Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts

Friday, 9 January 2009

Uncle Billy's Far-fetched Tales Chapter 6 Riding Out To Meet The Foe

Riding Out To Meet The Foe

“Uncle Billy, tell us a far-fetched story please”
“I’ve told you before boys, my stories are not far-fetched, they are just fetched from afar!”
“After last night’s story in song, perhaps you would like to hear another,” said Uncle picking up his guitar.
For a few moments, he just strummed a few chords, stopping now and again to adjust the pitch of one or other of the strings until he was satisfied that it was correctly in tune.
“That was a little Chinese number called ‘Chu Ning!” he joked when he was satisfied that the instrument was in tune. We had heard this quip many times before, but we dutifully laughed just the same.
“This story is from a time long ago,” he explained as his fingers began to pick out an intricate, lively tune on the guitar. He began to sing the song which he entitled:







Out he rode, this brave young knight,
Riding out to meet the foe.
Dressed in armour, shining bright,
Riding out to meet the foe.
When he met a damsel fair,
Blue of eye and gold of hair,
Fell in love, this knight with her.
Riding out to meet the foe.

“Sir!” said she to this brave young knight,
Riding out to meet the foe.
“Will you help me in my plight?”
Riding out to meet the foe.
“In yonder castle over there,
Lives a knight with steel grey hair,
For none but himself does he care!”
Riding out to meet the foe.


“Evil is done by this steel-grey knight,”
Riding out to meet the foe.
“His power and riches were won by might,”
Riding out to meet the foe.
“He has my family in his dungeon bare,
He threatens their lives unless I share
His marriage bed, for which I don’t care.”
Riding out to meet the foe.

“Fear not, sweet maid!” said the brave young knight.
Riding out to meet the foe.
“For I will help you in your plight!”
Riding out to meet the foe.
He rode to the castle and once he was there,
On a silver trumpet, he blew a fanfare,
To challenge the knight with the steel-grey hair.
Riding out to meet the foe.

The drawbridge crashed down, out charged the grey knight!
Riding out to meet the foe.
All black was his armour, a frightening sight.
Riding out to meet the foe.
“Foolish knight!” roared he, “Are you not aware
Of my might and power?” No answer was there,
But the thundering of hooves was heard through the air.
Riding out to meet the foe.

Lance to the fore, up charged the brave knight.
Riding out to meet the foe.
He pierced the armour of the steel-grey knight,
Riding out to meet the foe.
But the evil knight did not fight fair,
He aimed his lance at the charging mare
That the brave young knight was riding there.
Riding out to meet the foe.

His steed was killed, down crashed the brave knight,
Riding out to meet the foe.
Though wounded, advantage was to the grey knight.
Riding out to meet the foe.
He drew his sword and dismounted there
He strode towards our hero fair,
Death was in his icy stare.
Riding out to meet the foe.

Our hero rose and began to fight,
Riding out to meet the foe.
He struck at his foe with all of his might,
Riding out to meet the foe.
The clash of steel was heard in the air,
As blow for blow was struck by the pair,
The damsel looked on and wept with despair.
Riding out to meet the foe.


The pitch-black armour with blood ran bright,
Riding out to meet the foe.
Our hero’s sword it sang with delight,
Riding out to meet the foe. Now mortally wounded, his foe lay there,
His soul descending to Hell’s dark lair.
The maiden’s love our hero will share.
Riding out to meet the foe.


Then back to the castle rode the brave knight,
Riding out to meet the foe.
On his foe’s black stallion, now his by right,
Riding out to meet the foe.
And riding by him, a damsel was there,
With bright blue eyes and long fair hair,
His bride, who soon would carry his heir.
Riding out to meet the foe.


As he had done the previous night, Uncle Billy continued to play the tune on his guitar, gradually letting it fade away to nothing and that night, we dreamt of knights and castles, battles and damsels in distress.

Sunday, 21 December 2008

Uncle Billy's Far-fetched Tales Chapter 5 'The Gold Diggers'

The Gold Diggers

“Uncle Billy, tell us a far-fetched story please”
“I’ve told you before boys, my stories are not far-fetched, they are just fetched from afar!”
“What is your favourite story Uncle?”
“Ah! Let me see now! Aye, that must have been the time when I set sail with eight companions to search for the fabled Island of Gold,” replied Uncle Billy with a grin on his face and a glint in his eyes.
“Did you find gold? Did it make you rich?” we asked excitedly.
“The answer to your first question is ‘yes!’, but the answer to the second is ‘no!’”, he replied mysteriously.
“What happened? Tell us, do!”
“Well, ‘tis a long sad tale and those of us who survived to tell it made up a song about it.”
Picking up his guitar, Uncle Billy began to strum a strong, driving, rhythmical accompaniment and then in his deep baritone voice, he sang the song which he called:





Out of the night, came forth the morn,
Birds sang in chorus to welcome the dawn.
Birds sang in chorus to welcome the dawn,
As we set sail on adventure borne.

