4

Trouble for the Tar

From the deck of the Vital Spark the crew watched with interest as a large gaff-rigged ketch, having successfully and skilfully negotiated the deceptively narrow opening into the inner harbour at Rothesay, nosed in to the stone quayside, one of her hands standing in the bow pulpit making ready to throw a line ashore. In the capacious cockpit immediately astern of her substantial main cabin stood three elegantly turned-out men with a fourth, presumably the owner, at the wheel.

“A chentleman’s life,” said Para Handy, “There iss no better way to see the world than in a yat! They’ll no’ have problems wi’ harbour-masters or ship’s captains. Welcome whereffer they care to go, and steam aalways gives way to sail!”

Dan Macphail, with a watchful eye on the derrick as he swung another swaying bundle of fencing-stobs outboard to the waiting cart on the quayside, nodded agreement. “Aye, they huv it easy compared wi’ the likes of us. The workers is aye the worst aff in this world, it’s the gentry that comes oot best. Ah wudna say no to a poseetion on a yat!”

“Me too,” cried Sunny Jim from the depths of the hold. “Just imagine no’ havin’ tae work wi’ a cargo of coals ever again! A life of ease!”

“Mind you,” said Para Handy, “even the lads on the yats have problems sometimes. Take your predecessor Jum, your kizzin Colin Turner the Tar, for instance. Crewin’ on a yat nearly cost him his merriage…”

“Tell us the baur,” said Jim, peering over the coaming of the hatchway. On the quayside the now fully-loaded horse-and-cart was heading for the town, and since there was as yet no sign of the second cart returning, a few minutes of rest and relaxation were in prospect.

Para Handy scratched his ear reflectively. “Well, it wass like this…

“Ass you aal know, the Tar got merrit on wan Lucy McCallum, a Campbeltown gyurl, and left the shup soon efter the weddin’. He took a chob in a distillery in the toon ass a cooperage hand and he learnt his tred and for three years efferything went fine for the young couple. They rented a single-end chust off Main Street and Lucy had two weans, a boy and a gyurl. Mercifully it seemed they wud tak’ efter her rather than their faither in character ass well ass in looks, for he wass idle, the Tar, idle — and blate wi’ it.

“But it wassna his fault he lost his chob at the distillery, for it wass at a time o’ sleck orders in the spurits tred and the man that owned it chust shut it doon — not for good, but for a few months till there wass demand for spurits again, and he paid off all the hands and told them to come back in 10 weeks.

“Lucy wass fair dementit when the Tar gave her the news, but she couldna blame the boy, though it wass goin’ to be very hard to get ony ither work, for there were fower other distilleries layin’ men off at the time and there were chust no chobs to be had in the toon.

“Her mither wass a widow-woman but she helped the young couple ass much ass she could, and it wass she who heard that there wass to be a new boat-yerd opened up at Inveraray by a kizzin o’ her late husband, and she wrote and asked if he could find a chob for the Tar, chust for a few months till the distillery opened up again.

“And he wrote back and said yes, if the Tar got himself there within the week he’d tak’ him on in the framin’-shed.

“ ‘But hoo am Ah tae get up tae Inveraray,’ asked the Tar when she gave him the news. ‘Me wi’ no wages comin’ in?’

“She had even sorted that oot for him. ‘Wan o’ the English chentlemen that comes up for the shootin’s in September bought a yat last year and it’s been lyin’ at Machrihanish effer since then,’ she said, ‘Noo he’s wantin’ it taken to Tarbert to wait for him comin’ up there next month.’

“Wan o’ the Campbeltown fishin’ skippers wass pickin’ the yat up the next mornin’ and sailin’ it up to Tarbert while hiss own skiff wass on the Campbeltown slup for her annual overhaul, and he’d agreed wi’ her that the Tar could crew for him. And of course wance he wass in Tarbert it would be easy to tak’ the two hoor trup on to Inveraray on the Lord of the Isles any day of the week.

“There wassna mich the Tar could do to get oot of that, so next mornin’ he wass up sharp and steppin’ oot the six miles ower to Machrihanish wi’ his tin box on his shoulders.

“Vickery, the skipper, wass there before him and within the hour they were off. The Tar wass a bit worried when he saw who the skipper wass, for Vickery was weel-kent for his fondness for the high jinks, but he wass a successful fisherman and a good seaman. The yat wass called Midge but in spite of that she wass a smert boat wi’ a midships cabin wi’ a couple of berths and a wee punt in tow.

