When Dun Laoghaire gets its promised pleasure-craft marina, there will be much more for waterfront strollers to see as colourful yachts manoeuvre nearer the shore. However something will be lost to the yachties in that there well be less contact with the often-interesting sailors who use harbours as bases for their work. Around the early 1950s I was in a a yacht that tied up alongside an elderly 60-foot trawler in Dun Laoghaire's inner harbour and as a result formed a long friendship with its owner until his death. He was Captain John Pierce Coppen, extra master, who had been a captain on the P & 0 Lines' passenger/cargo ships serving Australasia and, after early retirement had decided to live on board in Dun Laoghaire rather than in a port in his native Cornwall.
Rounded Cape Horn
Living nearby, I used to visit him every day and hear stories of his many adventures from the time. As a junior officer, he had rounded Cape Horn under sail. The fact that he had moved into steam early enabled him to reach a prestigious position in his career, and to become wealthy from being allowed to carry personal cargo for sale to his own advantage. These included hardwoods from India, and earlier, bales of furs from St Petersburg when he was serving with the Anglo-Russian Steamship Company.
On warm days he used to sit on the bollard beside the harbour crane and if anybody spoke to him he was would show great interest in their lives. One day a casual walker, a man in middle age, was asked by the captain what he did for a living. The man replied that he was a stockbroker, so Capt Coppen asked what he should do with his savings. "Well," said the man, "motor cars are becoming very popular now, and there is a new firm called Triplex making safety windows for them. I'd try some of their shares, if I were you." The captain brought a substantial number and they continued to rocket for years.
Later in the 1930s, Coppen bought a large motor-boat and for a few summers took passengers around Dalkey Island. He would hire a local man for the day to take the shilling fares, but always refused to leave the quay until 100 people were on board. This often meant a long wait for the passengers and led to Coppen getting a local reputation for being mean. But Coppen he remained insistent. He revealed to me years later that the craft was not particularly stable, being narrowbeamed, so with fewer people on board all the passengers might move to one side if they passed something of special interest.
Twenty-five white suits
In order to remain in the harbour while living aboard, Coppen used to fish a few days a week and I regularly made up his crew. He taught me to navigate and gave me his beautifully-boxed sextant which he had had for many years. It was strange to see him sitting in his smoke-begrimed cabin reading the Financial Times while he told me he how used to have 25 white suits which he changed three times a day on the India or Australia run, when he had a crew of 99. If there had been 100 they would have had to carry a doctor.
Around the time of the second World War Capt Coppen was given a contract by the Commissioners of Irish Lights to bring supplies regularly out to the Kish lightship, nine miles out from Dun Laoghaire. He liked doing this because it kept him active, and the commissioners appreciated his competence and reliability, which spared their own vessels for more distant work. One day, one of the lightship men, now dead, handed Capt Coppen a mat made from rope and asked him if he could find a market for it. It was well made, with an anchor design woven in. Coppen brought it to a ships' chandlers, long since closed, which sold it quickly and Coppen brought out the 30 shillings on his next trip.
Ships in bottles
Thereafter, every time the Boy Leonard, as Copppen's trawler was called, went to the lightship, the man had another mat ready which Coppen delivered to the chandler. Coppen felt he was doing the man a favour by helping him to pass the lonely days on the rolling ship, but suddenly he called a halt to the trade, suggesting that the lightship man take up putting ships in bottles or some other pursuit instead.
"Why?" asked the disappointed mat-maker. "Well," said Coppen, "the chandler has received an order for 12 of your mats and I happened to ask who requested them. The Commissioners of Irish Lights wanted the mats for their head office."