Articles 2
CELTIC FRINGE SECTION
or
"mutterings from the moorings"
Greetings from the fringe! I am writing this from a solitary patch of mud, in splendid isolation, somewhere up the river Fal in darkest Cornwall. There is a moderate westerly wind blowing, the same wind that allowed us to sail most of the way here from our Penryn mooring, but now, sheltered by the steep banks with their thick covering of oak trees and Douglas firs, the same forest that supplied "Jan Willem’s" new mast several years ago, it does not disturb us. What did disturb me however, about a month ago, was a thump on "Jan Willem’s" decks at three o’ clock in the morning, followed by a shout of "Dave! Dave! I think I’m sinking". Quickly leaping out of bed, I took few moments to realise that the source of the commotion was my next door neighbour, living on a converted ammunition barge. Since this is purely a static home, it’s very convenient for us to moor alongside him and do away with all the lines that a normal mooring entails. I climbed on board, made my way down below and sure enough there was the frightening sound of running water. We traced it very quickly to the sink waste pipe, that exits through a large hole a good foot above the normal waterline. Since this was the cause of the immediate problem, we worked like idiots for half an hour, transferring all movable objects to the other side of the barge to cause a list and to get the offending pipe above the water line. We succeeded in our aims and the incoming water ceased. The question was why was the barge so low in the water in the first place?. Floorboards were lifted and of course the bilge space was full of water. The tide was now ebbing and the barge soon settled once more into its mud berth. We grabbed a few hours sleep and then with the aid of a lot of volunteer "creek people" (there but for the grace of God go I etc. etc.) and a salvage pump, we managed to empty the bilge. On the next tide she floated a good foot higher in the water. The bilge had always been a little wet but not seriously so and in consequence, ignored. How many times have you said, "Oh metal hulls will never fail disastrously, they will always give you warning by starting with a small weep." (IGNORE THIS WARNING AT YOUR PERIL) It now became clear that the leak was a seep rather than a gush and in fact it took some time to find it. The bilge was heavily tarred and in some places had suspicious looking bubbles in it. It was after Sam poked his finger through one of these blisters and out the bottom of the boat, that the scale of the problem became clear. It was impossible to reach the outside bottom of the boat, so Pete, the barges owner, carried out temporary repairs in the form of steel plates tack welded on the inside. Pete is an engineer shipwright by trade and after extensive investigation decided that the only way to save the ship, without massive cost, was to go for the old favourite of concreting the bilges. To do this he has had to take the whole interior apart, clean all the metal work, needle gun the sound areas, hoover out all the dust and scale and finally lay the concrete. To fully cover the turn of the bilge and to reach well above the waterline, it has been necessary to shutter each bay in stages at about 12" spaces, vibrating the mix in between each layer. This barge is around 80ft by 20ft, he has been working for three weeks, he is still at it. Now before you all rush off to examine your bilges, the tale continues. In and around our little bit of creek, we have our sailing tjalk, a Humber keel, a Billy boy, a wooden Thames barge and three converted dumb barges. The wooden barge used to leak so badly that again a concrete floor was installed, rumour has it that the original wooden planks no longer exist, but the mud keeps its secrets.
The Billy boy sprung a pin hole leak and while the owner was absent, flooded over the floor before the owner returned to find he had a problem. One of the workshop barges did not get of so lightly. One dark night she just refused to lift off the mud and the next morning revealed a sorry mess of floating wood, paper rags and all the detritus that accumulates in the bottom of a workshop barge. By an incredible stroke of fortune, many of the hand tools were either not on board, being used on jobs away from the creek, or in the case of the grinders, welder etc they were on a barge being worked on alongside. However, all the fixed machinery, lathe, pillar drill, planer etc etc was inundated. Once again local muscle power was enlisted and although the first attempt to re float was thwarted by the incoming tide, the second attempt was successful. We then had to strip the entire interior of its chipboard cladding, shift a million tons of assorted soggy junk, pressure wash the interior and think about concreting. The bottom plates were paper thin in many places, so thin that chipping was impossible and we had to scrape them clean as best we could. Like the wooden barge mentioned earlier, a total concrete bottom was the only answer. This meant cutting and carrying a huge amount of reinforcing mesh, bag after bag of cement and finally mixing and barrowing load after load of wet concrete.
The keel and ourselves have had no problems so far, but as we use our ships regularly (and have actually had surveys in living memory) perhaps we are more paranoid over the integrity of our hulls. I am not suggesting that static barges are necessarily more prone to rot away than ones that work for a living, but it is true that those that never move often tend to become part of the scenery, look as if they will always be there and in consequence, possibly the hull does not always get the attention it deserves, especially those areas that no one ever sees. They also tend to have windows, sink drains and other orifices that are not as well sealed as those on a seagoing ship. Are all your through hull fitting secured with proper sea cocks and all hoses fitted with double hose clips ?. Remember your barge will still float with a considerable weight of water on board, but not if this drags a badly sealed skin fitting underwater. Finally, if you still insist on burying your head in the sand I suggest you go and look, or better still help out, the next time you hear of a fellow live aboard sinking, this will focus your mind considerably. Sorry if I have ruined your whole day!
7
I am afraid that many barge owners have denied themselves the pleasure of cruising simply through not thinking the whole process through. This does not only apply to barge owners of course, many live-aboard types have fallen into the same trap. Often people fulfil a dream and move on to a boat full time. In a good many cases they move straight from a house on to a boat. I suspect that in the case of barges this happens more often than simply moving from a small boat on to a larger one. For so many people, the leap from a modern life style to a more primitive one is too hard to take and dreams of self sufficiency and trade winds are side lined in favour of an alongside berth, with mains water, shore power, fridges, videos and showers. The whole effort of moving becomes just too great. On the other hand, and I don’t intend this to be patronising, perhaps this sorts the doers from the dreamers. Margreet and myself came "up through the ranks" so to speak, living on a self sufficient farm for a while before moving as a family, two teenagers two adults and a cat, on to a thirty foot catamaran. Finally graduating (after the children left home) to "Jan Willem". We now live on a drying mud berth, without main services of any kind and with limited access. Every trip out necessitates reversing slowly through a multitude of moored plastic boats. A short trip down the river brings us into the mouth of Falmouth bay, open to the south and intimidating when a sea has built from south west through to south east, and eventually into the stunningly beautiful Carrick Roads with its numerous creeks and rivers. The process of living on board and regularly moving home is not simple, it should not be too simple or every one would do it, but it can become straight forward if common sense and basic skills are brought into play. learn how to use it competently. This brings us to the "big barge" syndrome. Anyone reading Blue Flag, or indeed Barge News, could be forgiven for thinking that for "Dutch barges" read "huge motor ships". I am sure that our membership embraces all sorts and all sizes of barge. As far as Dutch barges are concerned we can talk about 38 meter spitsen and 70 meter Dortmunders, but in the same breath consider their smaller cousins. In the west of the Netherlands, in the area around Maassluis, Delft and Leiden, a vast network of small, shallow, drainage canals, gave rise to the ship known as the Westlander. At first a pure sailing ship that was often pulled by man and beast, they evolved into the Westland Motorboot. What makes these ships particularly different to most Dutch barges that we are familiar with, are their relatively small dimensions enabling them to navigate in the westland. A Westlander could vary between 9 and 20 meters in length, but with a typical beam of 2.5 meters and a draft of less than 1 meter. This compares very favourably with typical English narrow boat dimensions of 21.5 meters by 2.15 meters. Although the techniques to operate a Dortmunder and a Westlander would at first glance seem to be poles apart, in essence they would be broadly similar. It is the specialist skills of their respective skippers that would differ a great deal. It is these specialist skills, that many of our members posses, that can be most usefully shared via these pages
8
Spring seems to have come early down here in Cornwall, it is only just the beginning of February, but apart from the profusion of daffodils, primroses and snowdrops the early sunshine has brought the denizens of Muddy Beach out of hibernation and the sound of sawing, hammering and agonized yelps, mixes with the smell of coffee, paint and tar. It is still too cold at night to paint topcoat outside successfully, but anti-rust primer dries quickly enough. I have used the good weather to tackle the various items of woodwork on my ship. The bright work, namely main hatch, tiller and koe-koek (skylight) have suffered badly with the wet and wind and paradoxically the strong sunshine. These must wait till the days are longer and the nights are drier. The mast, boom and bowsprit are painted, so they are OK for the moment. That leaves the leeboards, rudder, loopplank, (gangplank), vaarboom (barge pole) and of course all the blocks. When I first took over "Jan Willem", the blocks and vaarboom were all beautifully varnished and for the first year I managed to maintain this fine tradition. The next year with some rough sailing and then a prolonged spell without much use, caused a terrific degradation in the shining surfaces. I spent three days sanding all the blocks back to bare wood and then soaked them for at least two days in boiled linseed oil. It must be boiled oil or it will never "go of". The blocks took about four days to become touch dry and then harden off quite nicely. The beauty of this is that all it takes to cheer them up again is a rub over with fine sand paper and another liberal dowsing of linseed oil. The same was done to the vaarboom. The finish is dull rather than shiny but much easier to maintain. This after all is what the old Dutch skippers used, "Lijnolie" linseed oil.
The loopplank and leeboards which get a harder life need a different treatment. Back in 1990, in Enkhuizen, the boards were finished in some sort of lacquer that looked rather sorry for itself. I rubbed them down from on board as best I could and treated them to a coat of combined stain and wood preservative. This lasted the trip back to Cornwall, but definitely needed a different approach for the long term. The following winter I removed both boards to cut out a certain amount of rot and decay. I took this opportunity to replace the pivot bearings (galvanized water pipe) and chip, clean and prime all the other associated metalwork. This time I used black tar on the lower edges of the boards, the area most frequently immersed and abused. The rest of the board was again treated to several coats of stain. (Would I never learn ?) It was two years ago that I took a quantum step forward. The board were in their usual winter scruffiness, so I sanded them down as far as possible and slapped on several coats of creosote. This works a treat and is cheap!. The boards look good, smell good and survive abuse and neglect. A quick rub down and a fresh coat takes only a day. To see the wood drinking in the creosote shows just how dry they do get. (A board in constant use, especially in salt water, would not dry out like those used sporadically.) The rudder now gets the same treatment.
9
From The Celtic Fringe
Thirty years ago, the little town of Penryn where "Jan Willem" is now based still had a thriving water-borne trade. The warehouses and wharves on the opposite side of the river to us were a scene of constant activity that ebbed and flowed with the tide. Beyond the town bridge was a complex of buildings, with the old Anchor pub on the corner. All of these buildings are now either derelict or destroyed and the pub is long since gone. The whole area is still called the Anchor complex however and is due to be re-developed. One of the old buildings used to house a shipping agent and in here worked a young lady by the name of Maureen. A string of coincidences lead my wife Margreet into contact with her and she quickly realised that I too would be interested in her story.
Maureen was borne in Penryn and on leaving school went to work in the shipping office. Small ships and coasters from the near continent were regular visitors to the quay-side, along with the local fishing boats. Many of the small coasters came from Holland and one day Maureen met the skipper of one of these ships. In the way of all good stories, she eventually married him and left Penryn on board his coaster. They travelled all over north west Europe. A regular run might begin in Germany, continue around the north coast of Holland, across the North Sea to the Thames estuary and then along the south coast of England, picking up cargo as they went. From the south coast they often headed over to Ireland and then, by way of the Caledonian canal, back across the North Sea once more to northern Holland. The coaster belonged to a Groningen based shipping line and carried a crew of six; the skipper, a mate, two crewmen, an engineer and a cook. Maureen quickly learnt many of the skills needed to become useful on a ship and when one of the deck-hands was carted off to jail for three weeks in Germany, she took over his role. Shortly after this they decided to go it alone and left the coaster to work together. In 1961 they had a brand new Kempenaar constructed in Kampen on the river Ijssel in the province of Overijssel. The Kempenaar is an old ship type that can trace its origins back to the 19th century. Built to a size that could use the Kempenkanaal and originally rather like a spits or peniche in shape, they developed into a specific ship type. At the end of the 1950’s and the beginning of the 1960’s a new Kempenaar appeared. Surprisingly, unlike other up-dated ship types, this one made no attempt to be bigger and better, just better. It was built to original Kempenaar specifications of 50 metres by 6.5 metres. The old spits type round bow and stern had gone, to be replaced with a smooth, streamlined, motor-ship hull shape, very like a luxemotor. In fact they can easily be mistaken for luxemotors, but a true 1960’s Kempenaar has no tumblehome on the counter, the stem is slightly raked and at the bow, above the rubbing band, the hull falls slightly inward.
Maureen’s new ship was called "Trude K" and now that her husband and herself were to work the ship together, it became necessary for Maureen to become qualified. So, thirty five years ago, an English woman found herself in a Gronigense department of trade office, taking her examination, all in Dutch. Maureen remembers that the exam was completely oral and consisted of recognising flags, sound signals and the various canal-side signs. Almost an hour was spent pushing wooden boats around on a table and taking the appropriate action in various circumstances. At the end she was merely handed a piece of paper and shown the door. Outside, her husband was frantic, assuming that all had gone wrong, as the test was usually a bit of a formality and took around fifteen minute. Maureen was the first English woman to obtain her skippers ticket and also the all important "Rijnpatent".
"Trude K" had a Brons, twin-cylinder diesel engine, fitted from new. At that time, although not at the cutting edge of marine diesel engine technology, the Brons twin with almost forty years of development behind it, was widely used by the binnenvaart fleet and acknowledged to be especially reliable. Many of these engines continued in use right up to the time the ship ceased to trade. The luxemotor "Allegonda", built in Foxhole in 1929, kept her engine for fifty nine years until a major seizure made repairs uneconomical. Similarly, "De Volharding 2", built in Leiden also in 1929 was fitted from new with a 1928 model Brons twin of 70 hp, she still has it today and is used regularly. This is by no means uncommon. Massively engineered and using around 9 litres of fuel an hour their distinctive "tabang tabang tabang" engine note is instantly recognisable in contrast to the multi-cylindered modern engines. However I am digressing, lets get back to Maureen and the "Trude K".
The very first time Maureen and her husband took a cargo up the Rijn, they found their ship gradually got slower and slower due to the fast flowing current, until by the time they reached the German border at Lobith they were barely making headway. They had noticed that more and more barges were either moored up, or anchored in the backwaters, but had not realised that most other skippers thought it was too difficult and too fuel consuming to carry on fighting against the current. Gradually they crept on, the old Brons chugging away at about 300 rpm, sometimes hardly moving, sometimes actually going backwards they persevered and eventually made it upriver. They were the first barge to make it and had the wharf to themselves.
