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'Blue Belle' : My First Ship!

1K views 8 replies 5 participants last post by  Cpt Dick Brooks 
#1 · (Edited)
A week after I turned eighteen, back in January, 1964, we were sipping away in the back room of The Lifeboat public house, when Lyndon came in and informed us that a boat had been offered for sale at the Orwell Yacht Club... further along Wherstead Road... just before Bourne Bridge. He said the owner... a Mr. Hawes... had fallen overboard and drowned earlier in the year.
His widow... the post mistress who ran the small Post Office at Harkstead... wanted to sell it to recoup the money they had invested, and to help her with his funeral expenses. But no one was interested because the other members of the club thought the boat was cursed. We put our heads together, and four of us decided to put in a bid between us for the boat.
The next morning, Lyndon signed us in at the Orwell Yacht Club, and after a beer in the bar, we went along the fore-shore to inspect her. She was in a sorry state, for sure, hastily laid up for the winter and covered with a tarpaulin in a mud-berth.
She was the forty two foot ex-Whitstable smack, Blue Bell, rigged as a gaff-cutter in the classic way. We clambered all over her, and reckoned that the weather-damage was only superficial, despite her hull having the bilge-water slopping over the cabin sole. The four of us agreed to go for it, and we emptied our wallets of all the money we had between us... mounting to all of ten pounds.
After telephoning the owner's widow and agreeing on a price of four hundred pounds for the boat, I enthusiastically mounted my push-bike and rode the eight miles to Harkstead to pay the ten pounds deposit that we'd agree upon.
I could tell by her face that she was more than a little relieved to be getting rid of the boat... that had caused so much friction between her and her husband after he'd originally bought it in the first place. We set up a date for me to go to her solicitor and draw up our contract, giving me a year to pay off the remainder of the money owed.
Mr. Gotelee, of Gotelee and Goldsmiths Solicitors, enthusiastically shook my hand... even though I was more than likely the scruffiest person ever to enter his office. He went through the contract with me... between myself and Mrs. Hawes... then offered it forward for me to sign. When he handed me my copy of the contract he shook my hand and clasped me on the shoulder to congratulate me.
"I'm the President of the Orwell Yacht Club," he told me. "It would be a pleasure for me to propose you as a member of the club." He looked at me. "We'd like to keep the old Blue Bell in the yacht club... so what do you say? Are you up for it?"
I enthusiastically shook his hand. I'd not only bought my first ship this day, but agreed to be a member of the Orwell Yacht Club as well. I couldn't wait to get back to my mates waiting for me at the yacht club bar to tell them the good news.
From now on, all our drinking would be at the Orwell Yacht Club bar, and Wally and Ernie joined up as members as well. Only Kenny Hall backed out after his mother had forbidden him to have any financial dealings with me.
We got stuck into the work of renovating Blue Bell, with the hope of some good sailing to be had in the coming years ahead. The cabin-trunk had to be replaced, along with the hatches and most of the stanchions and bulwarks too. We immediately chose what bunks we wanted, and refurbished them to our own liking so we could use her to sleep over during the weekends. After fitting a paraffin cooking hob and a coke stove in the main cabin, we got her quite homely for our needs.
The next major job was finding a cheap engine to install in her, so we could at least motor her about in the spring. Lyndon's father... Tom Cox... gave us an old Morris Cowley engine, complete with the car gearbox. This practice was quite common in those days, as money was hard to find all over.
The stern gear was already fitted in position, and after installing a propeller of a suitable size, we had her up and running for only a few pounds. Which was just as well, because after paying my mother for my house-keeping each week, there was very little left of my wages once I'd put in my share of our weekly payment to Mrs. Hawes.
Right out of the blue, I found myself another job... this time paying full man's money. Better than that, it paid sixteen pounds a week... a fortune in those days... when most adult working men were only taking home ten pounds a week.
I stubbornly grated away at this dirty, menial job for eight months, but after only five months, was able to make the final payment on Blue Bell. We had been given a year to complete the payments for our little ship, but managed to pay her off in less than half that time.
We were now coming into the start of summer, and our work on fitting out Blue Bell had gone well. We were so confident at our success that we decided to go for a sail and try her out at sea. The auxiliary engine that we'd installed was working well, so we topped off the fuel and fresh-water tanks, and loaded some nice things to cook up in the pantry. As far as we were concerned, we were ready for our first adventure out to sea on our little ship.
Once we'd cast off our mooring at the Orwell Yacht Club, we motored Blue Bell down the River Orwell to Freston. The wind was from the south-west, giving us a pleasant sailing breeze for our first try-out of her sails. I was at the tiller, giving out the instructions to set the sails, and in no time we were able to turn off the engine and settle Blue Bell on a reach down the river on a starboard tack.
It was an awe-inspiring experience, as we sailed past the yachts on their moorings at The Royal Harwich Yacht Club at Wolverstone, and then the same again at the Pin Mill Yacht Club. We sailed past the large mooring buoys in Butterman's Bay... once used by ocean-going square-riggers on the grain race from Australia, when they loaded their cargos into Thames' barges and lighters. Rounding the red No2 buoy at Collimer Point, the sails were sheeted home, and we were on long and short arm tacks down Sea Reach to Shotley Point.
It was a wonderful experience... setting out across Harwich Harbour... with all its shipping activity buzzing around us. Large ferries entered the harbour and eased into their berths at Parkston Quay, while others left their loading ramps at Harwich Docks and headed across the harbour. The little ferry, Brightlingsea, bustled back and forward between Harwich, Felixstowe and Shotley around us.
After rounding Languard Point, we gybed Blue Bell around and sheeted out the sails on a broads reach along the seafront of Felixstowe towards the Cork Lightship. It was the start of the summer holiday season, and the beaches were crowded with sun-worshippers, and children playing in the breaking waves. The sun was shining, and the seagulls were squawking overhead. Once we'd rounded the Cork Lightship, we gybed the sails again back to the starboard tack and headed towards the distant outline of the Roughs Tower on the far horizon. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.
 
