across the brudge wing and never movinâ, till even the boys in the ï¬it-boat began to get anxious: but then he snapped to like a sodger, rang his instructions to the enchine room, and gave the ï¬it-boat a smert naval salute.
âAnd nothinâ happened. She kept racinâ for the beach at a good 18 knots. Jeck rang and better rang on the telegraph till he wass near demented, but there wass neffer a cheep frae doon below.
âHe ran into the brudge-hoose and grabbed the wheel, and spun it desperate-like to starboard to try and steer the Flowerdale oot the bay. It wass too late. She had too much pace and he had too little space to makâ it work, and he ran her straight onto the sandbar at the eastern headland at full speed. Mercifully it wass a chentle slope, and she slowed doon ass sweetly ass if she wass under control. Nobody wass hurt and there wass no real damage to the hull, either. But they had to wait three days before the tides wass right for the Fusilier and the Chevalier to be able to tow her back into deep water.
âBy that time, Jeck wass lookinâ for another chob.
âTuppical of the manâs ill-fortune. You wud have thocht it wass his fault, the way MacBrayne treated him.
âIt wass the enchineers should have got the seck. There wassna a man jack oâ them sober doon below. There wassna wan oâ them awake either, come to that. Theyâd all had mair nor they could takâ at Castlebay, and they wass aal fast asleep in the enchine room. Jeck could huv rung the telegraph till he wass black in the face!
âHeâs neffer had a good word to say for enchineers till this day: I think thatâs why heâs often so nippy wiâ Macphail. But he still has the hert of a child, and the chenerosity of Mr Carnegie!â
At which hint, I felt it incumbent on me to arrange for the Captainâs glass to be replenished.
F ACTNOTE
Fact can sometimes be stranger than ï¬ction â or maybe simply mirror it. Whatever the truth of the matter, the two incidents which provided me with the idea for this story were reputed to have happened to real-life MacBrayne ships and were told to me some years ago by a former MacBrayne seaman as historical fact.
The collision with Tobermory pier was said to have taken place in the early 1930s, exactly as described. The vessel involved was the regular Sound of Mull steamer Lochinvar , which had been built in 1908: and was fully refurbished in 1934.
She was a strange-looking ship, and a strangely-powered one as well. Only 145ft overall, she was originally constructed with three six-cylinder paraffin engines driving three screws: in 1926 these were replaced by four-cylinder diesel engines. The engine-room was placed at the stern, with her cargo hold immediately forward of it: and the passenger accommodation and bridge forward of that again. Cargo was loaded and unloaded by a jib-crane and her only mast was a simple pole mast on the foredeck. As built, she had one very thin, very tall smokestack later replaced by the complete opposite â one very short, very squat funnel. In either guise she looked something of an ugly duckling, though her actual hull was ï¬nely proportioned.
The incident at Arinagour is reputed to have occurred in the 1960s and there must be witnesses who could conï¬rm if it did really take place. The vessel was the Claymore , mainstay of the thrice-weekly link from Oban to Lochboisdale, the second ship to carry that name. Her predecessor gave nearly 50 years service to MacBrayne, mostly on the Glasgow to Stornoway run.
The second Claymore was commissioned in 1955, a handsome ship with comfortable accommodation in two classes â the last of her kind in that respect. However, she was notoriously tender in heavy weather. She had the fatal combination of substantial top-hamper (thanks to the generous public space offered in her lounges, dining-saloons and bars): linked to a shallow draft
âAnd nothinâ happened. She kept racinâ for the beach at a good 18 knots. Jeck rang and better rang on the telegraph till he wass near demented, but there wass neffer a cheep frae doon below.
âHe ran into the brudge-hoose and grabbed the wheel, and spun it desperate-like to starboard to try and steer the Flowerdale oot the bay. It wass too late. She had too much pace and he had too little space to makâ it work, and he ran her straight onto the sandbar at the eastern headland at full speed. Mercifully it wass a chentle slope, and she slowed doon ass sweetly ass if she wass under control. Nobody wass hurt and there wass no real damage to the hull, either. But they had to wait three days before the tides wass right for the Fusilier and the Chevalier to be able to tow her back into deep water.
âBy that time, Jeck wass lookinâ for another chob.
âTuppical of the manâs ill-fortune. You wud have thocht it wass his fault, the way MacBrayne treated him.
âIt wass the enchineers should have got the seck. There wassna a man jack oâ them sober doon below. There wassna wan oâ them awake either, come to that. Theyâd all had mair nor they could takâ at Castlebay, and they wass aal fast asleep in the enchine room. Jeck could huv rung the telegraph till he wass black in the face!
âHeâs neffer had a good word to say for enchineers till this day: I think thatâs why heâs often so nippy wiâ Macphail. But he still has the hert of a child, and the chenerosity of Mr Carnegie!â
At which hint, I felt it incumbent on me to arrange for the Captainâs glass to be replenished.
F ACTNOTE
Fact can sometimes be stranger than ï¬ction â or maybe simply mirror it. Whatever the truth of the matter, the two incidents which provided me with the idea for this story were reputed to have happened to real-life MacBrayne ships and were told to me some years ago by a former MacBrayne seaman as historical fact.
The collision with Tobermory pier was said to have taken place in the early 1930s, exactly as described. The vessel involved was the regular Sound of Mull steamer Lochinvar , which had been built in 1908: and was fully refurbished in 1934.
She was a strange-looking ship, and a strangely-powered one as well. Only 145ft overall, she was originally constructed with three six-cylinder paraffin engines driving three screws: in 1926 these were replaced by four-cylinder diesel engines. The engine-room was placed at the stern, with her cargo hold immediately forward of it: and the passenger accommodation and bridge forward of that again. Cargo was loaded and unloaded by a jib-crane and her only mast was a simple pole mast on the foredeck. As built, she had one very thin, very tall smokestack later replaced by the complete opposite â one very short, very squat funnel. In either guise she looked something of an ugly duckling, though her actual hull was ï¬nely proportioned.
The incident at Arinagour is reputed to have occurred in the 1960s and there must be witnesses who could conï¬rm if it did really take place. The vessel was the Claymore , mainstay of the thrice-weekly link from Oban to Lochboisdale, the second ship to carry that name. Her predecessor gave nearly 50 years service to MacBrayne, mostly on the Glasgow to Stornoway run.
The second Claymore was commissioned in 1955, a handsome ship with comfortable accommodation in two classes â the last of her kind in that respect. However, she was notoriously tender in heavy weather. She had the fatal combination of substantial top-hamper (thanks to the generous public space offered in her lounges, dining-saloons and bars): linked to a shallow draft
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