White waves crashing, red was the sky.
Sails set, wind-blown, reaching on high.
Sails set, wind-blown, reaching on high,
As out of the harbour, our ship sailed by.

Onward we sailed till we came to a land,
Hidden for years, as we understand.
Hidden for years, as we understand.
And on it we landed, our gallant band.

Nine of us came to this promised land.
Red gold, white gold we held in our hand.
Red gold, white gold we held in our hand,
But this unleashed wrath upon our sorry band.

A guardian came forth, a serpent of fear,
Black as the night, death in its leer.
Black as the night, death in its leer,
Attacking our band because we were here.

Ruby red eyes stared out of its head.
A flash of light and three men lay dead.
A flash of light and three men lay dead,
As into the forest, the rest of us fled.

Gathering gold, we now did at night.
Hearts filled with fear, we avoided the light.
Hearts filled with fear, we avoided the light,
Yet we knew to survive, the beast we must fight.

Weapons we fashioned from gold with our hands,
To fight ‘gainst the serpent, we’d now take our stand.
To fight ‘gainst the serpent, we’d now take our stand,
For kill it we must to escape from this land.

Out of the forest at twilight we ran,
To hunt down the serpent, to kill if we can.
To hunt down the serpent, to kill if we can.
Though frightened, yet desperate we were to a man.

The serpent lay sleeping on his mountain of gold.
We hacked out his eyes and there he lay cold.
We hacked out his eyes and there he lay cold.
Now we could return on our ship to our fold.

But as we prepared with our fortune to board,
From the serpent’s lair, something rumbled and roared.
From the serpent’s lair, something rumbled and roared,
So we fled form that land without our gold hoard.

And as on our ship, we fled on that day,
The sky around us with smoke turned grey.
The sky around us with smoke turned grey.
A volcano erupted! Our gold blew away!

And so we returned once more to our home,
With memories of friends. Never more we would roam.
With memories of friends. Never more we would roam,
Nor dream about gold now sunk below foam.

After this last verse, Uncle  Billy continued to strum the chords on the guitar, gradually allowing them to fade away to nothing.
“Did that really happen?” we asked. Uncle Billy just grinned a broad grin and slowly shook his head from side to side.

Monday, 15 December 2008

Uncle Billy's Far-fetched Tales Chapter 4 'A Christmas Story'

A Christmas Story

It was nearly Christmas. We were sitting in front of a roaring, red-hot, roasting fire. Outside, it was dark and cold, but in our living room, we were as snug as bugs in a rug, or so Uncle Billy said. Once  more he was staying with us and in the mood to tell a story.
“What shall it be tonight?” he asked.
“It’s almost Christmas,” Rod said, “so how about a Christmas story?”
“Very well,” answered Uncle Billy, settling himself more comfortably in his chair and beginning:

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It was nice and warm inside the stable, if a little crowded. Normally, there was only one somewhat grumpy old donkey called ‘Ahab’ and a pair of oxen housed here. Tonight, however, there were three more donkeys, four camels and a fine white stallion filling up the stable. When Ahab, the old donkey, asked them what they were doing here, one of the camels had deigned  to reply in a rather surly voice, “We are here for the census if it is any of your business!”
“Humph!” said Ahab crossly, “Of course it is my business!  After all, this is my home…….”
“And ours,” interrupted one of the oxen.
“Humph! Yes and theirs,” continued the donkey. “So what is this census thing when it’s at home then?”
“Oh, I can’t be bothered explaining something as complicated as that to the likes of you!” said the camel very rudely. Turning away from the donkey and taking a mouthful of hay from a manger, he began to chew on it very thoroughly, apparently deep in thought.
“Humph!” said Ahab to himself. “What a rude and snooty animal that camel is.”
Just then, the stallion looked over at him with a kind smile on his face, winking his eye in a friendly manner.
“Take no noticed of our cud-chewing, hump-backed friend there,” he said, “he probably doesn’t know himself if the truth be known! Let me explain.
As you probably know, your master and mine and all the  humans who are natives of this country are what they call Jews. However, these Jews are themselves ruled over by people from another country. These people are called Romans and they for some reason best known to themselves, wish to know how many Jews they have under their rule. Therefore, they have ordered them to gather at their place of birth where on a particular day, they will be counted. That day is tomorrow.
Your master was born here in Bethlehem, as was mine, but yours has lived here all his life and now runs the inn next door as well as this stable, so he does not have to travel, for this census. My master, however and the masters of these other animals, whilst having been born here, did not stay, but moved elsewhere to make a living. Therefore, to be counted in the census, we have had to travel back here to Bethlehem from wherever we have been living.”
“Humph! So that’s why we’re so very busy and crowded,” said the donkey. “Thank you for being so kind as to explain it to me.”
“That’s alright,” replied the stallion. “Yes, it is rather crowded, isn’t it?” he observed.
“Humph! Yes! I heard my master turn a number of travellers away this afternoon, saying he was full up and there was no room for any more to stay at the inn. We should not be crowded out any more tonight I am glad to say.”
Oh dear! How wrong could he be?

