[Appeared to HUNT'S YACHTIKQ MAOAZIOT for February ana March, 1887.]

AN INLAND CRUISE,

By W. A. CLARK, E»Q.

CHAPTER I.

HCMBIB, AND ANCIIOLME,

ON the evening of the 7th July, 1886, Sheila and I departed from Dundee on board the s.s. , and late on the following afternoon arrived at Hull. Sheila is a double-scull boat of the Dundee Rowing Club dimensions, viz., length 17ft. 6in., beam 3ft. 9in., and depth lft. 4in., built of yellow pine and weighing about HOlbs. She is fitted with swivel rowlocks and fixed seats. A spare pair of 9ft. 6in. sculls were carried in case of accident, and a waterproof boat tent with some not very elaborate camp furniture completed the equipment of the boat. July 9th.—At 7h. 80m. on the morning after my arrival in Hull, I set out for the steamer to get Sheila ashore. On reaching the wharf judge my horror and disgust on discovering that the boat was minus both stretchers, which had been removed by the brilliant boat building genius to whom the shipment of the craft had been entrusted at Dundee. After offering up prayers on his behalf, I returned to my hotel and had a lengthened council of war with the landlady and boots. Boots proved a man of resource, and fortunately knew of a boat builder close at hand, to whose shed we quickly carried the vessel, and in the space of half an hour a stretcher was fitted in a ship-shape fashion. I regret I do not recollect the name of this carpenter, as he was a good workman and withal, a civil and obliging fellow—a feature so unusual in a boat builder, that one would like to hand his name down to posterity. 2

We carried the boat down to Victoria Pier, and at 9h. 5m. a.m. I got afloat on a good flood tide, and began the voyage by shaping my coarse across the broad waters of the Humber in the direction of New Holland, The water was almost calm, and the tide, which for the Humber, was a poor one, being nearly neap, nevertheless it ran with a velocity which fairly astonished me—I should say quite five miles au hour. Seeing that I would drift up to Ferriby Sluice—my destination for the Anoholme, which I purposed first exploring—quite fast enough, I merely sculled steadily along, and made New Holland at 9h. 25m. a.m. Here a light but increasing head wind from the north-west stopped the boat slightly, but notwithstanding, my progress was surprisingly rapid, and Barton (Similes) was passed at 9h. 40m. a.m. As I paddled along close to the beach, I was hailed by an old fisher- man, with whom I had a long and interesting conversation. On learning that the boat and crew came from the Tay, he informed me that he had been on that river on a duck shooting expedition in 1858, having been the first Southerner to exploit its waters in search of docks. Many were the tales of his prowess which he narrated, and many were the queries which he put regarding various tavern keepers in Newbnrgb, Errol and other Tayside villages, and very disgusted he seemed to be at my want of knowledge concerning those doubtless once celebrated, bat now presumably, defunct worthies. Shortly after leaving this only real original duck shooter, I rounded Cbowder Ness close inshore, and was surprised to find myself sculling against a strong downward current. However, on keeping well out towards the island I once more got into the full strength of the flood tide, and at lOh. 35m. a.m. reached the at Ferriby Sluice. Here I landed for an hour or two, and visited the pretty little village which lies close by. I passed through this lock at the mouth of the Ancholme at lh. p.m. and proceeded on my voyage towards Brigg, some nine miles up the river. The Ancholme is nearly straight all the way to Brigg, and has little in the way of scenery to recommend it, though quietly pretty in many places. It is from 15 to 20 yards broad, with an almost imper- ceptible current, and being quite free from weeds and other impediments, makes a capital boating water. There is only one lock at the entrance, for passing through which no charge is made. This river is navigable as far as Brandy Wharf, nearly 16 miles from the mouth, and seven miles beyond from Brigg. As, however, there was said to be absolutely nothing worth seeing at the landing place with the bibulous appellation, I decided on making Brigg the terminus for the day. On arriving there without adventure at 8h. 80m. p.m., I housed Sheila and self at the Angel, to 3 which inn access can be had from the river bank, and which appeared to be the only place where there is any accommodation for boats at Brigg, with the exception of a small shed belonging to the local rowing club. Distance rowed 18^ miles.

DISTANCE TABLE —I. IIUMBEB AND ANCHOLME

Date. Miles. July 9th, 1886. Hull (Victoria Pier) New Holland ... -i Barton 5± Ferriby Sluico ... 91 Saxby Bridge ... 12 Brigg 18 i

Brigg is one of the quaintest old towns I have seen in , and the Angel the quaintest inn in this quaint old town. The bill which I was called upon to defray in the morning had, however, little of the quaint iD its composition. Brigg has recently, and for the first time in history, in a manner, become famous. Shortly before my visit, while som6 workmen were engaged excavating at the gasworks, they came upon an ancient British boat embedded in the clay some four or five feet below the surface. It was found to be 48ft. long, 4ft. 4in. wide, and 2ft. 9in. deep. It is undoubtedly of very great age, being cut out of one solid log or tree of oak. The vessel when discovered, lay within a few yards of the river, and as the stern was considerably lower than the head it would seem that the craft had been beached or stranded on the bank of the stream, where it must have sunk into the soft silt or ooze, which rising by degrees, wholly enveloped it. The discovery of this strange boat caused considerable excitement in the sleepy little town. It appears, however, that Brigg is going to lose its only treasure, for the Lord of the Manor having successfully proved his title to the craft, has decided on sending it to the British Museum. "Whereat the inhabitants of the town wax exceeding wroth, and invoke anything but blessings on the head of the " wicked squire." 10Ripon, in , whence I intended descending the Ure and Ouse. 4

CHAPTER II.

