No 62. Full steam ahead for Islands visit.

A long time ago, but yesterday too. Rain On My Window (Tears in My Eyes) will be an ongoing tale of my early memories of life shared by my younger brother David on Whitehall Farm in Stronsay, Orkney, of our childhood on a working farm in the 1930s before we lost our innocence.

Earl Sigurd leaving Stronsay.

Steamer day. David and I were on our way unaccompanied on the Earl Sigurd to Cleat in Westray for a holiday with our Uncle Bill and our slightly older cousins Jean and Grace Pottinger. The heavy ropes holding the Sigurd to the pier were let go, hauled onboard, coiled and snugged down in place, held there neatly with a whip rope. The wire ropes were wound onto their drums by a couple of men on a turn handle. The Sigurd eased away from the pier, water gurgling to fill the increasing space. The brass telegraph on the bridge double clanged as the Captain put it to Dead Slow Astern, a repeated double clang in acknowledgment from the depths of the engine room from the engineer. The propeller turned and began to draw the ship back and out from the pier, water flowing along the sides.
It was a Friday and the Earl Sigurd was doing its once-a-week Round-the-Isles trip from Kirkwall, calling first at Stronsay, then Sanday, a small boat coming out at Calf Sound in Eday, then Westray and back in to Kirkwall. A long day for the crew but a chance for a popular summer tour Round the Isles or going to visit friends on another island as sailings allowed. Passengers and mail and newspapers only, a quick turn round at each call, no cargo unless special parcels or spare parts or essentials like a case of Whisky for the Pub. The sailing routes varied.

Tuesday was also a sailing day for the Sigurd, not doing regular round the Islands sailings but more specials loading livestock specifically from one or other Island. She serviced North Ronaldsay, I think once a week, and we might see her funnel smoke in the far distance as she slipped round to the West of Sanday and out of sight to the North, a one Island all day run.


The two steamers serving the North Isles, the Earl Thorfinn and the smaller Earl Sigurd, were coal-burning, steam-driven, slow turning reciprocating engines. Looking down from the engine room door that day, we were met with the hot smell of steam, oil, grease, the sough and thump of the massive pistons flying unseen in their cylinders, the huge propeller shaft dimly seen revolving in the depths below us. The perpetual clatter of shovels as the firemen threw coal through the open firedoor and into the red glowing maw of the furnace to keep stream pressure up, or pulled down more coal from out of the bunker. The chief engineer took we boys down for a conducted tour, a bit of oily cotton waste in his massive fist giving a wipe in passing to an already spotless surface.


In Orkney folklore and in the Orkneyinga Saga Earl Thorfinn was the Viking Earl Thorfinn Sigurdson and Earl Sigurd was his father Earl Sigurd Hlodvirsson, who was killed at the Battle of the Ford of Clontarff just outside Dublin on 23rd April, 1014 A.D. Our Viking history was, and still is, dear to the Orkneyman. Our ships were so named.
The Earl Thorfinn was the larger and senior vessel and did the main part of the North Isles sailings. I think it came into service about 1928, sold in 1963 for breaking up. The Earl Sigurd followed into service about 1931, smaller but she did her fair share, and was finally broken up in 1969. They took over the North Isles service from the Orcadia (ii) which our mother knew well and in which she sailed to Sanday where she taught school, staying there with her mother’s brother Will Robertson, both came from Stroma. The Orcadia (ii), built for Robertsons of Orkney Steam Navigation Co. in 1868, was sold in 1931 to Leslies of Kirkwall, used for two months as a replacement for the travelling shop boat Cormorant going round the Islands, then sold on again to Davie Chalmers in Stronsay to serve as one of his coal hulks. .