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There was a loud knocking at the door.
“Who is it at this time of night?” The innkeeper’s wife grumbled, angry at having been woken up so soon after falling asleep. 
“I suppose I’ll have to go and see,” growled her husband, “or we’ll have our guests and our neighbours complaining about the noise!”
As he was saying this, he was pulling his robe around himself to keep out the cold night air, for even though Bethlehem is in one of the warmer regions of the world, it still got very cold at night.
“All right! All right! I’m coming! There’s no need to knock the door down!” he shouted to whomever it was persistently hammering on said door. 
“What do you want?” he asked abruptly as soon as he had the door opened.
A tall bearded man with a kind, but weary face, stood outside in the cold night air. Just behind him stood a donkey on which sat a young woman who was obviously heavily pregnant and near to her time for giving birth. What struck the innkeeper as being most odd about the scene that confronted him, however, was the fact that even though it was only just about midnight, he could see everything as clear as day.
“Where is this strange light coming from?” he wondered.
Before he could answer this question, however, he was aware that the man was answering him.
“My wife is very tired after our long journey,” spoke the man in a soft weary voice. “Have you a room or a space anywhere we can stay? We are here for the census. We have travelled a long way, which has been very hard on my wife as she is about to have our first child. In fact, I think the birth is imminent. We must find shelter!”
The innkeeper had had to turn away a number of potential customers that day and was about to say he had no room for the man and his wife, when his own wife arrived by his side putting her hand on his shoulder to stop him from saying anything more.
“Poor dear!” she said softly, immediately taking pity on the young pregnant woman she saw before her in the strange clear light.
“Jacob! Make room for them in the stable!” she ordered forcefully.
“I am afraid there’s no room in the inn,” she continued, speaking to the man, “and I know that there’s not a room to  be found anywhere in Bethlehem tonight, but we’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible in our stable if that is satisfactory to you and your dear wife.”
“Indeed, that is very kind of you,” he replied. “We have tried just about everywhere else I could think of with no success and we shall be grateful to have a roof over our heads, even if it is a stable roof.”
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The old donkey could not understand it! Surely he had not been asleep all night yet! He was certain it could not be much more than the middle of the night, yet there was what appeared to be daylight outside the stable. In addition, he could hear voices, which had disturbed his sleep. Then he heard footsteps approaching the stable door. These he recognised as belonging to his master. The man opened the door and entered, whereupon, he began to clear a space near the back of the stable.
“Humph! There’s no room for any more animals in here tonight, if indeed it is still night!” thought old Ahab indignantly as his master spread a generous layer of fresh straw on the floor of the stable.
“Humph! Now what’s he up to?” he mused, as the man placed a couple of old milking stools on the fresh straw in the space he had just cleared.
As Ahab was wondering about this, some more people entered the stable. He recognised the innkeeper’s wife, but she was accompanied by two people whom he did not recognise. There was a tall, rather weary looking man who was supporting a young pregnant woman. She settled gratefully on the straw with the help of her husband and the innkeeper’s wife. The latter told her husband to go back into the inn and fetch a bowl of hot water and something in which to wrap the baby when it arrived, which she said was going to be at any moment now.
Just outside the door stood a nervous looking young donkey.
“Humph! Are you with these people?” asked Ahab of the  newcomer.
“Yes sir!” came the weary, nervous reply.
“Humph! Then you had better come in as well and join the party,” grumbled the older donkey. “Although there is little enough room as it is!” he continued. “Come and join me in my stall,” he said more kindly, moving over to one side of his stall to make room for the newcomer.
“Humph! Have you come far?” he asked.
“All the way from Nazareth,” replied his new companion. “We have been travelling……..”
Just then, they were startled by the  sound of a baby crying.
“What on earth is all that racket?” grumbled one of the camels that had been asleep up to this moment and was none too pleased at being awoken so rudely.
“My mistress, Mary, has just given birth to her first child,” the young donkey said proudly. “Her husband Joseph the carpenter and I have got her here just in time!”
“Jacob……”, called the innkeeper’s wife to her harassed husband as he returned with the bowl of water and some swaddling clothes in which they had wrapped their own baby when he had been born a few years before. They had kept these for sentimental reasons, for they had not had any more children.
“Jacob, what are we to do? There is nowhere for the baby to lie except on the straw on the floor!”
Jacob scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he could not think of anything suitable in which the baby could lie.
“Humph!” snorted the old donkey. “Typical of him! No brains at all in his stupid head! If there were any, he’d be dangerous!”
He carefully eased himself backwards out of  his crowded stall and made his way to the manger full of hay, from which the camels had earlier been feeding. He lowered his head so that his forehead was against the middle of the manger and gently pushed it towards the place where the mother and child lay.
“Well you clever old thing, you!” said the innkeeper’s wife. “Look, Jacob! Ahab is showing us just the very thing to make a crib for the baby. Empty out that old hay and put some more fresh straw in it.”
When this had been done to her satisfaction, she lay her own shawl on top of the straw and having bathed, dried and wrapped the child in the swaddling clothes, she placed him carefully into the manger and smiled at the now sweetly sleeping baby boy.

