Memories of those laborious days at Fleetwick Quay are not only of carpentering, painting, and plumbing. Sam Prawle provided an intermittent accompaniment of anecdote and observation which it is impossible to separate from the record of work done. During the dinner-hour he would sometimes begin and finish a considerable narrative. On the day when we lowered our tanks into position he illustrated his theme that people may put themselves to a great deal of unnecessary trouble by telling us an episode in the life of ’Ould Gladstone,’ the white mare at Wick House. Here is the yarn:

‘I dare say yaou don’t fare to remember ould Gladstone at the Ferry Boat Inn down at Wick House twenty year ago. Wonnerful little mare, she were and lived to be thirty year ould, she did. When ould Amos Staines sould the inn a young feller from Lunnon bought it—a reg’lar cockney, he were, and den’t knaow nawthen about b’ots nor farmin’ nor nawthen, and a course ’e ’ad to keep a man to work the ferry. What ’e come for I can’t rightly say, ’cept he said ’e allus fancied keepin’ a pub.

‘The lies that young feller used to tell us chaps, same as fishermen, bargemen, and drudgermen what used the inn, abaout Lunnon was a fair masterpiece. Mighty clever he thought he were, and wonnerful fond o’ thraowin’ ’is weight abaout, which ’e den’t knaow ’is own weight.

‘Well, twenty year ago come next March, in the forepart o’ the month, me and Jim and Lishe Appleby, the two brothers what ’ad the little ould Viper, ’ad a stroke of luck over a little salvage job with a yacht, and a course we spent a bit extry at the Ferry. Cockney Smith—leastways, that was what we allus called ’im—’eard all abaout our salvage job, and nearly got ’imself put in the river by the things what ’e said abaout it. Jim and Lishe ’ould ’ave done it, for they was wonnerful fond of a glass and a joke, as the sayin’ is, but I ’ouldn’t let ’em, cos I reckoned Cockney Smith might ’ave the law of ’em. A wonnerful disagreeable chap was Cockney Smith; ’e used to read bits aout of newspapers abaout robberies and that, and then ’e’d say ’e supposed they was salvage jobs.

‘Well, not long arterwards ’e ’ad a salvage job ’imself. Jim and Lishe hired ould Gladstone and Cockney Smith’s tumbril to go to a niece’s weddin’ at Northend. They come back abaout seven o’clock o’ the evening, wonnerful and lively, and just where the road bends afore you come to the Ferry that was bangy and dark they some’ow got ould Gladstone and the tumbril in the crick. Yaou knaow the place I mean, sir—jist where the road runs alongside the crick on the top of the sea-wall. A course the place is as bare as my ’and, as the sayin’ is, for there ain’t no tree, nor hedge, nor fence, nor nawthen; but none the more for that, ould Gladstone ’ad bin that road for twenty year, and there ain’t a mite a doubt but what she’d a brought they chaps back safe enough if they’d left she alone.

‘But there yaou are, yaou knaow what them weddin’s are, don’t yer, sir? Well, there was ould Gladstone nearly up to her belly in mud, and she den’t struggle, for the artful ould thing knaowed that, do, she’d sink deeper. The tumbril was nearly a top o’ she, and Jim and Lishe was mud from head to foot—in their shore-goin’ togs, too. They come along to the Ferry, and afore Cockney Smith opened ’is mouth ould Lishe says, “Look at here, landlord, what your damned ould mare’s done to we. Spoilt our best clothes, she ’as!”

“Where’s my mare and cart?” says Cockney Smith.

“Ould Gladstone’s stuck in the crick and the tumbril’s atop o’ she,” says Jim.

‘“Do yaou mean to say you’ve left that pore animal there?” says Cockney Smith.

‘“Ould Gladstone’s all right,” says Lishe. “Nawthen can’t hurt she where she is; it’s only just after low water.”

