I COULD HAVE DROWNED
by Tony Ham

Aunt Alice died May 2, 1975. She was born January 15, 1944. Johnny Wilson died December 8, 1993. He was born March 17, 1920.

These dates are given so you will know their ages in a chain of events that continues down to Ernie Walsh when those three people played a part in saving me from drowning in the summer of 1955.

The beginning of this saga I remember. The end of it was told to me by those involved.

In those years the wharves and stages were a bee hive of activity. The boats would come in, and unlike today, there was a massive amount of work involved to clean and cure your fish.

On that particular day the cod traps had yielded a good haul. I'm not sure of this but I seem to recall the splitting table was set up outside on the wharf instead of in the stage as in other years. That year Johnny Wilson was at the splitting table.

Even though we were not allowed on the wharf per se, someway a few of us did manage to congregate there that day. Other times our presence was appreciated as there were small jobs we could do like pronging fish in the box, bringing salt, cutting tongues, etc.

This day we decided to play hide and seek to find out who would be ‘It’, although we never called ‘It’, we just had to see who would count. Of course, there would be a way to do this. For each word of a given few lines the caller, (in this case Aunt Alice), would point a finger for each word at a different person.

I'm sure you remember this one –
Micker Macker chews tobacco
Micker Macker Boo
If your Father chews Tobacco
Out goes you.

And this one –
I lit a match
And it went out
O U T spells out.

Of course whomever was being pointed at when the last word was spoken (see above) you in the first rhyme out in the second had to count.

That day the counting befell to Aunt Alice as she was pointing at herself the last word.

You didn't have much time to find a hiding place as I can't remember anyone counting over 50 and very fast counting (cheating) also.

Where to hide? On the Southeast end of our wharf was a 200 gallon vat. This was there to render cod liver oil from the liver of the cod fish. Along side this vat was a piece of timber that curbed out around the vat. ‘I wouldn't be found here,‘ I thought. Gingerly, cautiously, I stepped on the timber another step, another, one more, but I had gone too far. My weight had over balanced the weight of the timer that was on the wharf, and I recall falling in the water and the timber coming toward me. No it didn't strike me.

I must have panicked but what I remember most while in the water afterward was the feeling of calm that overtook me. It was a feeling of drifting off into sleep, no panic, no fear, just contentment.

Nobody heard the splashes. The splitting table was set about 50 feet away, the pump engine was going also, and the crowd around the splitting table would be sure to be yarning about something.

Here is what happened afterwards as told to me by those involved. Of course, everyone else had been accounted for except me. They were looking for me and I had been some minutes in the water then. No I couldn't, and, to this day, I can't swim.

After some time Aunt Alice ambled over to the end of the wharf, looked and saw me on the bottom in 7 to 8 feet of water. She screamed, ‘Tony's drowned!’ Johnny Wilson and everyone there heard her scream.

Johnny never hesitated. He didn't even drop the knife he had in his hand at the time. Heavy oil clothes, rubber boots (Hoods) and knife. If you remember the Black Diamond oil clothes, you know how heavy they were. He raced to the end of the wharf jumped in the water without breaking stride, came to the bottom and took me up.

Ernie Walsh shinnied down the strouter (one of the logs that helps keep the wharf in an upright position) and helped to keep my head from the water until I could be taken on dry ground again.

I survived. What could have been a tragedy was averted and while Johnny was alive and Aunt Alice also we always had a chat about it when we met. I can't recall if myself and Ernie ever mentioned it over the years but I have never forgotten it.

Without any doubt in my mind, the instant shout from my Aunt, the speed with which Johnny Wilson reacted, and the agility of Ernie Walsh, but for those three factors combined I would not be here to tell this story.

While there is some humour to this story, it is not meant to detract from the actions of those three people in the summer of 1955.