Boatmen and their Boats 

She was anchored at the Perches at the Knab Rock and school holidays and every weekend were spent on the boat, going around the bays, usually ending up in Oxwich.

I got to know so many of the Mumbles boats and Boatmen.  In the summer months, many of the boatmen took visitors out for trips around the Bay, at 6d a time.   As a teenager, I made a job for myself, as once the boatmen had finished for the day, I would take our dinghy out to pick them up from their moorings all along the front.

    There were some wonderful characters — Richie Gammon, ‘Spoppo’ Webborn, ‘Auntie Minnie’, Henry Hullin, ‘Bantam’ Davies, ‘Hecker’ Bowden and Johnny ‘Mac’.  I did not understand all the nicknames.  But Dad had bought his boat from ‘Auntie Minnie’—Billie Davies — and the origin of that nickname is one I do know.   Apparently Billie Davies was brought up by his aunt, and when teased or bullied at school, would always say ‘I’ll tell Auntie Minnie!’  He was one of the great Mumbles sea-faring characters.  Auntie Minnie skippered a boat called The Rising Sun, which belonged to his uncle ‘Bantam’ Davies.  Bantam owned two skiffs.  He always wore a blue serge suit with three buttons, and Auntie Minnie was scared of him – Bantam would roll up his sleeve and threaten poor Auntie Minnie – ‘Willie, behave theeself!’.

 What of the boats?  There was the Vanna, a yacht owned by Treherne Thomas (of Richard, Thomas and Baldwin fame) who was the first Commodore of the Mumbles Yacht Club.   It was the Vanna that came to the rescue in the tragic death of two young men off Mixon Sands, (also called the Mixen).   They had gone out in a canoe with a young lady, Beryl Batchelor’s sister who worked in a Mumbles sweetshop. The the canoe collapsed under their weight!  The young men were swimmers, but they still drowned.  Beryl’s sister could not swim, but she managed to stay afloat, and she was rescued by the Vanna  from off Mixon Sands.

 Shearwater was a beautiful boat, built by Andersons of Penarth for the solicitor Melville Jeremiah. It was Billy Simmonds’s job to look after Shearwater.  One day, I was asked to take the dinghy out to meet the boat: Shearwater was still afloat, even though the tide was out, and I knew that something was wrong. I soon saw that there was no rudder, and I ran to contact Billy Simmonds.  The rudder was later picked up by a tramp steamer – and Mr Jeremiah gave me two half-crowns (5s.) for reporting the missing rudder.

     We once took our boat Jinny across to Ilfracombe.  On board, we had Billy Gammon, Charlie Batson and a man I knew as ‘Jock’..  We passed the Carlotta, owned by Bertram Charles, another solicitor, and one of the Carlotta’s passengers was Sir Arthur Whitton-Browne (of Alcock & Browne fame).   Also on board was Phil Beynon.  ‘See you in Mumbles,’ Phil shouted out, as we passed.  But then we found, as we left Ilfracombe for the return trip, that the Carlotta’s engine had failed: its chain had broken.  So we towed the Carlotta back to Mumbles: Billy Gammon used an anchor rope – forming a V to both bollards on our boat.

Sammy Gammon was the ‘elder statesman’ of the boatmen.  He organised all the sailings.   If there was a breeze at sailing-time, he would say ‘Thee’s can go, because the sun will barn it up’. 

    Mumbles followed me around.  Later, when I was in the Royal Navy, and visiting Australia towards the end of WW2, I visited the well-known Lunar Park.  I was with my mate Harry Lightfoot, a Scouser, and he went for a second-ride on the roller-coaster.  Just as he boarded, I saw a naval back ahead of me — and I knew straight away that it was ‘Hecker’ Bowden from Mumbles.  Hecker’s claim to fame was that, in his grandfather’s elastic-sided boots, he could run across forty-five empty gallon-drums belonging to Bantam’s skiffs.

Those were wonderful times, and wonderful characters

 ** Harry’s father Watkin William Ward served in WW1 at Gallipoli, and was awarded the DCM after the second battle of Gaza; returning to Swansea, he was Secretary of the District Rugby Union.

