‘Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, la vie est là,
Simple et tranquille;
Cette paisible rumeur-là
Vient de la ville.’
We engaged two men to help us up the creek, which is narrow and was
full of small boats difficult for a large craft to avoid. Unluckily,
there was no wind, and we had to punt. This made our difficulties
greater, as the _Ark Royal_, unlike her trading sisters, could not
cannon her way cheerfully up the creek lest her stanchions should be
carried away or her cabin tops be damaged.
The two men used the poles forward while I steered. A proud helmsman I
was, knowing myself the owner and skipper of the largest yacht on the
station, as we passed a quay thronged with longshoremen looking on. At
that moment I had to put the wheel hard over, and as the barge’s stern
swung towards the land her rudder touched the hawser of a smack moored
at the shipyard. The pull of a ninety-ton vessel moving however slowly
is enormous. The hawser tautened like a bar of iron; the _Ark
Royal’s_ rudder was banged amidships, wrenching the wheel from my
hands; one of the spokes caught my belt, hoisted me off my feet, swung
me right over the top of the wheel, and dropped me on the other side
of the deck. The Mate and the children did not seem to understand that
this accident to the Skipper reflected some ridicule on the whole
ship’s company. They cackled with delight, and wanted me to do it
again.
[Illustration: WALTON CREEK]
When we came abreast of our berth there was not enough water for us to
go in, so we lay on a spit of sand and mud for that day. On the next
tide, which was higher, we moved in stern first, leaving our anchor
well out in the creek ready to haul us off in the spring.
The ebbing tide left us in a shallow dock about three feet deep into
which the _Ark Royal_ just fitted, so that with a ladder on to the
saltings we could easily get on and off the ship. From the road,
seventy or eighty yards away, there was a path across the saltings
right up to us, but as it was very muddy we bought forty or fifty
bushels of cockleshells and spread them on it. We also made a bridge
with planks over a small rill which cut across the path.
To the west of us was a sea-wall, and behind it marshes stretching
away into dimness; to the north was the railway line; to the south,
first saltings and then the open Thames. At high water we could see
all the ships beyond the saltings; at low water they were hidden from
us. To the east there were gasworks, which we tried to forget, and the
ancient end of the town with houses of many shapes and attitudes. One
of the houses leaned over a quay against which smacks lay so close
that you could have reeved their peak halyards from the top windows.
There was only one house near by us, and in that lived a barge-owner,
who welcomed us and lent us a broad teak ship’s ladder. Such was the
place in which we settled down for the winter.
As soon as we had driven in posts and laid out spare anchors, with
long warps to hold us in position, we began to establish our
communications with the shore. We found tradesmen anxious to call
every day for orders. The postmaster promised three deliveries of our
letters. I took a season ticket to London, as the time had arrived for
me to begin my new work. The station was about eight minutes’ walk
from the _Ark Royal_. The boy’s school could be reached in about
twenty minutes by tram-car. We instructed the tradesmen’s boys when
they came on board to go forward and conduct their business through
the forehatch. For visitors we hung the ship’s bell in the mizzen
rigging. I engaged a sailor-boy as handyman and crew.
The only thing that interrupted our traffic with the shore was the
spring tides, which covered the saltings, for if Jack, the handyman,
were not ready with a boat, a tradesman’s boy would have to shout
until he was heard. Soon, however, the boys came to understand
signals, and when a boat could not be sent at once they would leave
the provisions on the grassy bank by the path, and someone from the
barge fetched them as soon as possible. There were only about six days
each fortnight on which the tides were high enough to make the use of
a boat necessary.
Later we dismissed the boy, as a trusted family servant, Louisa, whom
we had known for many years, came to live with us. As Louisa could not
manage the boat, we set up a box on a post by the road in which
tradesmen could leave our provisions.