‘Cockney Smith he were wonnerful angry. “What I want to know is ow did it ’appen, and whose fault is it?” ’e says.

‘“Well, it was this a-way,” says Lishe. “Yaou see, we laowed we was at the corner, and Jim pulled ’is line, and ould Gladstone was a bit quick on the hellum, and afore we knaowed where we was we an’ all was in the crick.”

‘“I’ve druv’ ould Gladstone many a time this last eighteen year, and she ain’t never answered ’er hellum that way afore,” says Jim.

‘“P’raps you ’adn’t been to a niece’s weddin’,” says Cockney Smith, kind o’ nasty like.

‘“Ould Gladstone den’t never git slewed in them days when she ’ad a proper owner, niece’s weddin’ or no niece’s weddin’,” says Lishe.

‘“I suppose yaou keep pore ould Gladstone so short of wittles and drink that when she do git a chance she goes too far on the other tack,” says Jim.

“I’ve a good mind to ’ave the law of ye for spoiling my best togs,” says Lishe.

‘Cockney Smith seed it warn’t no use a arguin’, so ’e says, “Well, who’s goin’ to get Gladstone and the cart out?”

‘“We are,” says Jim and Lishe—“that is, with some other chaps to ’elp, but this ’ere’s a salvage job, this is,” and with that they winks at Jacob Trent and Bill Morgan, two chaps off another smack, just to let them knaow they was in the job.

‘“Salvage job be damned—robbery yaou mean,” says Cockney Smith, and with that ’e goes off to look at pore ould Gladstone.

‘We an’ all went with ’im, but it was that dark us couldn’t see ould Gladstone, but on’y the tumbril, but us heard she a breathin’, so us knaowed she were alive.

“‘Pore ould Gladstone! that’s a strain on ’er,” sez ould Jacob Trent. ’E were wonnerful fond of ould Gladstone, was ould Jacob.

‘When Cockney Smith got back, he were that angry ’e fared to be a goin’ to bust, but Jim ’e says,

“Naow look at here, ef ould Gladstone ain’t got out o’ that crick by half-past eleven she’ll draown, for that’s high water at midnight.”

‘“Yes, yes,” says Lishe; “and ef she don’t draown she’ll most likely get run daown, as the Juliet Ann’s a comin’ in this tide or next to load straw, and she’s baound to stand in where ould Gladstone be with the wind this way.”

‘“Pore ould Gladstone! that’s a strain on ’er, that is, and she be wonnerful an’ ould,” says Jacob.

‘Well, landlord he seed he’d lose ould Gladstone ef he den’t do suthen, so ’e says: “What do you chaps want for gettin’ of she aout?”

“I reckon ould Gladstone and the tumbril’s worth the best part of ten paounds, and one-third of that is four paounds or thereabaouts,” says Lishe.

“Well, I ain’t a goin’ to pay it,” says Cockney Smith.

“Then yaou can git she aout yerself,” says Jim.

‘“Yaou put she in, yaou ought to get she aout,” says Cockney Smith.

“She put herself in and spoilt our shore-goin togs,” says Jim.

‘“Look at here, landlord,” says Lishe. “Me and Jim ’on’t say nawthen abaout our togs, and we an’ all will spend half the four paounds here in drinks. We can’t say fairer’n that, can we?”

‘That was getting late, so Cockney Smith agreed. So Jim an’ all ’ad drinks, and then they pulled off and got warps and tackles and come and borried my ridin’ light. As yaou knaow, sir, there ain’t nawthen yaou can bend a warp to on that blessed ould wall, so a course they ’ad to pull off agin for a couple of anchors, and while the anchors was bein’ got the others ’ad more drinks and waited for the chaps what was fetching the anchors to have theirs, too. Arter that they laid out them anchors on the weather side of the wall, and shoved some planks daown under the tumbril and ’auled that out pretty smart with a tackle on each side.

