Saltwater in Our Blood

By Natalie Van Kirk

Follow the true story of the author as she tells of her adventures both on land and at Sea. Her love of the ocean and her experiences on board the Queen Mary. She tells of many strange and humorous events in her travels, as she meets many new people that enter her life.

She gives a description of her ancestors and family that were sea going people and what the Sea meant to them. Experience, the thrill of sailing the Atlantic on board the Queen Mary. The Sadness of the loss of a cousin on board the Titanic. This and much more in the Authors new book, "Saltwater in our Blood."

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 28, 2005
• ISBN: 9781467027427

Natalie Van Kirk

Natalie Van Kirk, a native of New Jersey is now retired and living in Venice, Florida. She is a self-taught painter in both oil and watercolor. Natalie is a graduate of the School of Visual Arts, in New York City where she studied Commercial Art. Then she worked professionally for many years in fashion illustration and the motion picture industry, from TV Commercials to classified training films for the government and NASA.               The last ten years of her career Natalie was an instructor at Spectrum Institute for the Advertising Arts in New Jersey, teaching Advertising and Illustration. Her paintings hang in private collections throughout the United States, as well as Holland, England and Scotland. Natalie has always enjoyed writing and has written and published a number of short stories. Natalie also writes and publishes several monthly Newsletters.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgments

Saltwater In Our Blood

The Smells Of The Water

Following Their Steps

A Little Wet

Sports Cars

On The Continent

Louie

Wally Byam Caravan Club

Florida

Harbor Isles Boat Club

Summer Outings

Relocation

About the Author

This book is dedicated to my family members

who have gone on before me,

who so dearly loved the sea.

Acknowledgments

To my family and friends for their encouragement and support in the writing of this book. Special thanks to my sister, Maggie May and dear friends Alice and Ron.

My heart felt thanks to Alice, Ron, Harry and Betty who so graciously edited this story.

Saltwater In Our Blood

I became a widow ten years ago. After my husband passed away, I sold our boat, as I was not capable of handling it by myself.

The following summer, I sold the house which was on a lagoon in Manahawkin along the New Jersey sea shore and moved to Venice, Florida. I bought a retirement home in Harbor Isles a manufactured development in the Southwest, not too far from the Gulf of Mexico.

Over the past years I’ve missed the thrill of living by the water, and the boating. My son, Lambert and his family moved to Florida the same time I did. They brought their boat with them, and I was sure I would be spending a lot of time out on the water with them. Oh, I did get a ride or two in the beginning, but with their busy schedules, there seemed no time for boating. Or, maybe it just wasn’t convenient for me to tag along.

I tried keeping myself busy with one thing or another in the park, but when I would start getting down in the dumps, I would drive to the Venice Jetty, sit in the car and look out across the Gulf of Mexico. Being by the water like that, has always given a boost to my spirits, enabling me to carry on. My mother, Doreen and even my husband felt the same way when it came to being on the water or just sitting by it.

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I had always been told how the salt water must be in our family’s blood. As far back as any of us knew, all of our English ancestors were sea going men.

One being Richard Pitt Shillabeer who apparently joined the service in 1844 as cabin boy at the age of 18. Over the years he held a number of jobs ending as being a Cook/Steward at the time of his discharge in 1849.

Sometime during the 1880’s Richard became master of a ferry boat that ran between Southampton and the Isle of Wight.

In the photo you can see Richard’s earrings. The earrings are now in New Zealand, in the possession of a granddaughter of Richard’s eldest daughter Maria Ann. The gold earrings are oval in shape with a fancy edging and a blue stone in the center which is a lid to a small recess. It is not known if Richard kept snuff or cocaine in them. One earring is in poorer condition than the other seeming Richard often wore only one of them.

Then there was one of Richard’s grandsons, Charlie Shillabeer who lost his life on board the Titanic. Charlie was only twenty years old, and worked in the boiler room. He had been a champion swimmer, but was not able to save his own life that dreadful night at sea when the Titanic went down. Another cousin Charles Othem age thirty five worked on board the Titanic as a fireman/stoker. He did survive. He was picked up by the Carpathia disembarking at New York City Thursday, April 18th 1912.

My great, grandfather John Nolan, was a chef on board a seafaring ship that traveled the world. Other family members worked on various ships that sailed out of Southampton, England. While the others were fishermen.

My grandparents, Margaret and Richard Shillabeer immigrated to the United States from England, shortly after their marriage. To raise a family and to have a better life in the new country.

Years later, my grandparents and my mother settled in New Jersey, while my mother’s brother, Richard Jr. married and settled in Long Island, New York.

My mother married and began to raise her family. My father was a hard working man being head electrician during the day and having his own dance band at night. He had hopes of taking an early retirement and building a home on a lake. My mother often spoke of the many hours my father had spent during the evening drawing the plans for the new home.