UEE, SWALE, AND OCSE,

11<7i.—I found Ripon in the throes of an exciting election contest, so I tarried not, but making all haste at lh. 20m. p.m., launched the ship into the shallow waters of the Ure. So little water was there in this part of the river, that I had to wade down for about a quarter-of-a-mile from the bridge, pushing Sheila in front of me, until I came to a deep and placid pool with high and thickly wooded banks. Here I landed and restowed cargo, which had got considerably shifted during the wading manoeuvres. Below this some very awkward and shallow rapids were encountered. At Hewick Bridge, a mile-and-a-half below Ripon, the stream was apparently blocked np by great piles of boulders, which formed an ugly barrier underneath the bridge. After a good deal of wading and leaping about from one rock to another, I managed to zig- zag through, and then down a short rush into fine, smooth water below. An old gamekeeper, who had watched the proceedings from the bank with evident amusement, said that this was the only noteworthy obstacle on the river, which lower down became deep and sluggish, as I had always understood it to be. This bit at Hewick Bridge, however, reminded one more of some of our Scottish streams, and seemed quite out of place on a river which shortly after assumes the name of Ouse. All those shallows can of course be avoided by going down the from Ripon to Westwick Lock, but by this route (four miles) much lovely scenery is lost. In ascending, however, it would be necessary to lock into the canal, as it would hardly be practicable to go np the main stream without several portages. From Hewick down to Westwick Weir was an easy row through some lovely reaches past Newby Hall, an extremely beautiful riverside residence. At the weir the stream makes a fine fall, quite equal to many so called waterfalls of far greater pretensions. The high and densely wooded banks, together with the continual plashing of the water BB it tumbles over the weir, combine to form a picture essentially Highland, and the like of which I did not see again during my cruise. From this weir down to Milby Lock, at Borough-bridge, the scenery is very pretty, but of an entirely different nature from that above the weir the river twisting peacefully among green meadows and waving fields of grain. At Milby it was necessary to execute a very difficult portage, as two large keels were aground in the lock-cut, and the tug, which was endeavouring to haul them up, was creating such an erratic rumpus that any attempt to squeeze past might have ended in disaster. After a refreshing draught of the lock keepers cider—and 6uch cider the old 5 fellow had—I set off once more down stream. It was a glorious snmmer evening, and the row down to the month of the Swale, which joins the Ure, 2f miles below Borongh-bridge, was very enjoyable. Being desirous of extending my explorations in as many directions as possible, I turned np this tributary, and finding little or no current, rowed on past Myton until near Brafferton, some four miles up stream. The river was, how- ever, very ditchy and quite uninteresting, so I put about and returned to the Ure or Ouse, as it is termed after its junction with the Swale. I finally camped in the boat near the small hamlet of Aldwark, one mile above the bridge of that name. Distance rowed, including Swale detour, 19f miles. 12/A.—I was disturbed about 5h. a.m. by the barking of a dog and a hoarse holloaing, which I discovered on pushing my head out at the side of the boat tent, proceeded from an ancient patriarch, whom it appears, had been endeavouring for some time to awake the commander of the expedition, whose vessel had got into a strange predicament. Before turning in on the previous night, I had, as I fondly imagined, made everything snug, and moored the ship in the most approved style, to a stump of a tree. Judge my astonishment then on being aroused by the native chieftain and his dog, to find my craft lying on her broadside upon a shelf of mud about four or five feet from the water, while the noble crew had been, as was evident from the confusion on board, reposing along with the commissariat and cooking department in the lee scuppers. Yes 1 tbe Ouse Navigation Commissioners, had during the night, played me as nasty a trick as any body of gentlemen ever perpetrated on a poor confiding single-handed cruiser. The beggars had " let the water off." Now, next to screwing it off at the meter, this was about the worst thing they could have done to me. For the next two days their freak compelled me to pull down in a muddy ditch, six feet below the usual level of the river, and effectually spoilt my voyage on the Ouse. It seemed that some one had conceived the brilliant idea of having a salmon ladder constructed at Linton Weir, five miles below my camp, and in order to carry out this nefarious project, had entered into a conspiracy with the commissioners to run off the water not only at Linton, but also at Naburn Lock, ten miles farther down. With the aid of my patriarchal friend I succeeded in launching the boat down the slimy precipice into the river once more, where after endea- vouring, with but small success, to discharge a cargo of mud, involun- tarily shipped during the process of launching, I got under way at 8h a m for a long row down the ditch. Passing Nether Poppleton, I reached (14 miles) at llh. a.m. Between the camp and this city ther* 6

