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- Dec 2, 2005
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Now that I've introduced Whitby, I feel that this would be a good time to share my favourite Whitby tale. The events I'm about to describe took place more than twenty years ago, and I was not involved in them whatsoever, but I occasionally recount the story, and it always warms my heart to do so.
I don't think it is the case so much today, but in the past, when winter came round, the tourists and holiday-makers abandoned Whitby to the fishermen and the locals, who gathered in pubs like The Black Horse to warm their bones and drink their ale. One bleak night a group of middle-aged locals sat nursing their pints, telling tales and lamenting the fact that, as most of us do, they had unexpectedly arrived in their golden years, perhaps not having achieved everything they might have achieved, or run every race they could have. But on this particular evening, the familiar story took on a new form, and the germ of an idea formed with it. What they needed was an adventure, and one man, Captain Jack, would lead them on it.
Among Whitby's many proud sons was one who had invented the crow's nest, an important innovation in its day. Yet he was buried in the arctic without a proper marker. The motley crew assembled in the pub could identify with their ancestor, and a plan began to come together for them to honour this former son of Whitby, and have a real adventure themselves along the way.
Captain Jack had a boat, a humble old craft, the Helga Maria, and over the next few weeks, with the help of his new (totally inexperienced) crew, which included the local vicar, they worked to make it shipshape and Bristol fashion, enthused with a new energy they had not possessed for many years. The Helga Maria had a new coat of paint, and like her crew looked to be in better shape than she had been in for a long time. The man from the British Admiralty disagreed however, proclaiming the craft to be dangerous and unseaworthy, it would not be allowed to leave Whitby harbour.
Jack's crew were despondent after all their hard work. Over the past weeks, they'd been carried away by their dreams of adventure. Their lives looked all the more depressing at the thought that those dreams were now to be crushed, and that they were destined to sit around the pub table, fading into old age, only dreaming of what might have been.
No! They would not give up! This adventure was important to them. They set back to work on the boat, determined to win the approval of the man from the British Admiralty.
The Helga Maria was inspected once again, and Captain Jack and his ship-mates waited with baited breath. But the man from the Admiralty shook his head, the boat had no radio, and without one it could not be certified as seaworthy.
Once more, the crew of the Helga Maria were left in dismay. They couldn't afford a new ship's radio, or any of the other things that were needed. Once more they repaired to the pub with the heavy weight of disappointment sitting on their collective shoulders.
But they were determined that no naval bureaucrat was going to thwart their plans, and so they resolved to defy the Admiralty and the Royal Navy, and laying plans to communicate with the vicar's secretary by telephone as and when possible, they slipped out of Whitby harbour under cover of darkness.
The next day, when the Helga Maria's absence was noticed, the man from the Admiralty was not amused, and naval warships were ordered to hunt her down and arrest her crew. The little boat and her inexperienced crew were facing the full might of the Royal Navy, and nobody expected that the hunt would last long.
The Admiralty however, had not counted on the sheer determination of the first-time sailors and the dogged guile of their captain. The Helga Maria hugged the coastlines of small Scottish Islands, mooring in tiny bays, so that the vicar could get telephone reports of the hunt from his secretary and pass back news of their situation.
The Navy stalked the craft, but it's small size, and lack of a radio, undoubtedly worked to the advantage of the Whitby adventurers, as they slipped in and out of the network of islands between the North Yorkshire coast and the Outer Hebrides, playing cat and mouse all the way to the Arctic, and the site of the long-deceased son of Whitby they sought to honour.
Against all the odds, they had made it, and out on the ice, a ceremony was held, and a small monument erected to mark the last resting place of that Yorkshire lad. Then the crew readied themselves to return home, their mission accomplished, something neither the Admiralty nor the Royal Navy could now take away from them. But the tiny craft was stuck fast in the ice, and it looked as if the adventure would end badly for all involved. The vicar prayed for divine intervention, and by miracle or good luck, the ice shifted and the Helga Maria was free once more.
Captain Jack led his brave sailors homewards now, still dodging the Royal Navy as they went. They were bold and hardened by their trip, but knew that they would have to face the wrath of the Admiralty upon their return. On the night before their return, the vicar rang his secretary and told her they planned to slip into Whitby harbour at midnight.
Sure enough, the little boat that had successfully evaded the might of the Royal Navy, approached the twin wings of Whitby's ancient harbour as the clock on the cliff-top church chimed midnight. The crew stood on the deck to see the home that it had at one time looked like they might never see again. They had expected that their return would be secret, but as they entered the welcoming arms of the harbour walls, they could see that the entire town of Whitby had turned out in the darkness to greet them, and were loudly cheering the return of the local heroes.
I'm writing this in the pub with a lump in my throat, and I can't tell you what exactly happened after the Helga Maria came back. I do know however that everyone who crewed the boat had the adventure of a lifetime, that the Admiralty were left embarrassed and shame-faced and chose not to make martyrs of a small group of middle-aged people, and that some years after the events described, when I was in Whitby and wanted to interview Captain Jack, I was told that he was off on another adventure, and the Helga Maria was out at sea.