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The shepherd boy looked round in awe.
This was the first time he had been in the town of Bethlehem at night. Usually, at night, he  would have been with the rest of the shepherds on the hillsides making sure their sheep were not troubled by wild animals, but tonight was the strangest night of their lives.

Timothy, which was the boy’s name, had been dozing in front of the fire with his father and uncles, while other shepherds took their turn to keep watch over the flock. Suddenly, they became aware of a strange glow in the sky and they could hear sweet voices singing in chorus all around them.
“Wh-what can it be?” asked his uncle Ruben in a shaky voice.
Timothy’s father and the  rest of the uncles did not know and were frightened. They would have faced ferocious lions or wolves with far less fear, but this was something they could not understand and like many people before and since, they were afraid of the unknown.
The glow became brighter as it approached the now cowering group.
They became aware that the glow concealed the figure of a man.
This, however, did not calm their fears, for rather than a man carrying  a light, which they could have understood, this man was the light, or the light was the man, they could not decide which.
“Fear not!” the angel commanded, for angel was what the apparition was.
“I bring you glad tidings of good joy.”
“Make your way into Bethlehem tonight, where you will find a newborn child who is to be ‘The Light of the World’.
You will not find Him in a palace, nor even in a rich man’s house. No! ‘The Prince of Peace’ you will find lying in a manger in a stable that is lit by a star. Go and worship Him, for He is The Son of God. Leave your flocks, for I promise you no harm shall befall them this holy night!”
With these words, the angel rose up, once more becoming a glowing light in the sky. This light was joined by more lights and there was the sound of beautiful music all around.
The shepherds arose and without question, along with the others who had been attracted back to the fire by the strange light, they had set off for Bethlehem.

“Where to now, Josiah?” Ruben asked of Timothy’s father.
“I am not sure!” replied the elder brother.
“I know where, father!” stated Timothy confidently.
“You do?” scoffed Ruben. “You have only been in Bethlehem once before and that was in the daylight, so how do you think you can find the place where the child is born?”
Timothy laughed. “That’s easy!” he stated, “ By following the star as the angel said,” he continued. “See! Over there!” He pointed to where the light glowed over the roof of a stable standing next to an inn.
“Timothy is right!” laughed his father. “Come on! Follow me!”


“You are sure we have not been followed?”
The question was asked for the umpteenth time by the dark-skinned man called Balthazar.
“I am certain!” replied his friend, Melchior. “I am sure the angel who warned us of the treachery of King Herod would have warned us again if there was any further danger.”
They had been travelling for a long time, having met far to the east of this land many months before.
Balthazar and Melchior were both wealthy men and very wise. They each studied the heavens at night and had become excited when they each, separately, discovered a new star, which they determined indicated a momentous event was about to happen in a land far to the west of their own.
With their servants, they had set out in a caravan to discover the location and nature of this event.

“Before you ask,” explained Uncle Billy, “a caravan was what they called a party of travellers with their camels and their transport such as ox carts etc. not a vehicle pulled behind a car!!”

Shortly after meeting on their own journeys, they were joined by a third learnèd  man and his caravan, also travelling to find this wondrous event. This man’s name was Gaspar.
Between them, they pooled their findings and knowledge. They determined that they were to attend the birth of a great king. To find his place of birth, they were to follow the bright star which had just appeared in the heavens. This they continued to do until the star led them to a city called Jerusalem in the land of Judea. 
“This must be the place!” they thought and so they set out to find the king’s palace which they surmised would be the most likely place for a great king to be born.
The king of Judea at that time was a man called Herod. When he heard that a group of wealthy travellers had arrived at his palace and wished to speak with him, he was intrigued to know what they wanted, so he granted them an audience.
“No!” said Herod, “There is no prince here and neither is there going to be as far as my wife and I are concerned!”
“That is very strange,” Gaspar mused, “for the star has been getting brighter as we neared your fine city and we were sure it had stopped here to indicate that this is the place.”
“When you do find the child, be sure to return to tell me where he is to be found so that I may also go and worship him!” Herod had said. The three wise men did not notice the scheming glint in his eyes as he said this, but later that night, as they lay in their beds, each had been visited by an angel who had confirmed that they were nearing the birthplace. However, king Herod, far from wishing to worship the child, was really going to have him killed, for he saw Him as a threat to his own kingship.
“You see,” said the angel, “Herod believes that a new king would overthrow him and rule in his place. Leave now in the night instead of the morning as you had planned, for Herod intends to have you followed when you set off. After you have left the city, head north to begin with, so the guards on the city walls will think that is where you have gone. Herod’s men will try to find you in that direction when they discover you have already left. I will send a sand storm to cover your tracks. You of course, will continue west once you see the sand storm approaching you from behind and when you have seen ‘The Prince of Peace’, you will return to your own lands by a route which bypasses Jerusalem by a goodly distance.

