AMY HOWSON came to the Society with the engine located in the rear cabin, a tired 3-cylinder Lister which was oily and unreliable. During the course of restoration it was decided to reinstate a proper captain’s cabin and locate a more reliable engine in the rear of the hold.
A Gardner 5LW diesel engine with marine gearbox was offered to the committee as a gift from the Thorne Sea Cadets, and this was installed on new engine beds welded in place by Roy Smith. All that remained was to find a mechanic to check it over, connect up and test…
Dave Robinson continued the story:
“Now our friend Barry would do the job but, being a motorcycle racing fan and someone’s mechanic as well, catching him on a weekend was doubtful. But, someone invented the F A Cup ( better still The Final) where everybody, for the first time in a normal year, sits round the telly with cans of ale.
So with neither of us being bothered about the Cup, over to Ferriby he comes with his boxes of assorted tools and the staccato language mechanics use. About mid-afternoon Cyril joined us from work and he and Barry went through the dieselites’ ritual of loosening everything on the fuel system and paddling about in the results.
Then followed a brief pantomime of snitching batteries off our vehicles and attempting to coax the mill into life with a festoon of jump leads and “maybe” connections. The heap growled and rumbled sullenly, emitting sighs and fumes from various joints in the exhaust pipe.
At this juncture Rodney Clapson arrived to see how progress had gone, and a technical conference was held. Mr C departed to fetch his trusty Land Rover and Cyril and I cast aside the silencer in case it was “choking her up”.
With the Land Rover edged precariously over the bank, the jump leads just reached our “Battersea Power Station”. Try again with the starter-a-podging spanner across the terminals. No joy. Lacking the driver’s first resort ( a can of Easy Start, Barry used the cowboy’s friend ) a diesely rag burning over the intake.
When she struck up, with a crescendo of revs, the resultant cloud of fumes sent us all scurrying up to the deck choking and coughing. Sitting on the after-rail, we watched the fog drifting softly across the river while bemused yachtsmen stared and wondered. After a few minutes the engine settled down and the fog cleared.
We listened to THE GARDNER chuntering merrily away beneath us.
We didn’t know which team won the Cup though!