was nothing of interest, and no scenery worthy of the name, with the exception of a bit at Nan Mouckton, at the junction of the river Nidd. This was one of the finest bits on the Oase, and under more favourable circumstances would, I doubt not, have well repaid an excursion on shore. The vast extent of mud, however, effectually, prevented me landing. At York, I had been recommended to put up at a certain boat builder's near the bridge, but on being hailed, this worthy refused, in language, which sounded more like some heathen gibberish than any civilised tongue, to soil the gaudy slippers which he wore by coming to my assistance. As at no other stage was it at all practicable to effect a landing I had perforce to continue the voyage in search ot more hospitable shores. At Naburn Lock, 6f miles below York I met the tide, and paddling for about three miles against it, finally camped for the night one mile below Acaster . I had no sooner got my tent fixed at 6h. p.m. than a drenching rain came down, and continued with little inter- mission all night. Distance rowed, 24£ miles. 18th.—I delayed my start in the morning owing to heavy and continuous rain until 10h., when I embarked and paddled slowly down to Cawood (2 miles). Here I broke my fast at a jolly little inn on the riverside, which, had I known of on the previous night, I probably would have preferred to my camp near Acaster. The row from Cawood to Selby was very uninteresting. In this section miles), numerous keels were passed bound down, and with the bargees I always had some amusing chaff. A word about those keelmen, of whom I saw a good deal during my cruise. Before starting on the voyage I had been warned to " give tbem a wide berth," and listened to many tales about their wild doings, until I began to picture to myself a set of savages, recklessly navigating huge barges up and down those Yorkshire rivers. Now, my experience was far different from this. I found the bargee to be a cheerful, kind, obliging sort of a fellow, wonderfully good-natured and chatty, much given to chaff and banter. He seemed to enjoy nothing so much as a good chat, except, perhaps, a good driuk. I do not believe that they are more dissipated than many other workmen bearing better reputations. I, for certain, did not encounter any drunken bargees, and I cannot help thinking that George Smith, of Coalville, and writers of his stamp, however, well-intentioned they may be, have undoubtedly given us too much of the dark side of the picture. Many were the kindly tips I got from the keelmen and bargees, and I remember with pleasure their rough, good-humoured jokes, and strange opinions on men and things. The bargee is, I hold, the best friend the single-handed 7 craiser has on the rivers and , and he will often put himself to no little trouble to lend one a helping hand. If he expects a quart of his beloved ale, maybe, in return, and sometimes even hints that one might " mak' it a gallon," what about it! As far as I am concerned he is right welcome to it. Selby appeared a very unattractive town, and I did not land. My next stopping place was the Brown Cow, a riverside public in the marshes, ten miles from anywhere. The day was dull and cheerless, and the row down to Derwent junction (3£ miles), was very miserable, along muddy banks, with houses few and far between. On arriving at the mouth of the Derwent, I was doubtful whether to proceed right down to Goole with the strong ebb tide, which was still running in the Ouse, or row up Derwent to Malton, a voyage which I had been informed would take me through some picturesque country. After studying the ordnance maps, I at length decided on exploring the Derwent. I therefore ascended that stream for about a mile to Barmby-on-the-Marsh, where I hauled alongside the bank to wait for the flood tide to help me along.

DISTANCE TABLE—II.

URE ASD OUSE.

Date. Miles. July 11th, 1886. Bipon Hewick Bridge 11 Westwick "Weir 5 Milby Lock (Boro'-bridge) 85 Swale Junction ll} „ 12th, „ Aldwark Bridge 15f Linton Lock ... 18J Nuns Monckton 21 York 282 NaburnLock ... m Acaster Selby ... 37| » 13th „ Wharfe Junction 391 iCawood 40| Selby 47; v Derwent Junction 54| Aire Junction ... ••• ... .. 58* Qoole

CHAPTER III.

