Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.

Dorothy smiled as she watched Sam punch out her grand finale from the little stage that was attached to the end of the bar. The whole pub was rocking to her rendition of being what she was and the performance could be heard across the dock. Sam smiled down at Dot as the landlady extended a helping hand and the drag-queen teetered gratefully down the little step ladder behind the bar before slipping into the back room that served as a dressing and changing area for the girls.

“I’ll be with you in a tick babes after we’ve locked up,” she called down the corridor to Sam before starting to call last orders.

Sam grinned as she slumped gratefully into the chair and slipped off her killer heels before making two mugs of coffee and listening to Dorothy engaging in the ‘chucking out’ banter with the good-humoured crowd. She had cleaned off her outrageous makeup and changed outfits as Dot returned with the takings from the till. Sam raised an inquisitive eyebrow and Dot nodded.

“Yes. Another good night. At this rate we’ll own the place in a few years.”

“Who’d a’ thought eh?” Sam grinned as she raised her coffee mug to toast their success. “You an’ me successful businesspeople.”

Dorothy nodded contentedly as their mugs clinked softly and Billy the bouncer appeared from the backdoor

“All secure and the yard gate’s locked.”

Dot handed Billy his wages from her handbag. It didn’t do to let everybody know how much the till takings amounted to, and Billy stuffed the notes into his wallet not knowing how successful the drag nights at the Harbour Light had become.

“How was the door tonight darling?” Dot asked as Billy joined them with a bottle of ale he drank ‘Board-of-trade’ style.

“Same old, same old. Lots of people wondering why you don’t stay open until six am and others wondering why you don’t open more late nights in the week.”

Sam and Dot exchanged thoughtful glances but remained silent. The Harbour Light had also become a popular daytime restaurant and dining tourists would often peer into the silent bar as if confirming that the Harbour Light’s night-time reputation as a successful drag venue was true. Then the midday diners would stop and peer at the posters and smirk at the exaggerated posted displaying the drag queens.

Sometimes those tourists would try to make reservations for the weekends but they were always told it was a first come, first served basis. Running a booking system was just too much organisation and required extra staff to organise. Dot would sometimes recognise the daytime tourist diners in the night crowds on Friday and Saturdays.

The Harbour light pub had exceeded Dot and Sam’s wildest expectations thus, running the venue had become a full-time job - and then some.

The truth was that both ‘girls’ preferred the restaurant side of the business because it contributed to the more genteel and family friendly tourism that the old dock now encouraged. Indeed Dot and Sam had been two of the primary instigators of the gentrification of the old, cobbled streets and ware houses that had miraculously survived the second world war bombs. When the commercial trade had moved downriver the old docks had become dilapidated and seriously run down.

It was because Dot and Sam had lived ‘over-the-shop’ as ‘pot boys’ during their early years that they gradually moved up the ranks to eventually become the ‘landladies’ who managed the creaking old pub. Dot reflected ruefully how, in those early years, only the illuminated sign hanging over the door offered any invitation amongst the decaying stygian darkness that was the dereliction of ‘Harbour street.’

It was about a year after Dot took over the licence for the pub that she got a visit from a couple of ‘suits’ one morning as she was setting out a couple of spotlessly clean tablecloths over some long bench-seat tables. Dot glanced at them and approached them anticipating an order for drinks and perhaps some food, - ‘brunch perhaps,’ she thought to herself.
“Morning gentlemen,” she smiled, as she offered them one of the tables,” what can I get you?” She continued as she reached into her apron to produce the small menu printed on a card. She noticed that they seemed to be studying her and the Harbour light pub more than the menu as she busied herself with setting out a couple of smaller round tables and chairs. Finally, as she set out the large table-parasols, they asked to order.

The suits smiled agreeably then invited her to sit with them as she brought the beer in a foaming jug, two tall glasses and a large plate of sandwiches. She had no reason to be wary of the invite for it was a beautiful sunny morning and Sam was busy bottling up the bar in easy earshot. She accepted their invitation but did not choose to drink.

“Well gentlemen, what else do you want?”

“We will come straight-out with-it Miss Philpot. You are the licensee we believe, and we are council planning inspectors. We have been approached by developers with a view to redeveloping this whole area. We’d like your thoughts.”

Dot fell silent for the planning inspectors had struck a chord very close to Dot’s heart. She decided to be cautious.

“What? D’ you mean like razing the area and building houses?”

“That’s just one option,” the more senior looking man observed. “We are also looking for ideas, and being as you are one of the very few permanent residents, we’d like to sound you out.”

“We’re the only residents of Harbour Street,” Dot replied, “well leastwise Sam and I are. This whole south side of the docks estate is just derelict warehouses and the old sand berth, which closed up a couple of years ago. The berth connects through to the old dock and that was the last bit of commercial trade, so there’s literally nobody else. The sand dredgers used to dock on the old dock side and sand lorries used to come through here past the pub. Since that trade stopped, we took the opportunity to uses the old basin as an extension to the pub.

