Any Muddy Bottom

by Geoff Body

  CONTENTS

  Title

  Introduction, Acknowledgements and Sources

  A Cargo of Coal

  Part 1 Coastal Sailing Trade

  1 From Pill to Porlock

  2 The Trade Activity

  3 The Vessels

  4 All in a Day’s Work

  5 Inland Waters

  Part 2 The Ports, Pills and Wharves

  6 North Somerset

  7 The Parrett Estuary

  8 West Somerset

  Part 3 Sail Gives Way

  9 The Years of Power

  10 Decline and Preservation

  Appendix

  Glossary

  Copyright

  INTRODUCTION, ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  AND SOURCES

  This is how it all came about. The day was warm, the sky unclouded and the open countryside below the Quantocks had a freshness to it only to be found in springtime. Suitably refreshed by lunch in Stogursey, we drove towards the Somerset coast, intent on a leisurely exploration of an area we had not previously visited. Near Lilstock, we came upon a small parking area behind a stretch of higher ground and responded to the temptation to follow a gentle footpath and its companion stream in the general direction of the widening Bristol Channel.

  Nothing seemed in the least unusual until we rounded a bluff and emerged onto a wide-topped shingle bank and a view of the calm, sand-tinged coastal waters. On the other side of the channel lay the Welsh coastline on either side of Barry, the whole a quiet, peaceful and idyllic location. However, noticeable on our right was a substantial and unusual grassy indentation, parallel to the shingle bank and between it and the modest rise of the higher ground beyond.

  Intrigued, we scrambled down the slope to explore the dip further. It was quite long and interest mounted as parting the fringe vegetation revealed the high quality masonry of what must originally have been long, low walls. More observant now, we continued to the eastern end of the indentation and spotted more masonry on either side. Suddenly it all became clear. These had to be the remains of what would once have been the supports for lock gates. We were standing inside what could only have been a former dock, and one of quite significant proportions, extremely surprising considering its remote location.

  Stretching into the sea nearby were the remains of a breakwater and, deep in the undergrowth beyond the dock entrance, lay further surprise in the form of the use-blackened masonry of sizeable twin limekilns. This must have been a busy place at one time.

  This unplanned beginning led to a story, uncovered further in the Victoria County History and other places, of a former dock which had been built originally to receive coal for estate hearths and limekilns. It had been of some significance and at one time as many as three sailing vessels would have been moored up there. A social mini-drama added another dimension in which a short pier became a picnic spot and health-giving social venue and later a calling point for channel steamers.

  Roy’s experience in sailing the waters of the Bristol Channel and beyond had, at this period, found a land based expression in a programme of illustrated lectures on the ‘lost ports’ of Gloucestershire and Somerset. My first hardback book had been on the subject of British paddle steamers and we had jointly studied both the Glastonbury Canal and the Parrett Navigation and published booklets on these subjects. This common interest in water transport was behind our delight in our new Lilstock discovery.

  Our Town Trail articles for the old Somerset Magazine had given us a nodding acquaintance with the main Somerset harbours but now, fired by our visit to this half-hidden dock, we set about finding more information on the whole subject. So far as we could discover, the story of the ports, vessels and trade of the Somerset coast and waterways had been covered quite widely, but only piecemeal. Grahame Farr’s Somerset Harbours is a warm and interesting treatment of its subject, and there have been detailed accounts of sailing voyages, Bristol’s early trade, the Parrett salt trade, Bridgwater docks and other such specifics. The gap which this work endeavours to fill is that of an over-the-centuries look at the whole waterborne trade, the vessels that carried it, the people who manned and sailed them, what they actually did on a day-to-day basis and what factors prompted and shaped the activity.

  We are grateful for the assistance we have had in this task in studying material at the Somerset Record Office, the Somerset Local Studies Library, main libraries in the coastal areas, various learned papers, local history writings and from the many individuals who have contributed information on the subject during our talks and wanderings. For any gaps and errors we are sorry, but have no regrets over attempting this endeavour.

  The photographs, drawings and other illustrations appearing in this work come from the collections of the authors themselves except where specifically acknowledged.

