Mapp And Lucia And Lifeboats

At the end of Cromer Pier, in the county of Norfolk, England, you'll see a ramp descending into the sea from a large brown building. Inside this branch of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, you'll find the Tamar, the ship that slides down that ramp and sets out to aid those in peril on the sea.

With its dual, 1000 horse power engines, the Tamar can race off to a vessel in distress. The rescuers inside, clad in their waterproof gear, sit in seats designed to absorb the impact of hitting storm waves at anything up to 25 knots per hour. Once the crew arrive, they can pull a vessel out of dangerous waters, or tow it back to port, even if it weighs up to seven tons. 

Should they need to transfer people to their ship, or pull them out of the sea, they have any number of rescue items easily within reach. Metal arms swing out. Ropes and winches deploy. The threatened are hauled aboard to safety, and either transferred to a helicopter, or transported back to shore. Despite its compact size, the Tamar can hold as many as one hundred people, although passengers might find conditions a little cramped. 

In E. F. Benson's novel Mapp And Lucia, society matrons Elizabeth Mapp and Emmeline Lucas are swept out to sea when a storm hits the English seaside town of Tilling. Friends spy the two clinging to Lucia's dining room table amid roiling waves. They send out a plea for rescue to local fishing vessels, the coastguard, and the Lifeboat station. But none of the ships can reach the women fast enough. After awhile, with no further sightings, the ships give up their search for the women, supposing them lost to the sea.

Had powerful and capable ships like the Tamar existed in the 1930s, E. F. Benson would have needed to work harder to convince his readers that the local Lifeboat station had failed to rescue the leading lights of Tilling society. As for Lucia's dining table serving as a short term raft...well, that's timeless.

Dragon Dave

Arthur Conan Doyle in Princetown and Cromer

Visit Dartmoor National Park in England, and you'll see the desolate landscape Sherlock Holmes braved in The Hound of the Baskervilles. Travel to the town of Princetown, deep within this brooding landscape, and you'll see the prison from which the murderer Seldon escaped to terrorize the local inhabitants. Stop by the Dartmoor National Park High Moorland Visitor Centre, and you'll see the great detective himself, along with the terrible black hound that haunted the Baskerville family.

It was here that Arthur Conan Doyle stayed a century ago, when the visitor center was the Rowe Duchy Hotel. From there, he investigated the claims of his friend, journalist Fletcher Robinson, who told him of about the Black Shuck, a dark, spectral beast that prowled the lonely moors, looking for souls to devour.

Travel north, to the seaside town of Cromer in the county of Norfolk, and you'll see where Fletcher Robinson first told Arthur Conan Doyle about the Black Shuck. The two were visiting Cromer for a golfing holiday, when Robinson told Doyle about the legendary Black Shuck that had haunted the good people of Norfolk for centuries. 

According to researchers, Arthur Conan Doyle transformed Dartmoor's Fox Tor Mire into Grimpen Mire for The Hound of the Baskervilles. He transformed stories of a notorious Dartmoor lord of the manor, Richard Cabell of Brock Hall, into Hugo Baskerville. He even combined several large houses, so say Dartmoor historians, into Baskerville Hall. 

Historians in seaside Cromer disagree, at least with the latter. They point to Cromer Hall, a local manor house, as the inspiration for Baskerville Hall. They claim that descriptions in The Hound of the Baskervilles portray Cromer Hall, not some backward Dartmoor manor house. 

Did an evil lord of Cromer Hall once live to hunt and terrorize the peasantry? Was this wicked aristocrat killed by the ghostly Black Shuck, whose fearsome howls could be heard across the land at night? And does the Black Shuck still roam Cromer and Dartmoor?

If you visit either place, and the wind sweeps over the land, then you'll know.

Dragon Dave

Nevil Shute on Inflation

Cromer Pier, England

By writing in his spare time, Nevil Shute eventually finished his second novel So Disdained. One of the reasons it took the author three years to complete it was that he was working for the Airship Guarantee Company at the time. He worked as a senior stress engineer on the rigid-bodied His Majesty's Airship R100 to service the British Empire travel routes. 

In addition to airships, Nevil Shute knew about the practicalities of flying airplanes. His novel is packed with details about how Lenden's airplanes worked, as well as the way he flew them. Knowing all those details, I'm sure Nevil Shute knew how much the planes cost to operate as well. He built those into every facet of his novel, including the scheme of Lenden and his WWI pilots, to travel around Britain in their seaplane, and offer ten minute joyrides for a guinea (one pound and one shilling).

You are probably asking "How could his character Lenden have believed he could charge customers so little? Surely, if he and his partners had charged his customers more, he could have made a go of his seaside tourist business!" But according to the website www.measuringworth.com, one guinea in 1919 was equivalent to 44.28 pounds in purchasing power today. That's what they call the real price. They also calculate the labor value of a guinea in 1919 as over one hundred-and-sixty-seven pounds, and the income value at over two hundred-and-fifty-two pounds. 