“They made good time round the Mull of Kintyre and chust aboot two-o-clock they had Davaar Island dead ahead, and then the mooth o’ Campbeltown loch openin’ up to port.

“Vickery looked at his watch. ‘We’ve made good time, Colin,’ he says to the Tar. ‘What d’ye say we chust look in to the toon for an hour and I’ll see how they’re gettin’ on wi’ the repairs on the skiff?’

“There wassna anything the Tar could say, he wassna skipper, so they tacked up the loch and moored the Midge in the harbour and rowed ashore in the punt. Ass fate would have it they met a brither o’ Vickery’s who’d chust got hame from Gleska that very mornin’ on the King Edward efter a year at sea, and before the Tar kent what was what, they wass aal ensconced in the nearest Inn at a table by the window — ‘So I can chust keep wan eye on the yat’, said Vickery — and the drams kept comin’ ass soon ass aal the brither’s friends foond oot he was back in toon and came in for a yarn.

“Five in the afternoon came and Vickery gave the Tar the keys to his hoose and sent him to fetch a gallon jar so they could tak’ some refreshments back on board wi’ them. And the first person he met ass he wass comin’ back along the street wi’ the jar wass his mither-in-law! ‘What are you doin’ still here, Colin,’ she cried briskly, ‘when you should be well on your way up Kilbrannan Sound — and whaur are ye goin’ wi’ that jar?’

“The Tar tried to explain in a way that wouldna incriminate him but she gave him a sharp look and reminded him that the chob at Inveraray wouldna wait for effer. ‘Get you to Tarbert, Colin Turner’ she said. ‘Or you’ll answer to me for it!’

“Here and when they left to go back to the yat did Vickery’s brither and anither couple o’ his cronies no’ come wi’ them, and wi’ their ain jars, and the perty sterted aal over again. At eight o’clock Vickery consulted his watch and annoonced that it wisna worth settin’ off that night, they’d wait till next mornin’ and get awa’ sharp: and he went back ashore wi’ his brither and left the Tar in charge.

“Next morning, the Tar woke at seven and there wass no sign of Vickery at aal. But within the hour he wass back, wi’ a grey face, a short temper and a heid as spiky as a bagful o’ old spanners. ‘Iss this Campbeltown or Cairo,’ he cried, ‘and am I comin or goin’? Be a good lad, Colin, and nip ashore and get a can o’ mulk at the dairy and a pooder frae the chemist, and if I can find where I pit ma heid we’ll mak’ a start.

“Who did the Tar meet on the quayside but his wife Lucy, wi’ the elder wean on her shoulder and the baby in a pram full o’ dirty washin’, on her way to the laandry.

“ ‘Colin Turner!’ she shouted on him, ‘You should be in Tarbert by noo. Wait till I tell my mither on you!’ And though the Tar tried to explain she chust stormed off in a real tizzy but not afore she’d gi’en him the bleckest look he’d effer seen on a wumman.

“When he got back on board the Midge he managed to persuade Vickery to loose her from her moorin’ and off they set.

“But ass luck wud have it the winds wass against them, and then when they were off Carradale at aboot fower in the afternoon, the sea haar cam’ doon like cotton wool and they couldna see the tap o’ the mast.

“ ‘It’s nae use, Colin,’ said Vickery. ‘Ah’m no riskin’ the boat in fog like this.’ And he picked his way into the harbour at Carradale.

“Pretty soon the Tar foond himsel’ in the Inns at the head of the pier and again efferybody seemed to know Vickery and in no time at aal there wass a spree goin’. Wan o’ the company wass a Campbeltown cairter caaled McCallum, wi’ the by-name o’ the Twister, who wass a kizzin o’ the Tar’s mither-in-law, and a man wi’ a dreadful reputation for a dram, so soon they wass aal in full flight.

“The poor Tar had had enough of it and he tried to get his skipper back on board. ‘I will no’ be long at aal, Colin,’ said Vickery. ‘Why don’t you chust awa’ ootside and streetch oot on McCallum’s cairt and have a snooze? I’ll gi’e ye a shout when we’re ready to go and we’ll be in Tarbert in no time at aal.’

