When I saw this brief video a couple of days ago I noticed that commenters had no idea who the Doc was. By her face, favour and rich voice I recognized one of “The Five Docs”. Today, seeking the link to post here, I saw that someone has just expressed love for Lee Merritt. Robin links to the Fives latest meeting.
Tuesday 1 January 2013
The SS Poderosa Mystery
On the 27th November 1896 the SS Poderosa, in ballast from Grimsby to Grangemouth, came to grief on Scoughall Rocks, about 4 miles east of North Berwick (56.042842, 2.614741).The vessel’s master at her wrecking was T. GREIG. Eleven years earlier, under the command of Edward THOMPSON, the Poderosa, carrying copper from Huelva to Rotterdam, struck a submerged rock off Ushant. Though badly damaged and taking water, the ship made it to the destination port. At a Board of Trade hearing.in Poderosa’s home port of Sunderland, Captain THOMPSON was reprimanded but kept his ticket. [Some] years or so before this, an incident may have occurred on the Poderosa as it steamed past Filey Bay. It is by no means certain that a man was lost overboard but the mutilated body of a sailor with connections to the steamship washed up on Filey Brigg some days, or maybe weeks, later.
An inquest was held on Monday, at the Ship Inn, on the body of the man who was found on the Brigg on Sunday by George Featherson [sic]. The deceased appeared to be a man-of-war’s man, but there was no evidence to show how he got into the water. On his blue collar was the name of “J. Burgett” stamped inside. The body was very much decomposed and was minus the head, hands and feet. A sailors discharge was found in the pocket. Verdict, “Found Drowned.” Lloyd’s agent informs us that the Poderosa is or was a steamer of 794 tons, registered at Sunderland.
Scarborough Mercury, Friday 5th January 1883
1920 · Harry COWLING · 2007 Cowling F170
Kath wrote this appreciation of Harry on Filey Genealogy & Connections –
An absolutely lovely man. Heartbroken when his wife died.
He used to look after some of the graves at St Oswald’s churchyard – later on, my girls would help him strim the weeds when we were up there.
He knew so much about the fishing history and other elements to Filey’s history even though he was away for a while
He was a choirboy and had to go down to the Rudston Memorial – right down. the steps to the mausoleum were not immediately outside the memorial, they were a bit further down the path so he and Jimmy Brown – as choirboys had to go down with the funeral party. He told me that they were scared stiff.
He was also friendly with Andie Caine’s son – who died after coming home as a prisoner of war and came off a little lorry that David Cowling and Sonny Caine were in when bringing some window frames back from Barmston or somewhere further down the E Riding. He grabbed a window frame that was a bit unsteady with the wind and movement of the wagon but it took him over the side and he landed on his head. He died a few days later from his injuries but Sonny Caine lived.
Note: see David Livingstone Cowling
1899 Arthur FERRAR · 2029 Ferrar E152
1916 Charles ROBINSON & Grace Elizabeth CRIMLISK · 1739 Robinson E20
1926 Mary Watkinson née JENKINSON · 826 Watkinson G659
1858 George GOFTON · MGCY-D22
1979 Church Farm, Ashmansworth
I can’t remember seeing a day like it. Crimson sun rising into a cloudless sky and, after a short golden journey, bathing the evening fields in fabulous orange light. The crusty unbroken snow striated into lovely patterns by the wind. (The lane to the wood and Cowslip Dell chest high with drifted snow). Taking the cows out into this brilliant freezing day, Buttercup “escaped”, playfully running into the Halls’, then into the wrong field, then back down the lane. Heather and I finally cornered her in the churchyard.
The blizzard came on Saturday night. Great fun stepping out from the cottage yesterday morning into a completely fresh landscape. The temperature way below freezing last night and expected to stay that way for several days. It ought to make life harder here but it doesn’t seem to. The cold doesn’t strike nearly as deep as it should.
Up to the New Year just after seven. A bank of indigo cloud above Dale Coppice; above Captain’s Coppice a bright sickle moon. Out at ten. The cloud gone, sun bright but weakened by cold. The village deserted. Along the Rope Walk the first-met living thing of 1981 – an extremely fat Robin. The wind booms through the electricity cables strung across the valley. A barely audible shushing from the Loamhole Brook fifty feet below. Occasional snapping of twigs, fragments of bird song. Reaching the knoll of silver birches I met the bitter north wind cutting down the valley from Coalmoor.