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“Humph! Now who is coming in?” thought Ahab in wonder.
Five men and a boy entered the stable uncertainly and gathered round where the baby lay. 
The child’s parents, Joseph and Mary, were now sitting on the stools side by side, Joseph’s arm supporting his weakened wife. They smiled lovingly at the baby lying on the straw in the manger before them.
The small shepherd boy stepped forward and explained:
“An angel told us to come and see your baby. We are but poor shepherds who have little to give, but we hope you will accept this small gift for the baby?”
With these words, Timothy offered to Mary a sheepskin.
“It will keep him warm on these cold nights,” he explained.
Mary smiled at him and thanked them for the lovely and thoughtful gift, which she spread carefully over the sleeping child who seemed to appreciate the extra warmth it provided, for He smiled if His sleep.
There was a commotion at the door which attracted everybody’s attention.
“Humph! Oh my goodness, not more!” thought Ahab, regretting his earlier prediction that they would not be further disturbed that night.
Into the stable came three richly dressed men.
The innkeeper and his wife, the shepherds and the animals in the stable all moved to one side in awe as each of these newcomers in turn stepped up and knelt before the baby in His manger.
“We have travelled from afar to find this child,” said Gaspar. “We were led here by a star and an angel,” he continued. “The angel told us your son is to be ‘The Prince of Peace’, so we have brought Him gifts. The gift I bring is Gold to signify kingship!” he concluded, laying a small yet heavy chest before the manger.
“My gift is Frankincense!” said Balthazar. “It signifies deity, for He is surely ‘The Son of God’.”
“Myrrh is the gift I bring,” stated Melchior somewhat sadly. “You see, eventually, when He becomes a man, your son must die to show the world the way of love. When that time comes, embalm His body with this myrrh.”
Mary and Joseph accepted the gifts with meek gratitude but did not yet fully understand all that these strange happenings meant.

Ahab and the other animals continued to look on in wonder. Even when a few days later, everyone had been counted in the census and had left to go about their own business, Ahab remembered that strange night with a feeling of pleasure. He would recount the story of that night to any visiting animals that stayed in his stable and the pair of oxen who shared the stable with him never tired of  hearing the story no matter how many times he told it.
Another strange thing happened to Ahab, though he himself never noticed it. After that night, he was never grumpy again and he never began speaking with the complaining moan: “Humph!”

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Uncle Billy picked up his guitar then and began to play and sing. The song that he sang was not as you might have expected the carol ‘Away in a Manger’, but one which he told us was his own composition called:







Hear the angels singing, 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”
Shepherds and kings, their gifts are bringing, 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”
Now on Earth the church bells ringing. 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”

‘Twas early on Christmas morning, the cattle were lowing,
The angels were singing, “The Lord Christ is born!”
The shepherds on the hillside, the kings in the valley,
The stars up in the heavens sang “Praise on this morn!”
For they all came to Bethl’em on that first Christmas dawn,
And met in the stable where the Lord Christ was born.

Hear the angels singing, 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”
Shepherds and kings, their gifts are bringing, 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”
Now on Earth the church bells ringing. 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”

Over Joseph and Mary and their holy baby,
The beasts of the stable kept vigil that morn.
With the donkeys and oxen, proud camels were watching
The wonderful scene where Lord Jesus was born.
For they all came to Bethl’em on that first Christmas dawn,
And met in the stable where the Lord Christ was born.

Hear the angels singing, 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”
Shepherds and kings, their gifts are bringing, 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”
Now on Earth the church bells ringing. 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”

Now let us remember on the twenty-fifth of December
The reason we celebrate this glorious morn.
For The Lord sent His son to the Earth to protect us
And show us the way that Salvation is born.
And we’ll all go to Bethl’em like that first Christmas dawn
And meet in the stable where The Lord Christ was born.

Hear the angels singing, 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”
Shepherds and kings, their gifts are bringing, 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”
Now on Earth the church bells ringing. 
“Come! Come! The Lord Christ is born!”

After singing this song, the chorus of which we had picked up very quickly, we sang other carols in front of the still blazing fire, including ‘Away in a Manger’. We drank ginger wine which gave my stomach a lovely warm glow and ate hot chestnuts that we roasted in front of the fire.

Saturday, 13 December 2008

Uncle Billy's Far-fetched Tales Chapter 3 'Around Cape Horn'

Around Cape Horn



The rain was lashing against the glass panes of the windows. It sounded just as if some giant hand was picking up pebbles and throwing them at the house. The wind howled and whistled through the wires of the overhead cables that carried the electricity to our house and to those of our neighbours.