DERWENT. JULY 13TH (continued).—At 5h. p.m. the tide befan to flow in the Derweut and I set off up stream. For five miles the river banks were 8 as muddy and uninteresting as could well be conceived, but near Breighton a sudden and agreeable change took place, for on rounding a bend, I found myself sculling up a most lovely reach, deep and narrow, with fine grassy banks. A little farther on I unexpectedly came upon the Half Moon Inn, where I landed and fraternised with a party of fishermen, who had been having some Great Annual Competition or Tournament. All sorts of fish they seemed to have caught. Every man was in great good humour. What oceans of beer the fellows drank, and did not I just join them ! It was a lovely evening as I paddled along through some pretty reaches towards Bubwith. Here I landed and had tea at a good little inn next to the old church. I spent some time in this village inspecting an ancient castle (partly demolished by Oliver Cromwell), and wandering about in the old churchyard, so that it was nearly 8h. before I again got underway. A short distance above Bubwith several keels were passed running up under sail and one poling labouriously down, the skipper of this last being mercilessly chaffed by the men on the upward bound vessels. The river is quietly pretty all the way to Cottingwith, where there is a ferry. Here the canal branches off to Melbourne and Pocklington, a distance of nine miles with six locks. The entrance seemed almost choked up with weeds, but I understand this canal is quite navigable, although the country through which it runs is not particularly interesting. There is an inn at Cottingworth Ferry, where accommodation for two could be had on an emergency. I preferred going farther on, so after a long chat with the ferryman I started for a moonlight paddle of a couple of miles, finally camping in the boat near Thicket Priory at the side of a beautiful wooded park. Distance rowed 27| miles. lith.—I got underway about 9h. a.m. and arrived at Sutton Lock miles) at 10h., and with the assistance of some salmon fishers> locked through without difficulty. This is the first lock on the Derwent and is 15f miles from the mouth of the river. There are two villages close to the lock : Sutton on the left bank and Elvington on the right. Elvington has the distinction of being the loveliest village seen during my cruise; the church, the parsonage, and all the rose covered houses, make a picture worth going a long way to see. It is also notable in my memory for having one excellent shop, whence the commissiariat of the Sheila was replenished by many rare and toothsome delicacies. I left this beautiful village at noon and sculled up to Stamford Bridge miles) through some picturesque reaches. Stamford I found in high fete—bands of music and numerous small processions all wending 9 their way towards the scene of the annual village sports. I also wended, and saw some amusing rustic contests and heard several temperance lecturers energetically " improving the occasion " daring an interval in the sports. I said farewell to Stamford Bridge and its athletes late in the evening, and after executing a very difficult portage at the lock, rowed two miles farther and then camped. About midnight it began to rain as it never raiDed in this world before, and I spent a sleepless and thoroughly miserable night in my sleeping-sack under a tree, for Sheila having mysteriously sprung a leak, I found it impossible to camp on board. Distance rowed 10J miles. 15th.—Fortunately at 5h. a.m. it cleared up, and having discovered and stopped the leak I embarked at 8h., and sculling through some of the loveliest reaches imaginable, made Buttercrambe Lock (1 mile) at 8h. 15m. The scenery at and immediately above this lock is, perhaps, the finest on the Derwent. The banks are thickly wooded on both sides with magnificent trees—the river runs like a narrow lane between. There are no keepers at any of the five locks on the Derwent, and the inhabitants of the small cottage at Buttercrambe not being astir, I proceeded, on account of the difficulty in opening this lock single-handed, to execute a portage at the side of the weir. This I managed easily enough. The row past Aldby Park and Scrayingham to the next lock at How- sham was very fine. At this lock—another stiff one—I was assisted by an old gardener, who appeared most opportunely on the scene. Poor Sheila narrowly escaped a great disaster here, for her commander was so busily engaged with the old man in hoisting up the rusty clews, that ho did not observe that his precious bark had got jammed right athwart the lock, and was in imminent danger of being broken in two by the rapidly rising water. However, fortunately the stern-head gave way, and I was spared the necessity of leaving Sheila's bones as a legacy to the Lord of the Manor. At the lock there is an old building used as a mill, but which evidently has seen better days. It seemed to be of the same style of architecture as Howsham Hall, a strange old country mansion on the opposite side of the river. On the top of this mill is a figure of Nimrod, Cupid, or some other fellow with a bow and arrow, very old and weather beaten, but decidedly good. From this lock to the next one at Kirkham Abbey, was a row of 21 miles along the edge of Howsham Wood, a glorious row on a lovely summer morning. The dense wood run close down to the water's edge, the dark green foliage being fringed as it were, nearly all the o 10 way,, with a brilliant border of yellow waterlilies. The river is deep, anything but rapid, clear, and with no obstacles, save an occasional bunch of floating weed, which, however, is easily avoided. At Kirkham Abbey Lock, the fifth and last on the Derwent, I had to execute a long and rather difficult portage, the lock being immovable. After this rather disagreeable operation had been gone through, I went and had a ramble through the old Abbey, whose ruins cover a large extent of ground. I was much amused, on disregarding the warning " No admittance " upon a small wicket, leading to a part of the ruin, where four walls still stand tolerably intact, to espy a beautifully laid out lawn tennis ground, with nets up, courts marked out, and all in tip-top order. This, inside the best preserved portion of the Abbey, I thought very fine. What would the old mitred abbots think if they were to arise from their graves on the river banks, and see what was going on in their grand old pile ! What a splendid tennis ground it makes though—cool, I should say, as a wine cellar—great ivy-clad walls on all sides, for the ivy grows inside as well as out. Why I the fellow with whom the idea originated must be a genius beyond compare. At Kirkham Abbey Station a few pleasure boats were moored at the riverside, the first pleasure craft I had seen on the Derwent. Con- sidering the great beauty of the Upper Derwent, and the excellent nature of the water for rowing, I was surprised at the almost entire absence of boating of any description. For with the exception of those boats at Kirkham, and three or four at Malton, there is nothing worthy of the name on any part of the river. As for cruisers, they seem few and far between. From the Abbey up to Malton (6 miles), the course lies through a beautiful country all the way. About two miles from Malton I landed at a picturesque little nook, on a tiny tree-covered island, one of a group of three, called the Cherry Islands. I did not see any cherries, but consoled myself with a pipe under the spreading foliage of a patriarchal oak, which cast its great shadow across the clear stream and effectually sheltered me from a tremendously strong sun, which made rowing almost a labour on this lovely summer afternoon. I remained in my cool retreat until evening, when I paddled along in a very leisurely fashion towards Malton, and ultimately reached the miniature landing stage of the Talbot Hotel, in which hostelry I located for the night. Distance rowed, miles. 16

in early summer to push up the Derwent as far as Leddingham Bridge, whence, cauoes have several times, I believe, by means of a cut or ditch reached the sea near Point. At the time of my visit, however, the Derwent above Malton was almost impassible owing to weeds, so that it was at an old bridge on the tributary river Rye, that I ended my northward voyage. Distance rowed, 6 miles. I tarried a couple of days in Malton, visiting Scarborough and other places in the vicinity. Malton itself is an ordinary market town, but the surrounding country is indeed very lovely. From the high ground behind the town, it is possible to see for 20 or 30 miles over the York- shire Wolds, and the Derwent can be traced for a great distance, winding out and in like a silver thread among the woods and fields. 19th.—I left Malton on my downward voyage at 6h. p.m. The evening was sunny and warm, and the beautiful river was seen at its best. At the Cherry Islands I passed a pic-nicing party, who were just embarking from this picturesque spot, on their homeward voyage to Malton. These islands are, I should imagine, a favourite resort of pic- nicers. A very good camp might be formed here by any cruisers who preferred camping out to sojourning in the town, as the islands lie within easy distance of Malton, and are quite secure from visitation, except by water. I did not stop on this occasion, but sculled slowly down towards Rirkham Abbey. Here in the evening sun the scene was enchanting. On the right bank some quaint red-tiled houses up on the hillside, stood out from the dense green foliage of the great bank of trees behind, and formed a charming bit of colour—one speck of red on this vast hillside of green. On the left sweet Kirkham Hall, half hidden in lovely woods, with the ruined Abbey by the water, completed a picture which is perhaps hardly equalled, and certainly is not surpassed by anything on the Thames itself. I reclined at ease in the " hold" of my vessel for some time, listening, as I drifted slowly down, to some beautiful church bells tinkling in the distance, and watching a train as it puffed slowly along the foot of the wooded hill, calmly puffing the while my- self the calumet of peace, as became such an eminently calm and peaceful scene. At last the bells ceased, and with their note the sun withdrew ; shadow and silence possessed the valley of the Derwent. On nearing the lock, I began to speculate on the length of time, which would be required for the portage, when, hurrah ! I espied a barge just coming through. This was the first barge I had seen above Sutton, and proved to be one of three which still trade as far up as Malton, for of late years the navigation has been nearly abandoned. With the assistance of the 12

