself wass not then the handsome sight she is noo. She wass chust aal hull, wi' not even the wheelhouse on her, never mind a bonny bleck-topped scarlet lum, nor a gold bead, nor a smert boot-topping.

“For aal that, she was a splendid specimen o' the builder's skill, and Jeck and I were fair proud when we climbed the wooden ladder onto the deck ready for the ceremony.

“There wass a crowd like an execution to see her launched and the banks o' the canal, and the brudge ower it, were bleck wi' people, and there was ass many more hangin' oot the windows of effery building that gave a view of the yerd and the shup.

“There wass a wee wooden platform built up at the bow of the vessel to chust below deck level and on this wass the heid shupwright, and the owner of the
Vital Spark
: and his dochter, a bonnie gyurl of about 20 or thereby who wass goin' to name her and break the bottle on her bows.

“On the far bank wass aal the pupils from the local school who'd been brocht to see the launchin' and the teachers wass havin' some chob keeping them back from the edge, which aye got swamped wi' a sort of tidal wave whenever a shup wass slupped.

“The lassie said her wee speech and named the shup, and the men wi' the axes cut the last twa ropes holdin' her on the slup and doon she went. There wass twa chains attached to her at the bow and the stern, and from there to rings on the slup, so that they would bring her up short o' the far bank.

“Suddenly there wass a terrible cracking sound frae the bows and afore Jeck or I or McCulloch could move, the wee platform sterted to fall ower, wi' the gyurl and her faither and the yerd's man on it. I found oot later that some fool had fankled the drag chain roond wan o' the legs o' the platform and when the shup went oot wi' the chain, it pulled the leg aff like snappin' a twig.

“Well, the owner and the man frae the yerd chumped for the deck o' the shup, but the lassie never thocht to do that and she wass thrown into the watter.

“The rest of us wass so ta'en aback wi' aal this we chust stood and gawped, but Jeck moved like lightnin'. Quick ass a flash he threw his jecket off and dived into the canal, and caught hold of the gyurl and swum ashore wi' her.

“Aal the croods wass cheerin' by this time, and ass he cam' up the slup cerryin' the gyurl in his arms it wass chust like a scene oot of wan o' Macphail's novelles. The gyurl's mither ran to hug the lassie and her faither wass shakin' Jeck's hand ass if he wass pumpin' beer, and clappin' him on the back.

“The upshot wass that the actual launch o' the boat wass herdly noticed in the papers, but they wass aal full o' the exploits o' Jeck, and his photie wass on maist of the front pages under headlines like ‘Hero of Canal Rescue' and ‘Seaman Risks Life to Save Drowning Girl'. Oh aye, he wass the man of the moment in Gleska all right.

“So it cam' as no surprise at aal when the next day Jeck wass summoned to the owner's office in Gleska, and told that he had been chosen to be Captain o' the
Vital Spark
, wi' me ass his mate.”

“That wass a lucky break for Jeck,” said Dougie.

“There wass little enough luck aboot it,” said Para Handy, “ass I found oot soon enough.

“I had my suspicions at the time, but it wass the next weekend that I walked into wan o' the Kirkintilloch pubs and found Jack in very close conversation wi' wan o' the riveters frae the yerd. Neither o' them saw me: but I saw Jeck slip the man a pound note, and thank him roundly. I knew then chust what had happened, Jeck had got the man to fankle the chain round the leg o' the platform. And stood by either to catch the gyurl, if she chumped: or dive in to save her if she didn't: reckonin' — and he wass right — that her faither would be that grateful he wouldna look past Jeck for the skipper's chob.'

“Whit a cheatin' rascal,” cried Sunny Jim. “Could ye no' hae telt the owner the truth?”

Para Handy pursed his lips, and then sighed. “Och no, Jum. It wass a ploy that wass chust typical o' Jeck's natural agility at the time — and you couldna grudge him that it had the outcome he wass hopin' for when he'd had the imachination and the foresight to pit the whole thing in place.

“Besides, if ye must know, I had plans o' my ain along similar lines.