“Well, the Tar went and did chust that, for he wass aalways a man wi a great capacity for sleep. If Dougie was here he would tell you himself. The cairt wass half full o’ sacks o’ corn so he made himsel’ a comfortable bunk and snugged doon.

“So he slept and better slept.

“When he finally woke up it wass seven o’clock next mornin’ and broad daylight! He sat up at wance, feart that Vickery had sailed withoot him — and foond they wassna even in Carradale at aal! The cairt was stood at the foot of Main Street in Campbeltown! They wass outside the Ferry Inn and what had woke him wass the din ass Vickery and McCallum kept bangin’ on the door to get the landlord to open and gi’e them their mornin’s!

“Chust then, who came roond the corner from the close leadin’ to his ain single-end but his wife and his mither-inlaw!

“They both clapped eyes on him at the same time and let oot a shriek that even stopped Vickery and the Twister deid in their efforts to break into the Inn.

“ ‘Colin Turner!!! Whaur’s your sense o’ responsibeelity to your wife and weans! You’ve mooths to feed and aal you can do iss chust cairry on wi’ drink like a Cardiff stoker!’

“It wass ass well for Colin that the cairter, at least, wass chust sober enough to tell his kizzin and her dochter that the poor Tar wass innocent of ony devagation, that he and Vickery had been thrown oot o’ the Inn at Carradale at midnight and, having forgot aal aboot the Midge, and the Tar asleep in the back of the cairt, had let the horse do the navigation and meandered doon hame to Campbeltown in the wee sma’ hours.

“So the Tar neffer made it to the chob at Inveraray, and the chentleman that owned the Midge wass in a right tirravee for he had to send a new crew doon frae Tarbert to pick her up from Carradale.

“The only thing that saved the Tar’s skin wass that the spurit trade picked up (probably lergely due to Vickery’s singlehanded support) and he got his old chob back the next week when the distillery re-opened.

“So, Jum, remember it’s not aalways plain sailin’ on a yat!”

FACTNOTE

Now that the network of steamer services on the Firth of Clyde is but a distant memory, the Mull of Kintyre is unquestionably the most isolated community not just in Scotland, but in all of mainland Britain, and Campbeltown the country’s most remote town. In fact in some respects it is more remote from Central Scotland now than it was 100 years ago, when daily services by fast steamer from Glasgow, 80 miles by sea, were usually faster and certainly more comfortable than today’s tortuous 140 mile bus journey — which takes four-and-a-half hours each way.

The Tar’s journey from Campbeltown on the eastern coast of the narrow peninsula to Machrihanish on the western side must have taken place before August 1906, for otherwise he would not have had to walk!

That month saw open to passenger traffic the splendidly-named Campbeltown and Machrihanish Light Railway Company’s services on a narrow-gauge line, an extension of the track originally laid to transport coal for export across the peninsula from the Drumlemble pit to the docks of Campbeltown harbour.

Inevitably christened ‘the wee train’ the line remained open for passengers for 25 years, finally closing in 1931 after the shut-down of the coalmine during the 1929 depression.

Carradale lies roughly half-way between the southernmost tip of Kintyre and Tarbert, where the peninsula ‘rejoins’ the mainland at Knapdale, and was an established port of call for steamers on passage to Glasgow. Today it remains a popular destination for visitors in the summer months and maintains its traditional fishing industry year-round.

Discussing this storyline with a resident of Campbeltown prior to publication I suggested it was rather far-fetched that I had the horse bring the cart all the way home from Carradale by itself. “Not at all,” he said: “they used to do that from the Tarbert Fair in the old days — and that was twice the distance!”

The seas around the Mull are exposed and subject to violent storms. Hence the construction almost 200 years ago of the Crinan canal, which allows small vessels to move between the Clyde and the Western Highlands in sheltered conditions. The hazards of the Mull are perhaps best exemplified by the fact that in the years before the development of powerful, fast rescue vessels there were not as today, just one, but three lifeboat stations within a few miles of each other at its southernmost limits — Campbeltown, Southend and Machrihanish.

DREAMLAND FOR DRINKERS — This panoramic view of Campbeltown and its bay shows, behind the mother and her two infants, an unbroken phalanx-in-depth of distillery after distillery. There were more than 20 in the town in the years around the turn of the century and the grain they required was a frequent cargo for the puffers, and larger vessels too.