Another time, again on the Rijn, they were once again making slow headway when they approached a bridge. They aimed for the span that was lit by the green lights and very slowly crawled toward it. At this time they spotted an old French barge, so old it had the central stall for the barge-horses still in place, coming down-river. It was heading for the same span. The bridge keeper, seeing that the French barge had very little manoeuvrability, reversed the lights. Now the down coming barge had right of way and "Trude K" had to give way. It was impossible for "Trude K" to move over, although they tried, any sudden move and she would have been caught by the stream and whipped sideways. The inevitable happened and for a brief moment the two barges formed a perfect "T", before the French barge slid past. Eventually both ships were moored up, although now some several miles apart and the skippers confronted each other. After an initial heated exchange, both agreed it was all part of the game and it could not have been helped. Maureen especially remembers the French skipper looking at the huge dent in the side of his ship. It was the exact size and shape of "Trude K’s" bow. That will be the shape of my next ship said the French skipper.
"Trude K" was especially constructed to stronger than usual specifications for a canal-ship, because they knew that the trade in the "Sont" and "Belt" areas, around Denmark’s off lying islands, was very lucrative. However, "Trude K" was never officially licenced to trade there, although this did not stop her. The route to the Baltic generally involves some open-sea work, but there is an inside route that runs inside the Friesen Wadden islands, across the Emms estuary and then inside the German Wadden islands to Cuxhaven. From here a passage through the Nord Ostsee Kanal (the Kiel canal), gives access to the Danish islands of Fyn and Sjaelland, the Sont and Belt areas. To transit the passage between mainland Germany and the Wadden islands required an obligatory pilot. For many years this duty was carried out by the ex-skipper of the inshore lifeboat, at a time when the boat was propelled solely by oars. Eventually he grew old and was replaced with a younger man. One time "Trude K" was on her way to Denmark and no pilot was available, the old pilot who was always watching and waiting, said "Time is money. come on I’ll take you through". Now at eighty years old this gentleman was almost blind, but to him this was not a problem. "When the second line of withies (pricks he called them), is abeam, keep tight in to starboard until you have a tall factory chimney dead ahead, then bear away a little". Occasionally he would peer into the distance and sniff the air. Then nodding confidently he would relay the next instruction. When they arrived in Cuxhaven there was a terrific fuss. The pilot was on his way in the other direction so they must have travelled illegally without a pilot. "Not so", they said and produced the ancient mariner. The German authorities were not impressed. They impounded the ship and threw the pilot into jail.
Dutch skippers are not renowned for their reticence and after a tremendous and spirited argument on the dockside, in which it was pointed out that the old pilot had never put anyone on the sand, whereas the new one had often come a cropper, the pilot was released and the "Trude K" was free to go.
10
Luxemotor
In 1920, the first, large, purpose-built motor-ships appeared. These were based on the lessons learnt from the beurtmotor and had the advantage of not being tied to a particular hull shape, a shape which had, in all probability, evolved to benefit wooden ship building practice, or similar earlier building techniques. The luxemotor could draw on all the modern state of the art technology, with all the modern advantages of the twentieth century built in. The first of these new motor-ships were essentially just larger beurtmotors with a salonroef behind the wheel-house, but the evolution of the beurtmotor had provided the prototype for many new ideas and in the luxemotor they were all brought together. The luxemotor can be conveniently divided into three sections, the cargo carrying and bow section, the engine room and the accommodation.
Unlike other evolutionary compromises, each section was purpose built. The hull form embraced accepted practice for a ship that would travel and trade mainly on sheltered water, albeit with the ability to cope with strong flowing rivers and contained sufficiently strong framing to withstand limited exposure to open waters, such as the IJsselmeer and the Schelde. It was constructed of riveted steel plates and frames, which allowed ships of different length to be easily built and to allow extension at a later date if necessary. The first examples had a mast and sailing-rig in conventional sailing-ship position (hulptuigen) and this did allow a little down-wind sailing. The disadvantage, as we have seen time and again in this book, was that the presence of the bulky structural "mastdek" supporting the mast and the resultant splitting of the hold into two areas, did not help the cargo handling process. It very soon became common practice to move the mast to a position on the fore-deck of the ship, with a boom of sufficient length to cover the whole cargo bay and a mast of much shorter height than that used for a sailing-rig (hijstuigen). The short mast was also easier to lower when passing under bridges. A tall mast, as seen on the true sailing-ships, needed a winch and sheerlegs (bokkepooten), to allow it to be lowered safely. The shorter mast could easily be lowered by means of a winch alone. Most of the booms remained wooden, as because of the length required, a steel boom was prohibitively heavy. The mast could be of steel or wood. Where the two-piece hold was retained, mostly on the longer ships used on the great rivers, the mast developed two booms, one facing forward and one aft to allow both hold areas to be easily worked. The dangers inherent in any manual cargo handling operation must not be under-rated. It was not for nothing that this rig gained the sinister title of "the murderer and two witnesses."
The luxemotor was built all over the Netherlands and also, although to a much smaller extent, in Belgium. Here it could actually be said to have appeared as early as 1910, but built along spitsen lines and of lighter construction, it was not a true luxemotor as we know it.
Accepted ship building practice of the time, coupled with the skipper/owners personal preferences, gradually allowed two slightly differing luxemotors to develop. It is in the shape of the bow and stern that this becomes most apparent. The northern shipyards of Groningen and Friesland had always built strong uncompromising ships, many for use in the sometimes stormy waters of the Baltic. Luxemotors from here have a generally blunt appearance. The bow is still rounded in form, less blunt than a spits, but not as sharp as a typical beurtmotor.
The second section of the luxemotor is the engine room. The engine room could at last be designed around the motor, rather than the other way around. Engines of this era were massively built and an engine with large amounts of horse power took up large amounts of space. A typical twin-cylinder diesel of 80 hp, for example the van Berkel of 1923, would stand three metres tall, with a huge solid outside flywheel of around two or three tons. This, coupled with the ancillary air-compressor for starting, plus fuel and oil tanks, not to mention the gearbox and drive shaft, took up a lot of space. There was no compromise however and most luxemotors that I have visited have airy, well lit, engine rooms, with plenty of working space, even those still retaining their old massive motors. A metal bulkhead, with a watertight and flame-proof door separates the cargo space from the engine space. The tall motors of the time meant that a small raised roef, as seen on the earlier beurtmotors was needed. This gave space for the motor, whilst a series of portholes around the sides allowed ventilation and a little light. On top of this short motoroef (which is a distinctive feature originally unique to the luxemotor and beurtmotor types), is the wheel-house. The lower section was, in most cases, constructed from steel, with the upper section built of wood. The top section may be dismantled for passing under bridges. The wheel-house has a door on both port and starboard, although the port-side is generally provided with a platform, a step and hand-rails.
Directly behind the port-side access steps is the engine room hatch, with a steel ladder giving access. These ladders are steep, mostly covered in a thin film of diesel oil and immensely slippery when wet. It is normal practice to keep the engine room hatch open whilst under way, as this helps to allow the engine to breath. Inevitably, at some time water will get on to these steps. Familiarity breeds contempt, or at least complacency, and a prudent skipper or engineer will always descend these steps backwards, with one hand for the ship at all times. Many people I have spoken to have fallen down these steps. Whilst working on the luxemotor "Vertrouwen" in Scotland, I fell victim to complacency and cracked two ribs. I was forced to carry on working in extreme pain until they healed. I hope that I for one have learnt my lesson.
As mentioned earlier, the wheel-house may be dismantled. In theory this is fairly simple, but in practice, as the comfortable warm cabin becomes part of the living space, it becomes full of papers, pot plants and coffee cups. For the metre or so saved, it is often just as well to wait for the bridge to open, or pick another route. At the rear of the wheel-house, on the port side, is the access to the third section, the living space or salonroef. Traditionally this is light and airy, totally unlike the cramped achteronder of the previous century. Because of the shape of the counter-stern and the location of the propeller shaft, the roef is built well above deck level to allow full standing headroom. This means that good sized windows can be incorporated. Here is to be found a wc and washroom, a small kitchen, a dining-sitting room and a good-sized bedroom. When finances allowed it, the shipyard carpenter could really express himself here. Working in conjunction with the owner and his wife, he could incorporate cupboards, etched glass panelled doors and different shades and grains of wood into the fit-out. Tropical hardwoods were popular and where more humble panelling was to be employed, the use of "gehout" was common. Gehout, in England called scumbling, is simply the practice of using stains and paint to apply a uniform, if artificial, grain to the surface. For the skipper’s wife in particular this was indeed a luxury motor-ship. The name luxemotor was born and it was soon universally applied to any ship built along these lines.
On the deck, to the rear of the salonroef, is a small after-deck which allows access to the rudder hangings and steering quadrant. A stern anchor with dedicated hawse-hole is also fitted. Whilst all luxemotors have a counter-stern, as mentioned earlier those built in the North differ to those built in the west. The western built ships have an almost 90 degree angle between the counter and the boeisel. This is called a "motorhek". The northern built ships have, in general, a much blunter shape, with a correspondingly less severe angle between counter and boeisel. In these cases the ship is said to have a "kruiserhek". In extreme cases the stern above the counter is almost vertical. In both models the counter ends at the normal loaded waterline and below this is the propeller aperture.
Unlike the spits, the luxemotor did not have to comply with any specific dimensional criteria. From the beginning of their building-life, they tended towards economical practical size, rather than maximum allowable size. Typically, a luxemotor of the 1920’s was 25 metres in length by 5 metres in the beam. This allowed free navigation on the majority of the waterways of the Netherlands. By the crisis years of the depression in 1929-30, which saw an enormous over-capacity of shipping tonnage and many hungry skippers, the luxemotor continued to flourish and grew in length to a typical 30 metres, whilst still retaining a 5 metre beam. The crisis years aside, 1920 to 1940 were the glory years for the luxemotor. In 1930, some enterprising skippers, seeking to widen their field of trade, were running tourist ships up and down the Rijn, predating the current hotel-barge scene by thirty or forty years. The second world war saw virtually all the larger ships taken by the invading Germans for war work. Some found their way to the Russian lakes and others to the Mediterranean. A vast number of luxemotors, spitsen and klippers alike, were simply converted to troop landing craft ready for Operation Sealion, the planned invasion of England. In the end, with air supremacy never established over the channel and a new front opening up in the east, the invasion never took place. After the war most of the requisitioned ships were reclaimed by their owners and reconverted back to cargo carriers (see chapter nine).
After the war, although many were lengthened and deepened to allow them to remain in trade, no more true luxemotors were built. By 1950 it was becoming more and more difficult for relatively small ships to compete for trade with the newer, larger, ships. However, if you keep your eyes open when travelling in the Netherlands, you will still find original luxemotors (some even miraculously un-lengthened), in service commercially.
11
"What are those flippers for?"
If you own a barge with lee-boards then you will be well used to variations on this oft repeated question, concerning what on earth those great "ears" are for.
It is probably true that manoeuvring in confined spaces is often the most nerve-wracking part of boat owning and handling. This is true for any ship from rubber dinghy to super-tanker and any articles and advice on the subject must always be welcome in Blue Flag. Chris Ries’s article in the spring edition lays out clearly and concisely the factors affecting the turning around of a barge. I know he has more to say on the subject so I will only pick up and elaborate on one point.
Chris points out that many barges have a tendency to "skid" outwards when turning. This is due to the relatively small immersed area of the hull. This has always been a feature of the barge hull form and through the years its negative effects have been counteracted in several ways. The first sailing-barges all carried lee-boards, these act in the same way as the centerboard of a more modern dinghy, only they are two in number and carried externally. That is to say that when running downwind both boards are raised. When reaching, (with the wind on the beam) the downwind board, that is the lee-board, is partially lowered and when beating (to windward) it is lowered all the way. In practice, for most of us sailing short-handed and not engaged in racing, the downwind board tends to be lowered all the way down and stays there until the ship tacks or gybes, when it becomes the windward board and is raised as the other board is lowered.. The board, acting like an aircraft wing, will generate a little positive lift to windward, but also performs the function of helping to prevent the ship moving sideways through the water or making leeway. This is what we also want to achieve when manoeuvring under engine. So if you still have lee-boards you have a positive advantage in a crowded harbour. The turn is achieved exactly as Chris advises but when turning to starboard, the "outside", port , board is lowered and vice-verce. Even in shallow water, if the board is lowered into the mud and then just raised clear, as long as it extends even a little way below the bottom of the barge it will give generous assistance. ( Do I dare mention that a fully lowered board also helps tremendously when going astern. Nick?) When the Dutch sailing-barges began to adopt motors the skippers were well aware of the advantages of lee-boards. Many barges that converted to full motor power still kept the boards for manoeuvring It was only in later years, as the size of the barges increased along with the reliability and power of the engines, that lee-boards disappeared.
This left the skippers with the same problems that we have today with motor-barges. As far as they were concerned an empty ship didn’t pay the bills and so they would always attempt to have some sort of cargo, even if only a low value, but preferably high density, one. A fully loaded motor-barge is a bit like an iceberg, in that about two-thirds of its area is underwater. Derek Kendal, in the last issue of Blue Flag, mentions the registration numbers that are to be found cut into the sides of most barges. These actually relate to the Dutch weights and measures department and a pair will be found on each side of the hull, fore and aft. Draw a horizontal line between the two numbers and you will find the registered load line of your ship. Many ships have more than one set of numbers and the differing waterlines relate to different types of cargo and trading areas. A ship working only on canals might be loaded with side-decks awash, but for the IJsselmeer, or other open waters, more freeboard was required. Equally well, it was no good having an allowable load line that gave a draft of five feet if the canal was only three feet deep! That is why you will still see barges apparently underladen. Other ships had compartments built into the hold that could be flooded with river water to increase the draft when travelling light. This is particularly obvious in the case of the "natte & droge" spitsen. The wet and dry spitsen. These emerged in the middle of this century as two quite different spits types, one with a river-ship type hull and a deeper draft, the "droge" spits and a fatter blunter variation with a shallow draft, the "natte" spits. The dry spits had no need to take on water and deal with the associated emptying and drying of the compartment, but because of the hull shape it could load less cargo. The wet spits, on the other hand, could carry more cargo, but needed to take on water ballast on occasion. The final breakthrough came in the form of the bow-thruster and however much of a purist you may be, myself included, there will always be a time when you wish for one.