“I'd arranged wi' McCulloch the engineer to fake a biler explosion when we wass givin' the owner his first trial run on the vessel efter the launch so that I could play the hero by divin' below tae rescue him.

“Jeck chust beat me to it, that was aal. Ass I should have known aal along he would, for you must mind he has aalways been a man of the greatest sagacity and deviosity — not tae mention sheer dam' umpidence as weel!”

F
ACTNOTE

The majority of the puffers were indeed built in the smaller, specialised yards established on the banks of the Forth and Clyde Canal. As well as those at Kirkintilloch there were others at Maryhill and Port Dundas.

The puffers were derived from canal-based craft and were originally built to operate on the canals, hence the restriction on their size dictated by the maximum dimensions of the locks through which they would have to pass. Even when they were intended for a working life on the Firth, there was still a limit on overall length — at about 75ft — for the boats which were actually built on the canal, as they had to navigate 13 locks between Maryhill and Bowling in order to reach the river.

Of the two Kirkintilloch builders, Hay's was the older, and also had a longer life-span. The first steam vessel from that yard was launched in 1869: the last, the puffer
Chindit
, in 1945. All but a handful of the dozens of vessels built by the yard over three quarters of a century were for the Hay family themselves, in their ‘other' role as by far the largest owners and operators of puffers.

Some licence has been taken in the description of the launching of the
Vital Spark
. Though it is probable that the very first boats built on the canal were indeed built on its banks and then launched directly into it, very soon Hay's (and their rivals, McGregor's) had excavated basins and slips accessed from the canal: and future construction and launch took place there. However, the puffers (and other vessels) built in the yards were indeed sent down the slips sideways: and a launch was always something of an ‘event' for the community, drawing large crowds to every vantage point.

No licence has been taken, however, in referring to the story of the unfortunate
Principesa Jolanda
. She was a two-funnelled liner of 9200 tons gross, 486ft in length, and (intended to operate a scheduled service on the Genoa to Buenos Aires run for Lloyd Italiano) she was launched on September 21st 1907. With masts and funnels in place, and dressed overall with flags and bunting, she slid majestically down the launch-ways, took the water with some aplomb, slewed 90 degrees off course, listed heavily and dramatically to starboard: and sank. In Williams and Kerbech's
Damned by Destiny
(Teredo Books, 1982) there is a splendid series of photographs capturing the whole sorry episode, from the confidence of the naming ceremony to her final, inglorious submersion.

No attempt was made to salvage her. At low tides, she was broken up for scrap where she lay.

21

Rock of Ages

P
ara Handy looked up at the great wall of rock towering above the little puffer with an expression of admiration mixed with wonder. “My Chove,” he said, “she's a whupper, iss she not! It's only when you're in this close that you realise chust how big she really iss! From scenes like these …”

The
Vital Spark
was edging in under the looming shadow of Ailsa Craig, the great granite rock which stands sentinel at the entrance to the Firth of Clyde. ‘Paddy's Milestone' has been for centuries the welcome confirmation of safe arrival at the estuary not merely for the seamen from Ireland who originally bestowed its nickname upon it, but for mariners from every country in the world.

However, though the puffer had often had Ailsa Craig in plain sight as she rounded the Mull of Kintyre on her journeys to and from Islay, or coughed her way into Girvan harbour for a load of Ayrshire coal, this was the first time she had had occasion to be so close to the remarkable monolith. Only three quarters of a mile in length, it soared to a 1100ft peak: sheer cliffs on the western side, but with a spit of rock and shingle on the east where the
Vital Spark
now found herself.

Her destination was the small jetty which served the rock's tiny permanent population, and periodic visitors. The residents were the lighthouse keepers and their families, and a tenant crofter who raised a handful of cattle and sheep, and grew a few vegetables. The occasional visitors, whose presence on the island right now were the reason for the puffer's visit, were the Ayrshire quarrymen who were from time to time contracted to extract a quantity of the fine granite for which the islet was world-famous.