  Specific sources include: the Victoria County History, Somerset Harbours (Grahame Farr, Christopher Johnson, London, 1954), Ships and Harbours of Exmoor (Grahame Farr, The Exmoor Press, 1970), Out of Appledore (W.J. Slade, Percival Marshall & Co Ltd, London, 1959), Sailing Craft of the British Isles (Roger Finch, William Collins Sons & Co Ltd, London, 1976), Bridgwater Docks & the River Parrett (Brian J. Murless, Somerset County Library, 1983), Squibbs’ History of Bridgwater (Philip J. Squibbs, Phillimore, 1982), Minehead: A New History (Hilary Binding & Douglas Stevens, The Exmoor Press, 1977), The Westcountrymen: Ketches & Trows of the Bristol Channel (Gordon Mote, Badger Books, Bideford, 1986), Lydney Docks (Neil Parkhouse, Black Dwarf Publications, 2001), Bristol’s Trade with Ireland and the Continent, 1503–1601 (Susan Flavin & Evan T. Jones, Four Courts Press for the Bristol Record Society, 2009),The Eroder Boats of the Somerset Levels (Mary Miles, Bulletins of the Somerset Industrial Archaeological Society Nos 61–3).

  Special thanks are due to Amy Rigg, Lauren Newby and the team at The History Press, and to Ian Body, Tess Green and David Pochin.

  A CARGO OF COAL

  Recreates a typical journey by a ketch carrying a load of coal from the Forest of Dean pits destined for the cement works adjacent to Dunball Wharf near Bridgwater.

  Transport yourself back to the nineteenth century. Great changes have been happening, accelerating rapidly and accompanied in the area of the Bristol Channel by the building and expansion of the docks for the export of coal from South Wales and the railways linking them with the inland valleys and their mines. Coal had overtaken the original Welsh iron industries in importance and now went all over Britain and, indeed, all over the world. It fed not only domestic hearths and industries, but passed in quantity to naval bases like Portland and onward to bunkering depots on all the major shipping routes. To move the coal output from South Wales and the Forest of Dean more railways had been opened to create links with and facilitate great expansion in the Midlands. Their tracks had first crossed the River Severn by a bridge from Lydney to Sharpness and then tunnelled under it near Chepstow to improve the routes between the Welsh and Dean pits and the ever-growing demand in London and from the ports along the South Coast.

  The River Severn itself had changed; steam tugs had appeared in the 1830s, followed by navigation improvements a decade later. Even so, the railway intrusion had greatly affected the age-old pattern of small trows depending on the tides in their trading on the Upper and Middle Severn, compelling changes in vessel design and forcing owners to search for new markets in deeper waters to Somerset, Devon and beyond. This upheaval forms the background to our journey.

  Our ketch had started life in a boatbuilder’s yard at Saul. This area, where the Stroudwater link from the Thames & Severn Canal reached the major artificial waterway paralleling the tidal Severn from Gloucester to Sharpness, was the birthplace of hundreds of such vessels. She had been built some fifty years earlier as a conventional
trow with the typical barge-like appearance, open holds and a single mast and square sail to supplement her use of the tides. Her trade had been upriver from Gloucester with woollens and back with salt from Droitwich, but all that had been lost to the better rates and quicker journeys of the traffic-hungry railways.

  With the same enterprise rivermen had always shown, her owners and skipper had arranged for a boatyard to cut our trow in two and insert an extra centre section of some 15ft. With her keel strengthened, along with proper sideboards and with hatches covering part of the hold, she could now carry some 120 tons instead of the former 60-ton maximum, and also handle a wider variety of cargoes, including those needing cover. Instead of the previous simple square sail, she was now rigged as a ketch with a bowsprit, main and mizzen masts and the canvas to make good use of them.

  A modern view of the tidal basin at Lydney Harbour, now tidied up and nicely landscaped and with little evidence of the former railway lines and coal chutes. Yachts are beached on the adjacent foreshore and Sharpness Docks can be seen on the other side of the River Severn.