‘When they come to start on ould Gladstone they was fair took aback to knaow rightly how to shift she, so they put the lanterns daown and ’ad a bit of an argyment. Bill reckoned she’d come off best the way she went on, but Jacob wanted to slew her ’ead raound so as she’d force her way off, cos she drawed most water aft. Jim said he den’t want to think nawthen abaout that; he knaowed they’d have to lift she with sheerlegs same as unsteppin’ a mast. Lishe said they mustn’t do nawthen in a hurry and must ’ave more drinks to talk it over, so back they went to the inn.

‘Cockney Smith kep’ all on a tellin’ of ’em to hurry, and the more ’e worrited ’em the more drinks they ’ad, and the slaower they was. First they tried Bill’s way, and they wropped some sacks raound ould Gladstone’s starn quarters to take the chafe. They only hove once, for poor ould Gladstone give a master great squeal, and when they slacked up she looked raound like as to say, “You fare to be enjoyin’ yaourselves together, but I ain’t.”

‘Arter that they bent a warp raound ’er ould neck and hove on that till they reckoned they’d most break suthen. Ould Gladstone struggled a bit, but that warn’t no use, and then she seemed to kinder go faint and we an’ all reckoned she was a dyin’.

‘Bill said ould Gladstone ought to have some brandy, but Lishe said brandy were paltry stuff alongside o’ rum, an’ he reckoned rum ’ud pull she raound best. So it were rum, and of course they den’t never think to bring no bucket for ould Gladstone to drink aout of, so they had to use Lishe’s sou’wester. Poor ould Gladstone den’t seem to relish rum—leastways, she den’t drink much of it. P’raps it was because Lishe had jist given his sou’wester a coat o’ linseed oil. Anyway, what little she ’ad seemed to bring she raound a bit, and she opened her eyes, which showed she warn’t dead yet. Jacob give she the rum because he served on a farm once, and knaowed abaout horses and that, and he was jist a goin’ to pour the rum away when Bill stops him in the nick o’ time. “Here, mates, we ain’t a goin’ to waste good rum what landlord has to pay for for poor ould Gladstone,” he says, and with that he finishes it.

‘Then Bill and Jim started to rig the sheerlegs, and Jacob and Lishe laid the planks to keep the legs from sinking in the mud, and while they were a doin’ that Lishe fell off his plank stern first in the mud, and Jacob laughed till he nigh fell off his, too.

‘Then Lishe went off to the Ferry to ’ave a clent up, and a course t’others followed, all a lingerin’ for more drinks.

‘I never seed a merrier crew than they an’ all was when they mustered raound ould Gladstone again. Well, they got them sheerlegs rigged at last, but ’adn’t got enough sacks to put under ould Gladstone’s belly to keep the ropes off ’er, so they went back to the Ferry ’an ’ad more drinks while two on ’em got an ould jib, cos they couldn’t find no more sacks. That was gettin’ late then—abaout ten o’clock, I reckon—and the tide was a comin’ well up in the crick and landlord fared to be a goin’ off ’is ’ead.

‘Soon as they got back, they rigged the slings and hove ould Gladstone up, and put some boards under she for she to stand on, and then they laowered away. I reckon them boards was greasy or ould Gladstone was too weak to stand. Leastways, she fell off ’em, and Lishe and Bill laughed till they most cried.

‘But the drink fared to take ould Jacob different, for he were wonnerful unhappy, he were, and kep’ all on a sayin’: “Pore ould Gladstone! that’s a strain on ’er, that is. She ’on’t go there no more.” And when they come to try again ould Jacob made ’em wait while ’e mucked ’imself from ’ead to foot tryin’ to put the sackin’ more better so as to keep the chafe off ould Gladstone’s sides.

‘Then they hove ould Gladstone up agin, and thraowed a few ’andfuls o’ sand on the greasy planks; but it warn’t no use, and when they laowered she daown agin she just slipped off and fell on t’er side in the mud. Them chaps laughed till they shook like dawgs, all ’cept ould Jacob, and ’e jist kep’ all on a sayin’, “Pore ould Gladstone, pore ould Gladstone!”

