November Meeting at Waterstone’s Coleraine

 

 

 

 

 

A Significant Date

By Ann Young

My objects are two of my favourite Girl Guide badges – the “Little House” Emblem and the “Woodcraft” Emblem and my story is about how I became a Girl Guide.

A lot of my school friends were in the Brownies.  Any pupil who was a Brownie or a Guide was allowed to come into school on Thinking Day in February, wearing their Brownie and Guide uniforms.   I was very envious of them and very keen to join too, but my parents always seemed to find an excuse not to allow me to join.  One of the main reasons was that there wasn’t a Brownie pack at our Church and also my father was very particular as to who would be in charge.  We moved house and joined a new church, Windsor Presbyterian Church on the Lisburn Road in Belfast.  By this time, I was too old to be a Brownie, so what about the Girl Guides?  I was delighted to learn that Windsor had a Girl Guide Company.  However, my father decreed that I could not go as the meetings were on Tuesday nights and so would get in the way of my homework. (In those days fathers set out decrees and all obeyed them without question.)  Foiled again.

When I went into First Form, I discovered that some of the other girls had joined the Guide Company in St John’s Church of Ireland Church at the top of Osborne Park. This was very near my home in Osborne Drive and, joy of joys, they met on Friday nights.  I was allowed to join – I was triumphant!

So I duly went along and was very impressed by all the Guides in their uniforms with their sleeves full of badges.  Two in particular caught my eye as they were larger than the others and worn at the top of the shoulder.  The “Little House” Emblem was awarded to Guides who had passed six badges out of a list relating to domestic matters.  My six badges were Child Nurse, Homemaker, Cook, Hostess, Laundress and Thrift.  The “Woodcraft” Emblem was also a group badge and related to outdoor activities.  My six badges in this category were Camper, Stargazer, First Aid, Emergency Helper, Map Reader and Pathfinder.  My husband is very doubtful about my being awarded Map Reader and Pathfinder as I have absolutely no sense of direction!

I must now go back to the start of my time as a Guide.  I wore my school uniform when I started attending Guide meetings.  A Guide uniform could not be worn until the Tenderfoot Badge was passed and you made your promise at an enrolment ceremony.  Every week I looked enviously at the other girls in their uniforms of heavy navy serge skirts, blue shirts, green scarves and navy berets.  The most impressive part was a leather belt with a metal clasp in the shape of the Guide trefoil and a lanyard and a penknife dangling from the hooks on either side. In those days it did not seem odd that girls had to wear a heavy skirt for lots of very active games and outdoor activities.   As I recall, trousers were only worn at camp.

Girl Guide Uniform for the era of Ann!

One Friday, the Guide Captain said that it was about time I was enrolled and whizzed me through the last few stages of the Tenderfoot Badge.  She then told me that I would be enrolled the next week and so would have to get a uniform.  I was thrilled to bits at the thought of finally becoming a Guide, especially as I had missed out on being a Brownie.  When I got home I rushed to tell my mother, full of excitement.  Then my mother asked me where would we get the uniform.  Crestfallen, I realised that, in my excitement, I had forgotten to ask.  Looking back, I suspect that Captain had told me but I had been too distracted to listen.  The fact that such relatively simple news so thrilled me says a lot about my level of sophistication at the age of eleven.  I can’t see any current eleven year olds reacting in the same way.  Maybe the fact that I had waited so long to join a uniformed organisation and was now finally catching up with my friends was something to do with it. Then Mummy remembered that one of her friends was a Guide Commissioner and surely she would know.  My spirits soared again as Mummy went to ring her friend, Ann Bailey.

