The Helping Hand

The rescue of Bear Sterns earlier this year by J.P. Morgan Chase revived memories of the way J.P. Morgan almost single-handedly rescued the US economy in the bank crisis of 1907. Here's how cartoonist JK saw it, in Puck magazine.
It is a clever parody of that charming painting The Helping Hand by Emile Renouf. A Breton fisherman takes his grandaughter out rowing. She is, of course, powering the boat all by herself and Grandad is just giving a bit of added oomph.

A Tin Duck Boat

This hilarious story, from The Outing magazine of April 1908, combines a pair of recurring interests of this blog, tin boats and duck punts:

BILL'S DUCK BOAT
BY N. H. CROWELL

UNCLE EZRA threw back his head and indulged in a mirthful cackle. "Any o' you fellers ever try huntin' ducks in one o' them sheet-iron coffins they call duck boats?" he inquired, as he bent forward and shook his head in a paroxysm of reminiscent delight.
We plead not guilty with suspicious unanimity, whereupon Uncle Ezra assumed an air of conscious superiority.
"Don't do it boys—don't resk it," he said, "I've been up agin it an' escaped with nothin' more 'n a few triflin' internal injuries but you might get worse. Bill Fikes was th' party that led me into it. He'd been postin' up on them newfangled sportin' idees an' one day he corners me an' says he'd bought a boat to hunt ducks in."
'Why, you've got half a dozen old scows down to th' docks now,' says I, 'What do you want another for?' "'This is a duck boat,' Bill says, 'It's right up-to-date. Made o' tin!'
"'Tin!' I says. "Then I stole a whiff o' Bill's breath to see if he hadn't been takin' on a cargo but he proved an alibi by a hair.
"'I'll believe it when I see it, Bill,' says I, wanderin' on.
"About a week after that Bill give me th' Injun sign an' led me down to th' landin'. There was his boat—floatin' as high as th' stock of a Texas oilwell. It was painted th' color of a bricklayer's overalls an' looked to be as peaceful an' innercent as a buck Injun before bein' mixed with alcohol.
"'Get in,' says Bill, jest like he was tenderin' me a brick block or a sleepin' car.
"Thanks, guess I will,' says I." Here Uncle Ezra stopped abruptly and clutched his jaw with both hands to keep from bursting into a roar of laughter — it got up as far as his throat but he manfully choked it down.
"Gettin' into a tin duck boat is somethin' like playin' th' hoss-fiddle—got to be studied in privit first. Bill's boat was snugglin' up alongside th' dock, down about a foot an' a half an' lookin' as invitin' as a bald head to a hoss-fly. Bein' familiar with th' general run o' Bill's catamarans I stepped in sorter careless like, jest like you'd step onto th' kitchen floor on a dark mornin', a trifle easy but expectin' it to be there when you landed.
"But I hadn't more 'n touched it when it changed ends or somethin' an' when I come down with th' other leg I missed it by a good half a yard. I went right to th' bottom, got a mouthfull o' mud an' came right back with haste an' a poor pen. As I come up th' boat was watchin' for me an' banged me two good ones on th' ear before I could fight it off.
"Bill's eyes were stickin' out till you could have hung your boots onto 'em an' he says. "'What're ye tryin' to do, Ez — scuttle my boat?'
"'If I had a hatchet I'd show ye !' says I, after gettin' th' seaweed out o' my teeth. "Bill helped me onto th' dock an' I asked 'im if he'd had th' pleasure o' gittin' into th' boat yet. He scratched 'is head a bit pertendin' to think. Finally he says: "'I believe not, Ez.'
"'Well, here's five dollars for you if you'll get in now,' says I, producin' my roll an' dissectin' off a V.
"Bill turned a little pale but begun to peel 'is coat.
"'Hold on, Bill! Keep your clothes on — I did!' I says, "After hesitatin' a little Bill put 'is coat back on an' moistened 'is hands. Then he set down on th' dock an' stuck 'is feet down into th' waist o' th' boat.
"'Better go an' get a derrick to let you down with, hadn't I?' I remarks, scornful as vinegar.
"Bill didn't reply but drawed a long breath an' slid off th' dock. He looked about as brave as a man goin' to th' 'lectric chair.
"I thought Bill was goin' to make it but jest then I noticed th' boat sidestep like a scairt featherweight an' Bill set right down on th' lake. I caught 'im by th' hair as he come to th' top an' separated 'im from a good handful gettin' 'im back to th' planks.
"That's a fine boat for any one that's tired o' life,' says I, after we'd stood an' dripped a while. Bill groaned like th' landlady had jabbed 'im with a hatpin.
"'It's all right after you're in it,' he says. "'Maybe th'receipt tellin' how to get into it comes by mail, Bill. Shall we go up to th' post office?' says I, tryin' to cheer 'im up some.
"But he never paid no attention. His face was all puckered up studyin' th' question. All of a sudden he give a joyful little cough an' says: "'I've got th' answer, Ez! It's as easy as drivin' nails into a featherbed. Here goes!'
"Bill got down on 'is chest on th' dock, reached over an' got a good holt of th' middle seat with 'is hands. "Funny I didn't think of this before,' says he, 'it's a snap!' "Then he started to lower himself off th' dock slow an' easy. When he'd got a lit­tle more 'n half of 'im over th' edge somethin' went plunk into th' water under Bill's nose.
"'What was that?' says he, kinder rattled. "'Sounded like your pocketbook,' says I. "Bill took a quick look back at me be tween 'is knees an' emitted a painful groan. After studyin' a minute he let go with one hand an' reached back to feel of 'is pocket.
"While he was doin' that th' boat started for th' open sea—it started so blame quick that th' first thing I see was Bill stretched out like a rubber band betwixt th' dock an' th' boat an' strainin' every muscle in 'im to keep from lettin' 'is stomach drag in th' water.
"'That's fine, Bill,' says I. 'What's th' next step?' "He gave me a murderous look an' th' boat slid out three inches more leavin' Bill's toes hangin' to about a half an inch o' dock.
"'Reel me in, you brindle-whiskered porch-climber!' Bill yells, in a tone that would have corroded zinc. "I saved 'im from the jaws of a lovely duckin' an' th' minute he got 'is wind he wanted to fight. Had all I could do to ca'm 'im down an' explain that I was perfectly innercent.
"'Bill,' I remarks, 'you'd better write that boat crowd an' find out how to occupy that craft. Th' only way I see now is to put it on th' dock, get in, an' then saw th' dock in two. She might turn a handspring even then.' "Bill groaned an' said he'd catch th' sciatica if he didn't go home an' change 'is clothes so we dispersed.
"Afterward Bill traded th' boat to a farmer for a veal calf an' th' calf got into th' kitchen an' butted th' cook so severe she struck for higher wages on th' spot. Bill now says if any man tries to sell, trade, give or otherwise hurl a tin boat onto 'im he will feel compelled to shoot in self defense.
"Bill says he never——" Just then the speaker caught the beckoning finger of a robust gentleman behind the refreshment stand and he mounted to his legs and went across to see about it.