ZWAARDEN`
Zwaard making (normally from oak) in particular was a real skill. Close examination of a well constructed pair of boards will show a left and a right hand board with a subtle airfoil section. This not only reduces lee way in a lateral plane, but also produces a small amount of positive lift to windward. Two other important wooden constructions associated with zwaard operation are the strijkklamp (fitted on the lower hull behind the zwaard), which allows the zwaard to attain the correct position in the water relative to the ship’s side and the aanvaringsklamp (fitted to the upper hull forward of the board), which prevents damage to the zwaard when going alongside. The method of attachment varied from a simple bolt through the board and hull, (as found on most skutsjes) to a system of bar and eye that allowed movement of the board in two planes. The latter was not universal and was most usually encountered on vessels that were intended to spend some of their time in open water. The head of the board was sandwiched between two heavy iron plates, which also formed the bearing surfaces for the pivot bar. Half round bar was fitted around the edges of the board and up to three vertical strengthening strips bolted through on each side. The vulnerable trailing tip of the zwaard was protected by metal plates. A chain attached to the head prevents the board from swinging too far forward and also retains the board in the event of the pivot breaking.
12
Star of wonder star of light..........
The new BCA house flag and symbol, as Balliol says, seems wholly appropriate when you consider all the symbolism involved. This leads us naturally of course toZinnebeelden, the Donderbezan, Tooverknoopen and the Vijfster. As far as I can see, the star did not start to routinely appear on Dutch barges until relatively recently, certainly it was not common on the sailing ships. As a symbol in Dutch folk lore however, it goes back into the mists of time. Zinnebeelden are symbols that are basically Runic in origin and many survive today, although in some cases the meaning is perhaps not realised. The most common one is the Donderbezan. This can best be described as two triangles placed point to point. Where can you find examples ? Everywhere! Have you never wondered about the Dutch fixation with painting contrasting coloured triangles on virtually every square or oblong surface? This certainly makes windmills, farms and town halls look attractive, but the meaning is deeper. The Donderbezan is a powerful repellent of fire and sickness.
Hang on, before you rush of to paint your wheel house, there is more to come. If you take five circles and superimpose them on each other in a ring, the resulting pattern reveals a sort of five petalled flower in the centre. The whole shape is called a Tooverknoop, this symbol relates to the original Gordian knot, it prevents accidents and importantly for farmers and sailors, it captures the sun. This was condemned in Holland over 1000 years ago as Pagan (which it was!) but this did not stop farmers from twisting straw into a Tooverknoop and hanging it in their barns. This all may seem to have little to do with Barges, but come on, superstition and folk lore have everything to do with seafaring. But "what about the star" I hear you mutter. Yes, well, I was getting to that. The chosen symbol for the BCA is the five pointed star as seen on "modern" motor barges. This is the most common form of star, although occasionally six pointed stars are seen. The five pointed star is a true Zinnebeeld. The pattern on the inside of the Tooverknoop has five petals and so does our barge star, or Vijfster. This shape is also a pentagram and as Goeter found in Faust, Mephistofeles couldn't cross this powerful rune. The Vijfster will keep evil spirits and the Devil at bay, maybe even Gremlins will flee from it.
While we are investigating Zinnebeelden, I wonder how many of our sailing members have a Levensboom on the top of their masts, I wont exclude other non Dutch barges, as they may well have a cone or an acorn on top of their mast. If you travel around the Dutch countryside, especially the northern provinces, you may be struck (if you can keep your eyes from the preponderance of Donderbezans) by the many and varied decorations on the gables of the houses and especially the farms. In Friesland you will often see a pair of beautifully carved swans or horses heads. In other cases a bare spike or Xmas tree shape is seen. This shape is also a rune, it is the Levensboom or tree of life. This celebrates renewal, from the acorn comes the mighty oak tree. This incredibly ancient symbol has its roots literally in the stone age. To primitive man it was a miracle when the apparently dead branches of the trees turned green in the spring. The very name of Holland comes from the word Holtland or Houtland (wood-land) The spike on you mast head, sometimes called a mast wortle or mast carrot, is actually a celebration of the tree of life. In England the Thames barges often carry a carved acorn on the mast head. The oak tree was ceremonial to the Druids, mistletoe grows on the oak and was sacred to Thor God of thunder and of country folk will tell you that lightning never strikes an oak tree. So you see the ornament on top of your mast is not just there to prevent the sea gulls perching. You are celebrating a pagan tradition as all good sailors do. After all you wouldn't whistle at sea, would you? or start a voyage on a Friday?
13
HOW IT WAS
In the last edition of Barge News I wrote a bit about the Hagenaar. This time I have included a piece by a "real" Hagenaar skipper who enjoyed all of the pain and less of the romance associated with barging today.
David Evershed, "Jan Willem"
STORM & BIRTH
From "De laatste echte schippers" (The last real skippers) compiled by Hylke Speerstra.
Published by De Boer Maritime 1973.
This is a poignant account of "how it was." When I first started to translate it with the aid of Margreet, I thought that it needed dramatizing to fill in the gaps and to make clear some areas that might be confusing to a reader who has not read all my previous articles. I started to do just that, but Margreet objected, saying that the true drama was all there. On reading it again I found myself agreeing with her. The short sentences and clipped presentation are those of an old man remembering a hard life. As the text progresses his sentences become longer and by the time he gets to the conclusion his emotions are showing. Margreet was right, it reads better just as it was intended.
"You could not break iron with your hands as a zeilschipper, but once in my life it had to happen. It was on the Hagenaar. Two children in nappies and the wife pregnant with the third, but not too sore to work every day. So I said, "We can still load stalmest in Wartena to take to Hillegom." Soon the stalmest was loaded and we left Lemmer in good weather. Then, above Urk the weather changed. I sensed strong wind approaching, it was a squall. There were dark cats tails in the sky. I thought something nasty was coming. The wife in the cabin also knew. On the foredeck I had a boy of thirteen.
"That crazy thing, that squall" I said, "We must keep it on our lee or we are in trouble." So I lay the Hagenaar, with full sail, on the wind and set it running.
Damm fast for a while.
It could not go on. I had to take in the kluiffok and put a reef in the fok and grootzeil.
We thundered on.
The squall stayed on our tail. He brushed over the water and it was all very strange. I had the black trunk on my lee, but I could not go on. I was inside the buoys of the Enkhuizer Zand. As the thunder rolled, I and the boy put another reef in and came about to a course for Amsterdam. The wife did not see the squall. She was too scared to look, but she knew that something was wrong.
Then the waves hit us. The Zuiderzee stood terribly high and we were picked up, slid down the side of the wave and then hurled into the trough. It was terrible. The worst I’ve ever known. The wife wanted to be outside with the children, one three years old and the other nineteen months, in case the ship sank. "In je kooi!" I screamed at her, but she was panicking and would not listen. The boy was still on the fore deck, lashed to the mast, trying to control the sails. I reduced the sails to almost nothing. I had to carry on sailing or we would have been carried right over the dike.
All the time the wife is screaming to get out and the boy is crashing back and forth across the deck trying to control the fok. " Oh God," screamed the wife, "In a minute I shall be trapped in here. It’s no good!"
The Zuiderzee was a storm with thunder and lightning in the sky. It was getting towards evening. I was half under water, so much sea was on the deck. But, I had the Hagenaar battened down with double hatch cloths. I knew we would be all right. The wife must stay in the cabin amongst the broken crockery however. I knew we wouldn’t sink.
She had panicked before I remembered, when the first child was born, in a storm, at Lobith on the Rijn. The doctor had to come and I went over the flood in the dinghy to Tolkamer to fetch him. He wasn’t home. I must wait. One hour. Then he came, but he would not come with me. "Find a women to help," he said. By the time I found a women to help and got back to the ship she lay there. The child was dead.
"Keep your head," I thought. I sent the boy into the cabin. Then we broached and lay on our side. The ship slammed down into the trough. We were now at the mercy of the elements. She banged on the door and screamed to come out. She wanted to leap into the sea. These are the times that you must "Break iron with your hands." I have never been ashamed of my actions. I locked them in.
By late in the evening we were outside the Oranjesluis by Amsterdam. It had been a long hard time. I opened the cabin. It was a mess, she lay on the bunk with the children. She looked like death warmed up. She said, "I can’t help you through the sluis, I’m washed out." I moored outside the sluis and lay down beside her. All was now well again between us. Then I put the boy on the tiller and using the pole I pushed our ship and 80 tons of shit into the lock.
Then the smell of coffee came from the cabin and delicious baking bread. We had coffee and bread and she said, " I’ll wash your wet clothes now because the child is coming."
That was two months too soon!
I rushed to my neighbour, in his tjalk, he ran the fire out of his clogs to fetch a doctor. Again no doctor would come. They knew the whole boat stank of shit, they would have to work by the light of an oil lamp and it was not a nice place to come to.
"The bastards," I cursed. I had to stay with her, but my neighbour went off again to find a women to help. This was as it had been a year and a half ago when the last child was born. Then we had potatoes, she lay in the straw, with the potatoes and no doctor. I washed my hands and delivered my daughter. She lay by my wife with the cord joining them. Then a women came and cut the cord and finished the job.
That was last time and now here we were again, waiting for help like waiting for the tide. Then my neighbour returned with a women. She delivered me twins, both strong. Boy and Girl. When they arrived the storm was still blowing. My wife said to go ahead anyway and deliver the shit. Then we could all get clean and smell fresh again.
Life was heavy and hard on the Hagenaar, but we had a good life.
Now I am old and don’t have to be so hard anymore. Now when I see suffering it saddens me.
My grandfathers name was Krijn, he was tough as nails. He loaded stone in Belgium. There was much water in his wooden ship and grandfather Krijn had to pump continuously.
My father showed me how to get his ship under the wagenbrug, on the way back we took on 10 tons of water to get under the bridge. All pumped in by hand. Then we had to pump it all out again. By the gas works there was a balk of timber on the canal bottom. If we could get over that we could get over the gas pipe. His Hagenaar was built especially for Den Haag. My father got old early, but he was proud to have carried the stone to build the Peace Palace in Den Haag.
My life has been storm, thunder and lightning through and through. I went everywhere on my Hagenaar and was born on my fathers ship, in a storm, on February 11th 1889. Father was on the Zierikzeese wal in Zeeland. The wooden tjalk was empty and well anchored with two anchors when the storm came. After two hours the ship broke loose and crashed onto the dike. The kimmen on that ship where 8cm thick, but they splintered against that stone. There, in that storm, I was born.
No, bad weather is no stranger to me. Once my father had his klipper next to my Hagenaar in Antwerp and we both knew a storm was coming. I said, "I’ll get 25 guilders extra if I get my load of grain to Tilburg in three days. I’m going anyway."
So I went with the tide and there was no wind at all. It was far too quiet and the sky was black. By chance I saw the tug boat of a man I knew. I asked him to tow me safely into the harbour at Hansweert. He said he first had to fetch a big English barge and tow it to Antwerp. Then he would come back for me.
"Get lost," I thought, he would let me drown to get his money from the fat Englishman.
The deck hand said, "the winds coming from ahead." Only the tide was carrying us forward. I told the hand to bring in the booming out pole that had the grootzeil held right out to port. Then I sheeted it in tight. Then the wind started to howl in the shrouds. I quickly took the kluiver in. Then with the wind and the tide we started to sail crabwise towards Hansweert.
Then all hell broke loose. I couldn’t hold my course. We hit the channel marker buoy with a great crash.
I got in eventually. All the other skippers said they had had the boys in the rigging watching our progress. They had lost sight of us completely in the troughs.
Now I’m done. I don’t sail in storms anymore. My old Hagenaar is still afloat, as a house boat, with students living on it. I rode my bike for five hours to go and have a look. It was not as I remembered. You couldn’t recognize the beautiful Hagenaar it once was. I was a broken man when I got home, but not from cycling.
Bram Krijn van Oost, 1898 - 19??
SOME THOUGHTS
It is worth looking at a few issues raised here.. Stalmest is literally stall muck or manure. This was a particularly loathsome cargo and had special hazards associated with it. Not least the generation of gas and the risks of combustion. Large amounts of this and also farmyard slurry were generated in Friesland and as a fertilizer it was in great demand in the western provinces. This, as in the story meant a trip across the Zuiderzee, in those days a salt water tidal area open to the North sea by way of the Waddenzee. The water authorities provided storage areas in the towns on the Zuiderzee coast, where the skippers who regularly crossed this exposed water could keep the heavier hatch cloths and ground tackle needed for the "over sea voyage."
For any ship to cross a stretch of exposed water, certain precautions must be taken. A deeply laden craft will only remain afloat if the watertight integrity of the hull is unbroken. In the case of a binnenschip, in common with many other cargo carrying ships, the danger area was that of the hatches. For general cargo the hatch boards would have canvas covers fastened over them and balks of timber would then be secured in place on top of this. When venturing to sea, the hatch boards were secured as for any cargo, but this time double hatch cloths were used and the balks of timber were then chained into position and tensioned with a number of double blocks. So when Dhr van Oost says that his Hagenaar had double clothes and would not sink he knew what he was talking about.
The course taken across the Zuiderzee had also to be considered. Ideally a northerly or southerly wind was awaited and a course from Stavoren to Amsterdam, via Enkhuizen and Marken, meant that a number of havens were available in case of bad weather. The direct route, from Lemmer, left nowhere other than the island of Schockland as a bolt hole. In the story a squall from the east turned into a full blooded storm and after running before it towards Enkuizen the skipper was forced to fight his way down the full length of the Zuiderzee on a lee shore. (It’s worth remembering this bit of geography when navigating the Ijsselmeer today.)
It is also sobering to see the doctors attitude to house calls on ships. There was no National Health service in those days. It was common for women to assist each other at childbirth and most villages and towns would have several of these unofficial midwives. These are the women referred to in the text.
Finally, although I have no evidence to support this, it would be nice to believe that with the resurgence of interest in the old "bruine vloot", that the Hagenaar in the story, once so sadly neglected, is now restored again to her former glory and sailing once again on the choppy brown waters of the "Zuiderzee", perhaps with the spirits of her former skippers, like Slocums "pilot of the Pinta," looking approvingly on and helping out now and again.
