A fog descends on the Limpley Valley

There is a hard frost on the ground but a big bright sun in the sky and a mist has formed along the course of the River Avon where it runs through the pretty Limpley Valley.

And if you step inside the mist and walk along the river or he adjacent canal, the world is a different place.

Voice of a Whaler.

Sometime back, a previously unknown and unpublished copy of a first-hand account of life on an Arctic whaling expedition written by a shanghaied sailor called Frank Edwards was shown to me. 

I endeavored with his family to have this rare document successfully placed into the safe keeping of the Linnean Society in London and they have just published this podcast based on this account. 

You can hear Frank's words, the voice of his redoubtable great niece, Ruth Edwards, and some additional thoughts from myself. It is about twenty minutes long.

Link is HERE

Frank's hand written account ends with eight sets of lyrics - I guess we might call them sea shanties - where he has painstakingly written out the songs sang by the crew on the expedition. The songs are poignant.

Here is the final verse and chorus of 'The Ship That Never Returned' (which was published in 1865) and you can actually hear a full rendition of it HERE. Apparently it was very popular.

Only one more voyage said the gallant seaman

As he kissed his loving wife

Only one more way of the golden treasure

And we'll settle down for life

We will settle down for a cosy cottage

And spend our lives well earned

But alas, poor man, he sailed as skipper

Of the ship that never returned.

Did she ever, no she never returned

And her fate is still unknown

But for years and years there were fond hearts watching

For the ship that never returned.  

Plate from The Whaleman's Wife by Frank Bullen published in 1902