As not only the tide, but the wind also was against us, papa, on coming on deck, agreed to run up the Tyne. Hauling our wind, we stood in for North Shields, passing close under the lighthouse, which stands amid the ruins of the castle.
North Shields was evidently an active commercial place. Shipbuilding was going on in the yards, and vessels were loading with coals, bound to all parts of the world, each with a number of keels, or oval boats, alongside, which had brought down the coal from the upper part of the river. On board the vessels cranes were at work lifting up tubs of coal from out of the keels, and depositing them in their holds. Of these keels I shall have more to say by-and-by. Steamers emitting black wreaths of smoke were coming and going,—some towing vessels out to sea, others taking them up the harbour; while several were conveying passengers. After breakfast we went on board one of the passenger vessels, for papa and Uncle Tom did not wish to carry the yachts higher up.
We had clear evidence that we were in a region of coal. The greater number of vessels we met were colliers, their crews begrimed with coal dust. “Everybody,” as Dick remarked, “had a coaly look.” People were heard conversing in a broad Northumbrian accent, with a burr in most of their words. They were broad-shouldered men, capable of doing any amount of hard work. We came in sight of a fine stone bridge with nine elliptical arches, which connects Newcastle with Gateshead, on the opposite bank. Above it is another magnificent bridge; it is double, the lower roadway, ninety feet above the river, being used for carriages and foot passengers, while the upper carries the railway. It has two piers at the margin of the river, and four others in the stream itself, besides smaller piers. It was curious to walk under it, and to hear the trains rumbling by overhead.
Newcastle stands on the north bank of the river. At first we thought it a very smoky town, but on emerging from the narrow old streets we reached some fine broad thoroughfares with large houses and magnificent public buildings. At the quays were a vast number of vessels, some of considerable size. Formerly coals used to be put on board vessels from the oval boats I have before mentioned, called keels, of which a considerable number are still employed. Each keel carries about twenty tons of coal, the larger masses being piled up in the vessel, but smaller coal is carried in tubs, each keel having about eight tubs. The keels are antique-looking craft, such as were probably used in the earliest days of our history. They are propelled by large oars. The keel man, commencing at the bow, presses the oar before him, until he reaches the after part of the boat; he then hurries back to the bow, and again puts down his oar. The keel men are a fine hardy race. Formerly they were spoken of as “bullies;” but this, among the colliers, means “brothers,” or is derived from “boolie,” that is, “beloved.” Though their manners are rough, their character is good, and they are remarkably friendly to each other. Being all “keel bullies” or “keel brothers,” they support an extensive establishment in Newcastle called the “Keelmen’s Hospital.” We met a whole fleet of these keels as we came up, working their way down with their “puys” or oars. A considerable quantity of coal is scattered over the sides when hoisting it on board, and this is brought back by the flood tide into shallow water, where a number of people are seen in their little cobles dredging for it.
The larger number of vessels are, however, loaded from the “straiths.” These are platforms placed over the river and connected with tramways, joined to the various pits. The waggons, each containing two and a half tons of coal, come down for many miles until they reach the “straith,” when they are brought to a stand. In the “straith” is a hatchway, which opens by machinery, through which the waggon descends with a man in it, who, when it arrives over the hold, unfastens a catch which secures the bottom of the waggon; this being made to turn upon hinges, like a trap door when opened, the whole of the coal is poured into the hold. Attached to the suspending machinery are two counterpoising weights, which being less heavy than the waggon laden with coal, do not impede its descent. The moment it is discharged of its coal it is drawn up again by these weights.
As we descended the river we were much amused by seeing these coal waggons running swiftly on the “straith,” stop a moment, then go down with the descending men; and having got rid of their coal with a loud rushing noise, rise up again, as if perfectly aware of what they were, about.
We returned in the afternoon to the yachts, and stood out to sea, hoping to obtain a slant of wind which might carry us further down the coast.
Having seen the largest coal-shipping place, we had no particular wish to visit Sunderland, the chief port of Durham. Beyond it is Seaham, which has of late years sprung into existence. The mines in the neighbourhood belonged to the late Marquis of Londonderry, who wisely formed a fine harbour here by constructing two piers running out from the land; and his heir has been richly rewarded by his enterprise.
Further south is the seaport of Hartlepool, jutting out into the sea,