14
Do you sometimes look at your ship, maybe on a quiet summers evening, or a wild autumn day, and wonder what sights he or she has witnessed? What was it all like when the ship was built and what kind of man the original skipper was? I certainly do and it is this wondering that leads many of us to seek out the history of our ships and others like them. Many and varied were the circumstances in which they worked and sailed, many and various the cargo they carried. Lets look at one band of skippers and remember how it was to sail in the old times.
VAREN IN DE OUDE TIJD
There is an area in the Netherlands that is not perhaps visited by modern day barge gypsies as frequently as some others. Drente, in the north east of the country, just to the east of Friesland and just below Groningen is not now a great commercial or pleasure barging area. Originally an area of bogs and marshes it only succeeded in becoming a full-blown Dutch province very late in the seventeenth century. This admission of status and indeed existence came largely on the back of its growing dominance in the supply of turf (peat). As the rest of the industrial Netherlands increased in output and the industrial revolution took hold, turf as a fuel for both domestic and industrial fires and ovens became very big business indeed.
If you look at a map of the area, one of the major towns is Assen, best known nowadays as the venue for the Dutch motorcycle TT races. Assen also has a museum and in here you will find possibly one of the oldest boats in the world. The little craft, two meters long and barely half a meter wide has a canoe stem and stern and was found embedded deep in the wet Drente turf, where it had laid for nine thousand years.
Water transport is most definitely not a new concept for the inhabitants of this area.
From Assen, if you follow the N317 road south east, or, if travelling by barge, take the Drentsche Hoofdvaart south towards Meppel you will come to the tiny town of Smilde, where the Compagnonsvaart runs off to the west into Friesland and towards Heerenveen. Today Smilde is just one more little canal side town, but once the story was very different. By the late nineteenth century turf cutting was the staple occupation of Drente along with farming. Millions and millions of turf blocks were cut out of the land and virtually all had to be transported out of the province. Narrow drainage ditches and canals reached into the heart of the turf cutting areas and small open barges were pushed, poled and pulled constantly along these routes. Where conditions allowed it larger sailing barges took over the carriage. The loads eventually ending up in places like Zwartsluis, for tarns-shipment onto larger ships, to be carried across the Zuiderzee to the industrial west. The men of Smilde observed all this and many farmers and turf dealers became carriers of turf themselves and thus became skippers in their own right. They now felt themselves to have attained a greater status and looked down a little on the farmers. Not content with this they disdained the idea of giving their loads over to other men to carry to the west for them. With a bit of thought, a little redesign work on their ships and a lot of guts, the skippers of Smilde took their barges and turf from the peat fields all the way across the Zuiderzee to Amsterdam. Now they were true zeeschippers and the people of their home town looked up to them with respect. The children were told to call these men "sir". This band of men became known as the "Smildigers", and the barges that they sailed had evolved into the Smildigerturfpraam. The praam as a barge type was originally just an open boat without sails or mast. This grew into a proper little barge, which, without going into great detail was somewhat of a cross between an aak and a tjalk in form. Constructed originally from wood, with its robust and rather angular shape the sailing praam was highly successful in its role as work-horse for the Drentse canals. In neighbouring Groningen the bolschip fulfilled the same role and in Friesland the modderskutsje, but neither of these types grew into true sea-ships.
At the turn of the century there were over 100 turfpramen operating under sail from the quayside of Smilde and three busy shipyards, building and repairing the fleet of mainly wooden ships, although now some of the newer ones were constructed from iron and built elsewhere. All were still painted in the traditional Drente colours of light green and Havana brown. The Smildigers led a double existence, in their own province they lived a quiet life with a small but comfortable house with a few chickens and perhaps a goat in the back-yard. Unlike other skippers they did not make a full time home for themselves and their family on their ships. They did not lead an itinerant life, picking up cargo when and where available. They loaded their turf, carried it to the west, sold it and returned home to their families, bringing with them much gossip and tall tales from across the water.
Why and how did these skippers succeed in making this long trip when others did not?
When they left at the start of their voyage the ships looked much as the others that worked the inland routes. The sails were small and lightly made to catch every breeze, they had no gaffs or booms and progress was of necessity slow. However, when they reached Meppel or perhaps Zwartsluis the ships underwent a change. The skippers had caused large warehouses to be built alongside the canals here and these were kept secure under the watchful eyes of the water authority. In these sheds, on specially constructed racks and shelves, were to be found all the equipment needed to transform the humble turfpraam into a sea-ship. The lightweightgrootzeil (mainsail) was replaced with a strong, heavy duty sail with two or three reefing points, now set on a long gaff and a heavy boom. A bowsprit now carried an additional kluiver (foresail). A heavy stock anchor was installed on the foredeck along with forty or fifty fathoms of chain, flaked out in the kist (chain-locker). Extra water and supplies were taken on board along with ropes, tools, canvas, nails, blocks, chains and all the gear needed to render the hatches watertight. The original sloop-rigged turfpraam had been angular and slow, the new purpose-built and transformed turfpraam was a fast, seaworthy, gaff cutter. The extra weight of ground tackle carried in the bow always tended to un-trim the ship a little. It was always said that you could tell a Smildiger from a distance by its slightly nose down attitude. With one knecht (deck-hand) to help him and maybe his son as well, the Smildiger skipper was ready to go to sea.
In those days the Zuiderzee was still open to the north and could become very vicious very quickly. If you have sailed on the new and tamer IJsselmeer, you will know how quickly a sea can get up, imagine it without the afsluitdijk to shorten the fetch. Then, the skipper could take the direct straight-line route across from Zwartsluis or Lemmer, leaving himself with nowhere to run in case of bad weather, or he could take the longer route across to Enkhuizen and then down the coast, with numerous ports of refuge to take shelter in. Whatever the choice, his first stop was not in fact Amsterdam. At that time the Oranjesluis was not yet built and so the gateway to Amsterdam was "round the back" as it where, to Spaarndam, then via the Harlemmermeer to the city itself.
At certain times of the year great shoals of anchovies would enter the Zuiderzee and their would be rich pickings for the fishermen. At these times some of the Smildigers would become fishermen too and with the letters SMI proudly displayed on their sails they joined the fishing fleet. They used the same ships as they used for carrying turf, but new ones built for this dual purpose had lower freeboard in their after-section to allow the easier working of nets. This was hard work, but the skippers knew that one good anchovy season could tide them over the rest of the year. It was worth all the effort.
In almost all cases the skipper owned the ship and its cargo. He would have a number of customers both commercial and private that he would regularly supply. Turf was used as a heating source in many private homes, but it was the businesses with large industrial ovens that were the biggest market. Brewers, bakers and the many brick-works along the banks of the great rivers all relied on constantly hot ovens. Turf was sometimes carried loose in the hold and stacked on deck. For inland trips this was fine and often the stack on deck would be two or three meters high, the helmsman steering from a position on top of the turf using a long tiller extension. Clearly this would not do for an open-water passage. In this case the time honoured method of carriage by barrel was adopted. The turf was carried in open barrels (tuns) based on 252 gallon wine casks and the weight of cargo carried was measured in tuns, not to be confused in any way with tons (imperial) or tonnes (metric).
When the cargo was sold and the ship was unloaded, the skipper and knecht, along with the boy, would retire to the after-cabin for a well earned glass of genever(gin), before wandering off to a cafe frequented by other Smildiger skippers. The after-cabin itself was accessible from the hold by way of a wooden bulkhead or partition and from on deck by way of the koekoek (skylight). The turfpraam was a dekschip, that is to say that there was no built up accommodation above deck-level. But the cabin, when you reached it, was small and full of atmosphere. Whilst away from his house this was the skippers home and he cared for it in the same way. A single or double bunk was built crossways along the forward bulkhead, with a little space for clothes behind it. Along the starboard side was a writing desk, often ornately carved and of classical design. This was the skippers office and from here all transactions were handled and records kept. When a small stove was fitted, as was mostly the case, the chimney would exit through the deckhead and out through a removable wooden chimney. This was shaped in the form of a "Y", with the two upper arms both letting the smoke out. When the fire was not lit, the chimney or broekschoorsteen (trouserchimney) served the purpose of boom gallows. Because the cabin was at the extreme end of the ship, there was not a straight plank or plate in the shape, all were curved. The rounded stern meant that the floor sloped up slightly to the rear, to gain as much floor space as possible. Where cupboards were built-in across the stern of the ship, below the two portholes, the lower shelves were narrower than those above them. This was used to great effect to allow safe stowage of items that might roll or were easily broken. In here for example, safely wedged against breakage, was kept the geneva!
When it was time to return home, the Smildiger skipper would look for a return cargo, but seven out of ten times he would return empty. The only regular return cargo was of the many tons of waste matter from the city. This did not earn much for the skipper and the stench would permeate the cabin for days afterwards. Mostly they would opt for a fast return home with an empty ship. The skipper and crew would not have had much rest in Amsterdam and in good weather the luxury of a cat-nap in the sun on top of an old sail on the hatch covers made them forget that they were now working for nothing. This is not a state of affairs that a man from Drente will normally take lightly.
When the return crossing was accomplished the trip became a little more difficult. They would return to their warehouses, unload the sea-going gear and once again fit the lighter inland equipment. The Drente river and canal system was geared up for downstream priority, this meant that a slowly moving upstream headed barge must constantly give way to a fully loaded downstream ship. Most of the waterways were very narrow and winding, there was precious little room for sailing and none at all for passing. Passing places had to be built every kilometer or so. When plodding patiently back towards home the skipper would send his knecht, or ship’s boy, ahead to each passing place to stop any downstream ship and allow easy passage. If the oncoming ship would not, or could not, stop, then it was the duty of the unladen ship to reverse all the way back to the next passing place. This, using poles, ropes and muscle-power was not a barrel of laughs! It does not take too much imagination to envisage the scene and the ensuing drama, when more and more ships got caught up in one of these situations. Eventually however, the ship would reach Smilde and home. Sunday would be a day of rest, but then the cycle would start all over again.
15
RIGGING
The standing rigging of the early binnenschepen was rope based and tensioned by dead eyes (jufferblokken) or simple lanyards. As wire rope became available this was used and eventually bottle screws replaced dead eyes. Some of the more simple craft had unstayed masts, but the normal set up was that of a forestay, two or three shrouds and two running backstays. The backstays were adjusted by block and tackle. When natural rope shrouds were used they were fitted above the hommer with loops in standard sea going fashion. As wire rope became more and more common, shackles were used to attach them to eyes on a mast band.
Running rigging was of hemp and normally consisted of a topping-lift, which, with the boom, could double as a derrick for loading and unloading, a throat and a peak halyard, occasionally a vang for the gaff, a fok and a kluiver halyard, a system for raising the foot of the grootzeil and thus tricing it, and finally a steeving line for raising the kluiverboom in harbour. This was normally all done by hand. The use of lieren did not generally occur, except on the larger craft, until about 1910.
The standing and running rigging of a binnenschip would utilize over forty wooden blocks, even on a small ship. These might be single, double, triple, with or without a becket and some had a horn or bar to make fast a sheet.
SAILS
Sail making was one more specialized skill and the sail makers would often also produce the heavy covers fitted over the hatch boards. Sail making was originally done all by hand using hemp and flax based material. By 1890 sewing machines were widely in use and Egyptian cotton was the favoured material. Favoured that is with the sail makers, the skippers preferred the older hand woven cloth which was supple and easy to stow, the cotton by comparison, although a little more durable, was stiff and awkward to manipulate especially in the wet. Sailcloth was graded by the weight in grams per square meter. Heavy no.1 cotton weighed 1 kg per square meter, no.2, 900 grams per square meter and so on. A cotton grootzeil on even a small ship of 18m could weigh around 100 kg, even so, this was still lighter than the old flax based material. A good set of sails, well cared for, in 0-1 grade for the grootzeil and 2-3 for the fok and kluivers could last for up to 10 or even 15 years. If not looked after however, they could be worn out in less than a year. Cotton, although lighter than flax is not so durable. Nor does it resist mildew and subsequent rot so well. To make a set of sails last it was vital to look after them. This did not mean taking them off in the winter and delivering them to the nearest sailmaker for washing and storage until the next season. The binnenvaart skipper’s sails worked all year. After a salt water passage he would wash the sails down in fresh water to remove the salt crystals that lodged in them and whenever possible he would avoid stowing his sails in any wet conditions. The open air and sunlight where nowhere near as harmful to the cloth as the damp was. Old photographs of ships and harbours will nearly always show a number of sails hanging up to dry. The cotton sails were initially white, but would quickly turn grey if not treated with preservative. Before this happened, it was necessary to weatherproof the cloth to help prevent rot. The weatherproofing was done by soaking the sails in a large vat of simmering fluid. Oak bark provided the main ingredient, tannin, but it was later discovered that the South American Cachou tree provided even better protection. Some skippers swore that for a final touch, nothing worked better than a few jars of the popular coffee substitute, Buismans. In any event, the sails all ended up dark brown in colour. It was this colour that led to the term "bruine vloot" being used to describe the sailing binnenschip fleet. The sails were made from vertical panels, 57 cm wide for binnenschepen and 61 cm wide for sea going ships. These panels were especially cut to give a very hollow or curved shape, which made them surprisingly efficient both off and on the wind.
Today, a restored binnenschip will probably have a mix of sail cloth. Any new sails will be polyester based synthetic sailcloth which is lighter again than cotton, does not rot when wet, but does degrade in sunlight and when new and slippery is awkward to handle. Some may be of a polyester cotton mix and here you get the best and worst of both worlds. At the bottom of most sail lockers will also be found various old sails of cotton or even flax, these are pressed into use when winds are light and every little bit extra helps and also perversely when things get hectic and a thick, heavy sail serves to calm things down.
FORMULA DETERMINING MAXIMUM SAIL AREA FOR A BINNENSCHIP
ET = 1.32 * Bsq* sq-rt L
Where: ET is the total sail area in square meters of grootzeil and fok.
B is the maximum beam in meters.
L is the length, voorsteven to achtersteven, in meters.
This is only a starting point, but on a lightly loaded restored sailing ship it is exceeded at you peril. Existing spars, ballast (if fitted) freeboard and intended use must all influence a final decision. As a very rough guide the Dutch LVBZB states that the above formula holds good for:
Groninger tjalken, Aken , Klippers and Klipperaken. (additional sail area comes from use of kluivers)
Where kluivers are not carried, sail area may be increased as follows:
Bolschepen may have 15% more sail.
Skutsjes .. .. .. .. 40% .. .. ..
Hollandse and Friese tjalken broader than 4m may have 10% more sail.
