"MORNING DEPARTURE"
Dawn had broken about half an hour ago. It was five o'clock. Only the continuous throbbing from the engines broke the silence which lay over the river and sleeping York. A clear sky, a gentle but nipping breeze, rippling water—a hideous and deafening shriek tore the silence, and the peaceful illusion vanished. The captain released his hold on the tug's buzzer. The throbbing of the engines increased, the bows swung round to point downstream, the vessel moved forward. The journey had begun. I was standing by the skipper on the bridge of a tug bound for Hull, and as we passed through Skeldergate Bridge, the reason for that rending shriek became apparent when the bows of a powerless barge nosed their way into the Ouse from the small tributary, the Foss. We stopped and took her in tow. She was empty, and was going to Hull to load up with fibre for furniture-making. It seems that by far the greater part of the Ouse trade comes from Hull, since the only noteworthy cargo from York is cocoa residue. Hull sends a whole lot of goods upstream, including cocoa-beans, sugar, flour, wood, tinned milk, glue, and custom's surplus. It felt good to be up at that time of the morning. The fresh and 1 invigorating air 'brushing past the cheeks, the rising sun resting on the horizon, the rabbits and hares scampering away, the heron standing in the water, the 'budding willows—how pleasant ! how satisfying ! It took us half an hour to get through Naburn Locks, and from there the river is tidal. By starting off early, we had caught the helpful ebb tide. Just below Naburn, I saw two men walking along the bank , and pulling a boat, laden with nets, through the water. "They're the . salmon fishers", the captain explained. "They've most likely been working all night. You see, they catch the salmon by dragging their net against the incoming tide, and the tide's always changing, so you see they're for ever on the go." There was a glinting in the bottom of the boat. So Old Man Ouse keeps salmon, does he ! At 7-30 a.m. Selby was springing to life—mill girls were making their way to work, barges were being unloaded, and the sound of hammers resounded from the shipyards where some of the finest trawlers in the world are built. After we had safely passed through the two bridges with the funnel lowered, the barge was firmly lashed onto the tug's port quarter, and in that position she did not need anybody to steer her. Time passed quickly as I chatted to the crew. The tug carried a skipper, a mate, and an engineer, and the barge was managed by two other men. Like all barge people, they all got on very well together, they were good humoured, and really enjoyed their work--they like their job best of all when summer comes—and they appreciate it, too; as one of them said, "Some people would give thousands to come down 26