  To complete our vessel’s transformation, one of the new marine engines had only recently been installed. This would help immensely in improving control and journey times when favourable winds were not to be had. It did mean that the crew had been forced to move from the aft cabin, such as it was, for slightly less roomy shelter in the forecastle. But seamen are used to adapting to circumstances and new homes had been found for all the loose gear, together with places for the essential bunks, stove and food supplies.

  On the occasion of this imaginary but typical voyage, we were going to take advantage of our new capacity. Our staple traffic was Forest of Dean coal to feed the kilns of the cement works at Dunball, with a load of bricks from Bridgwater in the other direction. Now, however, we could use the new hold capacity and our ability to section the fore and aft portions to advantage. We intended to load the main contract tonnage of coal in the centre hold, stow a smaller load for the local farmer-cum-coal merchant aft and yet another small load for’ard, the latter destined to be sent on by Great Western Railway goods train from Dunball to Exeter. All these movements had been going on for years, that to Exeter even going back to Great Western Railway broad gauge days and the regular ‘Old Coal Train’ working, but they would previously have required two vessels to handle our present load.

  We were loading at Lydney, which was a good little port and the cheapest along the Lower Severn. The coal that came from the nearest inland mines worked by the Free Miners of the Forest went southwards down the Severn in the main. Those northern flows not lost to the trains usually went through Lydbrook for places reached via the River Wye, while those for more northerly Severn destinations were transferred from wagon to vessel at the Great Western Railway’s loading point at Bullo Pill.

  Dean coal also crossed the river from west to east. Some of it went to Sharpness Docks for use, bunkering and other purposes there. Other flows joined the Gloucester & Sharpness Canal and went on to fuel Cadbury’s factory or continue to Gloucester Docks. Loads for Stroud and the Thames & Severn Canal turned east again at Saul.

  Whatever the destination, Lydney Pill, which had been the original outlet for a modest coal canal, then a tram road and then a proper railway, was now a well-run port, complete with inner and outer basins, rail sidings and wagon-tipping chutes.

  The day before our trip back to the Bristol Channel, we had entered Lydney Harbour without difficulty, now a much easier process with an engine to give us controllable steerage way. Without this we would have had to wait for slack water or risk being swept onto the sands downstream of the pier. Thanks also to our engine, gone was the difficult task of coming alongside the right-hand quay of the outer basin and taking way off the vessel by slipping the hawser over a bollard, but controlling the tightening so as not to rip the other end out of the deck. We still had to judge our moment for at really busy times there might be fifty or more vessels at Lydney, giving the harbour master a real berthing headache.

  We had got rid of our load of bricks to waiting carts on the north side of the inner basin and even managed to sweep out the hold before the last of daylight. The bricks were for local use so there had been no help for it but to unload manually with our well-worn barrows. Now seriously tired, we opted against the walk along the canal into Lydney proper in favour of a leisurely brew and satisfying fry-up on the boat. We always stocked up before each voyage from the little shop at Dunball, based on a fairly standard list of bacon, eggs, sausages, potatoes, onions, bread, milk, tea, cheese, jam and bread. The choice depended on our schedule and had porridge as a regular extra in colder weather. By the time we had enjoyed our meal, tidied up afterwards and settled down for a chat, a smoke and a glass of beer with a few other boatmen, the two cramped and spartan bunks seemed very inviting.

  The last major traffic movement through Lydney Harbour was this flow of West African timber, towed up in barges from Avonmouth Docks for use at Pine End Works which was located on the canal between the dock entrance and Lydney town. The plywood produced there had been used to build aircraft during the war, but the intake of materials was eventually transferred to road in 1977 to end a long waterborne connection and effectively close the dock.

  We had an early start the next day and had to hurry breakfast, but at least it was not raining. After turning beyond the inner set of dock gates we were now awaiting our turn for one of the several loading chutes. The normal division of duties was for the captain to see to the procedures and provisioning, checking the cargo paperwork, paying the harbour dues and the like. The mate’s job was to make sure that our wagons were actually where they should be and to find out which chute was to be used. A chat with the railway foreman made sure they would be moved into position along the raised line of track by the shunting engine or the capstan man.