bargee I was quickly locked through, and was Boon spinning down the glorious reach below Kirkham. The light was fading fast, and the river looked dark and gloomy to the last degree, as I sculled along between the reeds, which shivered in the evening breeze in a weird, uncanny fashion. This reach seemed to be a favourite haunt of owls, whose continual hooting added to the gloomy nature of the surroundings. At Howsham instead of locking through, I elected to go over by the side of the weir, a much easier operation. In the reach below this lock a great accumulation of weeds had taken place since my upward voyage. Indeed, for about half a mile the river was nearly blocked altogether. However, at last I got into open water once more, and seulled steadily down to Buttercrambe Lock, loveliest of all locks on the Derwent. Here I landed, and after having got safely through with the assistance of the man who lives at the lock cottage, I proceeded thence to tea, a sumptuous repast served by the comely wife and her pretty daughter Nellie. I stayed over an hour with those kindly folk, snugly ensconsed at their kitchen fireside, listening to many strange legends of the neighbourhood. On leaving this hospitable little house I found a glorious moon overhead, to guide me on my way. So instead of camping, as had been my original intention, I resolved to scull on all night. Alter saying farewell to my friends at Buttercrambe I set off, and after a splendid row, arrived without adventure at Stamford Bridge about midnight. I had a long and difficult single-handed portage at the lock, so that it was nearly lh. a.m. until I got once more afloat, and began a glorious and never- to-be-forgotten moonlight row to Sutton. Having tarried here till day- break for some washing, which had been entrusted to the fisherman's wife at the lock, I passed through at 5h. a.m. and rowed down to Barmby- on-the-Marsh with the ebb tide, but against a troublesome head wind. There was a better tide in the Ouse, and I was not long in spinning downwards to Goole, miles from Derwent mouth, and 47 miles from Malton. There being apparently no suitable landing place at Goole, I sculled up the Dutch River, which joins the Ouse a few hundred yards below the quay, and landing at a farm on the right bank below the bridge, I succeeded in getting Sheila put into a cart shed, and set off myself per train for Hull, where I remained over Sunday. Distance rowed 47 miles. 13

DISTANCE TABLE.—III.

DERWENT.

Date. Miles. July 13th, 1886. Derwent mouth Barmby-on-the-Marsh Lodsome Bridge "Wressel 21 Breighton 5 Half Moon Inn 51 Bubwith Wharf 61 E. Oottingwith Ferry Inn Hi „ 14th „ tngs Bridge 13 Sutton Lock ... 151 Kexby Bridge ... 18i Stamford Bridge Lock 22| „ 15th „ Buttercrambe Lock 25i Howsham Lock 29} Kirkham Abbey Lock 31j Cherry Islands... 35| Malton 35f

CHAPTER IV.

DUTCH RIVER, STAINFOBTH AND KEADBY CANAL, TRENT. JULY 20TH.—I got underway from the farm at 9h. a.m., and sculling up the Dutch River with a good tide, made Fishlake (lOf miles) at lOh. 30m. a.m. The Dutch River is quite uninteresting until nearing Stainforth (llg miles), where it becomes rather pretty for a short distance. There are no locks, as the tide runs all the way up to Stain- forth, where the canalised Don begins. Below is the junction with the Keadby Canal, which connects the Dutch River with the Trent. It is necessary to be provided with a pass for this canal, as the Manchester, and Lincolnshire Railway Company, to whom it now belongs, " do not encourage rowing on the canal." Being, however, equipped with the document in question, I landed on arrival at the lock, and set off in search of the keeper, who resides at some distance. He was not at home. His grandmother was. This old lady is the very deafest woman in all the world. Assisted by two keelmen, I made a frantic and prolonged endeavour to make her understand that I was in quest of the lock keeper, but without effect. After having roared until I was quite hoarse, I went through a series of violent pantomimic contortions, well 14 calculated to make my fortune on any " Variety Stage," but here, with a lamentable want of success. The old 'un merely smiled sadly and produced a bottle, remarking quaintly that if I were dry, a " soop o' woine wud slack me." In truth, I was very dry, and artlessly took a good " soop." Never shall I forget the taste of that preparation. She said it was Dandelion. I implicity believe her. For two whole days the taste of that abominable concoction remained in my mouth. During that time I seemed to eat and drink nothing but dandelion. My very 'baccy seemed for the nonce to have become converted into that humble weed. In future I shall carefully avoid the private bottles of deaf old ladies. In due time the man arrived. He had merely been away for a "soop of ale" for some thirsty bargee, who wise in his generation, had presumably fought 6hy of the old woman's bottle. By noon I had locked through. The fee for this canal is five shillings, and includes both locks. I found the route, contrary to expectations, very pretty nearly all the way to Keadby. The canal is 12^ miles long, and runs across the moors. The banks being low, a very extensive view is had from the boat, as one paddles leisurely along. There are only two locks, one at either end. The water is clear and fresh—an agreeable change after the muddy waters of the Dutch River and Ouse. At lh. p.m. I made Thorne (2lmiles), where I passed no less than forty-two keels and lighters of one kind and another, either lying at the wharfs or sailing slowly along en route for Mexborough, Doncaster, or Sheffield. Thorne seems to be a great centre of barge and keel building, and I noticed numerous " vessels," as they are called, on the stocks, besides several undergoing repairs and painting. And gorgeously painted some of them were. One cabin top was adorned with a brilliant array of colours in squares—red, green, yellow, and black prevailing. For no man loves gaudy colours more than the bargee, and he lays them on bold and strong at every opportunity. There are numerous swing bridges over this canal, only a few leet above the surface of the water. Under the first three I managed to pass, but required to have the rest opened in order to get along. The railway runs nearly the whole way alongside the canal, and each cross- ing with its corresponding bridge is worked by a man from a box placed mid-way between the railway and the canal. I landed near Midgehall for a couple of hours, so that it was 5h. p.m. before I reached Keadby Lock. Here I waited until 8h. p.m. for the flood tide to make in the Trent, up which stream I intended rowing that night as far as Gains- borough (16g miles). 15

DISTANCE TABLE—IV.