I can vividly remember standing beside Mummy in the hall.  The black, bakelite telephone with its cotton plaited cord sat on a small table with barley sugar legs, which had belonged to my grandmother.  A framed drawing of the Bridge of Sighs in Cambridge was on the wall opposite.  The carpet was a dense floral pattern of magentas, blues, greens and beige.  An oil heater was sitting in the corner in an attempt to counteract the bitterly cold draught from the wind blowing down from the Black Mountain.  I really was literally hopping from one foot to the other, bursting with excitement.  Mummy looked up the number, dialled it and then started to ask her friend about getting a uniform.  Then her expression suddenly changed as she said, “That’s fine Ann, very sorry to interrupt, I’ll ring back tomorrow.” and she put the receiver down.  She looked very shocked but managed to stutter out these words.  “Ann Bailey says she can’t talk now as they are watching the television……..President Kennedy has been shot”.  So that it is how I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard the news about Kennedy’s assassination.  I don’t remember what we did next.  We must have gone rushing into the lounge to tell my father.  What I do remember is the contrast of feeling so exhilarated and euphoric and suddenly being plunged into disbelief, shock, horror and sorrow.

Alas, I can’t remember what became of my much longed-for uniform.  I grew out of the shirt and had to get the then new style of uniform which I thought was hideous.  I unpicked all the badges from my old shirt and sewed them on to the new one.  I don’t even have my promise badge, which I had polished so enthusiastically every Friday that the pattern in the centre had worn away.  All I have left are the cloth badges and every time I look at them, I remember that November night when the world seemed to turn upside down.

Ann sharing her story

November 2017 

 

 

 

 

 

A First Bereavement

By Lesley Wishart

Treat for a cat

 Playmates were few when I was growing up in a midland small town: no siblings and few children of my own age. Despite this I have no sense of ever being lonely. My days were full: lessons and associated homework at the twelve-pupil school, dogs to accompany me on bicycle rides, pinkeens to be caught on bent pins where watercress divided on Ballyduffy stream, men to shadow around the farmyard and Nelly, our maid was my constant companion. She was in her teens and from country stock, flaxen haired and full of devilment and humour. She believed implicitly in fairies and leprechauns. Her home was a neat thatched cottage in the shadow of Knock Moille.

.Aged six I became the sole owner of a large tabby cat called Monty. Over weeks of persistent training by me he had come to tolerate being dressed in a baby’s long sleeping gown tied neatly at the back, a white knitted woollen cardigan and a linen bonnet tied securely under his chin. He knew the routine: getting dressed before being expertly lowered into a large doll’s pram, head slightly elevated on a white embroidered muslin pillowcase, getting tucked in with a fluffy blanket and then the bottle, a half naggin Jameson filled with milk and topped with a teat punched with three large holes. There he would lie, legs up to support the bottle while he chewed on the teat with his back molars squirting the milk down his throat. Bottle finished, he would sleep on his back, eyes demurely closed beneath the frills of his bonnet, his whiskers forming an arc above the bow at his grey chin. He particularly liked being wheeled and there were many muffled shrieks as ladies bent to look into the pram thinking to complement me on my doll.

Dressed to kill

On the particular day I went to lift him and found him stiff and cold my parents were away. Nelly was in charge. Tears tripping me I went to find her. She certified the death, and hunkering down she encircled me in her arms and consoled, “Now child, take a good look at him…..didn’t he have a grand death altogether….all peaceful and in his own bed?….lovely, lovely and he’ll be waiting now for his journey to heaven”. She straightened, already forming her plan to allay my sadness. Appointing herself as funeral director she continued, “We’ll have a great funeral when the men come down from milking. First we’ll need a box and it will have to be lined.” She set to busily while I followed, distracted from my grief.