“That’s possibly a good thing,” the planner opined, because we’re looking to create a sympathetic development to enhance the town centre.”

“You mean like the Albert Dock in Liverpool or St Katherine’s dock in London?”

“Well not quite as salubrious as that but we’re keen to keep your pub as part of the ambience of the area. We both agree that you do an excellent job of presenting the Harbour Light. It’s a credit to you.”

“Well to Sam as well as me. If you wish to discuss ideas she should be beside me. We’re companions after all and partners in the Harbour light. It’s just that I’m the Licensee.”

“Oh. Is she available?”

“Yes, that’s her putting the bottles up behind the bar. I’ll get her.”

Instead of just shouting across the tables, Dot entered the bar and spoke softly to Sam.

“There’s two council planning inspectors wanting to chat about Developing the area. This could do us a favour. You know how you’ve always expressed a wish to expand the pub.”

Sam turned and stared eagerly at Dot.

“Go on!”

“Come out and join us and bring a couple of wines.”

Sam needed no encouragement and the pair were soon seated outside on the forecourt of the Harbour Light. After a brief outline chat Sam remarked.

“I think your third option is the most attractive.” She opined. “Redeveloping Harbour street as a sort of specialist, historic shopping street to serve the new housing that connects Harbour street to the town centre.”

“That’s the sort of thing some of our councillors are thinking.”

“If you connected the old canal it would make a very picturesque area for narrowboats and sea-going boats.” Dot suggested.

The younger inspector smiled wistfully.

“We’d love to but that opportunity was lost when they rebuilt the offices for the town council. It is right across where the old canal entered the old dock.”

Dot peered uncomprehendingly at the inspectors.

“Who said anything about connecting the dock? That’s already connected to the river and sea by the old sea lock. I presume you’re going to make the old dock a marina?”

“Yes, we are, but that still does not connect the canal to the old dock.”

“I wasn’t talking about connecting the canal to the dock.”

“Go on,” the inspector pressed curiously.

“I was thinking of re-excavating the old Harbour Street basin and re-opening the little flight of earlier locks from the river basin that used to be harbour street.”

“Staircase locks?!” Where exactly?”

“Over there,” Dot pointed, “It wasn’t a staircase, there was a little holding pond between the two locks. You see where that old oak tree fills the gap between the fallen down stone ware-houses. It used to come down between the two of them.”

“How do you know all this?” The inspector frowned.

“It’s on the old map on the deeds to the pub.”

“Deeds! Plans you mean?”

“Yes. The Harbour Light is fourteenth century or even older. Our deeds show the pub when everything around here was fields. Our pub used to have a channel marker light that was lit each night by the Publican as was. You see that big stone Niche with the wide shelf protruding out of the corner buttress.”

The inspectors looked up and squinted curiously as Dot explained.

“When the tide was high and boats entered the river, the publican-cum- harbourmaster used to set a large lantern on the shelf and it was the leading light for the sea reach from this ancient river basin to the river mouth. As you can see, it’s a straight line.”

“My God!” The inspector expostulated as he took out his phone. “Can I see your deeds?”

“You can see the copies. The original deeds are held in the Admiralty hydrography museum. They belong to us but they are on more or less permanent loan to the museum. They’re very valuable because they show some very old original permanent boundaries were the river has shifted over the centuries.

Every time the naval hydrographers make major amendments, they send deed-holders a notice if they are deemed to affect them. Some of the deeds might be affected by changing channels, but ours don’t because we’re up-river between more permanent river banks.

If they re-excavated the old Harbour basin though I suppose we’d get a notice.”

As Dot returned to the table with the deeds contained in a flat canvas folio, the inspector was talking agitatedly to somebody called Jessica. As he gabbled excitedly he helped Dot lay the deeds flat on the table and eagerly examined them as he continued chatting into his phone.

“Yes, they’ve got all the original deeds, they’ve even got photocopies of the seals and tabs, one of them is dated thirteen something. It’s even in Latin. Ah! Here we are, she’s just unfolded the English translations. This is Gold Jessica. It’ll save days of searches and everything, why aren’t these in our archives?”

There was a brief answer from the phone that Dot could not distinguish until the inspector explained.

“Oh- I see, bomb damage. Yeah, that makes sense, the old fishing village got hammered during the Blitz.”

The inspector turned to Dot and she shrugged her shoulders as she anticipated his request.

“Be my guest, but please return it. Even though I’ve only got the copies they’re important to the pub’s history.”

“Most certainly, I’ll get the Hydrography Museum to make some larger copies. You’d do well to get one framed and place it on the bar-room wall it’s of interest to lots of people. Do you know this area well.”