Hopefully, we've all got at least one more adventure left
Jack
I don't think it is the case so much today, but in the past, when winter came round, the tourists and holiday-makers abandoned Whitby to the fishermen and the locals, who gathered in pubs like The Black Horse to warm their bones and drink their ale. One bleak night a group of middle-aged locals sat nursing their pints, telling tales and lamenting the fact that, as most of us do, they had unexpectedly arrived in their golden years, perhaps not having achieved everything they might have achieved, or run every race they could have. But on this particular evening, the familiar story took on a new form, and the germ of an idea formed with it. What they needed was an adventure, and one man, Captain Jack, would lead them on it.
Among Whitby's many proud sons was one who had invented the crow's nest, an important innovation in its day. Yet he was buried in the arctic without a proper marker. The motley crew assembled in the pub could identify with their ancestor, and a plan began to come together for them to honour this former son of Whitby, and have a real adventure themselves along the way.
Captain Jack had a boat, a humble old craft, the Helga Maria, and over the next few weeks, with the help of his new (totally inexperienced) crew, which included the local vicar, they worked to make it shipshape and Bristol fashion, enthused with a new energy they had not possessed for many years. The Helga Maria had a new coat of paint, and like her crew looked to be in better shape than she had been in for a long time. The man from the British Admiralty disagreed however, proclaiming the craft to be dangerous and unseaworthy, it would not be allowed to leave Whitby harbour.
Jack's crew were despondent after all their hard work. Over the past weeks, they'd been carried away by their dreams of adventure. Their lives looked all the more depressing at the thought that those dreams were now to be crushed, and that they were destined to sit around the pub table, fading into old age, only dreaming of what might have been.
No! They would not give up! This adventure was important to them. They set back to work on the boat, determined to win the approval of the man from the British Admiralty.
The Helga Maria was inspected once again, and Captain Jack and his ship-mates waited with baited breath. But the man from the Admiralty shook his head, the boat had no radio, and without one it could not be certified as seaworthy.
Once more, the crew of the Helga Maria were left in dismay. They couldn't afford a new ship's radio, or any of the other things that were needed. Once more they repaired to the pub with the heavy weight of disappointment sitting on their collective shoulders.
But they were determined that no naval bureaucrat was going to thwart their plans, and so they resolved to defy the Admiralty and the Royal Navy, and laying plans to communicate with the vicar's secretary by telephone as and when possible, they slipped out of Whitby harbour under cover of darkness.
The next day, when the Helga Maria's absence was noticed, the man from the Admiralty was not amused, and naval warships were ordered to hunt her down and arrest her crew. The little boat and her inexperienced crew were facing the full might of the Royal Navy, and nobody expected that the hunt would last long.
The Admiralty however, had not counted on the sheer determination of the first-time sailors and the dogged guile of their captain. The Helga Maria hugged the coastlines of small Scottish Islands, mooring in tiny bays, so that the vicar could get telephone reports of the hunt from his secretary and pass back news of their situation.
The Navy stalked the craft, but it's small size, and lack of a radio, undoubtedly worked to the advantage of the Whitby adventurers, as they slipped in and out of the network of islands between the North Yorkshire coast and the Outer Hebrides, playing cat and mouse all the way to the Arctic, and the site of the long-deceased son of Whitby they sought to honour.
Against all the odds, they had made it, and out on the ice, a ceremony was held, and a small monument erected to mark the last resting place of that Yorkshire lad. Then the crew readied themselves to return home, their mission accomplished, something neither the Admiralty nor the Royal Navy could now take away from them. But the tiny craft was stuck fast in the ice, and it looked as if the adventure would end badly for all involved. The vicar prayed for divine intervention, and by miracle or good luck, the ice shifted and the Helga Maria was free once more.
Captain Jack led his brave sailors homewards now, still dodging the Royal Navy as they went. They were bold and hardened by their trip, but knew that they would have to face the wrath of the Admiralty upon their return. On the night before their return, the vicar rang his secretary and told her they planned to slip into Whitby harbour at midnight.
Sure enough, the little boat that had successfully evaded the might of the Royal Navy, approached the twin wings of Whitby's ancient harbour as the clock on the cliff-top church chimed midnight. The crew stood on the deck to see the home that it had at one time looked like they might never see again. They had expected that their return would be secret, but as they entered the welcoming arms of the harbour walls, they could see that the entire town of Whitby had turned out in the darkness to greet them, and were loudly cheering the return of the local heroes.
I'm writing this in the pub with a lump in my throat, and I can't tell you what exactly happened after the Helga Maria came back. I do know however that everyone who crewed the boat had the adventure of a lifetime, that the Admiralty were left embarrassed and shame-faced and chose not to make martyrs of a small group of middle-aged people, and that some years after the events described, when I was in Whitby and wanted to interview Captain Jack, I was told that he was off on another adventure, and the Helga Maria was out at sea.
Hopefully, we've all got at least one more adventure left
Jack
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