Times past on SS Granuaile (1948-70) recalled by David Gillen, captain retired

THE OLD Granuaile carried two motor boats; one was known to us as the Pet because she was mostly used by the Commissioners or on state occasions. I can still see Tuskar Shortall moving surefootedly around those boats, especially when he looked after the welfare of the 'missioners-oops, I'll be logged; no offence meant, Sirs.

Many stories could be recalled about Commissioners' trips-everything spick and span, everybody on their best behaviour, brasses gleaming. Lofty was responsible for the Commissioners' oilskins and walking sticks, making sure he collected them on their return to the ship. Keeping the rails clear of seagulls' deposits was a very important detail. Padser Doyle was convinced the gulls had cement in their diet.…
The other motor boat was used for everything, a real workhorse with a very reliable Kelvin Hughes engine which was cared for by M.J., the Winchman. It gave great service and was a pleasure to handle. One tip we had if it was really cold, or if she shipped water and the engine was damp, was when she was hoisted and secured to take out the plugs, put them on the galley range for the night, put them back in the morning; and off she would go, first swing of the fly wheel.

On this occasion the Granuaile was anchored off Rock Island and the motor boat was going up to Crookhaven. For some reason M.J. was at the wheel, which makes me think it was business and pleasure. I can't remember how many of us were going ashore, but we all arrived at the small pier of Crookhaven. Now, the rule was that the boat was never to be left unattended. This rule was always strictly adhered to-except on this night. Quiet, off season, in this safe little creek, whoever was supposed to mind the boat (not me Sir, I was a Quartermaster then) was literally yards from the boat, but obviously decided to join in the West Cork hospitality. Maybe it's different these days, but we knew every pub landlord, and maybe the occasional barmaid.

So it was that night in Crookhaven, renewing old friendships and swapping news of people and places.

As the saying goes, time flies when you're having fun, and then it was time to return to the ship. Feeling no pain, we said slán abhaile and crossed the little quay to our boat, only to find her high and dry alongside the wall. If you are any length of time in the Lighthouse Service you have to become aware of tide movements. We had no answer. There was nothing else to do but adjourn back to the pub-which, needless to say, we did.

As the politician said, a rising tide lifts all boats. When she was nicely afloat we boarded, ready to start her up and get back, discussing whether we would all be sacked and what time the bus left from Goleen. Normally you started the engine with one swing; but there we were, long past midnight, awl, and the engine wouldn't start. She was never meant to be moved by oars, but she carried two paddles suitable for a small punt. Needs must etc… so there we were, making slow progress, silently inching our way down Crookhaven.

Suddenly M.J. made an exclamation, made his way for'd, and said 'try her now'. We did, and she started first time.

Her fuel tank was right for'd under a small deck. This for'd valve was never closed when the boat was in the water, but Mick must have been a bit security conscious, turned it off and then forgotten he had done so. He wasn't thrown over the side, but came very close to it! A saying often used in jest by the Granuaile crew was 'stupid enough to be an admiral'. That night we all felt qualified to fill that category.

I can't remember the consequences, except that we weren't sacked. I don't remember standing in line, but when you've been there a few times you tend to forget. Certainly we played hard, but we knew our work and did it to the best of our ability. Maybe the officers of that night looked at our episode in that light. Years later, wearing a different hat, I always thought that a good reliable seaman deserved a bit of slack now and again.

Looking back on the fun we had around the coast, the reliefs of the Keepers, the lightships, landing oil, beating up the west coast as I have often done in the Limerick Steamships, we all knew that on that rock was a Lightkeeper with binoculars trained on us, and it was a good feeling to know that we weren't alone out there.

Today it must seem very different-but, c'est la vie, that's progress.