In those days, all electricity cables were above ground. They were well above the height of even the tallest vehicles such as buses and furniture vans. This kept them well out of the way of us humans, but they were vulnerable to weather damage and were frequently breaking, thus causing power cuts. These were a great inconvenience to us, as it often took the repair crews a long time to find the break and fix it. As these breakdowns usually occurred during the worst weather conditions, the men of the repair crews, known as linesmen, were the unsung heroes of our time.



Intermittently, the windows would light up from the glow of flashes of lightning, accompanied by the loud crash and rumble of thunder. This could be heard over and above the noise of the wind in the wires,

Suddenly, the light in our room dimmed and then went out altogether. The radio programme we were listening to stopped without anyone switching off the set. The light from the valves in the radio quickly died away and momentarily the only light in the room was that from the fire in front of which we were huddled. The overhead wires must have broken somewhere causing a blackout, a much more common event then than nowadays.



Transistor radios had not yet been invented. As television was not yet readily available to any but the rich, valve radios, powered by mains electricity, was the main entertainment of the time. The valves in the radios had to warm up when switched on and glowed until switched off. The glow continued until the valves had cooled down again.



"Where are the candles, Glad?" dad asked of my mum. (Mum's name was Gladys, but dad always shortened it to 'Glad'. Dad's name was Cecil and that is what mum usually called him. Uncle Billy and dad's mates however tended to call him by a nickname, that being 'Swees'.)

"In the top drawer of the kitchen dresser," mum replied.

Dad opened the living room door. He then struck a match from a box he carried in his pocket. He used this light to negotiate his way into the kitchen and find the drawer containing the candles.

We heard him strike another match and then saw a steadier light appear as he came back in, carrying one lit candle and five others that he then lit from it one by one. There were two candleholders on the mantelpiece and into these, dad fixed two of the longest candles. The other four were placed on saucers which he had also collected from the kitchen. A little hot wax was allowed to drip into a saucer and then the bottom of a candle was pressed into this soft wax. The wax quickly hardened sufficiently to hold the candle firmly in place. These, dad then placed at various strategic points around the room where they were unlikely to be knocked over by any of the family, including the cat.

Fortunately for us, although we had electricity, we were also supplied by gas. This powered our cooker and oven. Consequently, despite the interruption to the electric power, mum was still able to boil the water in the kettle on one of the gas rings and make a pot of tea. She took one of the lit candles on a saucer to light her way to and in the kitchen. While she was waiting for the kettle to boil, she cut a cottage loaf into thick slices and brought them into the living room.

"Here you are boys," she said, presenting my brother and myself with a long-handled brass toasting fork each, "Toast some bread for us all."

Dad poked the coals in the fire so that they glowed bright red rather than burning with yellow flames. We each held a piece of bread close to the glowing coals with the toasting forks. As soon as one side of the bread turned brown, we removed it, affixed the toasting fork to the other side and held the untoasted side to the glowing coals until it too was toasted. Dad then spread generous pats of butter onto the freshly made toast and we tucked in with relish.

Mmm, there is nothing quite as good as buttered toast made in this way!

"Were you ever at sea in a storm as bad as this, Uncle Billy?" Rod asked, winking at me with a grin on his face.





(We knew from other stories he had told us that Uncle Billy had been in many storms and the howling wind blowing outside was really no more than a severe gale, not really a storm.)





"As bad as this?" he laughed. "Why, this is only a breeze compared to some of the storms I've been through!

Cape Horn! Now there's a place for storms. Real storms!

Yes, I well remember the first time I sailed round The Horn."

"I was sixteen at the time. Although I had been at sea for more than two years by then, I had never before crossed the Atlantic Ocean, let alone gone round The Horn to the Pacific Ocean.

We had taken a cargo of wool and textiles from Liverpool to Boston, Massachusetts in the United States of America. There we picked up a cargo of mining equipment, machinery and tools all of which we were to deliver to Valparaiso in Chile."

At this point of the story, Uncle Billy asked mum to fetch him an encyclopaedia with a map of the world in it. On getting it, he showed us on the map the places about which he was talking.

" I thought you could not read," said Rod in surprise.

"That is true to some extent," he explained, "for I could not read at all when I was young, but now I can read most of the names on the map. You see, I know where the places are in the world, having visited them on many occasions. Over the years, I saw many maps and was shown the places on them by captains and officers on the ships on which I served."





"Now although work had been underway for a number of years on the Panama Canal, it was a long way from being completed. In fact, it was not opened until 1914, but that is another story and not one of mine, so if you want to know more about it, look it up yourselves. The only way to get from Boston to Valparaiso by sea was to sail down the East coast of South America, round cape Horn into the Pacific Ocean and then up the West coast to Chile. That was a journey of more than twelve thousand miles calling in at various ports on the way for water and provisions.

It was early spring when we left Boston and the journey was pleasant and uneventful as we passed by the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea and continued south towards the Equator. Of course, it took us many weeks to get to the Equator as we were only powered by the wind in our sails and while we might be able to get up to possibly ten to twelve knots, mostly we only averaged eight to ten. Naturally, it was fine weather and very warm near the Equator and further south, but as we approached the southern tip of the continent, the weather deteriorated. While it was still summer in the northern hemisphere, here near the dreaded Cape Horn it was winter and we were being hit more frequently by squalls and sleety showers of increasing ferocity.