Later, in the sunshine of that summer’s evening, Nelly continued to direct as we lined up outside the kitchen door. “You’ll be the chief mourner and carry the coffin”. She led off. I followed, carrying on outstretched hands the satin lined and clad Clark’s shoebox firmly tied with string. Behind me came Paddy and Peter well primed as to the procedure. We set off past the scullery, past the coal shed, through the archway to the garden en route to the orchard where the grave was prepared. Up front Nelly boohooed pitifully dabbing her eyes with a white tea towel while behind me the two men quietly began the rosary. Nelly joined in loudly between the sobs. “Holy Mary Mother of God”, she crescendoed, instructing me to repeat the strange words. Sob, sob, now fortissimo, “Blessed is…..sob, sob” followed by a bass boom from the men behind me, “The fruit of thy womb, Jesus”. The men were warming to the task. The procession reached the lawn and continued towards the vegetables. By the time we passed the shallots our exhortations were loud and frenzied and I was word perfect in the Holy Rosary. When the ceremony was duly completed we returned light-heartedly towards the house. It was a triumph for Nellie in the management of a child’s grief.

Victorian postcard – long before Lesley’s story!

Story of an Ancient Shipwreck

By Kathleen MacFarlane

China from the shipwreck of the Tek Sing, bought by Kathleen and her husband at an auction in Dublin

 

This story starts with an old and rare book by an Englishman, James Horsburgh, titled  ‘Directions for sailing the East Indies.‘  Since the C15 men like Horsburgh had been compiling such books to provide guides for mariners.   In the 5th edition of this book published in 1843 there was a brief entry.

‘The Belvidere Shoals…a large Chinese Junk was wrecked on these shoals, part of whose crew reached Gaspar Island, and others, who were found floating on fragments of the wreck, were saved by the laudable exertions of a country ship belonging to Calcutta.’

That was all there was. That was the starting point for Nigel Pickford, a maritime historian, to research ancient shipwrecks in South East Asia and for shipwreck expert, Captain Mike Hatcher, to search beneath the South China Sea for a large Chinese junk.

The Tek Sing

In January 1822 a large ocean-going junk, fat bellied with squared off bows and stern rising out of the water was lying at anchor in Amoy harbour on the east coast of China. On the stern was a brightly painted long necked bird and on the prow end were depicted 2 huge oculi [eyes] which all sea going junks were decorated with – staring eyes constantly scanning the horizon for danger.  The junk’s name was Tek Sing which means True Star and its destination, with a valuable cargo, was Bratavia (now called Jakarta) the most important town on the island of Java. Recently the junk trade to Bratavia had been dwindling because more and more ships had been trading directly out of Canton. In earlier years 4 or 5 junks would have sailed to Bratvia together but this year Tek Sing was sailing alone.

An Artist’s impression of the Tek Sing

 

All was extremely busy at the harbour of Amoy, with sampans moving between the quay and the junk loading its hold with the most extraordinary variety of goods.  At the bottom of the hold were packages of porcelain – teapots, plates, dishes, cups, ginger pots, bird feeders, oil lamps, water carriers, soup spoons etc etc. On top of the porcelain was stowed black and green teas: hyson, pekoe, gunpowder and imperial.  Then came raw silk and other fabrics followed by bamboo, inks, glass beads, tortoiseshell and mother -of-pearl.  Boxes of incense – sandalwood, olibanum and myrrh were followed by medicinal drugs which were stowed with great care so that they would not be damaged by seawater. Of these, camphor was the most valuable, more valuable than silver.   Powdered rhubarb, used as a purgative, ginseng and musk were among many other medicinal drugs included in the Tec Sing’s precious cargo. Even when the holds were full still more cargo was added. Bundles of rattans and canes and any other items impervious to seawater were strapped to the outside of the hull of the ship.  The bulk of the cargo was aimed at the wealthy Chinese community in Java and also at the Javanese people who were fond of acquiring Chinese, porcelain and silks.

Little did the individual merchants, whose valuable exports had been loaded on to the ship and some of whom travelled with their cargo, realize that the severity of the Chinese recession meant that this was probably one of the last of this type of voyage and is now thought to have been the end of a long and great Chinese maritime tradition.