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or
"mutterings from the moorings"
Greetings from the fringe! I am writing this from a solitary patch of mud, in splendid isolation, somewhere up the river Fal in darkest Cornwall. There is a moderate westerly wind blowing, the same wind that allowed us to sail most of the way here from our Penryn mooring, but now, sheltered by the steep banks with their thick covering of oak trees and Douglas firs, the same forest that supplied "Jan Willem’s" new mast several years ago, it does not disturb us. What did disturb me however, about a month ago, was a thump on "Jan Willem’s" decks at three o’ clock in the morning, followed by a shout of "Dave! Dave! I think I’m sinking". Quickly leaping out of bed, I took few moments to realise that the source of the commotion was my next door neighbour, living on a converted ammunition barge. Since this is purely a static home, it’s very convenient for us to moor alongside him and do away with all the lines that a normal mooring entails. I climbed on board, made my way down below and sure enough there was the frightening sound of running water. We traced it very quickly to the sink waste pipe, that exits through a large hole a good foot above the normal waterline. Since this was the cause of the immediate problem, we worked like idiots for half an hour, transferring all movable objects to the other side of the barge to cause a list and to get the offending pipe above the water line. We succeeded in our aims and the incoming water ceased. The question was why was the barge so low in the water in the first place?. Floorboards were lifted and of course the bilge space was full of water. The tide was now ebbing and the barge soon settled once more into its mud berth. We grabbed a few hours sleep and then with the aid of a lot of volunteer "creek people" (there but for the grace of God go I etc. etc.) and a salvage pump, we managed to empty the bilge. On the next tide she floated a good foot higher in the water. The bilge had always been a little wet but not seriously so and in consequence, ignored. How many times have you said, "Oh metal hulls will never fail disastrously, they will always give you warning by starting with a small weep." (IGNORE THIS WARNING AT YOUR PERIL) It now became clear that the leak was a seep rather than a gush and in fact it took some time to find it. The bilge was heavily tarred and in some places had suspicious looking bubbles in it. It was after Sam poked his finger through one of these blisters and out the bottom of the boat, that the scale of the problem became clear. It was impossible to reach the outside bottom of the boat, so Pete, the barges owner, carried out temporary repairs in the form of steel plates tack welded on the inside. Pete is an engineer shipwright by trade and after extensive investigation decided that the only way to save the ship, without massive cost, was to go for the old favourite of concreting the bilges. To do this he has had to take the whole interior apart, clean all the metal work, needle gun the sound areas, hoover out all the dust and scale and finally lay the concrete. To fully cover the turn of the bilge and to reach well above the waterline, it has been necessary to shutter each bay in stages at about 12" spaces, vibrating the mix in between each layer. This barge is around 80ft by 20ft, he has been working for three weeks, he is still at it. Now before you all rush off to examine your bilges, the tale continues. In and around our little bit of creek, we have our sailing tjalk, a Humber keel, a Billy boy, a wooden Thames barge and three converted dumb barges. The wooden barge used to leak so badly that again a concrete floor was installed, rumour has it that the original wooden planks no longer exist, but the mud keeps its secrets.
The Billy boy sprung a pin hole leak and while the owner was absent, flooded over the floor before the owner returned to find he had a problem. One of the workshop barges did not get of so lightly. One dark night she just refused to lift off the mud and the next morning revealed a sorry mess of floating wood, paper rags and all the detritus that accumulates in the bottom of a workshop barge. By an incredible stroke of fortune, many of the hand tools were either not on board, being used on jobs away from the creek, or in the case of the grinders, welder etc they were on a barge being worked on alongside. However, all the fixed machinery, lathe, pillar drill, planer etc etc was inundated. Once again local muscle power was enlisted and although the first attempt to re float was thwarted by the incoming tide, the second attempt was successful. We then had to strip the entire interior of its chipboard cladding, shift a million tons of assorted soggy junk, pressure wash the interior and think about concreting. The bottom plates were paper thin in many places, so thin that chipping was impossible and we had to scrape them clean as best we could. Like the wooden barge mentioned earlier, a total concrete bottom was the only answer. This meant cutting and carrying a huge amount of reinforcing mesh, bag after bag of cement and finally mixing and barrowing load after load of wet concrete.
The keel and ourselves have had no problems so far, but as we use our ships regularly (and have actually had surveys in living memory) perhaps we are more paranoid over the integrity of our hulls. I am not suggesting that static barges are necessarily more prone to rot away than ones that work for a living, but it is true that those that never move often tend to become part of the scenery, look as if they will always be there and in consequence, possibly the hull does not always get the attention it deserves, especially those areas that no one ever sees. They also tend to have windows, sink drains and other orifices that are not as well sealed as those on a seagoing ship. Are all your through hull fitting secured with proper sea cocks and all hoses fitted with double hose clips ?. Remember your barge will still float with a considerable weight of water on board, but not if this drags a badly sealed skin fitting underwater. Finally, if you still insist on burying your head in the sand I suggest you go and look, or better still help out, the next time you hear of a fellow live aboard sinking, this will focus your mind considerably. Sorry if I have ruined your whole day!
7
I am afraid that many barge owners have denied themselves the pleasure of cruising simply through not thinking the whole process through. This does not only apply to barge owners of course, many live-aboard types have fallen into the same trap. Often people fulfil a dream and move on to a boat full time. In a good many cases they move straight from a house on to a boat. I suspect that in the case of barges this happens more often than simply moving from a small boat on to a larger one. For so many people, the leap from a modern life style to a more primitive one is too hard to take and dreams of self sufficiency and trade winds are side lined in favour of an alongside berth, with mains water, shore power, fridges, videos and showers. The whole effort of moving becomes just too great. On the other hand, and I don’t intend this to be patronising, perhaps this sorts the doers from the dreamers. Margreet and myself came "up through the ranks" so to speak, living on a self sufficient farm for a while before moving as a family, two teenagers two adults and a cat, on to a thirty foot catamaran. Finally graduating (after the children left home) to "Jan Willem". We now live on a drying mud berth, without main services of any kind and with limited access. Every trip out necessitates reversing slowly through a multitude of moored plastic boats. A short trip down the river brings us into the mouth of Falmouth bay, open to the south and intimidating when a sea has built from south west through to south east, and eventually into the stunningly beautiful Carrick Roads with its numerous creeks and rivers. The process of living on board and regularly moving home is not simple, it should not be too simple or every one would do it, but it can become straight forward if common sense and basic skills are brought into play. learn how to use it competently. This brings us to the "big barge" syndrome. Anyone reading Blue Flag, or indeed Barge News, could be forgiven for thinking that for "Dutch barges" read "huge motor ships". I am sure that our membership embraces all sorts and all sizes of barge. As far as Dutch barges are concerned we can talk about 38 meter spitsen and 70 meter Dortmunders, but in the same breath consider their smaller cousins. In the west of the Netherlands, in the area around Maassluis, Delft and Leiden, a vast network of small, shallow, drainage canals, gave rise to the ship known as the Westlander. At first a pure sailing ship that was often pulled by man and beast, they evolved into the Westland Motorboot. What makes these ships particularly different to most Dutch barges that we are familiar with, are their relatively small dimensions enabling them to navigate in the westland. A Westlander could vary between 9 and 20 meters in length, but with a typical beam of 2.5 meters and a draft of less than 1 meter. This compares very favourably with typical English narrow boat dimensions of 21.5 meters by 2.15 meters. Although the techniques to operate a Dortmunder and a Westlander would at first glance seem to be poles apart, in essence they would be broadly similar. It is the specialist skills of their respective skippers that would differ a great deal. It is these specialist skills, that many of our members posses, that can be most usefully shared via these pages
8
Spring seems to have come early down here in Cornwall, it is only just the beginning of February, but apart from the profusion of daffodils, primroses and snowdrops the early sunshine has brought the denizens of Muddy Beach out of hibernation and the sound of sawing, hammering and agonized yelps, mixes with the smell of coffee, paint and tar. It is still too cold at night to paint topcoat outside successfully, but anti-rust primer dries quickly enough. I have used the good weather to tackle the various items of woodwork on my ship. The bright work, namely main hatch, tiller and koe-koek (skylight) have suffered badly with the wet and wind and paradoxically the strong sunshine. These must wait till the days are longer and the nights are drier. The mast, boom and bowsprit are painted, so they are OK for the moment. That leaves the leeboards, rudder, loopplank, (gangplank), vaarboom (barge pole) and of course all the blocks. When I first took over "Jan Willem", the blocks and vaarboom were all beautifully varnished and for the first year I managed to maintain this fine tradition. The next year with some rough sailing and then a prolonged spell without much use, caused a terrific degradation in the shining surfaces. I spent three days sanding all the blocks back to bare wood and then soaked them for at least two days in boiled linseed oil. It must be boiled oil or it will never "go of". The blocks took about four days to become touch dry and then harden off quite nicely. The beauty of this is that all it takes to cheer them up again is a rub over with fine sand paper and another liberal dowsing of linseed oil. The same was done to the vaarboom. The finish is dull rather than shiny but much easier to maintain. This after all is what the old Dutch skippers used, "Lijnolie" linseed oil.
The loopplank and leeboards which get a harder life need a different treatment. Back in 1990, in Enkhuizen, the boards were finished in some sort of lacquer that looked rather sorry for itself. I rubbed them down from on board as best I could and treated them to a coat of combined stain and wood preservative. This lasted the trip back to Cornwall, but definitely needed a different approach for the long term. The following winter I removed both boards to cut out a certain amount of rot and decay. I took this opportunity to replace the pivot bearings (galvanized water pipe) and chip, clean and prime all the other associated metalwork. This time I used black tar on the lower edges of the boards, the area most frequently immersed and abused. The rest of the board was again treated to several coats of stain. (Would I never learn ?) It was two years ago that I took a quantum step forward. The board were in their usual winter scruffiness, so I sanded them down as far as possible and slapped on several coats of creosote. This works a treat and is cheap!. The boards look good, smell good and survive abuse and neglect. A quick rub down and a fresh coat takes only a day. To see the wood drinking in the creosote shows just how dry they do get. (A board in constant use, especially in salt water, would not dry out like those used sporadically.) The rudder now gets the same treatment.
9
From The Celtic Fringe
Thirty years ago, the little town of Penryn where "Jan Willem" is now based still had a thriving water-borne trade. The warehouses and wharves on the opposite side of the river to us were a scene of constant activity that ebbed and flowed with the tide. Beyond the town bridge was a complex of buildings, with the old Anchor pub on the corner. All of these buildings are now either derelict or destroyed and the pub is long since gone. The whole area is still called the Anchor complex however and is due to be re-developed. One of the old buildings used to house a shipping agent and in here worked a young lady by the name of Maureen. A string of coincidences lead my wife Margreet into contact with her and she quickly realised that I too would be interested in her story.
Maureen was borne in Penryn and on leaving school went to work in the shipping office. Small ships and coasters from the near continent were regular visitors to the quay-side, along with the local fishing boats. Many of the small coasters came from Holland and one day Maureen met the skipper of one of these ships. In the way of all good stories, she eventually married him and left Penryn on board his coaster. They travelled all over north west Europe. A regular run might begin in Germany, continue around the north coast of Holland, across the North Sea to the Thames estuary and then along the south coast of England, picking up cargo as they went. From the south coast they often headed over to Ireland and then, by way of the Caledonian canal, back across the North Sea once more to northern Holland. The coaster belonged to a Groningen based shipping line and carried a crew of six; the skipper, a mate, two crewmen, an engineer and a cook. Maureen quickly learnt many of the skills needed to become useful on a ship and when one of the deck-hands was carted off to jail for three weeks in Germany, she took over his role. Shortly after this they decided to go it alone and left the coaster to work together. In 1961 they had a brand new Kempenaar constructed in Kampen on the river Ijssel in the province of Overijssel. The Kempenaar is an old ship type that can trace its origins back to the 19th century. Built to a size that could use the Kempenkanaal and originally rather like a spits or peniche in shape, they developed into a specific ship type. At the end of the 1950’s and the beginning of the 1960’s a new Kempenaar appeared. Surprisingly, unlike other up-dated ship types, this one made no attempt to be bigger and better, just better. It was built to original Kempenaar specifications of 50 metres by 6.5 metres. The old spits type round bow and stern had gone, to be replaced with a smooth, streamlined, motor-ship hull shape, very like a luxemotor. In fact they can easily be mistaken for luxemotors, but a true 1960’s Kempenaar has no tumblehome on the counter, the stem is slightly raked and at the bow, above the rubbing band, the hull falls slightly inward.
Maureen’s new ship was called "Trude K" and now that her husband and herself were to work the ship together, it became necessary for Maureen to become qualified. So, thirty five years ago, an English woman found herself in a Gronigense department of trade office, taking her examination, all in Dutch. Maureen remembers that the exam was completely oral and consisted of recognising flags, sound signals and the various canal-side signs. Almost an hour was spent pushing wooden boats around on a table and taking the appropriate action in various circumstances. At the end she was merely handed a piece of paper and shown the door. Outside, her husband was frantic, assuming that all had gone wrong, as the test was usually a bit of a formality and took around fifteen minute. Maureen was the first English woman to obtain her skippers ticket and also the all important "Rijnpatent".
"Trude K" had a Brons, twin-cylinder diesel engine, fitted from new. At that time, although not at the cutting edge of marine diesel engine technology, the Brons twin with almost forty years of development behind it, was widely used by the binnenvaart fleet and acknowledged to be especially reliable. Many of these engines continued in use right up to the time the ship ceased to trade. The luxemotor "Allegonda", built in Foxhole in 1929, kept her engine for fifty nine years until a major seizure made repairs uneconomical. Similarly, "De Volharding 2", built in Leiden also in 1929 was fitted from new with a 1928 model Brons twin of 70 hp, she still has it today and is used regularly. This is by no means uncommon. Massively engineered and using around 9 litres of fuel an hour their distinctive "tabang tabang tabang" engine note is instantly recognisable in contrast to the multi-cylindered modern engines. However I am digressing, lets get back to Maureen and the "Trude K".
The very first time Maureen and her husband took a cargo up the Rijn, they found their ship gradually got slower and slower due to the fast flowing current, until by the time they reached the German border at Lobith they were barely making headway. They had noticed that more and more barges were either moored up, or anchored in the backwaters, but had not realised that most other skippers thought it was too difficult and too fuel consuming to carry on fighting against the current. Gradually they crept on, the old Brons chugging away at about 300 rpm, sometimes hardly moving, sometimes actually going backwards they persevered and eventually made it upriver. They were the first barge to make it and had the wharf to themselves.