‘Then Cockney Smith come along a spufflin’ and a swearing abaout the time they chaps was takin’; and then they seed the tide come a sizzling ’igher up the crick, and that sobered ’em a bit, and Jim says, “We’re on the wrong tack, mates; we must have them barrels what we used for floating Hornet t’other day and lash they daown taut under ould Gladstone’s bilges.”

‘“She’s a layin’ on her side naow, so we can’t get at she to do it,” says Lishe.

‘“Look at here, naow,” says Bill; “if we lash them barrels together, we can heave ould Gladstone up and laower she daown on ’em.”

‘“I reckon that’s the way,” says Jim, “but them barrels must be made fast atop as well as underneath, else they might shift aft and float ould Gladstone’s stern quarters up, and ’er ould head ’ud be under water.”

‘So they got them barrels and lashed them together, and laowered ould Gladstone on top of them and made all fast, so as they couldn’t shift. They was jist a goin’ back to the Ferry when Lishe says: “I reckon ould Gladstone ought to have a ridin’ light up, so as if she got run daown the law ’ud be on our side, and we’d git paid all right.”

‘Bill said it warn’t wanted, as they’d get the money as long as they got ould Gladstone out alive or dead. Cockney Smith said what ’e meant was ’e’d have to pay on’y if Gladstone come out alive, but ’e seed ’e might be alongside ould Gladstone if ’e said it agin, an’ it warn’t no use his arguin’, as there was four agin him, and all three sheets in the wind, as the sayin’ is. Anyhow, Lishe would ’ave the ridin’ light up, so he took and made that fast raound ould Gladstone’s neck, and he an’ all went back to the Ferry.

‘They all reckoned the money was as good as in their pockets, and jist carried on anyhow. Bill told some wonnerful yarns abaout poor ould Gladstone when she were young, till they most fared to be goin’ to cry. And pore ould Jacob ’e did cry, and sat there drinkin’ ’is rum and wipin’ ’is eyes and sayin’, “Pore ould Gladstone! that’s a strain on ’er, that is. She ’on’t go there no more.”

‘Cockney Smith he kep all on a dancing raound, tellin’ ’em to go and look arter Gladstone, but Lishe, ’e jist says: “Look at here, young feller, ould Gladstone’s all right; she’s got ’er light up, and if any craft run into she yaou can ’ave the law of ’er.”

‘We an’ all was that merry—for a course they chaps stood we a tidy few drinks—that us den’t take no notice o’ nawthen. That must ’ave bin just abaout high water, and ould Lishe was a singin’ a song which ’e stopped arter every verse to tell ould Jacob to kep quiet, when I ’eard a kind of a clatterin’. That bro’t me up with a raound turn, for a course I knaowed at once ould Gladstone ’ad flet, and ’ad got aout o’ the crick by ’erself, and afore I could say a word there was ’er ould head a peakin’ over the fence. We an’ all run aout an’ seed she a standin’ there all lit up. That were the head masterpiece that ever I did see. There she was, wrop up raound her neck and belly with sackin’, Lishe’s ridin’ light ’angin’ under ’er ould neck, and them casks under ’er ould belly, and the sheerlegs acrost ’er back, and fathoms and fathoms of tackle and warps towin’ astern, and the ould thing mud from ’ead to foot.

’Ould Jacob and they an’ all was makin’ a wonnerful fuss over ould Gladstone when I come away aboard and turned in. Next mornin’ I seed ould Gladstone lookin’ a bit pingly, but not much the worse, standin’ on the hard in the river and Cockney Smith a moppin’ the mud off ’er.

‘Not long arter that Cockney Smith sould the Ferry to Shad Offord, what’s bin a sailorman and knaows haow to run a pub.’