Also of interest::

New Sam Gammon, my Great-grandfather and my Mumbles of the 1930s by Ralph Wood

New Poem-Painting the Boat by 'Spur' 

     One lovely boatman who I picked up regularly was Richie Gammon, then in his 70s.  Every time I picked him up from his moorings he would say, ‘There thee art…’— and give me a 3d piece.  On one occasion, he told that he had had a bad day—‘but thee usn’t to go home wi’ nothing’—and gave me half a Chelsea bun!  Richie lived with his sister in Dickslade, and was reported to be the last person to know where the oysterbeds lay…

Another great character was ‘Doctor’  Davies who was Coxswain of the Mumbles Lifeboat before Billy Gammon.  I remember one occasion when Stan Clements, ‘The Boatbuilder of Mumbles’, approached us.  ‘Wha’s thee been lately, Stan?’ asked ‘Doctor’ Davies.  ‘I was on my way to Oxwich, crabbing’, said Stan. ‘But this dam’ fool came round the corner and hit me off my bike.’  Stan had aimed a stone at the offender as he fled—‘my elevation was good, but it didn’t allow for the wind’, said Stan.  ‘Doctor’ Davies was critical, ‘It would serve thee well if that feller had come back and given thee a hammering’.  Stan said, ‘He’d have to have been a bit of a Jack Johnson’, the contemporary world boxing champion.

‘Doctor’ Davies ruled the lifeboat with a rod of iron.  He controlled who went out on the monthly exercises on the lifeboat. There were many volunteers, and for an exercise they were paid 7s.6d.  On pay-day, it is said. ‘Doctor’ Davies sat with two tubs in front of him.  One contained half-crowns, and he would take out three for each volunteer.  But the volunteer was expected to return one of them to the empty tub, as a contribution to Lifeboat funds.  If 2s.6d. was not put into the empty tub, the volunteer was unlikely to be invited out on exercises again!

For all boat repair requirements, we went to Stan Clements, who   lived in Clifton Terrace.  The three-piece suite in his front-room was covered with boxes of nails and wires — everything needed to make boats seaworthy. That front-room was a cornucopia of boating paraphernalia!

In the late 1930s, there were great building works going in Mumbles: the builders Melville Dundas and Whitson were putting in the new sewerage system, and many of the boatmen valued this, as a possible source of winter employment.  Henry Hullin was encouraged to apply for one of the building jobs. He was asked “What do you know about rocks?” and he said, “the only rock thee knows is what thee Mum’s brought thee from Blackpool”.  Needless to say Henry did not get the job.

On one occasion, near the Bristol Channel Yacht Club, crowds had gathered along the wall, all gesticulating and excited.  What they were witnessing was the beaching of a Sowerby beaked whale.  ‘Boffins’ came down from London to examine the carcass, with a box of flensing knives.   I watched as they took out its backbone, and took it back to London for closer examination.  After reporting all that to my mother and brother, we failed to finish our ham lunch!  Harry Hullin was paid £5 to bury the remains.  He did so in the mud near the wooden groyne at Southend.  Consequently, every time the tide went out there was the most awful rotting smell and comments were rife ‘Thee’s a dirty bugger, Henry!’

Johnny ‘Mac’ was a superb painter.  Southend Post Office stands as a testament to his skills.  Mac had an American lifeboat and  I was once helping him with his propeller-shaft, when ‘Moose’ arrived.  Moose always had his mouth covered with a handkerchief, because his lips had been cut away.  ‘What thee’s lookin’ to do, John?’, he asked.  Johnny Mac explained and Moose said ‘Thee’s ‘ll never do that!’  Mac’s reply was ‘Never’s a long time, boy…’

‘Spoppo’ Webborn lived just three doors away from us in Bryn Terrace.  During the Second World War, we all got the fall-out from the anti-aircraft guns at Jersey Marine.  During the (1941?) Saturday Night/Sunday Morning Raid we could hear the ordnance droppings hit the roof.   We saw Spoppo standing outside, shaking his coat: he had been sitting by the fire when a brass nose-cap came down the chimney, scattering soot and waste all over him.  He lived with his son and daughter-in-law Ethel Webborn — and strange to say, the serial letters on the nose-cap were “E.W.”…

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