Another time, again on the Rijn, they were once again making slow headway when they approached a bridge. They aimed for the span that was lit by the green lights and very slowly crawled toward it. At this time they spotted an old French barge, so old it had the central stall for the barge-horses still in place, coming down-river. It was heading for the same span. The bridge keeper, seeing that the French barge had very little manoeuvrability, reversed the lights. Now the down coming barge had right of way and "Trude K" had to give way. It was impossible for "Trude K" to move over, although they tried, any sudden move and she would have been caught by the stream and whipped sideways. The inevitable happened and for a brief moment the two barges formed a perfect "T", before the French barge slid past. Eventually both ships were moored up, although now some several miles apart and the skippers confronted each other. After an initial heated exchange, both agreed it was all part of the game and it could not have been helped. Maureen especially remembers the French skipper looking at the huge dent in the side of his ship. It was the exact size and shape of "Trude K’s" bow. That will be the shape of my next ship said the French skipper.
"Trude K" was especially constructed to stronger than usual specifications for a canal-ship, because they knew that the trade in the "Sont" and "Belt" areas, around Denmark’s off lying islands, was very lucrative. However, "Trude K" was never officially licenced to trade there, although this did not stop her. The route to the Baltic generally involves some open-sea work, but there is an inside route that runs inside the Friesen Wadden islands, across the Emms estuary and then inside the German Wadden islands to Cuxhaven. From here a passage through the Nord Ostsee Kanal (the Kiel canal), gives access to the Danish islands of Fyn and Sjaelland, the Sont and Belt areas. To transit the passage between mainland Germany and the Wadden islands required an obligatory pilot. For many years this duty was carried out by the ex-skipper of the inshore lifeboat, at a time when the boat was propelled solely by oars. Eventually he grew old and was replaced with a younger man. One time "Trude K" was on her way to Denmark and no pilot was available, the old pilot who was always watching and waiting, said "Time is money. come on I’ll take you through". Now at eighty years old this gentleman was almost blind, but to him this was not a problem. "When the second line of withies (pricks he called them), is abeam, keep tight in to starboard until you have a tall factory chimney dead ahead, then bear away a little". Occasionally he would peer into the distance and sniff the air. Then nodding confidently he would relay the next instruction. When they arrived in Cuxhaven there was a terrific fuss. The pilot was on his way in the other direction so they must have travelled illegally without a pilot. "Not so", they said and produced the ancient mariner. The German authorities were not impressed. They impounded the ship and threw the pilot into jail.
Dutch skippers are not renowned for their reticence and after a tremendous and spirited argument on the dockside, in which it was pointed out that the old pilot had never put anyone on the sand, whereas the new one had often come a cropper, the pilot was released and the "Trude K" was free to go.
10
Luxemotor
In 1920, the first, large, purpose-built motor-ships appeared. These were based on the lessons learnt from the beurtmotor and had the advantage of not being tied to a particular hull shape, a shape which had, in all probability, evolved to benefit wooden ship building practice, or similar earlier building techniques. The luxemotor could draw on all the modern state of the art technology, with all the modern advantages of the twentieth century built in. The first of these new motor-ships were essentially just larger beurtmotors with a salonroef behind the wheel-house, but the evolution of the beurtmotor had provided the prototype for many new ideas and in the luxemotor they were all brought together. The luxemotor can be conveniently divided into three sections, the cargo carrying and bow section, the engine room and the accommodation.
Unlike other evolutionary compromises, each section was purpose built. The hull form embraced accepted practice for a ship that would travel and trade mainly on sheltered water, albeit with the ability to cope with strong flowing rivers and contained sufficiently strong framing to withstand limited exposure to open waters, such as the IJsselmeer and the Schelde. It was constructed of riveted steel plates and frames, which allowed ships of different length to be easily built and to allow extension at a later date if necessary. The first examples had a mast and sailing-rig in conventional sailing-ship position (hulptuigen) and this did allow a little down-wind sailing. The disadvantage, as we have seen time and again in this book, was that the presence of the bulky structural "mastdek" supporting the mast and the resultant splitting of the hold into two areas, did not help the cargo handling process. It very soon became common practice to move the mast to a position on the fore-deck of the ship, with a boom of sufficient length to cover the whole cargo bay and a mast of much shorter height than that used for a sailing-rig (hijstuigen). The short mast was also easier to lower when passing under bridges. A tall mast, as seen on the true sailing-ships, needed a winch and sheerlegs (bokkepooten), to allow it to be lowered safely. The shorter mast could easily be lowered by means of a winch alone. Most of the booms remained wooden, as because of the length required, a steel boom was prohibitively heavy. The mast could be of steel or wood. Where the two-piece hold was retained, mostly on the longer ships used on the great rivers, the mast developed two booms, one facing forward and one aft to allow both hold areas to be easily worked. The dangers inherent in any manual cargo handling operation must not be under-rated. It was not for nothing that this rig gained the sinister title of "the murderer and two witnesses."
The luxemotor was built all over the Netherlands and also, although to a much smaller extent, in Belgium. Here it could actually be said to have appeared as early as 1910, but built along spitsen lines and of lighter construction, it was not a true luxemotor as we know it.
Accepted ship building practice of the time, coupled with the skipper/owners personal preferences, gradually allowed two slightly differing luxemotors to develop. It is in the shape of the bow and stern that this becomes most apparent. The northern shipyards of Groningen and Friesland had always built strong uncompromising ships, many for use in the sometimes stormy waters of the Baltic. Luxemotors from here have a generally blunt appearance. The bow is still rounded in form, less blunt than a spits, but not as sharp as a typical beurtmotor.
The second section of the luxemotor is the engine room. The engine room could at last be designed around the motor, rather than the other way around. Engines of this era were massively built and an engine with large amounts of horse power took up large amounts of space. A typical twin-cylinder diesel of 80 hp, for example the van Berkel of 1923, would stand three metres tall, with a huge solid outside flywheel of around two or three tons. This, coupled with the ancillary air-compressor for starting, plus fuel and oil tanks, not to mention the gearbox and drive shaft, took up a lot of space. There was no compromise however and most luxemotors that I have visited have airy, well lit, engine rooms, with plenty of working space, even those still retaining their old massive motors. A metal bulkhead, with a watertight and flame-proof door separates the cargo space from the engine space. The tall motors of the time meant that a small raised roef, as seen on the earlier beurtmotors was needed. This gave space for the motor, whilst a series of portholes around the sides allowed ventilation and a little light. On top of this short motoroef (which is a distinctive feature originally unique to the luxemotor and beurtmotor types), is the wheel-house. The lower section was, in most cases, constructed from steel, with the upper section built of wood. The top section may be dismantled for passing under bridges. The wheel-house has a door on both port and starboard, although the port-side is generally provided with a platform, a step and hand-rails.
Directly behind the port-side access steps is the engine room hatch, with a steel ladder giving access. These ladders are steep, mostly covered in a thin film of diesel oil and immensely slippery when wet. It is normal practice to keep the engine room hatch open whilst under way, as this helps to allow the engine to breath. Inevitably, at some time water will get on to these steps. Familiarity breeds contempt, or at least complacency, and a prudent skipper or engineer will always descend these steps backwards, with one hand for the ship at all times. Many people I have spoken to have fallen down these steps. Whilst working on the luxemotor "Vertrouwen" in Scotland, I fell victim to complacency and cracked two ribs. I was forced to carry on working in extreme pain until they healed. I hope that I for one have learnt my lesson.
As mentioned earlier, the wheel-house may be dismantled. In theory this is fairly simple, but in practice, as the comfortable warm cabin becomes part of the living space, it becomes full of papers, pot plants and coffee cups. For the metre or so saved, it is often just as well to wait for the bridge to open, or pick another route. At the rear of the wheel-house, on the port side, is the access to the third section, the living space or salonroef. Traditionally this is light and airy, totally unlike the cramped achteronder of the previous century. Because of the shape of the counter-stern and the location of the propeller shaft, the roef is built well above deck level to allow full standing headroom. This means that good sized windows can be incorporated. Here is to be found a wc and washroom, a small kitchen, a dining-sitting room and a good-sized bedroom. When finances allowed it, the shipyard carpenter could really express himself here. Working in conjunction with the owner and his wife, he could incorporate cupboards, etched glass panelled doors and different shades and grains of wood into the fit-out. Tropical hardwoods were popular and where more humble panelling was to be employed, the use of "gehout" was common. Gehout, in England called scumbling, is simply the practice of using stains and paint to apply a uniform, if artificial, grain to the surface. For the skipper’s wife in particular this was indeed a luxury motor-ship. The name luxemotor was born and it was soon universally applied to any ship built along these lines.
On the deck, to the rear of the salonroef, is a small after-deck which allows access to the rudder hangings and steering quadrant. A stern anchor with dedicated hawse-hole is also fitted. Whilst all luxemotors have a counter-stern, as mentioned earlier those built in the North differ to those built in the west. The western built ships have an almost 90 degree angle between the counter and the boeisel. This is called a "motorhek". The northern built ships have, in general, a much blunter shape, with a correspondingly less severe angle between counter and boeisel. In these cases the ship is said to have a "kruiserhek". In extreme cases the stern above the counter is almost vertical. In both models the counter ends at the normal loaded waterline and below this is the propeller aperture.
Unlike the spits, the luxemotor did not have to comply with any specific dimensional criteria. From the beginning of their building-life, they tended towards economical practical size, rather than maximum allowable size. Typically, a luxemotor of the 1920’s was 25 metres in length by 5 metres in the beam. This allowed free navigation on the majority of the waterways of the Netherlands. By the crisis years of the depression in 1929-30, which saw an enormous over-capacity of shipping tonnage and many hungry skippers, the luxemotor continued to flourish and grew in length to a typical 30 metres, whilst still retaining a 5 metre beam. The crisis years aside, 1920 to 1940 were the glory years for the luxemotor. In 1930, some enterprising skippers, seeking to widen their field of trade, were running tourist ships up and down the Rijn, predating the current hotel-barge scene by thirty or forty years. The second world war saw virtually all the larger ships taken by the invading Germans for war work. Some found their way to the Russian lakes and others to the Mediterranean. A vast number of luxemotors, spitsen and klippers alike, were simply converted to troop landing craft ready for Operation Sealion, the planned invasion of England. In the end, with air supremacy never established over the channel and a new front opening up in the east, the invasion never took place. After the war most of the requisitioned ships were reclaimed by their owners and reconverted back to cargo carriers (see chapter nine).
After the war, although many were lengthened and deepened to allow them to remain in trade, no more true luxemotors were built. By 1950 it was becoming more and more difficult for relatively small ships to compete for trade with the newer, larger, ships. However, if you keep your eyes open when travelling in the Netherlands, you will still find original luxemotors (some even miraculously un-lengthened), in service commercially.
11
"What are those flippers for?"
If you own a barge with lee-boards then you will be well used to variations on this oft repeated question, concerning what on earth those great "ears" are for.
It is probably true that manoeuvring in confined spaces is often the most nerve-wracking part of boat owning and handling. This is true for any ship from rubber dinghy to super-tanker and any articles and advice on the subject must always be welcome in Blue Flag. Chris Ries’s article in the spring edition lays out clearly and concisely the factors affecting the turning around of a barge. I know he has more to say on the subject so I will only pick up and elaborate on one point.
Chris points out that many barges have a tendency to "skid" outwards when turning. This is due to the relatively small immersed area of the hull. This has always been a feature of the barge hull form and through the years its negative effects have been counteracted in several ways. The first sailing-barges all carried lee-boards, these act in the same way as the centerboard of a more modern dinghy, only they are two in number and carried externally. That is to say that when running downwind both boards are raised. When reaching, (with the wind on the beam) the downwind board, that is the lee-board, is partially lowered and when beating (to windward) it is lowered all the way. In practice, for most of us sailing short-handed and not engaged in racing, the downwind board tends to be lowered all the way down and stays there until the ship tacks or gybes, when it becomes the windward board and is raised as the other board is lowered.. The board, acting like an aircraft wing, will generate a little positive lift to windward, but also performs the function of helping to prevent the ship moving sideways through the water or making leeway. This is what we also want to achieve when manoeuvring under engine. So if you still have lee-boards you have a positive advantage in a crowded harbour. The turn is achieved exactly as Chris advises but when turning to starboard, the "outside", port , board is lowered and vice-verce. Even in shallow water, if the board is lowered into the mud and then just raised clear, as long as it extends even a little way below the bottom of the barge it will give generous assistance. ( Do I dare mention that a fully lowered board also helps tremendously when going astern. Nick?) When the Dutch sailing-barges began to adopt motors the skippers were well aware of the advantages of lee-boards. Many barges that converted to full motor power still kept the boards for manoeuvring It was only in later years, as the size of the barges increased along with the reliability and power of the engines, that lee-boards disappeared.
This left the skippers with the same problems that we have today with motor-barges. As far as they were concerned an empty ship didn’t pay the bills and so they would always attempt to have some sort of cargo, even if only a low value, but preferably high density, one. A fully loaded motor-barge is a bit like an iceberg, in that about two-thirds of its area is underwater. Derek Kendal, in the last issue of Blue Flag, mentions the registration numbers that are to be found cut into the sides of most barges. These actually relate to the Dutch weights and measures department and a pair will be found on each side of the hull, fore and aft. Draw a horizontal line between the two numbers and you will find the registered load line of your ship. Many ships have more than one set of numbers and the differing waterlines relate to different types of cargo and trading areas. A ship working only on canals might be loaded with side-decks awash, but for the IJsselmeer, or other open waters, more freeboard was required. Equally well, it was no good having an allowable load line that gave a draft of five feet if the canal was only three feet deep! That is why you will still see barges apparently underladen. Other ships had compartments built into the hold that could be flooded with river water to increase the draft when travelling light. This is particularly obvious in the case of the "natte & droge" spitsen. The wet and dry spitsen. These emerged in the middle of this century as two quite different spits types, one with a river-ship type hull and a deeper draft, the "droge" spits and a fatter blunter variation with a shallow draft, the "natte" spits. The dry spits had no need to take on water and deal with the associated emptying and drying of the compartment, but because of the hull shape it could load less cargo. The wet spits, on the other hand, could carry more cargo, but needed to take on water ballast on occasion. The final breakthrough came in the form of the bow-thruster and however much of a purist you may be, myself included, there will always be a time when you wish for one.
