The keel is a strange kind of barge which is only seen on three of our
northern rivers. She is sharp at both ends, and her lines are extremely
fine. When loaded her deck is flush with the water; yet, under sail, her
speed is very great, and she is as handy as a skiff. These boats are
principally used for carrying coals to and from vessels that lie out in
the river; but they are often employed in conveying various sorts of
goods from town to town. In the old times, when the Tyne was very
shallow, the colliers were loaded from keels, and the river then swarmed
with the low black craft. The keelmen formed a little commonwealth by
themselves; their dress, their language, their customs were all
peculiar, and they were like a foreign race planted among English
neighbours. In the town of Shields alone there were three
dialects--Keelish, Sheelish, and Coblish. The Keelish was spoken by the
keelmen, Sheelish by the tradespeople, and Coblish by the pilots; but
Keelish was the most remarkable of the three tongues. Its idiom, pitch,
and pronunciation were so odd that nobody from south of the Wear could
understand it well without long practice, any more than he could
understand the social customs of the men who spoke it. The "Keel Row,"
which is the great Northumbrian song, is written in very fair Keelish,
and no south-countryman can read the original.
The old-fashioned keelman began his week on Saturday afternoon. He washed
himself thoroughly, and then appeared dressed in a white flannel coat
with horn buttons, loose knee-breeches, and blue worsted stockings. He it
was, and not the pitman, who had a chaste fancy in the matter of
bulldogs, and he rather liked seeing those interesting animals fight. He
himself liked fighting too, and the keelmen's quarter on a Saturday night
used to be a very warlike region; for champions from the various streets
fought for the honour of their respective districts, and the women
encouraged the combatants with much energy and enthusiasm. When the new
police-force was organized, it was as much as a constable's life was
worth to venture alone into Sandgate on a Saturday evening; but the place
is more civilized now. After the Saturday's drinking bout and incidental
combat the keelman had Sunday in which to cultivate the graces. He
lounged on the quay and made witty remarks about the passers-by; or he
strolled to the Moor, in all the glory of flannels and gay stockings, to
see a dog-fight. When Monday came his pleasures were at an end. His black
boat was laid alongside of some grim collier, and the baskets were plied
until the keel sank to the water-level. If there was any wind the sail
was run up, and the keel went away merrily enough; if it was calm the
sweeps had to be handled, and the craft travelled at about one mile per
hour. The deepening of the rivers has altered the conditions of life a
good deal for the watermen; but the race is much the same in every
respect as it was eighty years ago. The Saturday combats are not so
violent, and the dog-fighting is a thing of the past; but the men are
like their forefathers in habits and speech. The keelman has many points
in common with the pitman. He is more ignorant, because his life on the
water begins very early and he is isolated for the better part of every
week; so he is very simple and innocent of the world's ways. His horizon
is bounded by the black banks of his river. Of nature he knows nothing,
excepting that rivers run into the sea, and that tides have to be
watched. In the daytime he toils on the brown flood of the Tyne; and at
night he still toils on the same flood, which is then lit into lurid
brilliance by the fires of the low factory chimneys and furnaces. People
who work on crowded waterways seem to acquire an extraordinary
proficiency in the art of abuse, and in the said art a keelman is much
superior to the Thames bargeman. His collection of epithets is large,
and, since he is combative by nature, he engages freely in the war of
words when engagements at close quarters are impracticable. He is no
respecter of persons. The most dignified captain that ever stood on the
deck of a clipper is not safe from his criticism, and even her Majesty's
uniform is not sacred in his eyes. A keel once drifted against the bow of
a man-of-war, and the first lieutenant of the vessel inquired, "Do you
know the consequences of damaging one of her Majesty's ships?" The
keelman was unprepared with an answer to this problem, but with
characteristic flippancy he inquired, "Div ye knaw the conseekue of a
keel losin' her tide?" The keelman's ignorance of all objects not to be
seen on the river is really strange. Two worthies wanted to go on board a
brig called the "Swan." The vessel had a figure-head representing the
bird after which she was named, so the keelmen hailed in the following
terms, "Like-a-goose-and-not-a-goose, ahoy!" They were much disappointed
by the inattention of the crew. The keelman is religious in his way, but
his ideas lack lucidity. Two friends had left their keel aground up the
river and were walking across a field, when they were chased by a savage
bull. They fled to a tree, and the fleeter-footed man got to the first
fork. The second had swarmed a fair distance up the trunk, when the bull
arrived and began butting with such vigour that the tree was shaken. The
climber could not get up further; so his friend, seeing the imminent
danger, said, "Canst thou pray, Geordie?" The panting unfortunate
answered, "Yes." Whereupon his mate said, "Gan on then, for he'll have
thee in a minute." The bull kept on pushing the tree; so the keelman
tried a totally irrelevant supplication. He said, "For what we are about
to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful." Teasing urchins
sometimes shout after the keelman, "Who jumped on the grindstone?" and
this query never fails to rouse the worst wrath in the most sedate; for
it touches a very sore point. Two men were caught by a heavy freshet and
driven over the bar. The legend declares that one of these mariners saw,
in the dusk, a hoop floating by. The hoop was full of foam; and with
swift intuition the keelman said, "We're saved; here's a grindstone
swimming!" He followed up his discovery by jumping on to the
grindstone--with most unsatisfactory results. His error has led to much
loss of temper among his tribe.
In the matter of sport the keelman's ideas are narrowed to one point. He
is only interested in boat-racing; but he makes up by fervour for his
want of extended views. For weeks before a great race the Sandgate
quarter is in a state of excitement, and wagering is general and heavy.
The faith which the genuine keelman has in his athletic idol is almost
touching. When the well-known Chambers rowed for the championship of
England in 1867, an admirer shouted as the rower went to the starting
point, "Gan on, Bob; I've putten everything I have on you." Chambers
shook his head mournfully and said, "Take it all off again, my man; I
cannot win." But the enthusiast would not accept even that excellent
authority. For a long time before the last championship race the
sporting keelmen put by money every week to back the Tynesider, and the
melancholy result of the race desolated Sandgate. Perhaps it was well
that the Englishman was beaten; for in the event of any athletic success
the whole Tyneside population become very arrogant, and the keelmen
insufferable. Each one of them takes credit for the victory, and the
community of Sandgate becomes a large mutual admiration society.
In politics the keelman's notions are crude. If a stranger spoke
disrespectfully of the present member for Newcastle in the hearing of a
keelman it is not improbable that a crowd would be called, and the
critic would be immersed in the river: but the crowd could not explain
lucidly their reasons for such strong political action. The fact is that
the keelman has no interest in the affairs that occupy people ashore.
The brown river, the set of the tides, the arrival and sailing of the
colliers, the noisy gossip of water-side characters on Saturday
night--these things fill up the measure of his observation. He lives out
his hard-working, hard-drinking life like the stupid Englishman he is;
and when he dies his fights are remembered and his prowess lauded by
generous mourners.