They like so many others found it hard going during the depression. My father took on any odd jobs that could be found. As things started to improve he developed a bleeding ulcer and passed away suddenly leaving my mother and two babies behind. I was three months old, and my sister three years.

A short time later my father’s mother passed away, followed a year later by his father. I being too young to have ever known them.

My mother remarried but after ten years of living with an unfaithful and abusive partner she asked him to leave. Things were tight at the time but my mother’s parents helped out as long as they were able.

My uncle had his own fishing boat. It was a thirty three-foot Cabin Cruiser, which he used for his fishing pleasure on weekends or time off from his job as a electrician at the Navy shipyard in Brooklyn.

I remember it was a wooden boat, and had to be painted often. I went one year when it was time to paint. I guess they thought I wasn’t old enough to handle a brush, at least I was never handed one.

My mother was painting the lower deck, but somehow she didn’t realize what she was doing, and ended up by having painted herself in a corner. I must say it was interesting watching her get herself out of that predicament.

When I was growing up, I would go with my mother, and my grandfather to spend a week or two on the boat. We could stay out three or four days at a time before having to return to the dock for fresh water and supplies. There’s nothing better than eating fresh caught fish on board a boat.

I remember my sister Maggie, who was three years older than I, came with us one day. I don’t think we had

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even left the dock yet, when the next thing I knew, there stood my uncle holding her head over the railing. Give it a good heave, Mag he said. We are chumming. Then told her to go lie down. She looked a little green to me.

Then there was another time Maggie came with us. But we didn’t take her out very far. In fact we were anchored just off of Jones’s Beach. They decided to just go claming that day. Maggie gave it her all, but lost her footing climbing down the ladder, and managed to fall in the water. She sank, and ended up sitting in the sand on the bottom of the water. I’ll always remember her long blond hair floating to the surface.

What the Hell are you doing down there now?, my uncle called out to her, as he reached down and pulled her back up onto her feet.

All you had to do was stand up, he told her. I don’t recall Maggie ever coming with us again.

Most evenings we anchored under one of the big overhead bridges. Sitting there late at night you could hear the dwindling of the traffic overhead. One night when all was still, we heard a car stop, and what sounded like two men getting out.

Don’t make a sound. My uncle whispered. And to our amazement two fishing lines had been cast over the railing, just missing our boat. Their voices were low so we couldn’t make out what they were saying. They fished for a short while before we heard the call come in on their car radio, requesting them to another part of the Island. My uncle said, Their patrolmen on break.

I remember early one evening when my grandfather and uncle were on the deck fishing. My mother had come down to the galley, to make some Jell-O for the next day. Earlier she had made a fresh pot of hot coffee, and it was sitting on the counter, as they had planned fishing throughout the night. I was napping on one of the upper bunks, when someone in a fast speedboat went flying past us.

The waves tossed and pitched our boat without any warning to us in the galley. It woke me up just in time to see the coffeepot fall into the sink, with the coffee going down the drain, and the bowl of Jell-O flying around the galley. I made a grab to hold on so I wouldn’t roll off the bunk.

My mother just stood there holding the Jell-O spoon in her hand, and holding onto the sink to keep her balance. She wasn’t very happy, but soon saw the funny side of it, when she heard my laughter. I think we cleaned up Jell-O half the night.

I’d rather not tell you what it was my uncle and grandfather called out to the speed boat, but I’m sure you get the drift what it was.

My mother told that story over and over until the time she passed away, at the age of 92.

Once in a while when we were out on my uncle’s boat we saw the Queen Mary, one of Cunard’s passenger ships, as she sailed in or out of New York harbor.

My mother had always loved that ship and often spoke of the history of it. Of how the blueprints had begun for her, back in 1928. The actual work on the ship didn’t’ start until December 1930, in Scotland.

Then the depression came, causing the Stock Market Crash in 1929. Great Britain’s economy just about collapsed. Nearly 10,000 people lost their jobs, causing the shipyard in Scotland to shut down.

The hull of the ship was forced to sit for almost two years, with her unfinished hull collecting tons of rust and other debris.

In 1934 the economy slowly started showing signs of improvement. The Cunard and White Star Company merged, forming Cunard White Star Ltd.

Tuesday April 1934, more than four hundred men led by two pipers in kilts marched through the streets of Scotland and down to the shipyard. Work was once again started on the ship.

The ship was only referred to as Number 534. I found this of interest because the number was my birth month and year.

Number 534 became the largest ship ever made at that time. She was over 1,000 feet long, and had two thousand portholes and windows. Her capacity was 3,240.

Number 534 was launched September 26, 1934 with more than 1/4 million people standing along the sides of the River Clyde, to witness this great event as the Queen Mary slid into the Clyde.

Her four giant propellers hitting the water first. The giant chains coming into action to slow down her speed so that she would not go to far and hit the other bank of the river. It was considered a great engineering feat of the day.

Many believed it was this great ship that rekindled national pride and helped resurrect Great Britain from the depths of the Great Depression.

King George and Queen