ZWAARDEN`
Zwaard making (normally from oak) in particular was a real skill. Close examination of a well constructed pair of boards will show a left and a right hand board with a subtle airfoil section. This not only reduces lee way in a lateral plane, but also produces a small amount of positive lift to windward. Two other important wooden constructions associated with zwaard operation are the strijkklamp (fitted on the lower hull behind the zwaard), which allows the zwaard to attain the correct position in the water relative to the ship’s side and the aanvaringsklamp (fitted to the upper hull forward of the board), which prevents damage to the zwaard when going alongside. The method of attachment varied from a simple bolt through the board and hull, (as found on most skutsjes) to a system of bar and eye that allowed movement of the board in two planes. The latter was not universal and was most usually encountered on vessels that were intended to spend some of their time in open water. The head of the board was sandwiched between two heavy iron plates, which also formed the bearing surfaces for the pivot bar. Half round bar was fitted around the edges of the board and up to three vertical strengthening strips bolted through on each side. The vulnerable trailing tip of the zwaard was protected by metal plates. A chain attached to the head prevents the board from swinging too far forward and also retains the board in the event of the pivot breaking.
12
Star of wonder star of light..........
The new BCA house flag and symbol, as Balliol says, seems wholly appropriate when you consider all the symbolism involved. This leads us naturally of course toZinnebeelden, the Donderbezan, Tooverknoopen and the Vijfster. As far as I can see, the star did not start to routinely appear on Dutch barges until relatively recently, certainly it was not common on the sailing ships. As a symbol in Dutch folk lore however, it goes back into the mists of time. Zinnebeelden are symbols that are basically Runic in origin and many survive today, although in some cases the meaning is perhaps not realised. The most common one is the Donderbezan. This can best be described as two triangles placed point to point. Where can you find examples ? Everywhere! Have you never wondered about the Dutch fixation with painting contrasting coloured triangles on virtually every square or oblong surface? This certainly makes windmills, farms and town halls look attractive, but the meaning is deeper. The Donderbezan is a powerful repellent of fire and sickness.
Hang on, before you rush of to paint your wheel house, there is more to come. If you take five circles and superimpose them on each other in a ring, the resulting pattern reveals a sort of five petalled flower in the centre. The whole shape is called a Tooverknoop, this symbol relates to the original Gordian knot, it prevents accidents and importantly for farmers and sailors, it captures the sun. This was condemned in Holland over 1000 years ago as Pagan (which it was!) but this did not stop farmers from twisting straw into a Tooverknoop and hanging it in their barns. This all may seem to have little to do with Barges, but come on, superstition and folk lore have everything to do with seafaring. But "what about the star" I hear you mutter. Yes, well, I was getting to that. The chosen symbol for the BCA is the five pointed star as seen on "modern" motor barges. This is the most common form of star, although occasionally six pointed stars are seen. The five pointed star is a true Zinnebeeld. The pattern on the inside of the Tooverknoop has five petals and so does our barge star, or Vijfster. This shape is also a pentagram and as Goeter found in Faust, Mephistofeles couldn't cross this powerful rune. The Vijfster will keep evil spirits and the Devil at bay, maybe even Gremlins will flee from it.
While we are investigating Zinnebeelden, I wonder how many of our sailing members have a Levensboom on the top of their masts, I wont exclude other non Dutch barges, as they may well have a cone or an acorn on top of their mast. If you travel around the Dutch countryside, especially the northern provinces, you may be struck (if you can keep your eyes from the preponderance of Donderbezans) by the many and varied decorations on the gables of the houses and especially the farms. In Friesland you will often see a pair of beautifully carved swans or horses heads. In other cases a bare spike or Xmas tree shape is seen. This shape is also a rune, it is the Levensboom or tree of life. This celebrates renewal, from the acorn comes the mighty oak tree. This incredibly ancient symbol has its roots literally in the stone age. To primitive man it was a miracle when the apparently dead branches of the trees turned green in the spring. The very name of Holland comes from the word Holtland or Houtland (wood-land) The spike on you mast head, sometimes called a mast wortle or mast carrot, is actually a celebration of the tree of life. In England the Thames barges often carry a carved acorn on the mast head. The oak tree was ceremonial to the Druids, mistletoe grows on the oak and was sacred to Thor God of thunder and of country folk will tell you that lightning never strikes an oak tree. So you see the ornament on top of your mast is not just there to prevent the sea gulls perching. You are celebrating a pagan tradition as all good sailors do. After all you wouldn't whistle at sea, would you? or start a voyage on a Friday?
13
HOW IT WAS
In the last edition of Barge News I wrote a bit about the Hagenaar. This time I have included a piece by a "real" Hagenaar skipper who enjoyed all of the pain and less of the romance associated with barging today.
David Evershed, "Jan Willem"
STORM & BIRTH
From "De laatste echte schippers" (The last real skippers) compiled by Hylke Speerstra.
Published by De Boer Maritime 1973.
This is a poignant account of "how it was." When I first started to translate it with the aid of Margreet, I thought that it needed dramatizing to fill in the gaps and to make clear some areas that might be confusing to a reader who has not read all my previous articles. I started to do just that, but Margreet objected, saying that the true drama was all there. On reading it again I found myself agreeing with her. The short sentences and clipped presentation are those of an old man remembering a hard life. As the text progresses his sentences become longer and by the time he gets to the conclusion his emotions are showing. Margreet was right, it reads better just as it was intended.
"You could not break iron with your hands as a zeilschipper, but once in my life it had to happen. It was on the Hagenaar. Two children in nappies and the wife pregnant with the third, but not too sore to work every day. So I said, "We can still load stalmest in Wartena to take to Hillegom." Soon the stalmest was loaded and we left Lemmer in good weather. Then, above Urk the weather changed. I sensed strong wind approaching, it was a squall. There were dark cats tails in the sky. I thought something nasty was coming. The wife in the cabin also knew. On the foredeck I had a boy of thirteen.
"That crazy thing, that squall" I said, "We must keep it on our lee or we are in trouble." So I lay the Hagenaar, with full sail, on the wind and set it running.
Damm fast for a while.
It could not go on. I had to take in the kluiffok and put a reef in the fok and grootzeil.
We thundered on.
The squall stayed on our tail. He brushed over the water and it was all very strange. I had the black trunk on my lee, but I could not go on. I was inside the buoys of the Enkhuizer Zand. As the thunder rolled, I and the boy put another reef in and came about to a course for Amsterdam. The wife did not see the squall. She was too scared to look, but she knew that something was wrong.
Then the waves hit us. The Zuiderzee stood terribly high and we were picked up, slid down the side of the wave and then hurled into the trough. It was terrible. The worst I’ve ever known. The wife wanted to be outside with the children, one three years old and the other nineteen months, in case the ship sank. "In je kooi!" I screamed at her, but she was panicking and would not listen. The boy was still on the fore deck, lashed to the mast, trying to control the sails. I reduced the sails to almost nothing. I had to carry on sailing or we would have been carried right over the dike.
All the time the wife is screaming to get out and the boy is crashing back and forth across the deck trying to control the fok. " Oh God," screamed the wife, "In a minute I shall be trapped in here. It’s no good!"
The Zuiderzee was a storm with thunder and lightning in the sky. It was getting towards evening. I was half under water, so much sea was on the deck. But, I had the Hagenaar battened down with double hatch cloths. I knew we would be all right. The wife must stay in the cabin amongst the broken crockery however. I knew we wouldn’t sink.
She had panicked before I remembered, when the first child was born, in a storm, at Lobith on the Rijn. The doctor had to come and I went over the flood in the dinghy to Tolkamer to fetch him. He wasn’t home. I must wait. One hour. Then he came, but he would not come with me. "Find a women to help," he said. By the time I found a women to help and got back to the ship she lay there. The child was dead.
"Keep your head," I thought. I sent the boy into the cabin. Then we broached and lay on our side. The ship slammed down into the trough. We were now at the mercy of the elements. She banged on the door and screamed to come out. She wanted to leap into the sea. These are the times that you must "Break iron with your hands." I have never been ashamed of my actions. I locked them in.
By late in the evening we were outside the Oranjesluis by Amsterdam. It had been a long hard time. I opened the cabin. It was a mess, she lay on the bunk with the children. She looked like death warmed up. She said, "I can’t help you through the sluis, I’m washed out." I moored outside the sluis and lay down beside her. All was now well again between us. Then I put the boy on the tiller and using the pole I pushed our ship and 80 tons of shit into the lock.
Then the smell of coffee came from the cabin and delicious baking bread. We had coffee and bread and she said, " I’ll wash your wet clothes now because the child is coming."
That was two months too soon!
I rushed to my neighbour, in his tjalk, he ran the fire out of his clogs to fetch a doctor. Again no doctor would come. They knew the whole boat stank of shit, they would have to work by the light of an oil lamp and it was not a nice place to come to.
"The bastards," I cursed. I had to stay with her, but my neighbour went off again to find a women to help. This was as it had been a year and a half ago when the last child was born. Then we had potatoes, she lay in the straw, with the potatoes and no doctor. I washed my hands and delivered my daughter. She lay by my wife with the cord joining them. Then a women came and cut the cord and finished the job.
That was last time and now here we were again, waiting for help like waiting for the tide. Then my neighbour returned with a women. She delivered me twins, both strong. Boy and Girl. When they arrived the storm was still blowing. My wife said to go ahead anyway and deliver the shit. Then we could all get clean and smell fresh again.
Life was heavy and hard on the Hagenaar, but we had a good life.
Now I am old and don’t have to be so hard anymore. Now when I see suffering it saddens me.
My grandfathers name was Krijn, he was tough as nails. He loaded stone in Belgium. There was much water in his wooden ship and grandfather Krijn had to pump continuously.
My father showed me how to get his ship under the wagenbrug, on the way back we took on 10 tons of water to get under the bridge. All pumped in by hand. Then we had to pump it all out again. By the gas works there was a balk of timber on the canal bottom. If we could get over that we could get over the gas pipe. His Hagenaar was built especially for Den Haag. My father got old early, but he was proud to have carried the stone to build the Peace Palace in Den Haag.
My life has been storm, thunder and lightning through and through. I went everywhere on my Hagenaar and was born on my fathers ship, in a storm, on February 11th 1889. Father was on the Zierikzeese wal in Zeeland. The wooden tjalk was empty and well anchored with two anchors when the storm came. After two hours the ship broke loose and crashed onto the dike. The kimmen on that ship where 8cm thick, but they splintered against that stone. There, in that storm, I was born.
No, bad weather is no stranger to me. Once my father had his klipper next to my Hagenaar in Antwerp and we both knew a storm was coming. I said, "I’ll get 25 guilders extra if I get my load of grain to Tilburg in three days. I’m going anyway."
So I went with the tide and there was no wind at all. It was far too quiet and the sky was black. By chance I saw the tug boat of a man I knew. I asked him to tow me safely into the harbour at Hansweert. He said he first had to fetch a big English barge and tow it to Antwerp. Then he would come back for me.
"Get lost," I thought, he would let me drown to get his money from the fat Englishman.
The deck hand said, "the winds coming from ahead." Only the tide was carrying us forward. I told the hand to bring in the booming out pole that had the grootzeil held right out to port. Then I sheeted it in tight. Then the wind started to howl in the shrouds. I quickly took the kluiver in. Then with the wind and the tide we started to sail crabwise towards Hansweert.
Then all hell broke loose. I couldn’t hold my course. We hit the channel marker buoy with a great crash.
I got in eventually. All the other skippers said they had had the boys in the rigging watching our progress. They had lost sight of us completely in the troughs.
Now I’m done. I don’t sail in storms anymore. My old Hagenaar is still afloat, as a house boat, with students living on it. I rode my bike for five hours to go and have a look. It was not as I remembered. You couldn’t recognize the beautiful Hagenaar it once was. I was a broken man when I got home, but not from cycling.
Bram Krijn van Oost, 1898 - 19??
SOME THOUGHTS
It is worth looking at a few issues raised here.. Stalmest is literally stall muck or manure. This was a particularly loathsome cargo and had special hazards associated with it. Not least the generation of gas and the risks of combustion. Large amounts of this and also farmyard slurry were generated in Friesland and as a fertilizer it was in great demand in the western provinces. This, as in the story meant a trip across the Zuiderzee, in those days a salt water tidal area open to the North sea by way of the Waddenzee. The water authorities provided storage areas in the towns on the Zuiderzee coast, where the skippers who regularly crossed this exposed water could keep the heavier hatch cloths and ground tackle needed for the "over sea voyage."
For any ship to cross a stretch of exposed water, certain precautions must be taken. A deeply laden craft will only remain afloat if the watertight integrity of the hull is unbroken. In the case of a binnenschip, in common with many other cargo carrying ships, the danger area was that of the hatches. For general cargo the hatch boards would have canvas covers fastened over them and balks of timber would then be secured in place on top of this. When venturing to sea, the hatch boards were secured as for any cargo, but this time double hatch cloths were used and the balks of timber were then chained into position and tensioned with a number of double blocks. So when Dhr van Oost says that his Hagenaar had double clothes and would not sink he knew what he was talking about.
The course taken across the Zuiderzee had also to be considered. Ideally a northerly or southerly wind was awaited and a course from Stavoren to Amsterdam, via Enkhuizen and Marken, meant that a number of havens were available in case of bad weather. The direct route, from Lemmer, left nowhere other than the island of Schockland as a bolt hole. In the story a squall from the east turned into a full blooded storm and after running before it towards Enkuizen the skipper was forced to fight his way down the full length of the Zuiderzee on a lee shore. (It’s worth remembering this bit of geography when navigating the Ijsselmeer today.)
It is also sobering to see the doctors attitude to house calls on ships. There was no National Health service in those days. It was common for women to assist each other at childbirth and most villages and towns would have several of these unofficial midwives. These are the women referred to in the text.
Finally, although I have no evidence to support this, it would be nice to believe that with the resurgence of interest in the old "bruine vloot", that the Hagenaar in the story, once so sadly neglected, is now restored again to her former glory and sailing once again on the choppy brown waters of the "Zuiderzee", perhaps with the spirits of her former skippers, like Slocums "pilot of the Pinta," looking approvingly on and helping out now and again.
