This is the email from Andrew Hoskins that was attached to the poem below:

I wrote the attached poem in 1971, just one of a few I jotted out during an idle period between college and work- living in Cardiff at the time. I had no connection with Hull.

However I must have been inspired by hearing of the loss of trawlers and their crews on the news. It clearly struck a chord. I have some briny in my Devon heritage, and was brought up in Aberystwyth; my Dad had a 18ft boat when I was a small boy. I later became a Customs Officer, spending much of my working time boarding ships at Newport, Cardiff and Barry Docks, and at Milford Haven, Pembroke and Fishguard. The last two were Irish ferry ports.

At Milford Haven there was a small fleet of trawlers- so old they had ‘converted from steam to diesel’ plaques on their wheelhouse fronts! I think they had originated in Hull or Grimsby. We boarded them on their return from the ‘Banks’ .This was in the 1970s.

My partner since 2010 is a Hull girl. And by coincidence, her grandfather operated a small fleet of Humber barges in his day (Seddon).

I like to think someone might be interested to read my ‘doggerel’. It’s fictional, but there is oblique reference to the three vessels lost in one year, and to the complete loss of ships and crew.

It was written in respect for and tribute to the harsh life and dangers faced by the trawlermen…

THE TRAWLER HELM

Andy Hoskins 1971

The engine’s sounding really good

You can feel it through the wood

The crew are all aboard

The bright new nets are stowed

****

It’ll take three days to get there

No one knows exactly where

The ropes are free, we’re casting off

The engine breathes its long black cough

****

We’re sailing out through harbour gate

The Skipper roars- “You’re always late!”

The Keeper dons his long grey mac

And shouts- “See you when you’re back”

****

The sea’s so calm it’s almost flat

But Skipper’s unimpressed by that

He knows that when we reach the Bell

This calm will turn a sickening swell

****

The ship slid past the Inchcape Rock

Its seagulls formed a noisy flock

But when one turned to follow us

The others raised up such a fuss

****

He hung above our foaming wake

But loyalty like that is really fake

He hovered there for hours on end

Then finally we lost that empty friend

****

Six or five or four or three

Two of those birds is company

When there’s one you still have fun

But if there’s none- you know you’re done

****

Young blood sailor or old salt

Knows superstition’s just a fault

But you try tell them otherwise

Might as well tell them lots of lies

****

We passed the Orkneys in the night

And then we had our first real fright

As the radio weather forecast spoke

A screech- a bang- the steering broke.

****

We stopped, got out the welding torch

Mate fixed it up without a scorch

But when he’d done he paused and said

“It’s good as new!” and shook his head

****

I called the Skipper from his cabin

Reeled off the news- his face went thin

For now the dreaded gale forewarning

Wind Force 10 and snow is falling

****

The waves were twenty feet or more

With fighting helm my hands were raw

The ship was crashing through great walls

Of cold grey sea, and stinging squalls

****

It were sixty miles and more to shelter

And we feared the steering gear would falter

So the Skipper ordered- “Bows to wind-

We’ll fight this one to the bitter end”

****

On safety lines five boys on deck

Hacked at the ice- but what the heck

No sooner had they cleared away

The ice came back, and back to stay

****

A few hours later and the wind

Began to blow as if we’d sinned

The waves grew every time we looked

Until their spray the whole ship soaked

****

In Iceland’s eastern fishing quarters

The March squalls are real corkers

Great knives of icy sleet down hurtle

At worst they’ll make your ship turn turtle

****

Now we’re just in Iceland’s bounder

Searching with the echo sounder

For the record fishy shoal

That buys the boss’s wife mink stole

****

The weather’s even more vicious now

The spume’s fair flying from the bow

The boys below change sleep for cards

And I can see the thick white yards

****

And from my place here hands on wheel

I hear the steering clank and squeal

And then the hissing radio shout-

“Two ships have sunk- Look out, look out!”

****

The Skipper was quiet, on his perch

The heavy ship did roll and lurch

Into the trough and over the crest

She gamely ploughed and did her best

****

But this was not our day and with a clang

The wheel went loose, the chain went twang

Our trusty vessel swung in a valley

Of roaring sea, climbed up but madly

****

Over the crest she swung

Tilted over she hung

Broached and rolled

Our death bell tolled.

****

Our folk at home ne’er saw us again

For no one would know where our ship was lain

But we’re ok, we met Dave Jones

“You don’t need them now, your bones”

****

We can’t be home again

To talk, to eat, to love. No pain

Is ever felt again. We’re happy and safe

In the Lord’s great place.

In memory of all those lost at sea on fishing vessels out of Kingston on Hull and other ports. RIP.

Rights asserted by author ANH.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The City of Hull Band at the Opening and Blessing of The City’s Memorial to the Lost Trawlermen of Hull. Once again they moved the congregation with their special composition ‘Anchor for the Soul’ and with their powerful yet beautiful playing at the start and the end of the Service.

Hull Sea Cadets – T.S.Iron Duke carried out their duties as stewards and at the Memorial blessing ceremony with discipline, friendliness and willingness. They were very smart and respectful. Our thank to Lt Janice Spicer MBE RNR