DUTCH RIVEK AND KEADBY CANAL.

Date. Miles. July 20th, 1886. Q-oole Newbridge 6i Thorne Wharf... 91 Fishlake Keadby Canal Junction ... 111 Thorne 14 Maud's Bridge Station 16| Midgehall Station Godnow Bridge Station ... 19i Crowle Station... 20} Keadby 23}

CHAPTER V.

TBENT. AT 8H. 5M. P.M. I locked out of the canal into the Trent, and got under way on a very strong tide, with every prospect of making my destination about 10b. I little guessed, however, what was in store for me. Shortly after passing Butterwick there came down a tremendous rain and hail storm with high wind, and by 8h. 30m. it suddenly got pitch dark. It was about as nasty a night as I was ever out in, but with a tremendous tide the boat went rushing along in the dark, notwithstanding a very stiff head wind, at a quite startling pace. As nothing could be seen, save an occasional glimmer of light from the bank or some keel at anchor, and as it was, of course, utterly impossible to make anything of the map, I soon got lost. However, I went along at a pace, to me, quite new, so strongly do the spring tides flow in the Trent. As I passed a place, which I now imagine to have been Ferry, the husky voice of some Samaritan hailed me from out of the mist with " 'ware eiger! 'ware eiger! 1 " and every moment I expected the dreaded eiger or tidal wave to come up with me, or down upon me, or in some way or other effectually complete my discomfiture. However, I neither saw nor felt the eiger, and indeed the night was quite bad enough without it. The accounts I had heard of this bore were enough to make an ordinary mortal's hair stand on end; but I cannot speak of it at all from personal experience, for there was no eiger with any of the four high tides, which I watched in the neighbourhood of Gainsborough. That it is, however, at times very bad, and that pleasure boats are sometimes 16 caught by it, I do not_ for a moment doubt. Indeed, two members of the Gainsborough Rowing Club were recently drowned while attempting to meet one of the worst eigers. I can only repeat therefore, the advice which Trent rowing men always give to strangers, viz.: " avoid eigers." Like Captain Marryatt's hero, I continued to " pave my way " rapidly up the river. At last, on rounding a bend, about 9h. 45m., I heard loud sounds of music proceeding from some brilliantly lighted houses on the right bank. From the volume of sound, I imagined that this must be Gainsborough on a " heavy bust." I accordingly drew along- side the bank, and after feeling along an apparently interminable quay wall for about five minutes, I came upon a stair, to which, after a-final struggle with the elements, I made fast, and groped my way in the pitchy darkness up a species of Jacob's Ladder to the top of the quay, from which I was nearly swept back again by the howling, drenching gale, into the muddy waters of the Trent. Towards the lights, wet and tolerably miserable, I hastened, and selecting a house, whence sounds of tremendous revelry proceeded, I knocked. The door was opened by an angel. The angel was Emily the landlady's daughter. The house was the Crooked Billet, and the place was the small village of Morton, and not the town of Gainsborough, as I had rashly imagined. The cause of the revelry was the annual village feast—and Morton Feast, it seems, is famous throughout all Lincolnshire. I do not know what the fair maid thought of the weather-beaten and mud-bespattered mariner, who came coatless and capless, an uninvited guest to Morton feast. She did not communicate her thoughts to me, but after a short consultation with her maternal parent, during which, a good deal of half-smothered laughter was distinctly audible, proceeded to call all hands to the rescue of Sheila and her unfortunate crew. Right gallantly the feasters responded to the summons. Out they swarmed from their warm, cosy room, into the misty squally night, and in less time than it takes to tell, pulled the boat out of what they were facetiously pleased to term the " dip," and conveyed in triumph baggage and crew to the jolly little inn, under the sign of the Old Crooked Stick. In a few minutes Scotchie was himself again, dry, warm, and comfort- able, in the middle of the most genial set of good fellows in Lincolnshire. It would require an abler pen than mine to describe the scene ; to tell of the songs that were sung, the ale that was drank, or the enormous roasts that were made to vanish mysteriously by those great Feasters of Morton, assisted, positively for one night only, by an eminent Northern Star. " After the opera was over," I retired to rest, but had hardly fallen 17 asleep ere I was aroused by a grand serenade, c inducted under my window by a number of ladies and gentlemen, who, after threatening to " Row all in the morning early," and emphatically asserting that they were " Happy to see you, 'tis long since we met," finally lulled me to sleep by several touching ditties appropriate to the occasion. Distance rowed 88$ miles. 21st.—In the morning, accompanied by some of my Morton friends, I rowed np to Gainsborough (1 mile) and spent the day in that super- latively uninteresting town. In the evening I went feasting again at Morton. —I at last said farewell to the Crooked Billett and all my kind friends there, and at llh. a.m. got underway from Gainsborough against a fierce south-west wind, which gradually increased to a gale and made progress almost impossible. It was therefore a very unpleasant row to Yorksey, where I stopped, and landing put the boat up at the Ferry above the Fosse Dyke Junction, whence I walked to Yorks6y Station and took train to Lincoln, where I stayed all night. Distance rowed 9f miles. 28rd.—After having visited the grand old cathedral, which stands on the top of a steep rock, and is the only striking object in this monotonously flat country, I returned to Yorbsey. Here by the riverside is an old ruin called Yorksey Hall—a strange, crumbling, time-worn structure of which I could learn little or nothing from the natives. Oliver Cromwell was very busy here one day and battered it in an astonishing manner, battered it down about the ears of its defenders in his usual " thorough " fashion, so that it has remained nothing but a ruin ever since. Part of one side, however, having with- stood the Roundhead shot, and braved the gusty gales of centuries still remains gaunt and grim to show that here once stood a Royalist castle by the Trent. The village consists of only a few houses now, but the oldest inhabitant told me that he could remember when the place was four times its present size. This worthy also exhibited a cannon ball which had recently been unearthed in a field behind the hall, and told me that nearly every spring some relics of the fray were still turned up by the plough. I embarked from the Ferry at noon, but as it was still blowing a strong gale from the south-west, progress was very slow. When about two miles above Dunham Bridge the rain came down in torrents, so I pulled the boat ashore and made for Dunham, where I found capital quarters at the Bridge Inn. The rain continued all evening with heavy squalla at intervals, which effectually stopped any more cruising on that day. Distance rowed miles, 18

