HISTORY DARTMOUTH IN THE SECOND WORLD WAR Memories of


George Henry Ridalls DART HARBOUR PILOT


Brian Ridalls’ father, George Henry Ridalls, was a pilot in Dartmouth for more than 30 years – and was part of the team of pilots who kept the harbour going through the hard years of the second World War. Brian speaks to By The Dart about his memories of his father.


eorge Henry Ridalls was born in Sligo in Ireland in 1901, where his father was a coastguard, then part of the Royal Navy. His father was then given a promotion and moved, with his whole family, to the Coastguard Cottages above Compass Cove as Chief Station Officer. George was at school until 1915, when he then joined the Merchant Navy going to sea with the Union Castle line. Starting as an Able Seaman, he worked his way up to Quartermaster, becoming an accomplished sailor. “He came back to Dartmouth in


G


1920,” says Brian, “and got a job on the harbour tug, which was called ‘Berne’. In 1924, he married my mother and, in 1926, they started a family when they had me. “In 1930, a job came up – the Trinity


House was looking for a harbour pilot for Dartmouth. Trinity House licensed most of the pilots in the country as well as looking after Lighthouses and large sea buoys, as they still do. My father was an accomplished sailor and having been on the harbour tug for ten years he knew the Dart like the back of his hand,


so he got the job.” George joined a small team of four pilots who were charged with piloting ships safely into harbour. This was no easy task, not least because of the nature of the river at the time. “The river was based around steam ships using coal,” recalls Brian. “There were many ships coming in and out each day, with colliers coming from the Tyne to fill up three large hulks on the river. These were old Ironclad sailing


“I’ll never forget him putting down the receiver and saying “I’ve got to go to the Navy Headquarters”


vessels that had been stripped down to just the hull. Thanks to three large floating grab cranes that we had on the river, the hulks were filled with coal by the colliers. They were massive cranes, and their grabs could hold five tonnes of coal. “Ships would come from the Baltic, fill up with coal in Germany, then stop in Dartmouth and then travel down to Casablanca, before doing it in reverse


back to the Baltic. “My father and his colleagues were piloting ships to Tuckenhay, delivering wood pulp for the paper mill and cider apples too and going all the way to Totnes with timber to what became known as Baltic Wharf so named because of the huge amount of timber from the Baltic that was delivered there.” But the world was changing and coal was being phased out as a fuel. “There were fewer and fewer ships coming into the harbour for coaling, as more ships started to use oil,” says Brian. “The pilots were professional people and if there were no ships they didn’t get paid. The other three pilots all went back to working for the Merchant Navy but Dad didn’t want to as he had a young family.” George was left as the sole pilot as the war started and the harbour filled up with trawlers from the continent. Brian was 13 and recalls it well. “It was incredible: these trawlers, about 80 of them, came into harbour full of men and women with all their belongings on board, “ he said. “They were escaping the nazis. a lot of them settled here too. But because we were


By PHIL sCOBLe George Ridalls shown here on the right.


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80  |  Page 81  |  Page 82  |  Page 83  |  Page 84  |  Page 85  |  Page 86  |  Page 87  |  Page 88  |  Page 89  |  Page 90  |  Page 91  |  Page 92  |  Page 93  |  Page 94  |  Page 95  |  Page 96  |  Page 97  |  Page 98  |  Page 99  |  Page 100  |  Page 101  |  Page 102  |  Page 103  |  Page 104  |  Page 105  |  Page 106  |  Page 107  |  Page 108  |  Page 109  |  Page 110  |  Page 111  |  Page 112  |  Page 113  |  Page 114  |  Page 115  |  Page 116  |  Page 117  |  Page 118  |  Page 119  |  Page 120  |  Page 121  |  Page 122  |  Page 123  |  Page 124  |  Page 125  |  Page 126  |  Page 127  |  Page 128  |  Page 129  |  Page 130  |  Page 131  |  Page 132  |  Page 133  |  Page 134  |  Page 135  |  Page 136  |  Page 137  |  Page 138  |  Page 139  |  Page 140  |  Page 141  |  Page 142  |  Page 143  |  Page 144  |  Page 145  |  Page 146  |  Page 147  |  Page 148