Up the Hamble yet again

Max Taylor, designer and builder of this rowing boat that I blogged back in April, missed the great row up the Hamble last week despite living in sight of the start point. He was away in Cornwall, he writes:

Chris,
Glad to see your Hamble row went well. Sadly every time you or the HBBR come to Hamble I'm away. This time we were in Fowey for the week avoiding email and phones. We did however find this loverly boat, I made some enquiries about its history, but the best response was from the man on the Bodinnick Ferry was 'she's a proper old'un'. For those of us who haven't graduated to a sliding seat she looks safe and fast and seaworthy. I tried to find the owner to see if he'd let me take the lines off her at LW.
Back to Hamble - I row from Swanwick Hard pretty much most weekends and wondered if there might be interest via your blog, in a monthly row over winter - ie last Sunday of the month with a suitable tide. If the weather is bad the river makes for an interesting trip with pub at either end. Or if weather permitted how about doing the 'two Jolly's' - Jolly Sailor at Bursledon to the Jolly Sailor at Ashlett - I know the latter is sadly closed but it's a nice title.
Regards
Max

I feel that crossing Southampton Water to Ashlett is probably one for warmer weather (at least, in a boat as open as Snarleyow) but any time is good for a row up the Hamble as long as it is not actually raining (I will be able to do the trip without looking round soon).

