There was a big bucket-dredger
that slowly worked its way over
an allotted area of the River
Clyde – usually on the main
channel- to clear any build up
of mud and silt that had caused
the river bed to be less than
the charted depth and of course
– a danger to shipping.
At the after end of the
hull a high structure of girders
– like a miniature Eiffel Tower
towered over the deck. – pointed
a moving line of big metal
buckets down to and into the
hull of the vessel- rather like
an escalator with unusual
passengers. When working, the
bucket line clanked and jerked
on its way spilling out dirty,
stinking muddy river water. As
the buckets entered the hull of
the dredger and moved along they
tipped over and emptied their
unappetising cargo into the
holding area and then clanked
their way back up the tower to
start coming down once again for
another dig at the offending
bump on the channel bed. When
the hold was full, the dredging
stopped, they weighed anchor and
proceeded down river to the
estuary where doors in the
bottom of the hull were opened
and the mud etc was cascaded
away onto a section of the
estuary where it wouldn’t do any
harm. They kept moving to a
different area on subsequent
drops.
One visit on board
this monstrosity to attend to a
broken VHF radio on the bridge,
amid the clanking and jerking,
the cloying smell and every now
and then a screech of tortured
metal as a bucket struck
something it shouldn’t have as
the Skipper was trying to have a
yelled conversation with me.
Suddenly he shouted- “ What’s up
with Donald – waving his arms
about like that?”
Looking down onto the deck the
Mate could be seen mouthing
words that we couldn’t hear and
signing to stop the dredge.
The Skipper stopped
the bucket line. The Skipper
shouted down-“What the hell is
the matter Donald.” Donald
shouted up –
“Do ye remember that man lost
overboard from a boat that the
‘polis’ boat was looking for?”
“ Aye I do” the Skipper yelled
back.
“ Well it looks as if we’ve
found him!” And Donald pointed
to a particular bucket where a
partly submerged body could just
be made out. “ Oh bloody hell –
we’ll have to tell the ‘polis’
and that will mean us being late
finished tonight” the Skipper
shouted back. Then he turned to
me –“Is that f----g Vhf working
yet?” “Yes I’ve just finished
and its OK.” “ Good –that’s a
wee help.” He then turned to the
wheelhouse to radio the Harbour
Control and report ‘the find.’
I was being taken
ashore in the ships boat and as
the Skipper was saying “Cheerio”
to me –his final words were –
“Ye wi’d be surprised what we
pick up in those bloody
buckets!”
Not now I wouldn’t.!
Bill Mills
