This morning I came across this short story, taken from a book of memories from residents of a Douglas residential home between 1986 and 2006.
I hope some of you enjoy it....
SHIP AHOY
by Wyn Black
(from 'Old Times / Shenn Traaghyn')
The sun was shining, the air was golden and warm, and I was savouring every moment of the beautiful day - but it was Tuesday - and on Tuesday afternoons I had to go and help in Mum’s shop.
Mum ran a shop in the main street and we lived above - an experience I thoroughly enjoyed because most shopkeepers also lived above theirs and I had many friends among the families because most of them had children. But in our house there was only Mum and me, for Dad was in the Army and at that time he was serving in a place called Egypt, which to me seemed very far away - so he rarely came home on leave - so I felt that I should look after Mum. I did help in various ways but in between times I spent much of my time on my beloved shore - but not on a Tuesday.
Mum sold our very special Manx kippers, which were very well known, so that our summer season was always very busy, with local people and also the trip boats. These came for a day’s sail to the Island, bringing people from Liverpool and Wales and various other places. We called them “contractors” for a lot of them would get a season ticket for the summer; and we grew to know them and they became special friends (we still get Christmas cards from some of them).
On Tuesday afternoon, the little steamer from Llandudno, called the St Seriol, came and most of the passengers were retired elderly men and they were lovely. We came to know the crew well too and they were all like real old friends. When the St. Seriol docked at Douglas they would all, passengers and crew, come up to the shop and leave their orders for the numbers of pairs of kippers they wanted; for most of them took kippers back for their families and friends. They would leave their names and orders and then go further along the street to Quirks the bakers and to Batesons the pork butchers - renowned for their sausages and cooked meats. Then later they would pick up their kippers on the way to the boat.
Mum would be busy with the other customers so my job was to make out the list for St Seriol and then help to parcel them up and put the names on the parcels ready for the men to collect them.
Tuesday kippers were rather special, for the herring boats didn’t go out on Sunday, but fished on Monday night, then rushed the herring in for a short curing on Tuesday morning and we had them for sale early on Tuesday afternoon - and the customers loved them. But now it was time for me to get down to the shop so I gave a last lingering look around the bay where the ebb tide was on the turn and off I went.
As soon as I entered the shop, one look at Mum’s face was enough, I knew something was wrong - she told me the Railway Van had gone on delivery but they hadn’t brought the kippers. We didn’t usually use the Railway Van because the kippers were packed in thirty pair wooden boxes, and usually there were too many boxes to deliver, so we used the van from the curing yard to bring them in - it was quicker any way. But on the Tuesday afternoon we had the Railway Van because we usually only had three boxes to deliver early.
I didn’t know what to say to Mum she was so upset, and the thought of disappointing the St Seriol people was something I didn’t like to think about. I stood in the shop thinking and looking around - my glance fell on the small pram at the back of the shop. I didn’t know if I could do it but I could try. I said to Mum, “Mum, I’ll get them.” Then I grasped the handle of the pram and dashed out of the shop. Mum called something - but I didn’t want to know - I dashed off the pavement, ran along the street to a side opening up to the top, across Victoria Street where a policeman was on point duty (his face was a study), down past the Fire Station, past Hanover Street School and out to the quay - through the Railway Station main gate and into the goods yards and there were the three boxes of kippers. The workmen in the yard gazed at me and as I started to lift the boxes they rushed to help me.
Then it was out through the yard through the main gate, along the quay, past Quines Corner, up past the school, past the Fire Station, down Wellington Street, along to our shop. Mum’s face was a study as I bumped up the pavement and into the shop - but I was too late - it was almost time for the St Seriol to sail and the contractors had called, and bitterly disappointed had gone down to join the ship. Somehow I got Mum to make up the orders, I wrapped them and put the names on them, and before long I had piled them on the pram and was running out of the door again down Regent Street, past the Post Office, along Loch Prom and headed for the pier. Arriving at the entrance gates to the pier was a huge policeman who was noted for being a strict disciplinarian. Coming to a skidding half before him, I asked for permission to go down the pier to where the St Seriol was berthered and getting ready to sail - “No Way.” He reminded me that I knew full well that no one was allowed to go on to the pier when a boat was getting ready to leave. I begged him to let me go - stressed that they would be so disappointed - and I had the kippers there for them - “Please, please.”
Suddenly he said, “Well go on then but make it quick.” I wanted to hug him but hadn’t time - and then I was through the gates and running down to where the boat was really getting ready to leave. Running down by the railings I saw the ropemen were already casting off the rear ropes. It was low tide and I looking down on the deck where passengers were having their last look at the Island. Suddenly, I saw a face I knew, I let out a yell and held up one of the parcels - fortunately he quickly understood and he too let out a call, and from all over the deck my customers gathered around him. I started to lob the parcels over as St Seriol started to glide so slowly down the pier out of her berth. I ran down beside her and the customers ran along the deck to keep up with me. Suddenly all the parcels were gone, and loud cheers rose up from the happy men. I found the tears were flooding down my face - but I kept running and waving - as the boat slid out below me and between the two piers and into the bay, and the men kept waving and shouting too. I was so glad I had got their kippers to them.
On the next Tuesday, when the boat came on its usual run, the men couldn’t stop talking about it - and they all stayed in the shop until Mr Brooks arrived and he carried a huge bunch of roses, all colours and sizes, all the way from his garden in Llandudno; they were gorgeous. He said, “They were their thank you,” and I got a big bunch every Tuesday for the rest of the summer.
_______
This is transcribed from 'Old Times / Shenn Traaghyn: Recollections and Reminiscences of the past and present Residents of Glenside Residential Home, Douglas, Isle of Man'
This was a book of memories written by residents at Glenside between 1986 & 2006, and published in 2006.
Gura mie ayd, Wyn, for the lovely memories!