24th.—The morning did not look particularly promising, but notwith- standing a nasty drizzling rain, I set out at 9h. a.m. for my ship, where I found everything intact. Honest people on this part of the Trent evidently I I interviewed an old fellow setting eel traps, but could understand very little of his peculiar lingo. " Catched nowt," however, seemed to be the key note of his conversation. I got underway at llh. a.m. and had another miserable row. It rained steadily all the way to Sutton-on-Trent (5 miles) and blew great guns all day from west and south-west. Being thoroughly disgusted at the elements and seeing no sign of improvement, I landed some distance above Sutton, and making Sheila fast to a large lighter which was lying alongside the bank, wended my weary way towards the village, where I took up my quarters at the Holme Inn, a very humble riverside public. The kindly old dame who conducted the establishment did her best, however, to make me comfortable, and with considerable success ap- parently, for the sun was high in the heavens before I awoke next morning. Distance rowed miles. 25th.—After inspecting the village I went down to the river, where I found my boat in a bad plight. I had foolishly neglected to haul her out of the " dip, " and the heavy rains during the night had nearly filled her, and set all my stores and baggage floating about in terrible disorder. After an hour's baling I at last got things properly stowed, and set off at lh. p.m. for a hard row to Newark. There was still a strong head wind, and the stream here was very stiff, but as the weather was now fine I felt in tolerably good spirits. On the previous day my temper had suffered, it is a tact. I reached Carlton, a rather pretty village on the left bank, without much difficulty, passing numerous fishermen, who seemed all to be in a state of great misery, judging from their woe-begone appearance. No one would admit having caught anything. Carlton was the last place at which I noticed signs of the tide having recently made its presence felt. Ordinary tides flow little, if any, beyond Dunham (40 miles from the mouth of the river), though high spring tides occasionally have effect as far up as Newark (56J miles from the mouth). The stream at Carlton was comparatively easy, but two miles above the village, I suddenly entered a long reach called the Ovens, of which I had heard a good deal of talk among the worthies of Dunham and Sutton. The Ovens Reach is the heaviest reach on the Trent below Nottingham, and is very stiff work indeed ; especially against a perfectly exasperating head wind, such as I had still to contend with. When the river is in flood, or as the natives say, " When the Derbyshire tide is on," I should imagine it would be practically impossible to scnll op 19 this reach. With a long tow-line it would, however, be quite possible to tow from the bank. Half-way up this reach there is a stone on the left bank, marking the site of a Roman bridge, remains of which were taken from the river bed in 1884. At the top of the rapid I passed no less than six lighters going down in tow of a tug at a grand pace. Above the Ovens was another rapid called Holme Shoals, where the stream was also very swift, and down which the wind blew in heavy gusts, so that it was only after some very hard work that I made North Muskham at 2h. 30m. p.m. Here I landed and had a well-earned rest. Beyond Muskham the current was much slacker and I was able to take it easy for a mile or two. There was some tolerably hard work, how- ever, before entering the Newark River, or cut, which leads up to the town of that name—one rush in particular, just before reaching the lock is still vividly impressed on my memory. I put up the boat at the Nether Lock and walked on to Newark (1 mile) where I quartered myself at the Ram. Distance rowed 9 miles. 26th.—Having on the previous evening carefully inspected all that is worth seeing in Newark, I embarked at 9h. 30m. a.m. On arriving at the Upper Lock (three-quarters of a mile), however, after a most unsavoury row along the cut, or canal, I found that I should have to wait two hours on the lock keeper, who had gone off mysteriously and " taken the handle with him," as my informant expressed it. The Swan and Salmon Inn at the lock was a most convenient resting place, and I managed to tarry patiently until Mr. Lock-keeper returned. This he ultimately condescended do to, and passed me through at 12h. 45m. p.m. (fee, one shilling). It was an easy row to Farndon (3f miles) and indeed to Stoke (5£ miles). At Stoke there is rather a pretty bit about the Hall, which lies in a beautiful wooded park. A short distance above this at Gawburn Nip, while spurting to relieve the monotony a bit, I struck a large invisible snag, fortunately without disaster. The bed of the river here is full of snags for about 200 yards, especially in the slack water under the right bank, and considerable care requires to be exercised to keep clear of them. At Fiskerton the stream again got stiffish, but as the wind had fallen and the weather was glorious—this was the only really fine day I had on the Trent—it was a fairly enjoyable row until near Hazleford. Just below this place, however, there is another terrific rush, called on the map the Nabbs, which is longer than, and nearly as bad, as the Ovens. A native, with whom I had some converse after ascending the rush, 20

