At the mouth of a north-country river a colony of pilots dwelt. The men
and women of this colony looked differently and spoke a dialect
different from that used by the country people only half a mile off. The
names, too, of the pilot community were different from those of the
surrounding population. Tully was the most common surname of all, and
the great number of people who bore it were mostly black-eyed and
dark-haired, quite unlike our fair and blue-eyed north-country folk.
Antiquaries say the Romans must have lived on the spot for at least two
hundred years, judging by the coins and the vast quantities of household
materials unearthed; and so some persons have no difficulty in
accounting for the peculiarities of the pilot colony. Speculations of
this sort are, however, somewhat beside the mark. It is only certain
that the pilots lived amongst themselves, intermarried, and kept their
habits and dialect quite distinct. When a pilot crossed the line a
hundred yards west of his house, he met people who knew him by his
tongue to be a "foreigner."
My particular friend among the pilots was a very big man, who used, to
amuse us much by the childish gravity of his remarks. He was a remnant
of a past generation, and the introduction of steam shocked his
faculties beyond recovery. He would say: "In the old times, sir, vessels
had to turn up here. It was back, fill, and shiver-r-r all the way; but
now you might as well have sets of rails laid on the water and run the
ships on them. There is no seamanship needed." He never quite forgave
the Commissioners for deepening the river. As he said in his trenchant
manner: "There used to be some credit in bringing a ship across the bar
when you were never quite sure whether she would touch or not; but now
you could bring the 'Duke of Wellington' in at low water. These
kid-gloved captains come right up to their moorings as safe as if they
were driving a coach along the road." He was quite intolerant of
railways, too; but then his first experience of the locomotive engine
was not pleasant. Somehow he got on to the railway line on a hazy night;
and just as the train had slowed down to enter the station the engine
struck him and knocked him over. The engine-driver became aware of a
brief burst of strong language, and in great alarm called upon two
porters to walk along the line to see what had happened. They did so of
course, and when they got to the place of the accident the light of
their lanterns revealed the pilot perfectly sound and engaged in
brushing dirt off his clothes. When he saw the bright buttons of the
railway officials the thought of the police came instantly into his
mind, and he said, "Here, now, you needn't be taking me up; if I've done
any damage to your engine I'll pay for it." At another time he was
bringing a ship northwards when he was invited by the captain to run
down below and help himself to a nip of brandy. After taking his brandy
he proceeded to light his pipe at the stove. Now the captain possessed a
large monkey, and the creature was shivering near the fire. The pilot
said, "A gurly day, sir;" and the monkey gave a responsive shiver. Tho
pilot went on with affable gruffness, "The Soutar light's away on the
port bow now, sir;" and still the monkey made no answer. Not to be
stalled off, the pilot proceeded, "We'll be over the bar in an hour,
sir." But failing to elicit a response even to this pleasant
information, he stepped up on deck, and ranging himself alongside of the
captain on the bridge, said, "What a quiet chap your father is!"
The first time I saw my poor friend I liked him. We lived in a lonely
house that stood on the cliffs at a bleak turn of the coast. One wild
morning a coble beat into our cove. It looked as though the sea must
double on her every second; but just when the combers shot at her most
dangerously the man at the tiller placed the broad square stern at right
angles to the path of the travelling wave, and she lunged forward
safely. By dexterous jockeying she was brought close in, and the men
came through the shallow water in their sea-boots. They were blue with
cold, and begged for a little tea or coffee. Hot cakes and coffee
happened to be just ready; so the fellows had a hearty breakfast and
went away. With prolonged clumsiness the pilot shook the hand of the
lady who had entertained him; and in two days after the boat sailed into
the cove again amid nasty weather, and the master came ashore with a
set of gaudy wooden bowls painted black and red. These he solemnly
presented to the lady of the house. He had run thirty miles against a
northerly sea to bring them.
When I next saw the pilot he had fallen upon very hard times. The system
of keeping "privileged men" had obtained great hold in the north. The
privileged pilot does not need to go out and beat about at sea in search
of vessels; he can lie comfortably in his bed until he is signalled, and
then he steps aboard without any of the trouble of competition. However
good this system may be in a general way, it bears very hardly on the
poor fellows who have to lie off for two or three days together on the
chance of getting a ship. We were passing by Flamborough Head in a large
steamer when the mate came down below and said, "There is a pilot-boat
from our town astern there, sir." The captain shouted, "Tell them to
stop her directly and take the coble in tow." We then blew our whistle,
and the pilot-boat drew up alongside. My friend stepped aboard, and the
captain said, "Come away down and have some breakfast." The pilot tried
to speak, but his voice broke. He said: "No, I can't eat. When you
passed us, we baith started to cry; and when you whistled for us, maw
heart com' oot on its place, an' it'll gan back ne mair." The poor men
had had no food for two days. In spite of his tragic statement, the
pilot recovered, and ate a very good breakfast indeed; and his boat
towed astern of us till he placed us at our moorings.
He met his end like a brave man in the great October gale which all of
us remember. He was down on the pier smoking with his friends in the
watch-house and looking out occasionally for distressed vessels. The
great seas were hurling themselves over the stone-work and shattering
into wild wreaths of foam on the sand. Strong men who showed themselves
outside full in the face of the wind were blown down flat as if they had
been tottering children. The wind sounded as though it were blown
through a huge trumpet, and the sea was running nine feet on the bar. A
small vessel fought through, and appeared likely to get into the
fairway. She showed her port light for a time, and all seemed going
well. Suddenly she opened both her red and her green lights, and it was
seen that she was coming dead on for the pier. Presently she struck
hard, within thirty yards of the stone-work. There was wild excitement
amongst the brigade men, for they saw that she must be smashed into
matchwood in five minutes. The rockets were got ready; but before a shot
could be fired the ill-fated vessel gave way totally. A great sea rushed
along the side of the pier, and the pilot saw something black amongst
the travelling water. "There's a man!" he shouted; and without a
moment's thought plunged in, calling on the other fellows to pitch him a
rope. Had he tied a line around his waist before he jumped he would have
been all right. As it was, the Dutchman whom he tried to save was washed
clean on to the pier and put safely to bed in the brigade-house. The
pilot was not found until two days afterwards.