Rough Scan
JEEMS ON A VOYAGE
DON’T be alarmed,
BAILIE, it wisna tae America, nor yet tae the Mediterranean, nor even
by the “one hundred and forty-ninth popular Saturday afternoon excursion
tae Lochgoilhead and back for ninepence.”
No, BAILIE, it wis in the canawl – noo, dinna jump at conclusions,
it wisna in the Suez canawl, nor yet the Caledonian, nor even the
Crinan,
but on the Forth and Clyde Canawel, frae Port-Dundas tae Kirkintilloch,
that lovely village nestling amang the Campsie hills – at least, no
far frae them.
Last Saturday,
BAILIE, Betty an’ me got intae the Rockvilla omnibus at St. Enoch Square,
an’ for tippence got hurled up tae Port-Dundas; an’ here, lying at Spiers’
Wharf, we beheld for the first time the “Rockvilla Castle,” a fine wee
boat, wi’ a funnel pented the same as the “Iona’s,” red below and black
abin, a saloon in the neb o’ her, and anither in the hin’ en’ an’ twa
raw o’ sates abin the saloon, wi’ a ticket up, “Top, cabin fare.” When Betty an’ I gang frae hame, we aye like dae the thing decently
– we believe in the maxim o’ leeve an’ let leeve – so we stepped on
to the tap o’ the saloon an’ sat doon, and surveyed the surroundin’
scenery till the boat wid start.
Bein’ frae the
country, we were lost in admiration at the great stores, the weather-beaton
sailors, an’ the magnificent vessels – I heard a man on the next sate
ca’in’ them “scows”: it struck me as a new name, but I didna pretend
to ken much aboot vessels, sae I sat still an’ serenly looked roon.
I then read
the bill o’ the sailin’s :- “The fine, safe seagoing steamer ‘Rockvilla
Castle’ sails daily, Sundays excepted, with or without pilots, and with
liberty to tow or assist vessels in distress, from Spiers’ Wharf,
Port-Dundas,
at 20 minutes to 4, for Lambhill, Kirkintilloch, and Kilsyth. Fares, Kirkintilloch, 6d; Kilsyth, 8d. Passengers are requested to look after their own luggage. Servants in cabin pay full fare.”
Time being up,
oor gallant captain scanned the horizon wi’ his eagle eye, an’ seein’
nae mair passengers comin’ up Port-Dundas, he pulled his sou’-wester
doon ower his ears, an’ sung oot, “Throw off that bow line—three turns
ahead—half a turn astern—ease her—full speed”; an’ aff we went tae plough
the deep, giein’ a last fond look at oor native laud, amid the wavin’
o’ pocket-napkins. On we went smoothly withoot adventure, till
the man on the look-oot cried, “A light on the port bow.”
But it only
turned oot tae be a man lichtin’ his pipe on Ruchill Wharf; so we sailed
on.
Then the mate
called oot, “A suspicious-looking craft without sails bearing up the
channel.” Every e’e was strained
for the suspicious vessel, an’ as it cam’ nearer we made oot it wis
an immense armour-clad drawn by twa horses, a white ane an’ a broon
ane.
We hailed the
stranger: “What vessel is that?“ — “The ‘Kate Dalrymple’ o’
Tillietudlem.”
— ”Where from and to?” — “Frae Bowling tae Coatbrig, wi’ a cargo o’
pig iron.” Reported stormy weather
at Wynford Locks, an’ a heavy sea runnin’.
Civilities being exchanged, the driver crackit his whup, oor
engineer dived doon below, an’ the twa vessels parted, oor captain bein’
asked tae report havin’ spoken the ither tae the Kilsyth
Advertiser.
After a wee
a cry was raised, “Breakers ahead!” The
captain cried oot, “Man the lifeboats, an’ every man for himsell’.” Hooever, it turned oot tae be the waves dashin’
ower a hunnerwecht o’ coals that had fa’en overboard frae a
lichter.
On we went,
an’ when the “Rockvilla Castle” was opposite the new Barracks on the
Maryhill road, a terrific storm arose, little by little, till the wind
howled an’ the waves dashed against us.
The very seagulls tum’led heids ower heels in their fricht, while
oor vessd shivered an’ strained, an’ her timbers creaked, an’ the carpenter
reported three feet o’ water in the hold.
The women begau tae pray while we men cried “All hands tae the
pumps,” an’ at it we went with a will.
When the storm was at its warst the boatswain shouts oot, “A
strange fish three points on the starboard beam!”
We stoppit pumping, an a crooded tae see this new sicht.
“The sea-serpent
for a sixpence!” cried oor second mate. “Unfurl the top-gallant foresail, an’ splice the main brace!” shouted
the captain. “Man the jolly-boat!“
“Aye! aye! Sir!“ “Get yon auld harpoon oot o’ the main hatch
an’ after him! A thoosand pounds
to the man wha catches him! he has often been seen, but it remains wi’
us tae catch him! Drive the
harpoon in at the third bend o’ his tail an’ he’ll whummle ower as deed’s
a herring.” An’ amid the fury o’ the gale the sea-serpent
was seen sailing up frae Bowling tae us, wi’ his tail rearing in the
air, while ten gallant British sailors jumped into the jolly-boat tae
get a haud o’ him.
I being auld
and aye cautious, thocht I wid stop on board, as things were gettiug
serious, I determined to keep an e’e the lifeboat, an’ wis making my
way ower tae it when Betty grips me by the arm an’ says, “Bless me,
Jeems, tak care or ye’ll fa’ in,” an’ BAILIE, I awoke.
It was a dream.
I had eaten a heavy dinner, an’ the speel the brae had wearied
me, an’ so I had fa’en asleep afore we started frae Port-Dundas, jist
as I wis admiring the scenery. It’s maybe hardly worth while me telling ye o’ my dream, but it’ll
account for me no describing the places we passed atween Port-Dundas
and Lambhill.
Weel, here we
were sailing along the canawl, thro’ a fine country, wi’ raws o’ wee
hooses here and there, an’ corn fields, an’ the shearers hard at work,
and every noo an’ again passing inward bound vessel fu’ o’ coal. We stoppit noo an’ again tae put oot folk wi’ their week’s provisions
frae Glasgow. We gaed by Cadder
— a bonny wee place, wi’ an auld kirkyard an’ kirk — then passed the
residence o’ a wheen tinklers in the wood, wi’ an awfu’ swarm o’ wee
sun-burnt bairns.
At last, withoot
further mishap, we arrived at Kirkintilloch at twenty minutes to six,
moet extraordinarily weel pleased wi’ oor sail. It was cheap, it was smooth, it was droll; oor boat wis nate an’
clean, an’ oor worthy captain civil, careful, an’ attentive. For ither tippence we could have got to
Kilsyth,
an’ I wanted tae go, an’ got the length o’ saying tae Betty, “Never
min’ expenses, ma woman, when we’re oot for a holiday; come awa’ tae
Kilsyth.” But we thocht we wid leave that for anither
day.