“Pretty much,” Dot replied, “I’ve worked here since I was sixteen and pretty much poked around in all of these derelict buildings.”

“Not scavenging I hope, there might be some old artifacts of interest to the town archivist and historian.”

“There is nothing of interest to me now; it’s all been cleared out by scrap dealers, though I do know of one thing.” Dot tapped the deeds and revealed. “That bollard’s been there for hundreds of years I reckon.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll show you, but I’ll photograph it first. It’s part of the ancient fabric I shouldn’t wonder.”

“What is it?”

Dot sensed an uneasy amount of interest but she agreed to show the two inspectors while taking her mobile phone with her. She led the inspectors to the inner end of Harbour Street whilst inviting Sam to accompany her as an extra witness. Then she took them to the old, stunted oak tree between the old stone ruins. The tree and overgrown bramble bush caused the street to be a ‘cul-de-sac’ because any footway way between the old stone ware-houses was totally blocked.

Dot and the younger inspector tugged aside a huge clump of brambles with a pieced of stick and peered under the bush.

“There. See. Under the trunk buried in the bank.”

“Oh yes,” the older inspector gasped. “It’s an old docking bollard, but it wasn’t originally a bollard.” He observed sagaciously.

“No.” Confirmed Dot. It’s an old Tudor cannon. It’s got HR on it but the trunk’s grown over that bit in the last couple of years. It’s stuck upside-down into the old lock corner stone to function as a docking bollard, much stronger than an ordinary mooring bollard. It’s on the pub deeds as some sort of boundary marker, so it’s been there since fourteen or fifteen something. The earliest deed for the pub goes back to thirteen something but the cannon is not shown, or the earliest canal. Those are shown on the second, amended set of the pub deeds. That’s why we left them at the museum. They’re a set of valuable historic documents.”

“That bollard or cannon could be fifteenth or sixteenth century most probably.” The younger inspector opined eagerly. “Can we get a closer look at it?”

“It’s bronze,” Dot confirmed. “I’ve tested it with a knife and it came up a sort of dull yellow. That’s why I covered it up again and encouraged the brambles.”

“Really!”

Dot nodded silently as she took several photographs including one with the younger inspector kneeling down and studying the half covered ‘HR’ insignia.

“This has got to be investigated and recorded.”

“It is recorded, on our deeds but I’d like it to remain if they do excavate the old flight of locks. The bollard is a boundary marker as well as an ancient artefact.”

“No, it’ll have to go in the town museum, but we can certainly have a copy made to maintain the historic ambience.”

As the inspectors eagerly pulled away the earth and debris from under the bramble bush, a land-rover appeared and drove right up to the group. Two young ladies in jeans and wellies, climbed out and gasped with excitement before turning to Dot and Sam.

“Hello Richard, Bob. Are these the ladies from the Harbour light?”

The inspectors nodded and the girls identified themselves.

“Hello Ladies, we’re from the county history department. I’m Jessica and this is Josephine, how long have you known about this?”

“The cannon or the pub deeds?” Dot riposted.

“The cannon.” The driver replied as she knelt down with the council inspector.

“Ever since I started work at the harbour light. I was a pot boy way back when. I’ve always mooched around here once they gave me a bed in the pub. The old landlady took pity on me when she realised I was dossing in that old ware-house. The rest is history as they say.”

“The lady is the licensee now.” The older inspector interjected. “May I introduce Miss Dorothy Philpot and Miss Samantha Philpot who run the Harbour Light.”

The town archivist and county archaeologist exchanged very discreet, knowing glances but only Dot noticed. She’d seen the pair occasionally at the drag nights. As the drag queen on the stage, Sam was often blinded by the stage spotlights and rarely got to recognise any but the most regular attendees of the show.

As they fussed excitedly the two girls took photographs and some measurements then turned to Dot and the inspectors.

“Where are the deeds Bob?”

“Miss Philpot has them, they’re at the pub.”

They almost ran back to the pub where Jessica scolded Dot for just leaving such valuable documents on the forecourt table. The inspector intervened.

“It’s alright Miss Jessica. These are only copies; the originals are very secure.”

“I’d like to see the originals.”

“Then you’ll have to visit the hydrography museum in Taunton.”

“Oh. I see. They’d be more use to the county archivist.”

Once again Dot shrugged and smiled wryly.

“It’s neither here nor there to me. I couldn’t care less so long as the original is safe and I have access to it if ever I need them.”

“Can we transfer the originals to the county archives. They’ll be just as secure and more useful to us. Especially if we have to excavate.”

“Excavate?!” Sam squeaked.

“You’d best contact the Hydrography Museum,” Dot shrugged her shoulders. “The deeds are the property of Sam and me though and registered as such in London.”

Dots shrug was a body language that the inspectors and the County archivist had already come to recognise. She stepped back from the table and nodded with satisfaction then explained.