qaaintly remarked that no one ever attempted that hit except " some poor devil oat of a job." I am firmly of opinion that he spoke the troth. I put up all night at the Star and Garter at Hazleford, an inn something after the style of a Thames-side hostelery—a long way after. Distance rowed 9J miles. 27th.—There had been a plentiful deluge of rain through the night, and at 7b. a.m. the weather did not look promising—a strong gale blowing from the west, with every appearance of more rain and plenty of it. However, it cleared up sufficiently to permit me accompanying a Nottingham gentleman on an enjoyable drive through some pretty country towards Thurgarton, &c. I got underway at lOh. a.m., being assisted by 160 employees of the Nottingham Gas Commissioners, who had come down to Hazleford for their annual trip. This the last, and most miserable day of my cruise, almost beggars description. The distance from Hazleford to Nottingham is 15 miles against a lightning stream. And rather than scull again those 15 miles against that stream, I solemnly assert that I would row 50 miles on still water in the heaviest and clumsiest tub that ever was built. The wind was dead against me the whole way, and at times blew with hurricane force, in some reaches raising a quite respectable " sea." Add to this drenching showers of rain at very short intervals with an occasional whiff of hail thrown in by way of variety, and some idea may be had of what I experienced during this wretched day. I reached Hoveringham (2J miles) at ] lh. a.m., and Gunthorpe (4^ miles) at llh. 45m. a.m. Under Gunthorpe Bridge there is a heavy rapid, and what with heavy gusts of wind blowing down stream and the strength of the current, I had some sweating work before I reached the tidy little inn, under the sign of the Unicorn's Head, at Gunthorpe, where I enjoyed a well-earned rest of half-an-hour. Above this, in a shallow reach, I had the misfortune to snap my left scull right off at the blade, against a hidden snag, and was thus still further handicapped by having to row with the bow pair all the way to Nottingham. For the first five miles I had taken two hours and twenty minutes, though I expect if there had been no wind, half that time might have sufficed. From Gunthorpe to Stoke Ferry (31 miles), the rowing is perhaps a little—a very little—easier, so that I got to the Ferry Inn in fairly good condition. At Ratcliffe Bridge, 2£ miles above Stoke, however, there is again a very heavy stream. Indeed, all the way from Rat- ciiffe to Holme Lock, 2^ miles below Nottingham, it is hard work, and there is nothing whatever in the way of scenery to reward one for the trouble of battling against the stream. Above the lock it is fine still 21 water to Nottingham, and in fine weather this part of the river is doubt- less rather pretty. I, however, was nearly drowned with rain, and rowed as hard as I could, looking neither to right nor left, but endeavouring to conjure up a vision of all the luxuries I intended treating myself to when I should get safely into harbour: ultimately I arrived at the landing stage at Trent Bridge, Nottingham, and disembarking, housed my boat in a boatbuilder's shed, and departed up town in search of quarters. Distance rowed 15 miles. I remained in the lace town for five days, waiting for fine weather, which did not come. It rained heavily at intervals every day—the elements had evidently conspired against me. I had intended, along with a friend, to push on up Trent to Barton, or branch off up Soar to Leicester, and thence by canals southwards to the Thames ; but my friend being unable to join me, and the fifth morning being ushered in by a thunder storm, I thought the best think I could do would be to " git-" August Ist.—I accordingly "got" and at 6h. a.m. I left Nottingham— a town to a large extent inhabited by a race of savages, with peculiarly unpleasant notions regarding meurn and tuum—and sculling right down to Sutton-upon-Trent (33£ miles), put up all night at the Dolphin, a comfortable little place, but some distance from the river. 2nd.—In the forenoon I sculled down to Gainsborough (19J miles), having the advantage of a fine ebb tide below Dunham, which made the pace a cracker all the way. I believe it did not rain on this day and it was with a dry skin and a tolerably contented mind that I em- barked on board the packet Isle of Axholme, with Sheila reposing gracefully on the paddle-box, bound for Hull. We arrived at Hull late at night, and here for a time my cruising ended.

DISTANCE TABLE—V.

TKENT.

Date. Miles.

July 20th, 1886. Keadby Althoroe 11 West Butterwick 3f Owston 8 Gunthorpe 10} West Stockwith 12 i „ 21st „ Morton 15f „ 22nd „ Gainsborough Bridge 16} Knaith 22 Littleborough ... 23i » 23rd „ Yorksey (Foss Dyke Junction) m Laneham Ferry 29}

K 22

TABLE.—V.—TRENT (continuedJ.

Date. Miles.

July 24th, 1886. Dunham Bridge Marnham Ferry 33j „ 25th „ Sutton m Carlton 39i Muskham 44' „ 26th „ Newark Nether Lock m ,, Upper Lock Farndon 5l| Stoke Place 53J Fiskerton 54, „ 27th „ Hazleford (Star and Carter) 56£ Hoveringham (Old Elm Tree) 59 Gunthorpe (Unicorn's Head) 613 • Stoke Ferry 621 Burton Joyce ... 63j Radcliffe 66 \ Holme Lock ... 69 Nottingham (Trent Bridge) 71i

DISTANCE BOWED. Humber 94 Ancholme 9 Ure Hi Swale 8 Ouse S2§ Derwent 81i Dutch Biver ... HI Stainford and Keadby Canal 121 Trent 125|

Total distance rowed 321*