WHILE OTHERS SLEEP

New Zealand Listener, Volume 10, Issue 258, 2 June 1944, Page 24

WHILE OTHERS SLEEP

Does The Ferryman Swim Home ?

ES, you caught the last ferry (tram, or bus). You had to make a dash for it, but you caught it; lucky, too, a dirty night like this. And now you’re home, fairly dry, shaking out your umbrella on the porch. A cup of tea, a hot bath, with luck you’ll be in bed by one. Nice place, too, rain falling ‘steadily; do the garden a power of good... * * * "Well, that’s that," said the mate; "end of a dirty night." "D’you all live on this side?" I asked. "Too flaming right we do. What d’you expect us to do? Swim home?" "Well," I said elaborately, "I thought you might possibly have a little dinghy each." He spat. I haven’t seen it done better in the pictures. His aim with the rope was good too. "D’you ever miss?" I asked him as the ferry came alongside, drew past. His mouth was full of tin whistle and he didn’t answer. Left-right, left-right, he wound the rope on to the bollard. Crreeeak . . . and the rope slips, slips, slips-and holds. One more quick leftright and another blow of the whistle. "Miss? Yes. I miss a few." "In a high sea?" "No. Funny thing is you never miss the hard shots. It’s the easy ones that beat you-you get too confident." "And how long does a rope last?" "Anything from a minute to a fortnight. Depends on the weather. This one’s due to go any minute." I stepped back. The crew on the ferry boat is four: skipper, mate, engineer, and fireman. "D’you want to go down and see the engines?" But the smell of an oily rag is enough for me. "Pity," said the mate. "I was 17 years in the engines. I could tell you plenty about the engines." — "Seventeen years round the harbour here?" I asked. "Harbour nothing. I’ve been to sea. There’s some chaps in this job got no

adventurous _ spirit, stick around the harbour all _ their lives. But I was different when I was young. I’ve seen some things. I’ve been in some countries. I could tell you some _ tales, I’m telling you." Yes. He was tell-

ing me, I interrupted. How long had he been in this job? "Since 1940. Seventeen years I was. without a breakdown in the engines. But 1940 I said to myself, ‘Sammy,’ I said, ‘it’s time you were getting yourself an easy job.’ And this is it." Take a Foggy Night "And is it?" "Well, it is and it isn’t. The like of this trip, now, is easy. But you take a foggy night or a foggy morning. Then the mate’s got a big responsibility. He’s got to stand up in front and warn the

skipper of anything ahead. You might say he’s just as responsible as the skipper." So on an easy trip the mate sits and smokes, blows his whistle, ties up, and lets go. On a hard trip he’s busy all the time. Only two shifts work each ferryboat. No eight-hour day for the ferry"men: it ranges from eight hours to ten at a stretch. Tea-hour? "We don’t have tea-hours on this job. Our job is to run the boat to a timetable, not to put on our coats and say ‘Well, I’m going ashore for an hour now for my tea. No. We just have our tea when we can on the run." The men who work the morning shift start at six, which means they are up by five, earlier for the fireman and engineer; and the men who finish the last run at night get to bed between one and two. "You wouldn’t exactly call us nightworkers," the mate said. "But there are plenty of people asleep when we've still got three hours or so to go." * * * "How do I get home? I push my bike," the tram conductor told me. "Yes, wet or fine, going home at night. Others are lucky, the ones to the north; there’s a bus that serves them. Then the ones who live out towards the suburban depot get home on the last car-it waits for them to count their cash at the depot and fix their timesheets." "And the bus that serves the northern people-a tramway bus?" "Yes, a special for tramway people. It’s a sore point with us that too many other people use it." "And the driver?" "Yes, he lives out that way too. It would be tough if he had to park the bus and walk himself home a mile or two." ‘Do many walk?" "Well, not so many, but a few do. There’s Percy Bland. He walks in every morning he’s on early shift. He lives out my way and these dark mornings I catch him up on my bike; I can see the dark figure ahead of me on the road-he walks on the road because the footpath is full of holes-and I pass him at the same place at the same time every morning-set my watch by him." A Son is an Asset "Now I'll tell you a thing. The man who’s got a son as well as a bike is home on the pig’s back. Take this afternoon. Raining cats and dogs when I was ready to leave home. So I came in by tram and left the bike for the boy to bring in when the rain eased off." "You started this afternoon. What time do you get home to-night?" "We're due in at the depot at 12.6 and it'll probably be about a quarter past before I’m on my bike and it takes me about 35 minutes to ride home. I get a bit of a meal and I’m probably in bed by about half-past one. Of course, the people on the later runs wouldn’t be as early." It was nice that he thought it was early. It appears that many of them don’t arrive home by car (a few of the (continued on next page)

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lucky ones, they are generous in giving half-a-dozen others a lift) or cycle till close on two o'clock. And for the 5.30 a.m. run many of them have to have their feet on the floor by four o’clock. be * Ey At first glance you’d say the bus driver has the cream of it-shifts varying from seven hours to nine, always with a meal break and generally with a cup of tea provided for a morning or afternoon-tea break by the company, a first run half an hour later than the trams and a last run perhaps a quarter of an hour earlier than both trams and ferries . . . and how many other men are there who have all in one their dual five-year-old ambition of driving a bus and punching tickets? "But when I came back from over> seas and they asked me to take it on I said, ‘Not on your life. I’m not dealing with the public.’ But they persuaded me for a week and I’m still at it-it’s a very interesting job, you see all sorts of interesting things. Of course driving a bus is a very different thing from driving a tram, where you're in the thick of the traffic all the time, a terrific nerve strain. I couldn’t have that on." Many of the bus drivers, like this one, are returned men. "The latest we get to bed would be half-past one and the earliest we’d get out would be four o’clock," he said. "But that’s only for the ones living a long distance from the depot. It’s a good job in the middle of the daybut there’s no time to dream at the peak hours! Its a real scramble then." %* Eo * "Some nights it’s quiet and then other nights it’s not quiet. Take last night, now. Nothing, not even a dog the whole

night long. And yet the night before we had a fight and I had to get the police. That’s my __ instructions: ‘Don’t interfere in trouble; call the police" I don’t stick my nose in it and I don’t get

beaten up. But I call the police, quick, as look at you." The nightwatchman’s first job is to keep the fires up in the ferry-boats; he moves from one boat to another, doing a bit of cleaning, a bit of stoking, and keeping an eye on the entrances and the wharves. He comes on duty at 11 p.m. and stays till the engineers and the firemen. take over at 6 a.m. Five Keep Him Busy "Yes, it’s cold enough sometimes; but I can always go down to the fires for a bit. But I can’t stay in the one place. I’ve got to keep moving from boat to boat-and when I’ve got five to look after it keeps me busy. To-night I'll just have the three." Does he cook on the fires? "No. I bring down a bit of a sandwich and that does me," "And what about a hot drink?" "No. No hot drink for me. I drink cold water. Better for the kidneys. I like a good cup of tea, but you can overdo it. Lonely? No. Always people coming and going. Parties going home late in a night launch. And the launch men. And as I say a fight or two to keep things lively. As jobs go it’s not such a bad job."

"Do you ever feel like writing a book?" "Me write a book? I could except for one thing. Do you know what that is?" "No," I said. "What?" "Vocabulary," he said. "I haven’t got a vocabulary." I hadn’t time to argue with him. I

had to catch my last bus.

J.