Another type of river
craft was the Hopper. The
hopper was the vessel that took
the dredged material from the
grab- dredgers. Instead of
buckets the grab dredger had a
large crane with a big scoop
–something like today’s JCB- and
there could be one on either
side of the dredger. They would
go to places on the river that
either the bucket dredger was
too big to operate or too
awkward, or the job wasn’t big
enough to justify the big bucket
dredger.
Once at the charted
position of the ‘hump’ on the
riverbed the crane or cranes
would get to work lowering their
crane or cranes into the river
and scoop up a load of gooey
detritus from the depths and
then deposit the load into the
hopper that had arrived
alongside at a suitable position
to receive the load.
I can’t remember now
how many hoppers there were
working the River Clyde and the
estuary- or the numbers they had
painted on their hulls in big
white letters, but there were
quite a few.
Not quite in the same
category as the Puffer
Skippers-the hopper Skipper were
characters just the same. One I
became quite friendly with
through- as often happens with
me- saying something and the
wrong interpretation being
taken.
I had gone aboard – let’s say
Hopper No 10 to do a job and the
Skipper offered me a cup of tea.
I accepted and the usual big
white mug was placed before me.
In a conversational way I said
“ Thank’s Skipper. God- I was
aboard No 5 last week and
nothing would do but Geordie the
Skipper put a full breakfast
down in front of me – bacon,
egg, sausage, fried bread and
coffee- I was so full at the end
of it I could hardly get up to
the wheelhouse to get on with
the repair.” I looked up at this
Skipper- and saw his face was
quite red- and he almost
snarled “Are you trying to tell
me that the hospitality on No 10
isn’a as good for you as on No
5?” I hastily tried to make
amends but things were
definitely unpleasant right up
until I finished my work and
left No 10.
It was several months
before I had to go back to N0 10
for another repair Job. I joined
the hopper by its small boat
from the shore and was
efficiently skulled out as it
was working alongside one of the
grab dredgers. The Skipper was
waiting for at the head of the
rope ladder. Before I could say
anything I was treated to a
barked “Ye’ll have a cup before
ye’ start –EH?”. I followed him
down to the wee mess-room and
sat at the table without a word
being spoken.
Shortly he returned
and placed before me a big mug
of coffee and a plate with two
lovely floury rolls filled with
bacon, egg and tomato. He spoke
very quietly with his Highland
lilt more pronounced –“MR MILLS
! never again will you be able
to doubt the hospitality on
board N0 10!!”
From then on, no
matter what time it was that I
arrived on board- I was not
allowed to commence work until I
had been served a meal of some
kind. In fact The Skipper
–Archie- and I became good
friends. He told me that his
daughter and son were so
different. The girl had to work
very hard to get good exam
results while the son found it
very easy. They both achieved a
place at Glasgow University-with
a difference. The Daughter,
because she had always had to
work hard in class, did the same
at university and made the
necessary grades. The son,
because it had always been easy
for him to pass exams at school
could not cope with the tutorial
style of information being
imparted and did not study- and
failed his exams time and time
again.
Eventually Archie and
his wife had to lay the law down
hard. Saying it was bad enough
for them to have the cost of two
at university, without the high
and mighty clever one working
and failing all the time.
Eventually they received a
report saying that unless the
son improved drastically, grants
would be withdrawn as would his
place at university.
Hoping to ‘encourage’
the son, Archie told him if that
happened he would get him some
kind of job in John Brown’s
shipyard and that would be him
in the ‘yard for the rest of his
life with little or no
prospects.
There was little
change so one Friday Archie and
his wife went out and made two
purchases. On the Sunday night
the son was given a parcel. When
he opened it he looked at two
pairs of
told that Mum and Dad had had
enough and that a Yard foreman
was expecting him to start next
morning and the overalls were
the last things his parents were
going pay out on him.
The son stuttered and stammered,
then there were floods of tears.
This was not the kind of future
he wanted.
Realisation dawned.
The son buckled down and his
sister and him both ended up
with Honours degrees and two
very proud parents.
I perhaps saw Hopper
No 10 and Archie four five times
a year when he had radio
problems. The last time I saw
Archie before I changed by
employers was certainly
memorable.
The office had
received a call of defective
equipment on Hopper No 10, and
she was on her way down river
and would call in at one of the
old disused quays. I was told to
meet her there.
After a bit of
scouting about I eventually
found the entrance. I drove over
a broken old road with overgrown
weeds, scattered rubbish of all
sorts and between the crumbling
remnants of old warehouses.
I was relieved when I
could see the old quay and glint
of the river ahead of me. As I
got to the end of the crumbling
red brick warehouses I turned
toward the edge of the quay and
was surprised, to say the least,
to see a crowd about twenty
tramps and down-and-outs, male
and female, clustered around two
old oil drums with flames and
smoke blowing in the cold wind.
I had to drive past them and as
I approached the motley group
three very rough looking
characters stood out in front of
me. The asked me
what I wanted down there- I told
them I was meeting a boat to do
some repairs. I was accused of
being a customs or police spy. I
tried to drive on but they
wouldn’t get out of the way.
Three more arrived – two of them
females with a bottle of
something –it wasn’t Coka Cola –
in one hand and a suspicious,
thin twisted smoke in the other.
Things were really beginning to
get nasty- two of the men had
picked up fist sized stones.
Then, like a gift from the Gods,
there was the sound of a ships
horn blowing hard and getting
closer. I looked over at the
river and there was a hopper
with steam pouring out of her
funnel and the horn as she
closed the quay. It wasn’t
exactly the Fifth Cavalry- it
was Archie and N010! The big
hopper came in at a sharp angle,
ropes were thrown over two rust
crumbling bollards, and all six
of the crew including Archie
came racing over with various
implements in their hands.
I was escorted over to
No10 and things quietened down.
Archie told me they had
recognised my car and anyway –
who else would be down at that
place. It turned out that it was
a favourite gathering place for
‘alkies and druggies’ and once
Archie had emphatically told
them what I was doing down on
the quay, they went back to
their idea of a great party.
When I left under
escort from Archie’s men, the
brain- damaged revellers
actually offered me a drink and
a smoke as I drove past.
I’ll never forget
Archie and N010 coming to my
rescue.
Apart from the
Dredgers, the Hoppers, the
Puffers, there were the Pleasure
steamers that took thousands of
holidaymakers around the Clyde
waters- or as the locals would
say “Doon the Watter”, the tugs,
Harbour Authority launches, the
smaller ferries
that ran from one side of the
River Clyde to the other and
others, all with different types
of men as Skippers or, on the
larger vessels, the Captains.
All with diverse natures, from
the Grumps- to the jovial. From
the roughs to the gentlemen.
They were all part and
parcel of helping to fill my
seafaring memory banks with many
more good things than bad- and
knowing how fortunate I have
been to have met them and
experienced a small part of
their lives.
Bill Mills
