Brave men summoned by maroons

Already well out of date, this record of a simple harbour scene was kindly given to me by the late tug skipper, Captain Frank Gilbert, when his address was at Christchurch Court, Riverside. What a suitable area for a man of the sea to end his days.

If my memory serves me right, the harbour side from this photo area up to the swing bridge used to be referred to as the West Bank. From beyond the swing bridge to the rear of the Bridge Hotel was Washers Wharf and from there to Robinson Road was Riverside.

I may well be wrong but how well I remember that sign 'Riverside' near to the old Newhaven Dairy, where one now slips across from the bottom of the High Street on to North Way.

In a way, the subject picture is more about what isn't than about what is. The donor's photo, of course, includes the harbour tug Meeching which was his pride and joy for so many years, and a vessel which had so many exciting experiences they would fill a book, so no fears about this article!

News trickles through about the present fate of the tug '“ moored in a Kentish area of the Thames '“ and never sounding very helpful.

So here we have a trim and well kept craft, built for British Rail and Newhaven. The tide is exceptionally high and the stage much smaller than it used to be.

The present Lifeboat House occupies much of this area now, the previous building visible on the right of the scene with much water slushing around to wet the feet of the crew had there been a 'shout'.

The launching slipway went down into the main river from here and a low water view of that event was something to remember '“ a wooden, beautifully painted vessel and her brave crew hurtling down and rising out of a great cloud of spray as they hit the solid water.

Add to this, darkness, a roaring wind and the knowledge that somewhere out there was a vessel in distress with a number of souls aboard well aware of their plight, no radar to facilitate finding and among the tensed onlookers, relatives of the men departing.

Of course the firing of maroons to call the crew also brought many well-wishers to witness the launch of the rescue vessel and to experience a certain feeling of pride and appreciation that among us were still such people who would risk their lives for others and in such terrible conditions. A dramatic romance with fate.

I first experienced this in the 1930s when so many of today's aids were not available for those brave men and as they disappeared into the dark unknown you were left with this strange feeling of pride and fear for them.

So back to the picture.

The stage at which the tug is moored is but a fraction of its original self. When I first saw it, the harbour tug was the Alert, followed by the Foremost and lastly the Meeching.

In the 1920s there were high railings painted white around the shore three sides, at the 'roadway' was a gate. Passengers from pleasure steamers passed through a turnstile, paid their penny and walked up the road to Bridge Street and High Street where they spent their money on cups of tea, ornaments and the like, returning to the boat at an agreed time.

While they had been away, a barge load of coal would have been alongside to provide enough fuel until the next call here.

There were many piers to visit in those days and you could even go cross-Channel. Three steamers in summer time were usually based here, covering Hastings to the Isle of Wight.

PETER BAILEY

Peter Bailey is curator of the Newhaven Local and Maritime Museum based in its own fascinating premises in the grounds of Paradise Park in Avis Road, Newhaven. Summer opening hours are daily, 2-4pm or by arrangement. Admission 1 (accompanied children free). Contact the curator on 01273 514760. Log on to the website at www.newhavenmuseum.co.uk