14
Do you sometimes look at your ship, maybe on a quiet summers evening, or a wild autumn day, and wonder what sights he or she has witnessed? What was it all like when the ship was built and what kind of man the original skipper was? I certainly do and it is this wondering that leads many of us to seek out the history of our ships and others like them. Many and varied were the circumstances in which they worked and sailed, many and various the cargo they carried. Lets look at one band of skippers and remember how it was to sail in the old times.
VAREN IN DE OUDE TIJD
There is an area in the Netherlands that is not perhaps visited by modern day barge gypsies as frequently as some others. Drente, in the north east of the country, just to the east of Friesland and just below Groningen is not now a great commercial or pleasure barging area. Originally an area of bogs and marshes it only succeeded in becoming a full-blown Dutch province very late in the seventeenth century. This admission of status and indeed existence came largely on the back of its growing dominance in the supply of turf (peat). As the rest of the industrial Netherlands increased in output and the industrial revolution took hold, turf as a fuel for both domestic and industrial fires and ovens became very big business indeed.
If you look at a map of the area, one of the major towns is Assen, best known nowadays as the venue for the Dutch motorcycle TT races. Assen also has a museum and in here you will find possibly one of the oldest boats in the world. The little craft, two meters long and barely half a meter wide has a canoe stem and stern and was found embedded deep in the wet Drente turf, where it had laid for nine thousand years.
Water transport is most definitely not a new concept for the inhabitants of this area.
From Assen, if you follow the N317 road south east, or, if travelling by barge, take the Drentsche Hoofdvaart south towards Meppel you will come to the tiny town of Smilde, where the Compagnonsvaart runs off to the west into Friesland and towards Heerenveen. Today Smilde is just one more little canal side town, but once the story was very different. By the late nineteenth century turf cutting was the staple occupation of Drente along with farming. Millions and millions of turf blocks were cut out of the land and virtually all had to be transported out of the province. Narrow drainage ditches and canals reached into the heart of the turf cutting areas and small open barges were pushed, poled and pulled constantly along these routes. Where conditions allowed it larger sailing barges took over the carriage. The loads eventually ending up in places like Zwartsluis, for tarns-shipment onto larger ships, to be carried across the Zuiderzee to the industrial west. The men of Smilde observed all this and many farmers and turf dealers became carriers of turf themselves and thus became skippers in their own right. They now felt themselves to have attained a greater status and looked down a little on the farmers. Not content with this they disdained the idea of giving their loads over to other men to carry to the west for them. With a bit of thought, a little redesign work on their ships and a lot of guts, the skippers of Smilde took their barges and turf from the peat fields all the way across the Zuiderzee to Amsterdam. Now they were true zeeschippers and the people of their home town looked up to them with respect. The children were told to call these men "sir". This band of men became known as the "Smildigers", and the barges that they sailed had evolved into the Smildigerturfpraam. The praam as a barge type was originally just an open boat without sails or mast. This grew into a proper little barge, which, without going into great detail was somewhat of a cross between an aak and a tjalk in form. Constructed originally from wood, with its robust and rather angular shape the sailing praam was highly successful in its role as work-horse for the Drentse canals. In neighbouring Groningen the bolschip fulfilled the same role and in Friesland the modderskutsje, but neither of these types grew into true sea-ships.
At the turn of the century there were over 100 turfpramen operating under sail from the quayside of Smilde and three busy shipyards, building and repairing the fleet of mainly wooden ships, although now some of the newer ones were constructed from iron and built elsewhere. All were still painted in the traditional Drente colours of light green and Havana brown. The Smildigers led a double existence, in their own province they lived a quiet life with a small but comfortable house with a few chickens and perhaps a goat in the back-yard. Unlike other skippers they did not make a full time home for themselves and their family on their ships. They did not lead an itinerant life, picking up cargo when and where available. They loaded their turf, carried it to the west, sold it and returned home to their families, bringing with them much gossip and tall tales from across the water.
Why and how did these skippers succeed in making this long trip when others did not?
When they left at the start of their voyage the ships looked much as the others that worked the inland routes. The sails were small and lightly made to catch every breeze, they had no gaffs or booms and progress was of necessity slow. However, when they reached Meppel or perhaps Zwartsluis the ships underwent a change. The skippers had caused large warehouses to be built alongside the canals here and these were kept secure under the watchful eyes of the water authority. In these sheds, on specially constructed racks and shelves, were to be found all the equipment needed to transform the humble turfpraam into a sea-ship. The lightweightgrootzeil (mainsail) was replaced with a strong, heavy duty sail with two or three reefing points, now set on a long gaff and a heavy boom. A bowsprit now carried an additional kluiver (foresail). A heavy stock anchor was installed on the foredeck along with forty or fifty fathoms of chain, flaked out in the kist (chain-locker). Extra water and supplies were taken on board along with ropes, tools, canvas, nails, blocks, chains and all the gear needed to render the hatches watertight. The original sloop-rigged turfpraam had been angular and slow, the new purpose-built and transformed turfpraam was a fast, seaworthy, gaff cutter. The extra weight of ground tackle carried in the bow always tended to un-trim the ship a little. It was always said that you could tell a Smildiger from a distance by its slightly nose down attitude. With one knecht (deck-hand) to help him and maybe his son as well, the Smildiger skipper was ready to go to sea.
In those days the Zuiderzee was still open to the north and could become very vicious very quickly. If you have sailed on the new and tamer IJsselmeer, you will know how quickly a sea can get up, imagine it without the afsluitdijk to shorten the fetch. Then, the skipper could take the direct straight-line route across from Zwartsluis or Lemmer, leaving himself with nowhere to run in case of bad weather, or he could take the longer route across to Enkhuizen and then down the coast, with numerous ports of refuge to take shelter in. Whatever the choice, his first stop was not in fact Amsterdam. At that time the Oranjesluis was not yet built and so the gateway to Amsterdam was "round the back" as it where, to Spaarndam, then via the Harlemmermeer to the city itself.
At certain times of the year great shoals of anchovies would enter the Zuiderzee and their would be rich pickings for the fishermen. At these times some of the Smildigers would become fishermen too and with the letters SMI proudly displayed on their sails they joined the fishing fleet. They used the same ships as they used for carrying turf, but new ones built for this dual purpose had lower freeboard in their after-section to allow the easier working of nets. This was hard work, but the skippers knew that one good anchovy season could tide them over the rest of the year. It was worth all the effort.
In almost all cases the skipper owned the ship and its cargo. He would have a number of customers both commercial and private that he would regularly supply. Turf was used as a heating source in many private homes, but it was the businesses with large industrial ovens that were the biggest market. Brewers, bakers and the many brick-works along the banks of the great rivers all relied on constantly hot ovens. Turf was sometimes carried loose in the hold and stacked on deck. For inland trips this was fine and often the stack on deck would be two or three meters high, the helmsman steering from a position on top of the turf using a long tiller extension. Clearly this would not do for an open-water passage. In this case the time honoured method of carriage by barrel was adopted. The turf was carried in open barrels (tuns) based on 252 gallon wine casks and the weight of cargo carried was measured in tuns, not to be confused in any way with tons (imperial) or tonnes (metric).
When the cargo was sold and the ship was unloaded, the skipper and knecht, along with the boy, would retire to the after-cabin for a well earned glass of genever(gin), before wandering off to a cafe frequented by other Smildiger skippers. The after-cabin itself was accessible from the hold by way of a wooden bulkhead or partition and from on deck by way of the koekoek (skylight). The turfpraam was a dekschip, that is to say that there was no built up accommodation above deck-level. But the cabin, when you reached it, was small and full of atmosphere. Whilst away from his house this was the skippers home and he cared for it in the same way. A single or double bunk was built crossways along the forward bulkhead, with a little space for clothes behind it. Along the starboard side was a writing desk, often ornately carved and of classical design. This was the skippers office and from here all transactions were handled and records kept. When a small stove was fitted, as was mostly the case, the chimney would exit through the deckhead and out through a removable wooden chimney. This was shaped in the form of a "Y", with the two upper arms both letting the smoke out. When the fire was not lit, the chimney or broekschoorsteen (trouserchimney) served the purpose of boom gallows. Because the cabin was at the extreme end of the ship, there was not a straight plank or plate in the shape, all were curved. The rounded stern meant that the floor sloped up slightly to the rear, to gain as much floor space as possible. Where cupboards were built-in across the stern of the ship, below the two portholes, the lower shelves were narrower than those above them. This was used to great effect to allow safe stowage of items that might roll or were easily broken. In here for example, safely wedged against breakage, was kept the geneva!
When it was time to return home, the Smildiger skipper would look for a return cargo, but seven out of ten times he would return empty. The only regular return cargo was of the many tons of waste matter from the city. This did not earn much for the skipper and the stench would permeate the cabin for days afterwards. Mostly they would opt for a fast return home with an empty ship. The skipper and crew would not have had much rest in Amsterdam and in good weather the luxury of a cat-nap in the sun on top of an old sail on the hatch covers made them forget that they were now working for nothing. This is not a state of affairs that a man from Drente will normally take lightly.
When the return crossing was accomplished the trip became a little more difficult. They would return to their warehouses, unload the sea-going gear and once again fit the lighter inland equipment. The Drente river and canal system was geared up for downstream priority, this meant that a slowly moving upstream headed barge must constantly give way to a fully loaded downstream ship. Most of the waterways were very narrow and winding, there was precious little room for sailing and none at all for passing. Passing places had to be built every kilometer or so. When plodding patiently back towards home the skipper would send his knecht, or ship’s boy, ahead to each passing place to stop any downstream ship and allow easy passage. If the oncoming ship would not, or could not, stop, then it was the duty of the unladen ship to reverse all the way back to the next passing place. This, using poles, ropes and muscle-power was not a barrel of laughs! It does not take too much imagination to envisage the scene and the ensuing drama, when more and more ships got caught up in one of these situations. Eventually however, the ship would reach Smilde and home. Sunday would be a day of rest, but then the cycle would start all over again.
15
RIGGING
The standing rigging of the early binnenschepen was rope based and tensioned by dead eyes (jufferblokken) or simple lanyards. As wire rope became available this was used and eventually bottle screws replaced dead eyes. Some of the more simple craft had unstayed masts, but the normal set up was that of a forestay, two or three shrouds and two running backstays. The backstays were adjusted by block and tackle. When natural rope shrouds were used they were fitted above the hommer with loops in standard sea going fashion. As wire rope became more and more common, shackles were used to attach them to eyes on a mast band.
Running rigging was of hemp and normally consisted of a topping-lift, which, with the boom, could double as a derrick for loading and unloading, a throat and a peak halyard, occasionally a vang for the gaff, a fok and a kluiver halyard, a system for raising the foot of the grootzeil and thus tricing it, and finally a steeving line for raising the kluiverboom in harbour. This was normally all done by hand. The use of lieren did not generally occur, except on the larger craft, until about 1910.
The standing and running rigging of a binnenschip would utilize over forty wooden blocks, even on a small ship. These might be single, double, triple, with or without a becket and some had a horn or bar to make fast a sheet.
SAILS
Sail making was one more specialized skill and the sail makers would often also produce the heavy covers fitted over the hatch boards. Sail making was originally done all by hand using hemp and flax based material. By 1890 sewing machines were widely in use and Egyptian cotton was the favoured material. Favoured that is with the sail makers, the skippers preferred the older hand woven cloth which was supple and easy to stow, the cotton by comparison, although a little more durable, was stiff and awkward to manipulate especially in the wet. Sailcloth was graded by the weight in grams per square meter. Heavy no.1 cotton weighed 1 kg per square meter, no.2, 900 grams per square meter and so on. A cotton grootzeil on even a small ship of 18m could weigh around 100 kg, even so, this was still lighter than the old flax based material. A good set of sails, well cared for, in 0-1 grade for the grootzeil and 2-3 for the fok and kluivers could last for up to 10 or even 15 years. If not looked after however, they could be worn out in less than a year. Cotton, although lighter than flax is not so durable. Nor does it resist mildew and subsequent rot so well. To make a set of sails last it was vital to look after them. This did not mean taking them off in the winter and delivering them to the nearest sailmaker for washing and storage until the next season. The binnenvaart skipper’s sails worked all year. After a salt water passage he would wash the sails down in fresh water to remove the salt crystals that lodged in them and whenever possible he would avoid stowing his sails in any wet conditions. The open air and sunlight where nowhere near as harmful to the cloth as the damp was. Old photographs of ships and harbours will nearly always show a number of sails hanging up to dry. The cotton sails were initially white, but would quickly turn grey if not treated with preservative. Before this happened, it was necessary to weatherproof the cloth to help prevent rot. The weatherproofing was done by soaking the sails in a large vat of simmering fluid. Oak bark provided the main ingredient, tannin, but it was later discovered that the South American Cachou tree provided even better protection. Some skippers swore that for a final touch, nothing worked better than a few jars of the popular coffee substitute, Buismans. In any event, the sails all ended up dark brown in colour. It was this colour that led to the term "bruine vloot" being used to describe the sailing binnenschip fleet. The sails were made from vertical panels, 57 cm wide for binnenschepen and 61 cm wide for sea going ships. These panels were especially cut to give a very hollow or curved shape, which made them surprisingly efficient both off and on the wind.
Today, a restored binnenschip will probably have a mix of sail cloth. Any new sails will be polyester based synthetic sailcloth which is lighter again than cotton, does not rot when wet, but does degrade in sunlight and when new and slippery is awkward to handle. Some may be of a polyester cotton mix and here you get the best and worst of both worlds. At the bottom of most sail lockers will also be found various old sails of cotton or even flax, these are pressed into use when winds are light and every little bit extra helps and also perversely when things get hectic and a thick, heavy sail serves to calm things down.
FORMULA DETERMINING MAXIMUM SAIL AREA FOR A BINNENSCHIP
ET = 1.32 * Bsq* sq-rt L
Where: ET is the total sail area in square meters of grootzeil and fok.
B is the maximum beam in meters.
L is the length, voorsteven to achtersteven, in meters.
This is only a starting point, but on a lightly loaded restored sailing ship it is exceeded at you peril. Existing spars, ballast (if fitted) freeboard and intended use must all influence a final decision. As a very rough guide the Dutch LVBZB states that the above formula holds good for:
Groninger tjalken, Aken , Klippers and Klipperaken. (additional sail area comes from use of kluivers)
Where kluivers are not carried, sail area may be increased as follows:
Bolschepen may have 15% more sail.
Skutsjes .. .. .. .. 40% .. .. ..
Hollandse and Friese tjalken broader than 4m may have 10% more sail.
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