“KID GLOVE” POCKLEY

Evening Star, Issue 22275, 28 February 1936, Page 15

“KID GLOVE” POCKLEY

SEAMAN OF THE ’FORTIES FAME OF THE BRIG EMMA The above was the name by which Captain 11. F. Pockley, one-time port master of Port Jackson, and for many years a master mariner engaged on the Australian coast, was known to the fraternity while he and the “ saucy ” Emma, twin souls of the southern sens, worked together (writes “ Redgum,” in the ‘ Sydney Morning Herald ’). Mr J. Macnamara’s little brig Emma, a well-fashioned vessel of 135 tons, was a heeler of the forgotten ’forties. She could work to windward like a mollyhawk. For years the Emma held the record between Hobart Town and Port Jackson; having on one conspicuous occasion cut out the running of 630 miles in 48 hours of super-sailing. From that day on the sight of her royals among the white horses on the skyline caused every rival master who was handling a brig or schooner of about her rating to do some quick thinking and to pass on an order foi more sail. “ Kid Glove ” Pockley and his Emma were super-seabirds in those old days. Captain Pockley himself was a masterly sea rover, who had bitten his first Liverpool pantiles in snouty little vessels working the home waters, and was possessed of a master’s ticket before he had reached man boon's \cass. -At the age of 19 he left London in command of the Tobago brig, of 140 tons register, and turned up in Sydney after having given old Neptune a trouncing or two with his little vessel

all shipshape and Bristol fashion, and his crew ready and willing to stand by while he pricked his chart halfway around the world again. His sobriquet had been given him by rivals who laughed at his whims and fancies, and only partly understood his love for the smart little liners of which he was given charge for better or for worse. Always a strict disciplinarian, ho schooled himself and his crew into doing everything as smartly and as nicely as was possible within the limits of his ships. He was always master as well as admirer of any ship ho sailed. His pea jackets of blue pilot cloth with brass buttons and braid, and the white gloves for his homings and farewells, all _ helped to hold together the sea traditions of the nation. Such moods and fancies wore all too short lived. Blistered lingers and freckled faces came into prominence as soon as the sea fights began, fn the later years commanders of the Peninsular and Oriental Company and the Orient liners always wore full-dress uniform on leaving port. Captain Pockley and his gloves were only a few years ahead of their time. THE EMMA. The Emma herself was a masterpiece of old-day craftsmanship. She was 125 tons, was built at Kingston, Ireland, and so pleased Mr J. Macnamara that ho bought her off the stocks and fitted her out for the Australian trade. During 1847 small craft of her type were carrying much of the world’s trade. Brigs of about 200 tons register had many a time loaded wool cargoes at the Queen wharf for London, and in due time had delivered the freight in good order on the other side of the world. Nearly all of our homo trade was in the hands of small craft under 300 tons daring the ’forties, llegistrations made during the year 1849 showed that 96 schooners, ranging between 30 and 200 tons; 42 cutters, averaging 10 or 12 tons; 27 brigs, ranging between 100 and 200 tons; 11 barques, from 200 to 300 tons; and 13 steamers were owned in Australia. Their total tonnage was 17,879 tons, the number of men and boys employed being 2,002. Just to show to what extent these small craft were used when there was a big sea job to be done let me mention the schooner Cheerful, of 160 tons, under the command of Captain Williams, who took his departure from Sydney one day during .1849 carrying 80 passengers and a lot of cargo for the Californian gold diggings. Such a cockleshell would not bo allowed to

make a voyage around Sow and Pigs with standing room only in these days. The Emma was one of the few connecting links between Sydney and Van Diemen’s Land for quite a long time. She carried the Royal mails, provided cabin accommodation for 12 first class passengers at £lO 10s each for the single voyage, and 24 steerage passengers at £5 5s each. The cabin accommodation was the best offering. Governors, Government officials, soldiers, and sailors availed themselves of the care and attention that the popular Captain Pockley and his brig offered to them. She was a well-found ship and fit for deep-sea travel. It was Dr F. Antill Pockley who told me the story of his father’s record run from the Iron Pot to Hornby light. That masterly effort was made with a full-sized gale on the starboard quarter, and countless great blue-grey seahorses making maddened efforts to force the way over the windward rail. Even the big seabirds that now and again came along to see what the cook and cabin boy were up to hung around longer than usual, admiring the way in which the Emma was bowling along. Captain Pockley knew by instinct when the brig was taking all that was good for her. When there was trouble ahead he quickly took a haul and helped her over the trouble. While he was about she could settle down to her work. “ She might be saucy,” said the captain many a time, “ but she was never sour.” Nothing pleased Captain Pockley more than to fall in with the rival paddle-wheeler Shamrock, under Captain Gilmore, who was then developing the Launceston trade. Both he and his ship at all times were willing to show the proud steam-driven hybrid the way to Hobart Town or the way home. Together they could run rings around the Shamrock any time the wind was favourable for both. The Emma herself preferred to keep her weather eye open for rivals like the Wild Irish Girl or the Waterwitch, a brig and a schooner in the same employ. When either appeared on the horizon her day’s work was always more interesting and her life more worth while. Ships were supposed to have souls of their own in those days. They were then part of the great trinity of the seas, where sky, wave, and ship were linked together, sometimes for good and sometimes for ill. Even though they fought like demons on occasion, each had a great respect for the other, and could be on friendly terms for mouths at a time.

i Mr Macnamara, bwncr of the Emma, was a merchant trader as well as a shipowner. Captain Pockley also did a little merchandising, • and frequently bought Tasmanian produce for carriage to Sydney on his own account. THE PARTING AT LAST. One day the Emma learned with regret that her beloved mentor had eyes • on another vessel and was thinking of making a change into steam. That would be about the year 1853, when ' the Hessespont, a new iron steamer, i was making a name in the Sydneyport Phillip trade. I prefer not to • tell any more of this story. The little brig did not know her own mind for I quite a time after the captain, with ’ the white kid gloves, stepped ashore ; after bidding her good-bye. But she , pulled herself together to fight many | a sea battle with the winds and the waves, and now and again caught a glimpse of her old lover as she made her homing while he was acting as Port Master of Sydney Harbour. | Captain Pockley was port master at the time of the Dunbar disaster, and had much to do with his whaleboat and crew in gathering the threads which were tangled together in the appalling 1 story. Later in life he retired from the sea, and did good work as one of the much-respected marine surveyors around the port. He Jived for years at North Sydney, somewhere upon the highlands near to the post office corner, but soon grow tired of seeing the other chaps’ chimneys creeping close around him. Then he shifted his family and belongings to Lane Cove, to a large orchard block, and spout a lot of his later years orcharding, home-making, tree and shrub growing, and enjoying the life that was simple and sweet, almost within sound of the sea. After every heavy gale the sound of the surf is still audible at Killara in the early morning hours, especially if the intervening trees are carrying raindrops or dew. “ Pockloy’s Lome ” was one of the noted homes on the highlands for many years. His blackbutts were known far and wide as a landmark on the countryside. Some of the great trees still stand to keep tally of time and to help recall the days when the great men and women of yesterday walked around and talked with them. I never saw the old man at any time. . He had passed away before 1899, the year I took up residence at Killara; but I did know the orchard, the trees, the homo garden, and some of the story

that was connected with the man and the woman who pieced Lome together. Now I keep the saucy Emma and her kid-gloved captain among the treasured memories that have been gathered from the joyous days when pretty little brigs and schooners hammered their way in and out of Port Jackson.