1972 - 1984 | Goodbyes

NOTE: Some of this is identical to what is written on Wikipedia, as both were written by the author of this website, stardust5980 (aka celesteshipping5980). 

NOTE TWO: Huge thanks to Kenneth Kennedy and Kerry Kennedy for providing Kenneth's book 'ALL AT SEA' which provides almost all of the information on this page.

Goodbyes

- The broken propeller couldn't be left as is, especially considering a slew of fishing trips had been booked. Kenneth, Alec, and Dick were able to remove the shaft from the boat at low tide, sealing the hole with a wooden plug. The shaft itself was in fine condition, so Kenneth made another journey to a shipbreakers in Glasgow for a new screw. The search was not so simple, settling on a right-handed bronze three-bladed thing with the incorrect taper from an old puffer.

What made matters worse was the lack of open machine shops, forcing them to alter the taper by hand which involved days of filing and trials until it was finally deemed to be good enough and installed along with the shaft. They were able to install new gland packing and bearings made of nylon, the former iron ones left destroyed by the 300 miles sailed under one blade.

Fortunately the engine didn't complain about the right-handed prop, though a skipper would be forced to relearn all of the controls backwards. Everything seemed back to normal with fishing trips of happy souls and being cosy within the confines of the Clyde, however the engine would soon have put stop to that too. Stopping to fish off Largs, the engine sezied, and nothing worked to get it going. Fearing that it had never recovered from the incident at Lendalfoot, it seemed that therew wasn't much left in the old motor. The fishing party aboard was not so pleased, however they took advantage of a brisk southerly breeze anbd raised the mainsail, taking the ship home at a speed of 4 knots.

As opposed to a regular berth, the ship was slid onto a sanbank some twenty yards from her usal pier, the fishing party let off via the dinghy while passersby watched a ship drawing sail sitting on the sand. They properly moored as the tide rose, leaving a hefty mission to inspect the engine. A cylinder had cracked, leaving the piston completely jammed and after evaluation Kenneth made the decision to scrap it. The 150hp Six Cylinder Crossley DR diesel engine had been in there for 31 years[3], or 40 according to some sources[2] and had accumulated so many worn parts that it became infeasible to keep it.

With that, the hunt for a replacement began, as did the removal of the Crossley. A hole was cut into the wheelhouse, allowing tbe 5 ton engine to be craned out. Forty years of sludge had collected in the trenches beneath where the engine had stood remained which had to be cleaned out.

Kenneth would find a modern 450hp Caterpillar with a hydraulic gearbox, prop and shaft included at Bowling. The catch? It was still installed in a sunken fishing vessel that had been stuck under the same pier for three weeks. Regardless, Kenneth bit the bullet and bought everything for a sum of £2000, which equates to £8,632.76 in today's money. The boat was refloated and moored at the coal pier beside De Wadden where the engine was stripped from the fishing boat and left on the deck of the dutchman. 

Kenneth and his son, Andrew, would spend the next two months working on the engine, consulting genuine workshop manuals and stripping it right down to the crankshaft. Many parts required replacing, renewing, or cleaning, having been stuck underwater for so long. The stern tube and shaft refused to come free from the boat, and even after this was done there was considerably more difficulty installing them to the De Wadden. It took many more hours to fit the pipes and controls, and it was not smooth sailing at all. They managed to get everything together by the end of winter, taking the ship on a trial run sometime in early 1981. She was notably faster and easier to control, no doubt a breath of fresh air for Kenneth after so many escapades with her previously.

Some years passed filled with the ordinary fishing trips and sand gathering, however with fishing being on the decline with the Clyde the demand for such regular trips waned until it was all but naught. The only thing which kept the ship going was the sand, plus the occasional pleasure cruise of American sailors. Alas, all things must come to and end, and Kenneth finally put the boat up for sale. This wouldn't be the end just yet, of course selling such a relatively large ship is a long process, so Kenneth took his family on one final adventure to the Isle of Man. 

Setting off in July 1984 with a compliment of himself, Andrew, Steve, Alec, two friends of his sons, his wife and another crewmember (likely Dick). They were also accompanied by the family dogs and Alec was no doubt companioned with his dog, Etive. The weather was fair and the new engine granted a swfit and accident-free passage to the harbour at Castletown. The ship moored there for a week before sailing up to Ramsay. 

