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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 1, Issue 10 (March 21, 1927)

A Safety First Story

A Safety First Story.

In the course of his speech at the luncheon of the Safety Officers’ Conference held recently in London, the Rt. Hon. J. R. Clynes, told the following story which we reproduce for the interest of our Safety First readers:–

“There were two men who had the job of installing at the top of a house a telephone, and the lady of the house wrote some days afterwards to explain she could no longer endure their horrible language. The Post Office promptly sent down an inspector, it being (of course) the habit of State Departments to act promptly in these matters. The inspector called before him the two workmen and the foreman, and the latter was questioned as to what actually happened. “Well,” he said, “you see, Sir, there was Jim going up a ladder on this high house, and he was carrying up a ladle of molten metal, and somehow some of this molten metal came down on the neek of Bill who was coming up the ladder behind him, and Bill said that Jim should be more careful.”

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ashore to do some exploration work. Landing was a little difficult as one moment the swell would lift the dinghy above the rocky ledge, and the next moment the boat would be several feet below it.

That night was spent anchored in the shelter of the island, everyone making himself as comfortable as possible on the hard boards of the cabin. Sleep was intermittent and not of a very satisfying nature. About 1 a.m. the skipper started up the engine. He said it was an ideal morning for catching crayfish. After hauling in the anchor a short cruise around the rocky shore brought the launch to a suitable place (according to the skipper) where an abundance of these delicacies of the deep would be forthcoming. But the majority of the crew were too sleepy to worry about crayfish and only cursed loudly the person who had been responsible for starting up the engine and breaking in on their pleasant dreams, for the engine was of an old and heavy pattern, and the row it prcduced when in action was deafening to anyone in the cabin. The fumes of the exhaust joined with the oily smell from the bilge water only added to our discomforts and nobody was sorry when daylight came again.

Mako Shark captured at Russell.

Mako Shark captured at Russell.

The weather off the North Auckland coast is very fickle at times. At breakfast it was announced that the glass had fallen considerably over night, and a “blow” might be expected. As it was Sunday, the original plan had been to spend the day in fishing for schnapper, rock cod, hapuka and other edible fish, but the skipper ruled otherwise. He said the wisest thing we could do was to up anchor and get down to the main land before the storm commenced.

Many were the regrets at this unexpected proposal. The water was indeed like glass and one could see beneath the surface for many fathoms so transparent and clear was the water. At times small fish (at least they appeared small to us on the launch, but may have been quite large specimens for all we knew) could be seen flitting like shadows across the kelp bottom. It seemed a great pity that we were to miss the unique experience of fishing under such favourable conditions. We had one sack and two kerosene boxes of schnapper which had been caught the previous day it was true, but the present fishing ground seemed to offer far better promises for a successful day's sport.

By nine o'clock the wind had commenced to blow pretty hard and the launch once getting clear of the friendly shelter of the island felt the rough seas acutely. The boat was not what one could call a seaworthy craft. She had been made by the present owner and fitted with an engine. In shape she resembled a long box. Somebody even called it a coffin on this particular occasion—not without a certain degree of appropriateness we reflected.

If the old launch had rocked about a bit before, she certainly did now, more so. All manner of grotesque gyrations were performed by the launch. In fact almost every possible movement, barring actually standing on her beam ends, seemed to be performed in the next two hours. The dingy broke away and was promptly swamped. It was impossible to recover it. The very act of turning broadside on to the huge whitccrested waves which seemed to be hurled at us would have courted disaster. We could only keep on our course trusting to luck and the engine to bring us out of a nasty situation.

By dusk we had picked up our moorings in a snug and secluded tidal inlet of the Whangarei Harbour and the eventful, if somewhat short, cruise had come to an end.

“Daylight” and “Sunset” compared.—An American visitor, travelling a few days ago by the Daylight Limited Express, gave it as his opinion that this proved one of the finest railway trips in the world. The scenery on the journey, he said, was unsurpassed by any of that witnessed on the Canadian Pacific route, and he considered that a trip on this New Zealand train was quite equal to one on the Sunset Limited of the United States.—(Taumarunui Press.)