|
 | |  | |
I was home for about 5 weeks before I had any further word from Trinity House. In the spring of 1957 I was instructed to report to Swansea for duty, remembers Harold Taylor who was born in the mid 1920's.
Harold had previously been a policeman and decided he wanted a change of scenery, so he picked lighthouse keeping. Late 1956 saw him commencing training at Trinity House Lighthouse Keepers School in Harwich. Harold continues:
I had been measured for uniform at Harwich, but no issue was forthcoming, so I hoped it would be at the depot ready for me. I was wrong. The weather was not very good and I was forced to purchase for myself a raincoat from an appropriately named shop, 'Y.B. Wet', which I derisively nicknamed 'Oi.B. Wet'.
Swansea Depot created to me some eye openers of Trinity's insincerity and incompetence. My uniform was not to hand, but they grudgingly issued me with one set of overalls, which was to last two months. I was directed to where I should buy my food, only later to find that almost everyone else went elsewhere, which was cheaper.
There was a tendency to keep everyone hanging about the depot for this or that unimportant thing, rather than let them get their gear stowed and away. The ship was not sailing till somewhere about midnight.
Having assembled at the depot fresh and early that morning, everyone else arrived in dribs and drabs up till about lunchtime. They consisted of not only light keepers, but also lightship crews.
The T.H.V. Alert was to take personnel down to three lighthouses and four light vessels. The masters of the vessels and the keepers were to sleep in a deck bunkhouse on one side of the vessel, with the lightship crews on the other. Lighthouses had a crew of three and vessels, a crew of seven. Lightships had one master for each month at sea, but lighthouses had one PK, (principle keeper) the senior hand acted as KIC (keeper-in-charge) for the month the PK was ashore. The PK would do two months duty, the same as the rest of the crew.
Some of these differences stem from way back, and Trinity has hardly changed since Samuel Pepys was in charge! The month ashore after two months duty was not officially leave, it was just time ashore.
Until the war, and perhaps afterwards, keepers had to report to the depot every day and act as messengers for the office. When they wanted to take their allotted leave period, they had to make an application for it.
I believe the lightship crews were engaged in buoy cleaning around the buoy yard. The lightship masters could still be called upon to perform sailing duties when vessels were towed from place to place for overhaul.
Having got my groceries aboard, I took myself off to town to get a meal and pass the evening quietly away in a cinema. I had already discovered that the general pre-occupation was for beer and women the night before departure. I had not got the money for the former, nor the inclination for the latter, which was just as well. In the company I would have shared, it seemed that in between pints, they nipped outside to indulge with the same two or three women for half a crown a time.
I got back to the boat late, having walked from town. I went aboard and settled down in my bunk, only to be disturbed later by all the drunks returning. I cannot remember now if we sailed at night or early the next morning, but our first port of call was Flatholm Lighthouse, where the relief was carried out.
We then went down to the Breaksea L.V. and carried out that relief. Moving on we arrived off Lundy Island, where we unloaded some more keepers, before moving down to the south end of the island. Here I was deposited on the beach with another keeper who would be acting as KIC An engineer (Lewis) was also to be landed.
From the beach there was a fairly long walk up to the lighthouse along a shale slope. Our gear was to be taken up by winch, an ingenious device whereby one end of a cable was anchored to a rock in the sea and the other end on land. Down this cable a traveller block was hauled backward and forward by a steam engine. From the traveller block was suspended a box, which was let down to water level. A launch from the ship would come up to the box and deposit in it our stores. And so the relief was completed.
I had arrived on station with Fred Jones a Birmingham man, who claimed to be an Irishman. He was quite obese and a slovenly character. The other keeper on the station was Nat Ilston who lived in Wales. These two men did not like each other. Nat's objections were firstly against Fred's filthy habits and secondly because Fred was KIC. Nat had more recently been KIC, but had left the service and not long rejoined. He had been able to pick up his length of service for pension consideration, but not his seniority. This hurt.
Fred's objections were perhaps jealousy. It was reputed that Nat, who was in his 30's, lodged with a family and slept with their 14 year old daughter. He later married the girl. Many years later, however, when I re-established contact with the man, they were about to divorce. He has since married a Phillipino girl and, I believe lives in her native land.
The keepers going ashore had been PK Jim Tilley and AK Dennis Cotterel. The former lived in or near Swansea, whereas the other was a Midlands lad.
For Easter the owners of the island, the Harman family, came over from the mainland. The main house of the island was run as a hotel, but not very profitably. Albion Harman was, among other things, described as a mining engineer. I understand that in fashionable London they also owned a nightclub known as 'The Tattie Bogle'. They were a pleasant family, with apparently no side, which could not be said for the steward of the island, Mr Gade and especially his wife.
There were a lot of visitors for that week on the island, who travelled to the place in the island's boat, the Lundy Gannet, which was kept at Bideford.
I had, in the short time of my residence, become friendly with the farm bailiff, Bill Benyon, and his wife. They lived in a corrugated iron chalet just below the hotel on the road up. Later at the same house I was to meet Mary Livey-Noble who was staying there over the holiday.
Before the holiday there had been the round up of sheep and the shearing. In this we all took part and it created a bit of exercise as well as fun. The keepers from the north lighthouse, together with some of the farm staff, would start the drive south, while we drove the sheep north into a holding area. They were then confined in the 'shippings' where the lambs and the wild Soay sheep were separated.
The dipping and worming also took place. This was one of the duties left in my hands.
On the island was a large herd of domestic sheep and also a large number of Soay sheep, which it is said, was left from the days of pirates and smugglers. There were also a large number of goats that had gone wild and moved about in herds. The farm had a herd of milking and beef cows and there were a number of wild ponies. There were also several herds of deer, I think of three species.