If you raise the price to thirty shillings, as Lenden and his friends later did, the real price rises to 63 pounds, while the labor and income values climbs into the mid two hundred and three hundred pound range. That's in today's England currency. If you want to translate that into what an American tourist would pay in U.S. money, if he were to travel to the UK today, increase those figures by fifty percent.

I'm not sure how to factor all those different values to figure out how expensive it would have been for someone one hundred years ago to take a ten minute pleasure flight. English reader Joppy kindly shared with us that his father earned just over seven pounds in his first year working as an apprentice pharmacist. In this case, his father began work eleven years later, in 1931.  

Consider the English TV series Downton Abbey, which portrays life at an English manor house (such as Moran worked at) beginning before World War I, in 1912. By the time the series finishes, in 1925, the Earl of Grantham is struggling to run the house with a fraction of his former staff. Wages, as well as other costs, have multiplied several times since World War I. It seems safe to assume wages continued to rise between 1925 and 1931. 

We can assume that, had a young man like Joppy's father started as an apprentice pharmacist in 1919, he would have earned significantly less than seven pounds in his first year. Perhaps, let us say, four pounds? And that's for a man. Given the gender limitations back then, a woman of similar age and skills would likely earn less, perhaps three pounds a year? 

Enjoying a drink at Cromer Pier

Whatever the amount, you get the idea. For most working class people during their first few years in the job market, they might be able to afford a drink on Cromer Pier with their friends. (I wonder what that cost in 1919? A couple pence?) But to spend a guinea (a pound-and-a-shilling) for a ten minute jaunt in Lenden's little Avro seaplane would have represented a major portion of whatever they had in the bank.

Assuming, that is, that they weren't living from payday to payday. 

For someone like Moran, the business agent of a manor lord, who had his own automobile, and drove up to London regularly for a black tie dinner with his friends and business associates, the situation would, naturally, be different.

As for the numbers I mentioned earlier, I can't help wondering how they might compare to a cheap flight from England to some sunny holiday spot today. Of course, cheap flights to sunny holiday spots didn't exist in 1919, so you have to take that into consideration too. A ten minute jaunt in Lenden's Avro might represent, for most tourists of that period, their one and only chance to ever fly in an airplane!

In any case, one guinea, or thirty shillings, was hardly an insignificant sum. A successful business operates on repeat customers, and that's something Lenden and his pals couldn't generate. The first time they went to a seaside town, they would do okay. But if they tried to return a few months, or a year later, few people wanted to fly with them. So the people who would invest that sum on a novelty didn't want (or couldn't afford) a repeat experience. The people who hadn't flown with them the first time still wouldn't fly again. I guess they figured the money was better spent elsewhere. 

The English like their seaside towns. Even if the towns are quiet during the week, towns like Cromer bustle on weekends. In the summer, some seaside towns operate amusement park rides and attractions. The larger ones, such as Great Yarmouth, located south of Cromer, may well have them going year round. I wonder if Lenden and his friends could make such airplane rides pay now in these towns. I suspect the towns would not allow them, given modern safety restrictions. But if Lenden and his pals could offer such flights, one thing's for sure. A ten minute ride would cost you a lot more than a pound-and-a-half. 

Then again, if you were interested in listening to a short presentation on the joys of timeshare ownership...

Dragon Dave

Nevil Shute on the Value of the English Pound

A quiet day in Cromer, England

Nevil Shute's 1928 novel So Disdained (published as The Mysterious Aviator in the United States) introduces us to a former World War I pilot named Lenden. In the novel, he tells the narrator, Moran, of a seaside flying venture he and his fellow pilots ran. They traveled around England, and spent weekends in seaside tourist towns. They offered people there short ten minute rides in their Avro seaplane. For 1919, such an opportunity would be a radical change of pace for your average tourist. Aviation was in its infancy then, and the idea of affordable long distance travel aboard airplanes little more than a fantasy.

For Lenden and his partners, getting close enough to the beach to load and unload passengers at a seaside town like Cromer would mean battling those strong winds and ocean currents with the Avro's engine running. If the wooden beach walls were there a hundred years ago, Lenden and his pilot friends would have had to factor those barriers into their approach. All those difficulties limited their efficiency, and Lenden tells Moran that he and his partners never managed more than three flights per hour. 

As if the normal difficulties of running the business weren't enough, consider what happened when an accident occurred. Battling the strong winds and ocean currents, and getting a lightweight airplane onto and off the shingle beach, meant regularly breaking one of the plane's floats, which shut down operations until they could buy and fit a new one. And it wasn't like airplane parts were readily available back then. While I'm sure Lenden and his associates would keep a certain amount of spares on hand, each time something broke, it took time to be fixed, which prevented customers from flying during that time. And then, another replacement part would need to be sent for.

