‘Good morning… looks like we’re in for another glorious day.’ The fellow addressed Mick in a firm, friendly voice as he strode towards the front office of one of the bigger cotton mills.

‘Top o’ the morning to you, sir,’ replied Mick, while observing how, even though the man was dressed in casual togs, they were not the togs of a labourer, but the easy attire of gentry. This one was a puzzle, though, because he had a winning smile and a manner that was not hostile to the likes of himself. Growing curious, he clambered from the barge and sought out the advice of a bargee who was securing his vessel nearby. ‘Who’s that fellow?’ he asked, adding with a chuckle, ‘If he were fitted out in cords and rolled-up sleeves, I’d swear he was a bargee the same as you and me… there’s something about his manner… and the cut of his swagger. Though I dare say he’s never done a day’s work in his life, eh?’

‘Well now, that’s where you’d be wrong, fella-me-lad!’ The old sailor came forward to lean against the rail where he took off his cap, slung it over a nearby strut and leisurely proceeded to light up the tobacco in his pipe. Mick was amused to see how the old one was in no particular hurry to satisfy the curiosity of a stranger. In fact, he seemed to be positively relishing withholding the information just that bit longer. When his pipe was lit and he himself engulfed in billowing grey smoke, he went on, ‘That there fellow knows more about barges and working these waterways than you and me put together.’ Here, he leaned over and pointed to the sign heading his barge. ‘See that?’

‘The sign, you mean?’

‘Aye… see the name written there?’

Mick studied the sign, before reading it aloud – ‘Tanner’s Transporters’. He glanced back to where he had seen the man disappear. ‘You’re never telling me that he owns this barge?’

‘I am that. This barge… and nigh on a dozen more like it. And I’ll tell you sommat else, matey, Marlow Tanner may not look as smooth and smarmy as the next gent… but he’s a better gent than ever you’re likely to find. A proper credit to the blokes who work for him. There ain’t one of us who wouldn’t stretch ourselves to the limit if he were to ask. Teks care of us he do… through thick and thin. You’ll never find a better gaffer than Marlow Tanner.’ He pursed his lips into a multitude of wrinkles and nodded his head as though agreeing with himself. ‘And that’s the very truth!’ he concluded, making ready to resume his labours.

‘A dozen such barges, you say?’ Mick had been working this particular stretch of the Leeds and Liverpool Canal for almost a year now, and was curious to know how it was that he had not come across a ‘Tanner Transporter’ until today.

‘Aye, that’s right. Up until a year back, we were regular between here and the big docks… but the gaffer secured a juicy contract, which meant us coming up outta the Yorkshire side.’ He chuckled, displaying a jagged row of tobacco-stained teeth. ‘Earned us all a bob or two extra, that did.’