No 65. Loading for Kirkwall.

ABOVE ;; THE EARL THORFINN LEAVING STRONSAY.

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.

Monday sailing back in to Kirkwall for the Thorfinn, normally from Westray save when it had an overnight at other Island, maybe once a month in turn. If it did then the Sigurd did Westray as a special direct sailing on it’s own. The Thorfinn for example would be overnighting at Stronsay, then on to Sanday and Eday and in to Kirkwall. Early start as Monday was the usual day for cattle for cross-pier connection to be loaded on another ship for Aberdeen, usually the St Magnus but there were others, St Rognvald and St Ninian come to mind.
They sailed from Kirkwall about 6pm if I remember correctly to get in to Aberdeen in the early morning. There had been a service as far as Leith but that was discontinued in my memory. Some ships called at Wick too on their way South, carrying livestock from Sinclair’s Auction Mart and passengers. That sailing served many students going to Edinburgh University such as my three doctor uncles, as well as others from Caithness, some of them still around.

The Thorfinn getting in early to Kirkwall also fitted with the Auction Mart as it gave them good time to deal with incoming cattle or sheep, driving them up the pier and along the Back Road to the old Auction Mart site. with enough helpers to block off side roads and gardens!! That site is now the wonderful New Orkney Library and Archive, the Mart has been relocated out of town at Hatston. The Library and Archive is the very best one could wish for, mountains of new equipment, masses of stored information. Perhaps oil money helped to build such an excellent facility, if it did then it was spectacularly well spent. It is worth a visit just to see it!!

The loading of the ship was a matter of great judgement and skill in determining what went where, slings of this and that already made up and strategically set out on the pier in readiness for loading by a magic formula. Everything seemed to be in the right spot when needed, little words needing to be exchanged, long practice made perfect no doubt. The heavy wire rope from the ship with its latched lifting hook could stretch quite a ways so that items could be slid with some guidance along the pier before being lifted into the air and swung on board to disappear down through the hatch into the hold below. Gave real meaning to the phrase “Down the Hatch!!!” A shout from the depths relayed to the winch man helped to distribute the loads unseen by us from the bridge spectator point.

Most usual from Stronsay was the huge weekly consignment of boxes of eggs. Monday suited best so the Egg Grading Station in Kirkwall could get them graded and sent South. Glasgow was a favourite weekly destination for Dennison’s ship the Elwick Bay.
There might be occasional loading of furniture as someone left the Island, no containers to pack but bits and pieces off a cart or two. Maybe a large box or two and a couple of trunks but no special containers. When we came to Caithness in May 1944, though I was not there, we loaded some little furniture on the Thorfinn, a piano now at Barrock Mains, an Orkney straw backed chair made for our grand-father and grand-mother for their marriage in 1880. It is still in Greenland Mains House with brother Hamish, still almost as good as new though woodworm have been present in the straw back, nothing serious, just discernable. I never knew woodworm did other than look for wood but there it is, straw will do. Other than that most of the house furniture was sold at the sale in Nov.1944. Greenland Mains was already quite well furnished by John Scott’s sisters who left most of it for us, we had no need to move much.

We also took to Greenland Mains some pedigree Aberdeen Angus cows our father liked, some working Clydesdale horses including a big black home bred former stallion called Prince who I helped train. Now don’t get me wrong, I was not the trainer, but I did a few things to help. Peter Stevenson was the very capable trainer. I was only home on holidays but one training task at Easter was to yoke Prince into a heavy wooden beam or sleeper and pull it across the ploughed furrows. Nothing sharp to cause damage if he got a bit fractious. To help with a little extra weight, not much I admit, we stood on the sleeper while Peter held the reins and took care of the horse. Prince was easy to train, a big bonny horse, no longer a stallion thanks to the vet from Kirkwall but with the proud carriage and strong neck of his early years.
The other task I helped with in training Prince was to build cart loads of sheaves from the stooks in the field at harvest while again Peter controlled the horse. I must have been a bit conceited even then as I reckoned my loads were the best built.!!! Actually quite proud to be asked to help by my father, I was 14, the harvest was October 1943, it was my last in Stronsay. The memory of that harvest is with me still. I was home on Harvest Holidays from school in Inverness, a Wartime practice to help food production. Sometimes called “Tattie Holidays” though Stronsay was not a great tattie grower, but there were other harvest tasks to be done. Even town children were encouraged to go into the country to lend a hand, getting a bed on the farm they were working on. An adventure for many even if lodgings had to be found, and we looked forward to the break.
But to continue the loading. When all the smaller items had been loaded and safely stowed below in the hold, the hatch cover was put in place, the heavy waterproof tarpaulin stretched over all, the wooden wedges driven home into the cleats at the hatch sides to hold the cover against any incoming waves. Then they got ready for what I can best describe as the rodeo.
The pens for the cattle were under the bridge and a long ways back towards the passenger cabins, a door separating them but allowing access. The smell was of course that of the byre, but stronger. The pens had been washed down with a copious supply of pumped sea water, draining overboard into the sea. Tastier fish I was told!!
The cattle had been penned at the head of the pier in one of Davie Chalmers yards. All were haltered with home made halters, a job again for a wet day making them with home made rope in the Long Loft. The cattle would be haltered in their stalls in the byre before being let off the asks (neck chains) and driven down the road to the pier head in readiness. Usually the previous evening for most of the Island but an early start from Whitehall was our usual as we had only one mile to go.
When ready a loading pen was erected next to the ship with heavy movable timber partitions, three sided and the fourth side against the ship holding the heavy wooden cattle gangway which had been lifted off the pier by the winch and lowered into place. Sloping up or down according to the tide.
The cattle were then driven down the pier in a bunch, plenty helpers but no shouting, just gentle driving. There were no side rails on the pier, just a flat surface with bollards along either side for ship mooring. On occasion a beast would go over the edge, I saw one once but men were quickly into a boat. Get alongside the swimming steer, throw a noose over his head, catch the halter, row back to shore towing the miscreant. Then back along the pier to join his fellows with two men hanging on the halter and off South. Choice words I cannot repeat bestowed on him. Still, it did not happen often.
Actual loading meant catching a halter and pulling, the beasts being tied up in the pens onboard. Sometimes they just drove them on if they went easy but the halter was a standby.

That would conclude the loading, a blast on the ship’s siren to give ten minutes warning which time was not wasted as the crew tidied up and made ready for sea.