100 years ago: An adventurous summer – aboard the ‘Ingeborg 3’. From the Weser to the Elbe.

The report in which the “Schiffer Sala” (with the proud suffixes M.Y.C.v.D.-C.M.Y.-St.Y.C.-Kr.-Abt. d. D.S. Vb.) An account of the adventures of the “Ingeborg 3” in the summer of 1926 appeared in our sister magazine, YACHT, that very same year. We are reprinting it here in its original form, with the spelling as it was at the time. A look through the archives reveals that some things were different 100 years ago – but many others were not. The second part takes us from the Weser, across the mudflats, to the Elbe and on to Cuxhaven.

​Text: Schiffer Sala – M.Y.C.v.D.-C.M.Y.-St.Y.C.-Kr. Branch of the D.S. Vb.

• Part 1 of the journey can be found here.

Across the mudflats to the Elbe

The engine had run in well, even if it still coughed a little now and then, and as the sea was at its best, we subsequently had the feeling, out on the mudflats, that we were driving through a flat landscape in a car with good suspension.

The buoys and small markers showed the way through the channels, so that we really only had to be careful at the junctions to avoid taking a wrong turn. Every now and then, a slight touch of the bottom was unavoidable, but the soft mud did not hinder our progress with such a powerful engine.

The engine needs a break

We had been travelling along this waterway for hours, through endless bends, when our engine suddenly asserted its need for rest, which it had repeatedly signalled with violent splutters. The silence was heavenly, and the barge gently came to rest on the mud, just off the so-called navigation channel.

Whilst the married owner had already realised on the very first day that, in addition to his duties as captain and husband, he would also have to act as boatswain, he could now see for himself that the engineer was the same person.

Trouble in the tank

So, off in the overalls and down into the engine room, with its lovely scent of petrol and hot oil. I took the carburettor apart and discovered that 10 per cent of the fuel was water.

Since we had an internal combustion engine rather than a steam engine beneath our feet, this was a welcome prospect given the considerable distance separating us from our home port, even if we chose the shorter route via the Elbe and Havel rather than across the Baltic Sea. I was at least able to put in my complaint – or rather, my justified minor complaint – to the shipyard straight away by radio, as one of the shipyard’s authorised representatives was a member of the crew.

The water is running off

An hour or so had passed when the engine started up again. Slowly in reverse, down off the mudflats, and then forwards again along the Bäumchenchaussee. We watched anxiously as the water receded with the ebb tide, and we were still about 10 nautical miles from the deep Elbe fairway.

We were running aground more and more frequently, the water was receding faster and faster, and when we had finally managed to manoeuvre our way to within about 200 metres of the deep water near Neuwerk, the barge became so firmly stuck that we could neither move forwards nor backwards. So, stop the engine!

Unexpectedly high and dry

After just a few minutes, the boat had listed to starboard; at the last moment, we managed to correct this by redistributing the crew and using the oars, so that it listed to port instead – otherwise, once the water had completely drained away and the resulting list had set in, the fuel would have fallen out of the stove on the port side.

Barely half an hour had passed when the water had drained away completely, the boat was lying on its keel and we were able to get out. The situation was completely new to us, but so fascinating that we didn’t regret the abrupt interruption to our journey for a single moment. In the blink of an eye, the crew had scattered in all directions, barefoot.

A double-edged sword

One was taking photographs, two others were catching crabs, the fourth sought out a secluded spot behind one of the small trees they had just passed, the captain took advantage of this rare opportunity to inspect the hull, propeller and rudder, whilst the last man, for whom the water and silt were still too cold, took bearings which, despite the boat’s list but unusually calm position, proved to be very accurate.

Hours passed in this way. Eventually it grew dark, and the crew gathered back on board. After supper had been eaten off the cuff this time, as the tables were unusable, and a bottle of cognac had been polished off, the most witty musings ensued as to whether, in this situation, the lower side of the boat might well be to windward, had the wind not, by chance, come from the correct windward side after all.

Back on track with the tide

Preoccupied with such profound problems, the crew – with the exception of one deck watch – crawled off to their bunks, as there was little prospect of the ship getting under way before midnight. Below deck, the most bizarre scenes were unfolding, as the floorboards had also lost their intended purpose due to the ship’s list. People walked along the side storage compartments and the backrests, or over those resting on them, and it was strictly forbidden to open any chests or cupboards on the windward side.

At around 10 o’clock, the first wave of the incoming tide lapped against the side of the boat; the boat slowly righted itself, and at 11.30 the engine was started. A few minutes later, the vessel turned into the wind – we were afloat! We set our navigation lights and proceeded at the slowest possible speed, constantly sounding the depth as we went. After a few minor groundings, at midnight I was able to open the throttle fully in the deep main channel and set course for Cuxhaven.

We’ve arrived in Cuxhaven!

Under the most magnificent full moon, a brisk wind and a gentle swell had set in, lending the eventful voyage an unforgettable beauty. Whilst it was still dark, we moored between two dolphins in Cuxhaven, and the crew turned in for the second time that night.

​Part 1 of the journey can be found here.

Part three is coming soon!