If we had thought of the box sooner it would have saved us the robbery
of a red sausage by a passing dog. The Mate and I were on deck, and
saw the robbery committed. The time in which we launched the boat from
the davits would have done credit to a lifeboat’s crew. It was rather
a long, stern chase after we had landed, and would have gone on much
longer but for the dog’s greed in stopping two or three times to begin
his meal. As soon as we came near, off he went again, tearing over the
grass between the saltings and the road with our flaming sausage in
his mouth. It was a race between our endurance and his greed, and his
greed won, for at last he lay down with the sausage between his paws
and we fell on him from behind and captured our own. The sausage had
several dents in it, but it was not punctured. The dog had a good
mouth.
As for mishaps to the food, more occurred on board when it was being
actually delivered than when it was waiting on shore. Twice the
milk-boy stumbled over the foreshore and spilt our milk on deck. A
more serious matter was the butcher-boy’s fall. He came up the ladder
with his wooden tray on his shoulder one blustering day, was caught by
a gust as he reached the top, and was blown backwards into the mud.
Our joint lodged in the mud, and the wooden tray travelled a long way
like a sledge on the slippery mud before it stopped.
Our coal was brought along the road in a cart, and man-handled from
there to the fore end of the ship. We took only four hundredweight at
a time, as we did not use much coal--the inside of a barge is very
easily heated--and we did not care to have the decks hampered.
That winter, when an old barge was being broken up near by, we bought
a large quantity of small blocks of wood to use instead of coal in the
saloon. The coloured flames this wood gave off were delightful. As
there was no room for the wood on deck, we built a platform on the
ground alongside the _Ark Royal_. The platform sank a little, or
perhaps it was never high enough; at all events, when we had used only
half our stock an enormous tide came, and the remainder of the wood
floated away. As soon as we saw that the tide was going to be
abnormal we manned our boat and tried to salve as much of the wood as
possible, but the tide rose too fast for us. First the blocks floated
off in twos and threes, then in fives and tens, and at last in
squadrons. We pursued them and half filled the boat, but a fresh
westerly breeze scattered the Armada. We saw it spreading out and
trailing down the creek as the tide turned. Nor was that all. Long
before the blocks had reached the quay in their seaward flight they
had been marked by eyes trained from childhood in the search for
flotsam, jetsam, or salvage. Boats were launched, and our wood was
picked up and carried off almost under our noses.
The annoyance of losing the wood was aggravated by the sootiness of
the coal upon which we now had to fall back. Not only did soot lie
about on deck in still weather, but the chimneys had to be swept once
a week. Certainly this was a very easy job; one had only to remove the
upper parts of the chimneys on deck, hold them over the side, and run
a mop through them; then get someone inside the ship to hold some
sacking below, and shove the mop down the lower parts of the chimneys.
Our supply of eight hundred gallons of water generally lasted about
six weeks, for, as has been said already, we used chiefly salt water
for the bath. To refill the tanks we could either move out of our
berth on a spring tide and take the water on board through a hose from
a neighbouring shed where water was laid on, or we could have it
carried on board by hand. On the whole, we decided to have the water
carried on board, and our barge-owner friend kindly allowed us to take
the water from his house.
As it did not much matter when the water was brought, or whether the
carrier worked one hour or eight hours a day, we gave the appointment
of water-carrier to a hairless, red-faced boy of twenty who lived in
an old boat. As a matter of fact, he was a man of about thirty-five,
of whom it was said by some that he was half-witted, by others that he
was lazy, and by others that he was artful. Anyhow, he suited us very
well, for in the circumstances he could not easily have suited us
badly. He came when he felt inclined, and with a yoke and two
three-gallon pails patiently, and at his own pace, fetched the water,
emptied it into our tanks, and went for more. He generally made five
round trips in an hour, thus bringing thirty gallons. He never worked
more than six hours a day, at which rate he could fill our tanks in
about five days; but he generally preferred to spread the work over
ten days.