Anyway, Max and I have made a date for Sunday 30th November. High tide at Warsash is about noon, so an 11.00 start at Swanwick should get us up to either Botley or Curbridge by beer time. If anybody would like to join us, either drop me an email or just turn up at Shore Road, Swanwick, Hants on the day.

Rowing in Loch Broom

The Loch Broom Image Library is an evocative collection of photos of the area dating back to late 19th century. Needless to say, there are several rowing pictures that you can easily bring up by putting 'rowing' in the search box. This one is my favourite. These guys are really putting their backs into it. Love those moustaches!
Thanks to inthboatshed.net and Chris Perkins for the heads-up.

New design from Gavin Atkin

Gavin Atkin has produced an interesting design for a rowing skiff called Julie, flat bottomed, which at nearly 16ft long is about as long as you can get out of two sheets of 8ft by 4ft ply.
She should be a reasonably fast and stable river boat, nice for fishing or just mooching o'er the stream.
One thing I disagree with Gav over, however. He says a boat that long is not car-toppable. Phooey! I used to pop my 19ft Otter skiff on the roof rack all the time until we got a new car and my dear lady wife started worrying about scratching the paintwork with the outriggers.
With Gav's Julie, removing the rowlocks removes all risk of tramlines on the roof of the car, and a line from the bow to the front bumper removes all risk of the boat coming adrift, however long. The picture shows Gav's model placed on a glasses case that is unnervingly similar in size and shape to my estate car, which shows it will be perfectly car toppable. All you have to do is put it the other way up and strap it down securely.
So build her light, I say, and you will be able to row faster as well!

NE Coast gigs on the SE Coast

NE Coast gigs, rowed mainly by deadly rivals Whitby and Scarborough, have come south to Kent. Duane Ashworth has sent some pictures of Queenborough Rowing Club in action on its home waters around the Isle of Sheppey in Kent.
Queenborough rows two gigs bought from Scarborough, both fibreglass, plus a copy made by the sadly defunct Burgashell. The boats carry four oars, a cox and a passenger in a tiny and wet seat in the bow, which means they qualify for the Great River Race. Two gigs entered this year, coming in within a minute of each other.
They have several other craft including this whaler, which looks like a barrel of fun.
The club meets at the boathouse in North Street, Queensborough on Sundays over the winter, and on Wednesday evenings in the summer. For more details and more pictures, see their website.

Up the Hamble

Well, I rowed up the Hamble - here I am arriving at the Horse and Jockey at Curbridge in a picture by Graham Neil entitled "Where's My Pint?".
Graham and I had earlier foregathered on the hard at Swanwick and wondered when the rain would stop. Eventually we decided it was easing off a bit and it was time to make a start. So I went to park the car, failing to notice that Snarleyow had been floated on the incoming tide and was gently drifting off in the direction of the Isle of Wight.

But all was well! Graham had his kayak on his car, and he went off to fetch it. And came back a moment later, looking a bit sheepish. He had left the paddle at his sailing club. We simultaneously made the same remark about what creek we might be up.

Happily, at this point Snarleyow drifted into Swanwick Marina's pontoons and was secured by one of their chaps, who is a hero and has my eternal thanks. I got in and headed upstream, Graham getting in his car and going off for his paddle.

Despite the occasional drizzle the row up the river was lovely, the trees showing all their autumn colours. I got to the pub just as Graham arrived.

I had expected the Horse and Jockey to be pretty much empty, it being a wet wintry weekend, but a friendly gaggle of canoeists arrived just as we did, and soon after three steam traction engines pulled up outside. It was turning into a very English event, everyone cold, wet but cheerful.

Back down was more or less the same. Got out, had bizarre conversation with yottie on the foreshore about people we knew who look like animal biker drink-sodden hooligans but are actually world-famous scientists, and went home.

Many, many thanks to everyone who sponsored me. The Stroke Association does a lot of good work and I hope the money will help them help others like they helped Mum after her stroke. Anyone who suddenly feels the urge to make a last minute donation can still do so at www.justgiving.com/chrismpartridge.