Because of the desire to farm more profitably, a decision had been taken to reduce the numbers of wild animals. An Australian had been employed to shoot the deer, wild sheep and goats, to leave only six of each breed. The man apparently was not as good as his intentions and had made a mess of the job, leaving a lot of wounded animals to die and bringing in few dead ones, so the operation had temporarily ceased.
One operation that did go ahead though, was the rounding up of the wild ponies. These were herded into the 'shippings' and three pony dealers came over from Devon to supervise the transporting of them back for the sales. I got roped in for this job also, which required us to get a halter round the ponies' necks and break them down, till they could be quietened enough to be led down to the boat. That side of the action wasn't too bad.
The bad part was the shipping of them back. The Gannet was unable to come in close enough for the animals to be driven on board, so they had to swim out to the boat. This entailed one man holding the pony's head at the rear of the rowing boat while two others rowed out. Once there, a sling was passed underneath the animal and the boat's derrick hoisted it aboard and placed the animals in the hold.
Most of the operation went well. However, eventually an animal drowned on the outward journey, then later one of the stallions broke loose and swam away up channel, before it eventually came ashore and was recaptured. This, therefore, put an end to that particular operation.
Friday night was 'music night' at the Marisco Tavern, which was part of the main house. Normally, other than at lunchtime, Friday night was the only time that the bar opened, but due to the holiday the bar was open most of the time. I went up for the jollifications and met a keeper from the north lighthouse, Dave Mapp, and we were having a happy social evening together, meeting many who were over for the holiday. I believe a dart competition was going on and I joined in.
During the evening Dave expressed that he was not feeling well and decided to leave. I was due to be on watch at 4 a.m., so decided to leave also. There was a girl we had been in conversation with who again decided to leave at the same time. She was staying at the Old Light, which was used by the bird watchers.
The three of us made homeward tracks up through the 'village'. Having gone through the gate that gave access to the moor of the island, Dave headed north to his station. I offered to walk Gillian to the Old Light, as she was nervous of coming across any of the animals in the dark. Having started on this bit of chivalry, that was the last I knew of it. Several hours later I came to. Gillian was there and apparently I had been unconscious for about two hours. I felt dreadful and as weak as a kitten. I did not feel sick, but just as if I had taken some heavy punishment in my stomach.
After I had recovered my equilibrium I escorted the girl to her lodgings, although by this time she was insisting on seeing me to mine. After a while, still in a dazed state, I realised that I had a wall on my right that should not have been there. It eventually dawned on me that I was walking northwards instead of southwards, so I retraced my steps and got on the road back to the lighthouse, arriving in the small hours. Fred was on duty so I went to bed for the short period before I was needed on watch.
I later learned that the girls from the Old Light Bird Observatory had been known to play foolish tricks on people, by pouring preserving alcohol into the drinks of unsuspecting strangers. I guess this is what happened and I gather there was some foundation in this from conversation others had heard. Dave had been closely connected with a girl who was not present, but had been the cook at the observatory.
When I got up the next morning, I sat as usual with the off going keeper and had my rising pot of tea. During this time I started to make a batch of bread, which I knew I needed. My guts were in a terrible state and I had stomach cramps that left me with no strength at all.
After Fred had gone to bed it was time to go to the tower and wind up. The clock here was the type with the early, very heavy, chain winds. In my weakened condition it was so heavy that I could only make half a turn at a time and I had to get down on my knees to find the strength to do that.
I do not remember the character of the light, but it was one of the early Fresneau lenses, which was before the mercury bath type. This consisted of a polished steel base. There were rollers fixed to the bottom of the lens, which rolled around on this base. I think the lens took something like eight minutes for each revolution and there were twelve faces, giving one flash every forty five seconds. When fully wound it ran for about one hour and a quarter. The mechanism was so delicate that you could put a cigarette paper down on the race and stop the rotation.
My bread making was not a success, the yeast would not rise, but I persevered and baked my creation, which came out like a couple of building bricks. When I remarked upon it later to the others, Fred said he was not surprised as I had poured boiling water onto my yeast. That is the nature of most keepers. If they see you do something wrong, instead of being helpful and telling you, they will keep their own counsel, and see what sort of a mess you make, then comment upon it later.
I must have been a breath of fresh air to the service, ever helpful and passing on my knowledge and experience wherever possible. I suppose I should bear in mind, that I was to discover that many of the people in the service were totally ignorant, and unlikely to be able to hold down a job in any other field.
There was one little job I was pleased to do at the south end. There were no engines apart from the steam winch for the hoist. There was no radio or telephone; all communication was done via the hotel's R/T. Therefore, on each relief, a fully charged low tension accumulator was landed for use with the domestic radio. Once that had been exhausted, one either went without the radio for the rest of the month, or walked to the north end lighthouse to get it charged. This was a round trip of seven miles.
It was usually left to be done on a Sunday, a work free day. If the keepers were a lazy lot, the trip was not made. I was prepared to make the trip, so set out on my second Sunday and enjoyed the walk, half of which was new territory to me. I had already explored some of the island out of curiosity and to view birds, as there was a bird observatory at the Old Light.
I arrived at the north light around mid morning and met the keepers, Cecil Trecize the PK, Bert Troman, KIC, and Dave Mapp AK. They were a very friendly bunch and invited me to stay for dinner. I spent more time with them in the afternoon, going round looking for gull eggs and bird watching with Dave. There were some notable colonies of sea birds at thatend of the island.
Harold spent a total of one month at the south end of Lundy and was then transferred to the north end, where he completed a further month.
| |  | |  |
To add a comment you must first login or join for free, up in the top left corner.
|
|