However, there was one item of the Tek Sing’s cargo that did indicate that all was not well with the Chinese economy. This was the human cargo.   There were, besides the crew and merchants, some 1600 men, women and children aged between 6 and 70 on board – Chinese emigrants hoping for work on the sugar plantations of Java. Conditions on board would have been horrendous. The enormous numbers on board indicated a growing crisis in China. The level of imports of opium into China had reached such proportions that the Chinese economy was being turned upside down. So we can imagine the sight of this ocean going junk sailing out of Amoy harbour on 14 January 1822 on a long journey south with a valuable cargo destined for Java and a human cargo hoping for a better opportunity working in the sugar plantations away from their home country.  What does that remind us of?

Map showing the likely route taken by the Tek Sing

 

The details of the tragic sinking of the Tek Sing  will be brief. The captain, who was a very experienced seaman and had made at least 5 previous voyages to Batavia, was called Io Tauko.  Some of the journey was in the open sea where the usual route would have led them along the east coast of Malaysia through the Banca Straits and finally along the coast of Sumatra, a tried and tested route for many centuries.  However, for whatever reason, the Captain decided to stay out in mid-ocean and then sail through the Gaspar Straits. Was this because of pirate activity in the Banca Straits or because the Gaspar Straits offered a quicker passage? We will never know.  The waters of this route were still far from being charted and the decision resulted in the Tek Sing foundering on a hidden reef at the Belvidere Sholes in an area south – west of Borneo just a short distance from Java. In what was to become a bigger tragedy than the sinking of the Titanic, and due to her size and the weight of cargo she was carrying, she sank quickly with the loss of over1600 lives. Only a few hundred people survived.

The Indiana

Meanwhile in Calcutta, the proud owner and captain of a fine ‘country ship’ named the Indiana was standing on the deck of the  ship  watching cargo being loaded. James Pearl, formerly a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, decided to seek his fortune in the Orient. He worked for a powerful trading company Barretto & Co. and they appointed him captain of the Indiana. He prospered and within a few years bought the ship and traded on his own behalf as a ‘country trader’ – a European ship owner whose area of trading was confined to inter-island trading in the eastern archipelago including India and China.

And what, you might ask, did James Pearl trade in?  Opium, which had been described as  ‘this most gentlemanly trade’.  Free traders like Pearl bought supplies of opium from the English East India Company who, incidentally, did not permit its own ships to carry the opium to China. Instead it sold the opium to free traders like Pearl to do the onward risky business of shipment.    In December, Pearl purchased 175 chests of best Behar opium at 1,500 rupees per chest.  Anticipating a profit of over £10,000 he described it as ‘a voyage of great speculation.’ This would be a considerable fortune in today’s money.

The Indiana, manned by a crew of 50 natives and 4 Europeans, set sail down the west coast of Sumatra to Padang and then through the Sunda Straits to Batavia on Java.  From there, the plan was to face the north-east monsoon and sail to Sinkawan on the west coast of Borneo which was the real lure of Pearl’s trading venture. Chinese junks had begun to visit around 1820 and there was a significant Chinese community there. That year opium could be sold free of taxes in Borneo and payment made in gold dust. For a brief period in 1820 the west coast of Borneo had the possibility of becoming a major free trade area of the east but the Dutch had other ideas and it was the newly founded port of Singapore that reaped this huge trading harvest.

On 7 February the Indiana, with her cargo of opium, had reached the treacherous reefs of the Gaspar Straits. The wind was blowing hard and there was a a heavy swell.  The lookout could hardly believe his eyes.  Gaspar island seemed to be surrounded by small rocks which had not been mentioned by any of the charts.  The rocks appeared to be moving towards the Indiana. Captain Pearl ordered sails to be reefed when it became obvious that the rocks were every conceivable type of driftwood – boxes, lengths of bamboo, bundles of umbrellas and all manner of debris.  And clinging to all this wreckage were enormous numbers of people.  In Captain Pearl’s own words -‘I discovered the sea covered with humans for many miles.’