After awhile, Lenden and his pals found that charging a guinea (one pound and one shilling) per person wasn't enough to recoup their costs, they upped the charge to thirty shillings (one-and-a-half pounds). Still, the work wasn't regular enough for them to make the business a going concern.

Nevil Shute worked as an engineer and a designer in the aviation industry. I'm assuming Shute knew the realities of such tourist airplane operations back then, and built those into Lenden's backstory. So I'm treating the fictional Lenden's description of the physical and financial plight of a seaside holiday plane operator as realistic. I'm assuming Lenden and his fellows charged a fair price, one that most holiday-makers could pay. Still, it wasn't enough to make their little airplane business a success.

I wonder what a guinea, or thirty shillings, was really worth back then. It certainly was worth more than a pound or one pound-fifty today. Then again, you can get a lot for a pound at a grocery store like Tesco's or Morrison's. For example, you could get a pack of chocolate digestive biscuits for a pound. Or you could get a roll of Jammie Dodgers for a pound. You could probably even get two Scotch Eggs for a pound--they make a great alternative to sandwiches! So even though I'm only an occasional visitor to England, I'd say the British pound still retains a good amount of purchasing power, in my opinion. 

And then of course, there are always even more affordable stores like Poundland, where everything they stock is for a pound. Don't even get me started on everything I could buy there!

Dragon Dave

Nevil Shute on Fun at the Seaside

Nevil Shute's 1928 novel So Disdained (published as The Mysterious Aviator in the United States), gives us a view of life in England after World War I. On a rainy night, Moran is driving his Morris automobile down an isolated country road when he spies a solitary figure trudging along. He invites him into his car, and as it is late, takes him back to his cottage rented to him by the local lord of the manor. Moran discovers the man is a fellow Royal Air Force pilot he flew with during WWI. While Moran left flying to act as a business agent for the lord of the manor, this other man, Lenden, has been flying for a living since the war. 

Lenden has had an up-and-down career since WWI, as aviation was in its infancy in that era. At times he's worked as a mail carrier, or did survey missions in other countries. But each time, the venture hit trouble, and what seemed like a sure thing faltered. This forced him to send his wife away to live with her family, and sent him searching for another flying job that offered enough security for him to afford an apartment or a home in which they could comfortably live. But whatever he tried, it only worked well for a time, and soon he had to send her back to her family again, while he...

One of the jobs Lenden enjoyed, but could never make pay, was giving holiday makers short flights. He and his partners, all former RAF pilots, would travel to seaside towns all over England, such as Brighton or Cromer, and charge money for a ten minute flight. As he recounts to Moran, one of Lenden's first ventures started immediately after WWI, in 1919. He and his partners bought an Avro seaplane and used it to take tourists for a quick ten minute flight. The flight itself wasn't the problem, it was getting on- and offshore. The process of landing on the water, getting ashore, loading and unloading passengers, just too too much time to make the venture profitable. 

Having spent a week in and around Cromer last year, I can understand some of the trouble Lenden might encounter. One of the town's claims to fame is a Life Boat Museum. The building is packed with photos, memorabilia, and even an old ship. There visitors learn how their local version of a Coast Guard has saved the lives of countless unfortunates who got into trouble at sea. 

Inside the Cromer Lifeboat Museum

On our first day in Cromer, we found a bench by the sea and sat down to eat our lunch. Even though it was sunny, we needed a jacket to ward off the cool breeze. I had to set my can of soda between my legs, or it would blow over. I had to cradle my arm around what little food I had on my lap, and place our backpacks and other items nearby, to keep the wind from blowing away our food. Still, an unexpected gust of wind was liable to blow away a small item of food, or send my napkins fluttering off.

Even though it was a summer month, when tourists could pack the town on a weekend, it was always windy there. Wooden walls act as dividers lining the beach, to combat beach erosion from strong tides. Tractors lined the beach, awaiting the need to tow a boat over the hard shingle, to either launch it into the water, or reclaim the vessel from the breaking surf. 

It's hard to imagine navigating a small seaplane on and off such a windswept beach. It's even harder to imagine a small seaplane parked on the beach. I imagine, unless it was tied down securely, it would blow over or away. Given the construction methods and materials of such small planes one hundred years ago, storm winds might well have ripped apart the best secured airplanes.

Then again, given modern safety restrictions, and society's readiness to serve a lawsuit against anyone for any perceived wrong, I wonder if such seaside tourist flights could even be offered today. If they were, I wonder if they'd be any more profitable than Lenden's.

Dragon Dave