  The whole operation of the port reflected the tide table for, not blessed with the modest latitude our engine gave us, many users still had no auxiliary power and relied entirely on the ebbing tide to take them down river. Exit through the lock gates to the tidal basin could be a crowded operation because of this need to catch the tide and was one requiring careful vessel control and queuing.

  For the moment all that mattered was that both our vessel and our railway wagons were in position on time. Each 10-ton load had to be turned on the wagon turntable, run out onto the short pier to bring it over and beside the vessel and then tilted by counterbalance and hand winch to allow the wagon end door to swing open and the load to come rushing down the chute and into the hold. It was not a rapid operation, especially as we had to move the vessel along to distribute the load, even if two chutes were in use. And that meant either some hard pulling on the bow rope or finding a handy capstan. A cloud of dust was inevitable and one of the many discomforts of our life. However, we could now afford the 4d a ton for trimmers to level the load evenly, thanks to the cost of our new engine being paid for out of the savings we made by not having to use the pier hauling crew to tow us out of the basin or paying for a steam tug to do so.

  Loading completed and the hatch covers secured, we signalled our readiness to leave and took our turn in passing through the outer basin gates and heading for the river, snatching an occasional glance at the scene astern where half a dozen towing men were straining to get an unengined vessel moving. They continued their daunting task along the pier which stretches into the river on the upstream side of the harbour so that their charge had enough headway to catch the tide ebbing past the pier head and be swept off downstream. Passage of the Severn was always tricky, with tidal speeds varying from neap rates of 2 to 3 knots to spring rates of 10 knots and with the tidal rise and fall in the lower reaches as much as 39m in the latter. Timing and vigilance were critical.

  We, too, had taken advantage of a good tide and, by doing so, could save fuel and need not even hoist the sails until we were near the junction of the Wye and Severn rivers at Beachley. Still, it was good to have the engine
in reserve. Even to a man bred to sail, the steady thump of it at work when needed was a reassuring sound. We still had to exercise great care, though, in the passage downriver, taking an east bank course past Berkeley and Oldbury and keeping well away from the rocks off Aust.

  With the wind now favourable we hoisted sail, always conscious that fuel was expensive and limited our use of the engine to when it was really needed. Vigilance was especially important on this stretch passing through The Shoots, the tricky final bottleneck before reaching the widening estuary and the Bristol Channel beyond. There was only a narrow, 300-yard gap between Gruggy Rock and the English Stones and we were not the only ones heading for it. Eddies and whirlpools were a feature of these particular waters and could cause real problems under sail when the wind was not sufficient to give the hull and rudder a decent ‘bite’ on the water. At difficult times the ship’s boat might have to be launched and used to guide the head. Fog was sometimes a nightmare here and would give me an extra job of ringing our bell, but today with the skipper at the tiller and me trimming the sails – both keeping a watchful eye out – there were no problems.

  Unless the wind became unreliable or contrary we could, after this tricky stretch, usually get most of the way to our destination under sail, normally following the deeper channel along the Welsh coast and avoiding the sometimes turbulent waters between Flat Holm and Steep Holm. There was a lot more activity on this stretch, often crowded with tugs, pleasure steamers and colliers, motor vessels and barges, together with a host of other craft still dependent on sail. The traffic included quite large vessels heading to or from Avonmouth or the South Wales ports and too dependent on an adequate depth of water to defer to those with a shallower draught.

  In the best of circumstances the turn of the tide would help us across the channel and into the mouth of the River Parrett without the risk of grounding in some of the shallower places around Stert Island. Gone were the days when we might have spent a lot of time waiting on the tides to get up river. We were now less dependent on both tide and tugs. It was time to restart the engine and, once safely into the estuary, we continued under power up the river, but it was not yet time to relax our watch-keeping. We needed to keep a good lookout along its winding course, not only because its depths were constantly changing, but for the low-lying flatners and other fishing vessels which were about in numbers and not always easy to spot. Sully’s tug Bonita was just dropping off a ketch at the Chilton brickworks and there were others at Combwich where the ferry always seemed to be trying to cross as we passed.