Sailings were Earl Thorfinn on Saturday out from Kirkwall, calling at Eday, Stronsay, Sanday, in whatever order the tides dictated. Eday had the shallowest pier, Sanday next and Stronsay had the deepest. The ship sailed through Calf Sound between the spectacular Red Head on Eday and the Grey Head on the Calf, a freak of nature lying but a short distance apart and a notorious place for sea sickness. Finally to Pierowall in Westray where the Thorfinn lay over the weekend. Most of her crew came from Westray, almost her home port. Monday in to Kirkwall by various Islands, dictated by the tides for shallow piers. Tuesday the Thorfinn lay in Kirkwall taking on coal and doing other servicing, Wednesday out again eventually to Westray, and Thursday in to Kirkwall, Saturday back out again by the various Islands to Westray for the weekend.

Every now and again the Thorfinn would lie overnight at another Island, perhaps once a month in turn. That meant an early start from that Island and once I visited my brother David when he farmed Huip in Stronsay, played chess with him all night, and then down to Whitehall Village to catch the Thorfinn for a 5.30 am. sailing. No point in going to bed and missing the boat!! Slept all the way in to Kirkwall, waking up as the ship tied up alongside the pier.

Papa Stronsay was also serviced on rare occasion by the Sigurd which we could see just across the water lying at the Papa pier, a special sailing for livestock. Normally Papa Stronsay people crossed by small motor boat to Stronsay for connections, pick up the mail and papers, shopping. Papa Stronsay was a small island but very fertile, I think about 150 acres, tenanted by Jeemie Stout in our time in Stronsay. Eventually he was our successor in Whitehall as tenant. His family now own the farm, and recently also bought next door Clestrain.
The two steamers also did special runs such as the County Show when they each did a couple of Islands, getting people in to Kirkwall early for the day and out again at day’s end, a very early start in the mornings after lying at the respective harbours overnight. There were also special trip days for one or other island, again in and out. Two hours sailing direct from Stronsay, two and a half from Westray. Made for a long day, but these were summer sailings and the evenings in the North were long light. We went once with our father on a day trip for the Inter-island International Football Match between Shetland and Orkney. Shetland won.
From Whitehall we looked North to Sanday to catch the first distant black smudge of smoke telling us the Thorfinn was getting up steam ready for leaving Kettletoft Pier for the half hour crossing to Stronsay, a small black dot at first but steadily growing. Came in between Huip Ness and Papa Stronsay, skirting the guiding buoys and into the pier.
A gathering of men and a long narrow wooden gangway was quickly lifted off the pier and put in place, tied safely to the ship’s rails with ropes. Depending on the tide, sometimes the gangway sloped up on a high tide, sometimes down on an ebb. Again, on a very high tide, sometimes the gangway was fitted onto a lower deck. Different Islands had different piers with different heights. Total rise and fall on a spring tide could be as much as fifteen feet.
Passengers came ashore, some to Stronsay, some to head up the pier for a breakfast at Jock Stout’s the baker, or rather Aggie Stout his very capable wife. Good breakfasts too.
The steamer had various times at the pier, sometimes quite short, especially on the way out from Kirkwall, sometimes quite long if much cargo or many animals had to be loaded so plenty of time for a leisurely meal. Always a warning blast from the ship ten minutes before casting off.
We once had a breakfast at Stouts, passing Stronsay on our way to Westray after coming to Caithness, a breakfast shared with my cousin Grace from Cleat, John Tait her husband, and our respective families. We just made it down the pier. In fact the Thorfinn had already winched around the pier end ready for leaving but we got aboard. Sometimes it did that if the tide was on the ebb at Spring Tides just to be ready to get away without touching the sandy bottom. The gangway would be put up again for that final ten minute wait if taken round the pier end.
Gossip at the pier was normal, some friend or other on the Thorfinn or Sigurd going to another Island or in to Kirkwall coming down the gangway to have a yarn on the pier with an old friend, get the latest news, or just pass the time of day. It was a social part of Island life, a meeting place with sometimes a real need to meet the steamer, sometimes just an excuse for a yarn and a dram. Steamer day was steamer day, a social event as well as business. And the pub was open all day!!!