Tales of London's Docklands by Henry T Bradford Page A

seats. Those other passengers who decided to stay in the compartment when the dockers boarded generally stayed silent for the rest of the journey.
    On reaching Barking station the lads changed trains. They caught another service, which took them on to Plaistow station, from where they caught a bus to the Wicket Gate outside the King George V Dock. The ship we Tilbury Dockers had been assigned to was a Blue Funnel Line vessel loaded to the gunwales with imports from India and Sri Lanka. I, for one, always thought it was bad news to be allocated to Far Eastern trading ships because of the diversity of dirty cargoes they carried. My intuition, instinct and experience were proved right when orders were received from the ship worker on our arrival.
    He told us, ‘The good news, lads, is that there are only 150 tons of Sri Lankan plumbago in 140-pound bags stowed in the wings of number 5 hold’s upper ’tween deck. That’s to be delivered to road transport. The second lot of good news is that I’m giving you a seven o’clock job and finish. It’s half past ten now, so you should be finished by about five o’clock. That’s the bad news: you should be on your way home in the rush hour. Right! Chop, chop! Get on with it then!’ Other names for plumbago are black lead, graphite and carbon black. It is used in the manufacture of pencils or mixed with clay to make crucibles, or for polishing fireplaces, or as a lubricant and for a number of other purposes. It is a very dirty cargo. After delivering his news, the ship worker disappeared and was not seen again till we had finished discharging the plumbago. That was when he reappeared and handed our attendance books back to us, held at arm’s length, the cheeky sod.
    After we had been given our orders, the men separated into the various constituent groups necessary for the discharging operation to begin. Fortunately, in one respect, the ship was a stevedores’ job. That means it was ‘non-continuity’ to us dockers and we could be paid off that night and returned to our own sector in Tilbury Docks for reallocation on the following morning’s call. Or, we could be picked up for work in our own Dock Labour Board compound. It also meant there would be only one day’s work. The ‘job and finish’ ensured the work would be completed on that day.
    The top hand and the down-holders made their way onto the ship. I climbed up three tiers of vertical ladders into the crane cabin. Two of the gang remained on the quay as pitch hands, whose job it was to help the lorry drivers load their vehicles. There was a long queue of lorries on the quay ready for the direct delivery work operation. They had been waiting there since 7 a.m. and were getting rather agitated. When the dockers turned up, a few words of foul language were exchanged, and then Arthur took off his jacket and walked towards them. One couldn’t be sure whether it was the Polecat No. 5 or the quivering muscles on his body that quelled any further rebellious comments, but a silence, totally devoid of even human breath or the sound of a pin falling, descended over the quay. Then Arthur, who was facing the irate drivers, waved his right thumb over his ear and ordered, in an authoritative voice reminiscent of his Sergeant PTI and UCI days in the Commandos, ‘Right! Let’s be having the first one of yer! Get yer lorry under ’ere.’ He pointed to a spot on the quay between the railway lines close to the ship. ‘Come on, now. Don’t be shy. Let’s be having one of yer, on the double.’
    One of the drivers quickly obliged – it was obvious Arthur was not a man to be disobeyed.
    In the meantime, and during the quayside altercation, the ship’s gang had stripped the tarpaulins off the hatches and removed them. I had removed the ship’s beams and then slewed the crane ashore to pick up a set of hooks and sisal ropes, which was the gear