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#3 ·
For ccurtis1.

It's good to hear from you, ccurtis1, and that you enjoyed the short story about my first ship, Blue Bell. She was a fine little ship, and I learnt much from my time with her. I used her in several police operations, as the Ipswich Police, and later the Suffolk Constabulary, did not have a police vessel of their own, so chartered Blue Bell from me when they needed the use of a vessel.
The eleven years that I spent under sail in the home trade area, first with Blue Bell, then with Biche, gave me the experience to sail the 1,000 ton displacement, Début, 4,600 nautical miles under jury-rig with only my young Samoan wife, Mariana, as crew. You never forget things like that in all your life. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.
 
#5 ·
It's good to hear from you, ccurtis1, and that you enjoyed the short story about my first ship, Blue Bell. She was a fine little ship, and I learnt much from my time with her. I used her in several police operations, as the Ipswich Police, and later the Suffolk Constabulary, did not have a police vessel of their own, so chartered Blue Bell from me when they needed the use of a vessel.
The eleven years that I spent under sail in the home trade area, first with Blue Bell, then with Biche, gave me the experience to sail the 1,000 ton displacement, Début, 4,600 nautical miles under jury-rig with only my young Samoan wife, Mariana, as crew. You never forget things like that in all your life. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.
A great story ;many thanks . Derek
 
#6 ·
Hi Cap'n brilliant story,my uncle was a boat builder carvel, cinker, and diagonal only worked in wood, use to take me fishing 13/14 years old can still smell that old perkins (i think) chugging away and a sail in which he taught me to sail, before i went deep sea, nothing on your scale but it did bring back good memories, hope we here more of your stories chas
 
#7 ·
For tsell.

Good to hear from you, Roy. I was thinking that it was your breakfast time in the Land of Oz. I'm glad you liked my short story of Blue Bell... she was a lovely old ship. I just missed her departure on a low-loader, when I arrived in England back in August, 1990, when she left Ipswich for France to be housed in a museum for old fishing-boats. One day I'd like to catch with her... as I did two years ago when I sailed on Biche in Lorient, on the Bay of Biscay coast of France. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.
 
#8 ·
For ChasH.

It's good to hear from you, ChasH, and that you liked my short story about my first ship, Blue Bell. For the full story about my days under sail, go to the Books forum for the Kindle code for the two of my books covering this period:
'From Beat to Open Deck : Looking For a Life of Adventure',
'Whisky and Water : Expat Life in Dubai'.
By the way, I installed a 135 horsepower T6354 Perkins in my second ship, Biche. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.
 
#9 ·
For Derek Roger.

It's good to hear from you, Derek, and that you enjoyed my short story about my first ship, Blue Bell. She was a grand little ship, with a full round bottom to take the shingle at Whitstable at low tide. I did check to see if she was one of the Dunkirk little ships, but it came back without trace. I did manage to dig three riffle bullets out of her hull... either from being strafed by low flying aircraft, or from some bored coast-watcher during the war using her for target practice. Who knows what history lies within the hull of that beautiful old ship. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.
 
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