One morning, as I came up on deck to take my turn on watch, the ship’s bosun called to me:

“Billy! Take a turn up aloft in the crow’s nest!”

The crow’s nest was a platform set high up on the mainmast surrounded by planks of wood which made it look rather like a barrel stuck up on the mast. It was manned by a lookout whose job it was to look for danger ahead of the ship and to report it through a trumpet-like loudhailer to the officer on duty below.

To climb up to the crow’s nest was no easy task, especially in rough weather. Firstly, you had to climb the rigging, known as ratlines. These were attached from the sides of the ship to points high up on the masts where the yardarms carried the sails. Then, standing on top of the highest yardarm, you dragged yourself up through a hole in the floor of the platform into the crow’s nest itself. I had climbed the rigging on many occasions, but this was the first time I had been as high as the crow’s nest and on a stormy day such as this, I felt it was almost impossible for me to do.

“What’s the matter with you?” shouted the bosun, seeing me hesitate.

“I can’t climb up there in this rough weather!” I replied uncertainly.

“Rough? This isn’t rough!” the bosun chuckled. “D’ you see the button on top of the mast above the nest?” he asked.

I craned my head back to look up to where he was pointing and nodded. On the very top of the mast, there was a round block of wood, called ‘the button’, which reminded me of the head of a pin, for that was what it looked like from this distance below it.

“When that touches the water, then it’s rough!”

He grinned at me to show that he was only joking. Then he continued,

“Now, if you don’t want to feel the sting of my lash on your backside, get up there and relieve Tomkins. He will tell you what to do before he comes down.”

With that, he applied his boot to my backside, just to encourage me to start climbing.

I was wearing oilskin trousers and cape, with a sou’wester hat on my head. This was all intended to keep me as dry as possible in the lashing rain. However, they were cumbersome to wear and made climbing even harder than normal. Added to this difficulty was the wind, which seemed to be trying to rip me off the ratlines. In addition, in the driving wind, the rain seemed to be coming straight at my face, making the sou’wester useless.

At last, I reached the top of the highest yardarm and clung tightly to the mast as I paused to get my breath back and to assess how I was doing.

Looking straight down to the deck, I got quite a shock. Instead of the deck, I was looking at the white-capped waves of the frothing sea directly below me!

I closed my eyes in terror, but then opened them a slit to make sure I was not hallucinating. Momentarily, to my relief, I saw the deck exactly where it should have been, directly below me.

I opened my eyes fully with a sigh of relief. As I did so, however, the view below me changed again. I was once again looking straight down at the raging sea! This time though, I kept my eyes open and looked down the mast itself. Instead of going straight down, it seemed to be at an angle of about 30 degrees from the vertical.

Now I understood why it was that the sea appeared to be below me instead of the deck. The rolling motion of the ship was greatly exaggerated that high u near the top of the mast and I was being whipped through an arc of a circle perhaps as much as 40 degrees either side of the vertical. I looked up at the hole in the floor of the platform and concentrated on that for a few minutes while I plucked up the courage to continue the climb. Even though I knew that the mast was swinging so much, the hole appeared quite steady above me. I managed somehow to drag myself up to it and get my head and shoulders through. Then I felt two hands grip me under the arms. Tomkins, a man who originated from a small village called Skeffling near the port of Hull in Yorkshire, helped me through and onto the platform.

“First time in t’ nest, eh lad?” he said in his broad Yorkshire accent.

I nodded agreement as I was still trying to catch my breath after the strenuous and terrifying climb.

“Don’t worry! Thee ‘ave got ‘ere safely. T’ first time is always t’ worst! Thee wain’t fall out, even though thee do get thrown about a bit up ‘ere. Still, just to be doubly sure, tie this line around t’ waist.”

With these words, Tomkins untied a strong line that was attached round his own waist and handed it to me. I did as he said and tied it round my own waist. The other end of the line was attached to a metal ring that in turn was looped on to a strong line tied round the mast. This arrangement allowed you to move around the mast without tangling the safety line attached to your waist.

Having done this I asked Tomkins,

“What do I have to do now? Bosun said you’d tell me.”

“Keep th’ eyes peeled all around us, but in particular, straight ahead. If thee sight anything unusual, use t’ loudhailer to inform th’ officer on watch.”

“What do you mean by unusual?” I asked, even though I felt I already knew the answer. Still I wanted it confirming.

“Other ships; waves breaking on rocks or other signs of land; growlers……”

“What are growlers?” I asked curiously.

“Growlers are small icebergs, he replied.

“Do icebergs get this far south?” I interrupted. “I thought they only occurred in the Arctic regions round the North Pole..”