The captain and crew rescued in all 190 folk from both the water and a small island which some of the people had managed to reach. One man who was rescued was able to describe, with the help of interpreters, what had happened: that the large junk was the Tec Sing, that it was carrying over 1600 passengers and that it had struck rocks of which the captain had not been aware.

Subsequently Captain Pearl of the Indiana sailed on to the small port of Pontiana on the west coast of Borneo where the shipwrecked passengers finally disembarked.  However he himself was in despair as he discovered that the Dutch were blockading all possible harbours where free trade with China might be conducted. He decided to sail to Singapore to try and offload his cargo of opium there, only to discover that he was only able to sell it at a severe discount on the original price he had paid.  He was later to write that ‘this necessary deviation from my voyage in the cause of humanity was the ruin of my speculation’. This entire episode affected his mental health.  He found it difficult to forget the sight of all those Chinese corpses drifting in the sea.  He also considered he was been personally punished for his own humanitarian act.  Fourteen years later, living in Liverpool, he was still trying to claim compensation for his losses from the Chinese.

 

 

Finding the Tek Sin

In April 1992 a motor yacht called the Restless M was making its way carefully in a westerly direction through the Java Sea.  It looked like a pleasure launch but the quantity of antennae on the ship’s bridge told a different story. The Restless M was equipped with very sophisticated underwater search equipment and its quarry was shipwrecks. The search activities were financed by an Australian firm and a number of the crew, including Michael Hatcher, the most successful shipwreck savor, were Australian.  It had been searching for a lost Portuguese galleon lost in the C16. in the Bangka Straits because that was the standard route for most sailing ships of all nations sailing in both directions at that time. The Belvidere Reef was the main area of focus, most of its length running north-east and south-west with the reef lurking about 2 metres below the surface.  Nigel Pickford and Michael Hatcher were both aware from  Horsburgh’s Sailing Directions that one large ship, a Chinese junk, had come to grief on the Belvidere. Weeks went by with one false hope after another. It wasn’t until the 12 May that the crew revisited a site which they had originally looked at 36 hours earlier.  On this occasion the first clue was a large iron ring about a meter in diameter followed by a whole series of rings spaced at regular intervals. The rings led to a wreck mound 50 meters long and 10 meters wide – clearly a very large construction. It was later confirmed by experts that the rings had been used to strengthen a mast of huge proportions.  As the divers swam towards it they caught a glimpse of a piece of blue and white porcelain, as pristine as the day it had been removed from the kiln. There were stacks of the stuff, rising in a pile from the sea bed.  It was awe inspiring.  Could this be the big Chinese Junk mentioned by Horsburgh?

The cargo  

Extensive research was able to prove that the wreck was indeed the Tek Sing. It was the largest cargo of its kind ever to be found.   The porcelain on the junk was from the C15 to the C19 although the majority would have been made in early C19. The task that lay ahead was a huge logistical exercise. It involved raising over 300,000 pieces of porcelain from the sea bed by hand and then documenting, photographing, wrapping and packing into containers each separate piece. Among the thousands of objects found in the wreck of the Tek Sing the bulk of those which survived was porcelain but other items are worth mentioning;  earthenware vases, a large millstone, Chinese lion statues, huge wooden beams and original rope made from bamboo.

Due to the sheer magnitude of the cargo, the Tek Sing porcelain was sold through auction in Stuttgart and attracted a great deal of interest around the world. The blue and white was auctioned mainly in lots of 20 or more pieces at a time which meant that collectors who would have wanted to add just one or two items to their own collection were prevented from doing so. However some antique dealers from UK and Ireland did purchase some of these lots and split them up . Local collectors were therefore given the opportunity to view and purchase single pieces at an exhibition of the wonderful Tek Sing blue and white porcelain at the RDS in Dublin in April 2004. ( the 2 pieces in the photograph, a large saucer and bowl were part of the exhibition)

November 2017

 

 

A trip to India

by Margaret Boyce

 

A Visit to Egypt

By Margaret Campbell

November 2018