“This pub has a lot of history; has it ever been properly researched?” Joe asked.

“Dunno. We’ve poked around in the cellars quite extensively. There’s a couple of interesting variations in the stonework but remember this place is at sea-level. When the tide is in, it’s only a foot or so below the cellar floor. I’d be very surprised to find any tunnels or stuff.”

“Well I think a professional examination of the whole pub might bring some archaeological rewards.”

“Be our guests.” Sam allowed for she was the one who much preferred history.

“Yeah; open house.” Dot nodded. “But anything you find belongs to the pub. The old leading light for example.”

“The leading light?!” Jessica’s eyes widened.

“Yes. It’s the old brass lantern they used to fix to the niche on the corner outside. It used to guide the ships in. It’s quite a big thing; bigger than a ship’s mast light.”

“Oooh! Can I see it.”

“It’s in the cellar. We keep it there for safety. You’ll see why.”

Jessica and her companion were already out of their seats and fretting to go into the cellar. Dot chuckled and went to the bar to get the huge iron key. She reached under the bar counter and unlocked the metal key cabinet to produce the great clunking piece of metal. She held it up tantalisingly.

The archivist’s eyes widened with excitement.

“Well don’t keep us waiting!”

“I’ll get on with bottling up.” Sam offered as Dot stepped from behind the bar and motioned to the heavy oak door under the half landing of the stairs.

“This can be a bit stiff these days, I really should get the lock oiled,” Dot teased as she finally opened the door.

Jess and Joe almost fell down the steps in their eagerness while Dot switched on the lights.

The large brass lantern with a crude dioptric lens was hard to miss. It stood on an ancient stone shelf at the bottom of the cellar steps and the two girls gasped with delight as they immediately recognised its nautical dioptric lens.

“Do you ever set it out?” Jessica asked.

“Nah.” Dot explained. “It’s too heavy. In the old days they used to place it out from the landing window out on to the corner shelf but it’s too heavy for me. Try lifting it.

Jessica was quite a sturdy girl but she concluded it was too heavy to lift off its shelf and lug it up the stone steps then the wooden stairs to the landing window.

“The old publican – cum – harbourmaster would have had to have been a strong fellow.”

“And a busy one,” Joe added, “running the pub, collecting harbour fees and maintaining the navigational markers.

“And throwing out drunks and pirates.” Dot continued.

“Pirates!” Jessie almost shrieked.

“Yes. There’s some reports in the museum archives. It’s about slave traders or pirates entering the river but the town managed to beat them off. Because this pub was stone built and stone rooved, the attackers failed to break in. I wouldn’t be surprised if that Tudor Cannon had a part. It would certainly have surprised any eighteenth century Arab slave traders. Just look how thick the pubs seaward side walls are. They’re like a castle.”

“Is it true the moors attacked.” Jessie pressed.

“Certainly,” Josie assured them, “there are reports in the records and the only reason our town record survives is because the town beat them off. Several other small coastal villages were totally denuded of people. The men were at sea fishing and maybe forty or fifty women and children at a time, were carted off to north Africa. Slavery attacks were rampant in the sixteenth and seventeenth century in these parts.”

The Harbour Light was by then beginning to fill up with the lunchtime trade so they called it a day after making arrangements for further investigations.
The two county historians discussed another meeting with Dot and Sam and before leaving they listed several items and areas concerning the Harbour street area. Dot and Sam watched them depart and raised questioning eyebrows to each other.

“I’ve always reckoned this whole area could clean up nicely. Especially that row of old stone chandlers ware-houses. The old wooden gable hoists have still got a pleasing ambience.”

“I’d be more interested in excavating the old basin locks. There could be really good archaeology if the stonework is still under all that derelict land.” Sam replied.

“You’re just after the bronze cannon.” Dot chuckled.

“We’re gonna’ have to keep out eye on that now the suits know about it.”

“It’s safe darling, have you not fully read the deeds?” Dot cautioned.

“Why?” Sam wondered.

“The whole Basin belongs to the pub. The Harbour light used to be the harbourmaster’s office as well. The ware-houses are on nine hundred and ninety, nine-year leases but the old hard standing with its basin walls was, and still is part of the pubs land.”

“What about the property rates?”

“Provided we maintain the stone-lined pierhead revetment and the basin fabric, we’re exempted from rates.”

“Those stones will never move!” Sam chuckled. “They’re huge!”

“They’ve been there a good few hundred years and don’t look as though they’ve ever moved.”

“There’s no big ship traffic to disturb them any more since the sand dredgers left. We’re quids in cos the only traffic we’ll ever see is narrow boats and small yachts.”

“And if we do open up the canal to the basin, we’ll possibly be able to charge fees to access the river from the canal.” Dot smiled thoughtfully.

That night Dot and Sam slept well.
~~~~~~~~~