“Well, actually, they don’t get this far south as much as get this far north! You see, these come from t’ Antarctic, not t’ Arctic. By that I mean th’ area around t’ South Pole. We’re probably a bit too far north for ’em yet, but ’tis very important if thee ever do see one, to give plenty of warning so ‘t ship’s course can be altered to gi’ it a really wide berth.”

“Why is that?” I asked naively .

“T’ part of an iceberg thee can see above t’ water is only a small portion of the entire thing. Under t’ water, it may be as much as eight times t’ size of t’ part thee can see. That in itself can be up to three hundred foot high and two hundred to three hundred foot across. That means that under t’ water, there could be a mile of ice we cannot see! If we were unfortunate enough to ‘it that, t’ would rip out t’ bottom of t’ whip and we would be food for t’ fish. So we gi’ icebergs a wide berth!”





“Did you see any growlers uncle?” I asked, picturing the frightened young sailor on lookout.

“Not on that occasion,” he replied, “but I did see some at other times. Fortunately though, always at a great distance, never close up.

I am not sure why, but this answer rather disappointed me.

“Why are they called growlers?” Rod asked.

“I believe it has something to do with the sound they make when they first break away from the ice of the Arctic or Antarctic,” Uncle Billy replied.

There was something else I wanted to know.

“Did you ever see the button on the top of the mast touch the water like the bosun said?”

“Truthfully and thankfully, that I never did see,” he chuckled. “If I had, then I would have been observing the ship capsizing and I might not have been here to tell you the tale of it!”





“Anyway, a few weeks after this occasion, I was again on lookout in the crows nest in another severe storm. The ship heeled over so far that I felt I could almost reach out my hand and touch the top of the waves. I couldn’t really, but the spray being whipped off the waves by the wind was hitting me in the face even in the crow’s nest!

Yes, around Cape Horn, you really know what a storm is. This little blow outside tonight is but a breeze compared to a Cape Horn storm.”





Just as Uncle Billy said this, the light came on again and a few seconds later, having warmed up sufficiently, the radio too came back on.

Uncle Billy had another dup of tea and gazing into the red coals of the fire, was lost in memory for a few moments.



“There’s a capstan shanty which always reminds me of that trip,” he said a few minutes later. He picked up his guitar and began to strum on it. “It’s called ‘Paddy Lay Back’,” he continued, “and would have been sung to help the crew keep time with each other when pulling up the anchor using a capstan. The capstan was a device a bit like a very large cotton reel with holes cut into it at equal intervals. Into these holes were slotted long solid bars of timber on which two or three men heaved to turn the capstan round thus pulling up a cable or chain attached to it by winding it round the capstan like cotton round a cotton reel. To stop the weight of the cable or anchor chain from spinning the capstan round the wrong way, there would be a ratchet which was a toothed device with a locking bar called a pawl. This pawl would engage behind each tooth of the ratchet as the capstan made one turn. It could be knocked out of place when the cable or anchor chain was to be dropped at a future time, allowing the capstan to turn freely in the opposite direction.

Mum switched off the radio so that we could listen and join in with the amusing, bouncy song.









‘Twas a cold and dreary morning in December,

And all of my money it was spent!

Where it went to, Lord! I can’t remember,

So down to the shipping office I went.



Paddy lay back, take in the slack!

Take a turn around the capstan, heave a pawl!

To your station sailor boys be handy,

For we’re bound for Valaparaiso# round The Horn.



That day there was a great demand for sailors,

For the Colonies and for ‘Frisco and for France.

So I shipped upon a Limey barque, ‘The Hotspur’,

And got paralytic drunk on my advance.



Paddy lay back, take in the slack!

Take a turn around the capstan, heave a pawl!

To your station sailor boys be handy,

For we’re bound for Valaparaiso round The Horn.



I woke up in the morning sick and so-er,

I knew that I was outward bound again,

When I heard a voice a-bawling at the do-or,

“Lay aloft men and answer to your name!”



Paddy lay back, take in the slack!

Take a turn around the capstan, heave a pawl!

To your station sailor boys be handy,

For we’re bound for Valaparaiso round The Horn.



Well I wished that I was in the ‘Jolly Sailor’,

Along with Irish Kate a-drinking beer.

And I thought to meself, “What jolly chaps are sailors.”

And with me flipper I wiped away a tear.



Paddy lay back, take in the slack!

Take a turn around the capstan, heave a pawl!

To your station sailor boys be handy,

For we’re bound for Valaparaiso round The Horn.



Up aloft in the crow’s nest I was stationed,

A-looking our for dangers up ahead.

While behind lay the fading hills of Eng-er-land,

And I wished that I was far back there instead.



Paddy lay back, take in the slack!

Take a turn around the capstan, heave aboard!

To your station sailor boys be handy,

For we’re bound for Valaparaiso round The Horn.#



When the song had finished, Rod and I went to bed. The howling wind and the rain lashing against the window held no fears for us now, for after all, it was but a little blow! We drifted off to sleep and I dreamed of being at sea on a sailing ship.