Even where we lay beyond the town the _Ark Royal_ was an object of
intense curiosity. Had we made a charge for showing people over her,
we should have collected enough money to buy a new mainsail. Among the
strangers who became acquainted with her internal beauties the most
enterprising and the most bewildered was a school-attendance officer.
He called one Saturday afternoon, and was told we should not be back
till the evening. We were waiting for dinner when Louisa announced
that he had returned. We invited him to the saloon and inquired his
business. He had heard that we had three children, and he had come to
assure himself that they were being educated. Oh, the boys were at Mr.
Jones’s, and were going on to Haileybury? Quite so. He was sorry to
have troubled us. Then he, too, was shown round the ship, so that we
trust he did not consider his visit wholly wasted.
Although our berth was more than a hundred yards from the railway, the
trains--particularly the expresses--shook the ground on which the _Ark
Royal_ sat. At first the noise disturbed us, but soon we became
unconscious of it. For other reasons I was grateful to the railway for
being where it was. On dark winter nights, when I was returning from
London, it never failed to please me to look out of the train and see
the warm radiance from the _Ark Royal_ striking up into the blackness.
Then the walk from the station along the narrow old street paved with
cobbles was delightful, and I could not hurry because I must stop to
watch an anchor or a trawlhead being forged in the blacksmith’s, or to
look at the mops, buckets, oilskins, sou’-westers, compasses,
foghorns, lamps, and tins of paint, in the marine stores. And
particularly at high water--if the wind were on shore--as I came
abreast of the openings between the houses I was drawn by the
splashing of the waves against the quay. There I would peer at the
dark forms of dinghies scuffling in the small ‘sissing’ waves (as they
say in Essex), or watch a cockle-boat with ghostly sails come racing
home, and listen for the click of her patent blocks as she lowered her
long gaff in readiness to berth by the sheds farther up the creek near
the _Ark Royal_. I knew that unless I hurried she would be there
before me, but then on the wide piece of quay facing the Flag Inn
knots of fishermen would be pacing backwards and forwards, and
civility or interest required that the time of night should be passed
with them. Just then, perhaps, a green light close in would attract
me, and forthwith the dark canvas of a barge towering above it would
loom in sight. The short stiff walk of the fishermen would cease; all
eyes would strain into the darkness, and a discussion as to which
barge she was and for what quay she was bound would begin. At last the
barge would settle the matter by becoming recognizable beyond dispute.
We would watch the great mainsail grow smaller and smaller as it was
brailed up, and wait for the mainsail and topsail to come down with a
run. Then when the vessel seemed to be advancing right on to us there
would be a splash and the sound of cable rattling out, and her stern
would swing round towards the quay and she was anchored. A dark figure
in a boat, glimpses of a line, a shout, ‘All fast!’ the sound of more
cable being paid out, and the barge’s bows would swing slowly in
towards the quay and she was berthed. Then the fishermen in their
sea-boots, and guernseys, and billycock hats, or jumpers and peaked
caps, would resume their stiff short walk, and I was free to go on my
homeward way.
With sailormen it seems as though they felt that the safety of a ship
while being berthed depended on their not taking their eyes off her.
But perhaps they have no thought of rendering telepathic aid; it may
be that they are only hypnotized, like me.
A little farther along the road one came into the open and could see
the shafts of light from the _Ark Royal_. On dark nights the sailing
directions to find our private path were very simple: go along the
road until all light is obscured on the port side and begins to show
on the starboard side; then you are abreast of the path. The richest
moments of pleasure came when it was high water at night, and one
could look over the saltings on to the business of the great river.
Especially on Fridays and Saturdays large liners were bound out or in;
there were always the clustered illuminations of the shore to the east
and south-east, the avenue of lights on the pier, and the Nore flaring
up and dying down; to the south the searchlights of Sheerness; and to
the south of west the River Middle gas-buoys blinking industriously in
the dark and guiding the sailor safely up to London.