MARINERS
TEAPOTS
Jane Kelly: Penicuik Pottery at Valleyfield
off 17 High Street Penicuik EH26 8HS
Hand-thrown Mariners teapots.
Made to stay steady when everything
else moves around them.
Hand-thrown Mariners teapots.
Made to stay steady when everything
else moves around them.
I’m a descendant of
seafarers. One, Edward Herbert, was with
Admiral Rodney at
-Jane Kelly, potter
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The Tragedy of the "Galgorm Castle" 1888
Come
all you sympathisers and listen to my song,
On
the melancholy subject I won't detain you long.
It's
concerning the calamity that befell that gallant ship,
The ill-fated 'Galgorm' on
her last and final trip.
The
crew when last she started, was comprised of eight all told,
Undaunted
and courageous men, experienced, brave and bold,
The
Captain was John Bruen who knew his duties well,
And
whose navigating qualities no other could excel,
The
mate was Jamsie Tracey and no better could be found,
His experience as a seaman both practical and sound.
And
John Murphy at the engine - he was in his proper place,
A
temperate and steady man who never knew disgrace,
Edward
Towey was a fireman, a genial, worthy soul,
Both
he and Peter Foley had the fires to control,
Two
worthier companions you could not in Sligo find,
And
deeply they're lamented by the friends they left behind.
Michael
Gillen was another one of that ill-fated crew,
And
'er embarking at the Quay, he bid his friends adieu,
All
these have met a watery grave, it grieves me much to
state,
There
are but two survivors left, their story to relate.
The
'Galgorm' was a steamer built in 1879,
In
the thriving town of Belfast, north of the bloody Boyne,
She
never met an accident since first she worked a screw,
Until this sad fatality by which she lost her crew.
On
the 12th of March she started with a load of English coals,
(Not
thinking that so very soon she'd perish on the shoals)
She
proceeded on her voyage that night and the next day,
But perished in a heavy fog near Dromore
in
A
terrific snow storm was raging at the time,
Which
the captain thought to weather with energy sublime,
But
alas such hope soon vanishes as the crew were washed away,
And
all of them, excepting two have perished in the sea.
The
Captain leaves a loving wife and family of ten,
As
a husband and a father he was foremost among men.
Poor
Tracey leaves a widow and little children eight,
And
Murphy's care was five in all, who now lament his fate.
Edward
Towey leaves a widow and a family of five,
To mourn and tender for he loved them when alive.
And
oft will Mrs. Foley in the stillness of the night,
Think
of her awful vision and her little child's insight.
Now
to conclude and finish, I have little more to say,
But
that their souls may obtain peace, let every Christian pray,
And
I hope a generous public, assisted by the press,
Will start a widow and orphans fund to relieve their
sad distress.
Link
to Captain John Bruen's page
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Richard Monk’s memories of
the Navy in 1844
"When
I got to London Town I kept asking for the Queen's Head, Tower Hill, for I had
heard that it was a sort of recruiting place for the Navy. Here I met a
quartermaster, a big burly fellow, and asked him how I should go about getting
into the Navy. He said that boys only got about 12s 6d or 12s 9d a month, but
added that as I was a big chap, I could safely tell the captain that I was
nineteen years old. Then he took me upstairs to the captain. He was sitting at
a round table, and on it I remember was some blue paper, some red tape and a
decanter of rum. The old man was a link to the very distant past and he had a
terrible gruff voice.
"What
do you want?" he growled, and I said, "To go in a man-o'-war
sir." "Some young, runaway apprentice or other," he snapped out,
and I owned up that he was right. Well, I passed the doctor, who had a room
downstairs, and the captain ordered the quartermaster to take me to the
receiving ship, Perseus, lying in the Thames off the
Tower. When I got to the hotel I only had 2d. I spent
that on something to eat, thus joining the Navy absolutely penniless. I didn't
like the look of things aboard the Perseus at all,
and as for the hammocks, I couldn't get into them until a fellow showed me how.
The rations were none too good. We got 1lb of biscuits and a pint of cocoa for
breakfast; a pint of soup, 1lb of meat, a few vegetables and 1/2 pint of grog
for dinner, with a pannikin of tea, and some grog and
what biscuits we had saved from breakfast for tea. Then we went to Sheerness to
the hulk Minataur to wait until the Vanguard had
fitted out of Plymouth."
An
Early Steam Squadron
"All
the vessels of the line were sailers in those days
and the real wooden walls of old England right enough. I boarded the Vanguard
at Plymouth in 1844, and the next year we cruised in the Bay of Biscay. There
were eight steamships when we started, seven paddle boats and one screw. I
think it was the first steam squadron in the Navy. Anyhow it was an experiment.
The names of the paddle boats were the Terrible, Retribution, Siden, Odean, Bulldog, Gladiator
and Polyphemus, and there was the Battler, a barque
rigged screw driven ship. After an 8 week cruise the Battler was the only one
of the lot with us, the others having developed engine troubles and put into
the nearest ports.
"For
the most of my time I served in the Mediterranean. They were rough days. Nearly
every week, men were flogged and on one occasion that I know
of a man was hung from the yardarm. Part of the outfit of our ship would
make sailors laugh nowadays. All round the orlop deck
below the water line were hung shot plugs. These were made of wood, and when
the boat went into action the carpenters had to walk round and round, so that
if a shot came through they could grab a plug, cover it with oakum and grease,
and drive it into the hole with a maul.
A
Whaling Cruise
"Early
in 1849 I was paid off and in the same year I shipped aboard the whaler Norwhal for a cruise in the south seas.
She was a wooden barque of about 400 tons and was commanded by Captain Baker.
We carried six guns for our protection. Early in 1850 we arrived in the Bay of
Islands. There must have been 18 or 20 whalers in at the time. I remember going
aboard the American ship, Swift, hailing from New Bedford, and the John
Franklin, which was a full ship. We had 760 barrels of oil. In those days Kororareka consisted of two hotels, two stores, and a few
shanties. The 65th Regiment was camped somewhere in the neighbourhood, if I
remember right, and there were thousands of Maoris…”
NUMBER 60 of
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