Another week elapsed, and it was time to head home. A large crowd gathered to watch the schooner glide out of port, and she made haste to cast off her lines as opposed to warping her round the harbour corners with ropes which a little coaster had done the day prior. This was, regretfully, a bad idea, as the ship was immediately caught by a 4 knot current, sending it on a collision course with a fishing boat sitting idly at her berth.  The only course was to open throttle and force the ship through the current to saftey, for many small boats were in the path of the current. The engine roared and in seconds her bow came back to them as the supercharger howled, the mammoth engine creeping toward maximum output.

This didn't put them completely in the clear as now the bow was on course to hit another wall, missed by the residing helmsman Alec. The steering was low gear, meaning all time was of the essence so Kenneth rushed to the wheelhouse and hijacked the helm, fervorously spinning the wheel with a lone finger. Barely, the ship's course was corrected, and they were free from any collisions which would have left a sour taste in their mouths. It was dreadful to think what would have happened if the Crossley was still in the bowels of the ship.

Soon they were home, taking visits from prospective buyers, lots keen to buy but never having the funds to invest in much needed repairs, a trend that would see her end some 40 years later. The Highlands and Islands Development Board had shown interest in providing a grant that would see the ship's holds be converted into cabin space to allow the ship to run cruises from the Clyde to the Western Isles, but the initial costs to carry this out proved too significant as there was worry that her income under this role would not be enough to pay back the grant. A Dutch Preservation Society had also shown interest in the vessel, but this never came to fruition either[4]. They were one day approached by Merseyside County Council, managers of the brand new Merseyside Maritime Museum who were looking to fill a large sailing vessel-shaped hole as part of their venture. Kenneth notes negotiations as being slow and painful, with an agreement being made in July 1984, the same month as the Isle of Man trip.

The offer wasn't so great, as they were going to buy the boat subject to delivery at his risk and expense, totalling at a fee of £35,000[5]. Kenneth was at least thankful that this meant the ship was going to be preserved for some time, and financially he couldn't sustain keeping her. With that, he and a crew of five including Mike, the son of Terry McSweeney. The journey was long and as they had no ship for the return leg, they hoisted Kenneth's van on deck and tied it down and set off in late July 1984

With the speed of the Caterpillar, they were able to get a clear view of the Isle of Man by late afternoon of Friday 3rd August and come sunrise they were well onwards for the River Mersey. Visibilty was poor however after somet time the Blackpool Tower came to view off the port bow. A massive swell later indicated they were crossing the Mersey Bar, a vast sandbank at the estuary of the river. Upon sighting the first channel bouy Kenneth made a radio call to Mersey Port Control and was instructed to anchor directly across the Canning Half-Tide Dock at Monks Ferry as the gate was stuck.

The night was a nervous one, the strong current threatening to drag anchor however all was well and they were contacted by the Museum's harbour master to arrange entry. At full tide, the ship got herself underway and slipped graciously between the gates of the Canning Half-Tide, typing up to the quay on the left side of the dock on the morning of Sunday 5th August, 1984. The final voyage was over, as was the Kennedy's adventures with her.

I'm going to take a direct quote from the final page of the book to end this section, as it feels most fitting:

'I let the enging run for a while, reluctant to shut it off for the last time. I was tempted to reverse out and take her home. 

It was not to be. With a heavy heart, I pulled the stop lever and the ship fell sadly silent for the last time.'

References

1.  Kennedy, Kenneth M. (1985). All At Sea. Retrieved 2023-12-16. 

2. https://niallbrn.wordpress.com/category/maritime-history/ Retrieved 2025-08-27.

3.  "Stichting Maritiem Historische Data - Schip". www.marhisdata.nl.  Retrieved 2025-08-27.

4. Carter, Craig J. M. (January 1975) Sea Breezes Vol. 49. Retrieved 2025-08-27.

5.  https://liverpoolnauticalresearchsociety.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/Bulletin-Vol-27-1983.pdf Retrieved 2025-08-27.