This is the third piece of writing taken from the memoirs of George James Dixon who arrived in Bermuda with his mother as a 17-year-old boy to join his father who was working in the Dockyard here. In previously published articles in The Royal Gazette, I described his travel from England to Bermuda and the intricacies of finding, setting up an apartment and adjusting to life in the Bermuda of 1937.

Prior to his death in 2000, George James Dixon wrote of his experiences growing up here. His hope was that future generations of Bermudians would find his life of interest. His son Barry following his father’s request has asked me to go over the notes and make them suitable for today’s readers.

George J Dixon’s recollections of Bermuda in 1937 continues here:

The family was fully occupied during our first few weeks in Bermuda, but as the activities eased down, the question of my getting employment became a priority and it was here that we met with a minor problem. Being a non-Bermudian, and according to the island’s immigration regulations, I was not allowed to work, unless in possession of a work permit. This applied to every ‘outsider’ coming into the island and the rule was strictly enforced. The only way a permit could be obtained required proof that local labour was not obtainable to do the particular work in question ― usually applicable to skilled trades, especially if it was relative to the tourist industry.

However, my father had already looked into this before my arrival and discovered that this rule did not apply to the Dockyard as technically it was not a part of Bermuda, but operated by a foreign outside source ie the British Government. I didn’t mind this at all as I was familiar with the Dockyard routine and I did go to work there after the usual medical examination, just before the Easter holiday period.

As it so happened, there was a vacancy in the same department as my father’s and I became what was officially designated a painter’s assistant. It was an easy job and gave me the opportunity to get around the “yard” to weigh up my new workplace. I worked most of the time under the watchful eye of the Department’s Head, Mr R Bennet, who was a highly skilled painter, signwriter and glazier. (A glazier specialises in cutting, installing, replacing and repairing glass). He was really an industrial artist. I tried to adapt myself but my interest centred around machinery and things technical. I was even more interested when I saw some of my new-found friends in the engineering workshops and I immediately applied for a transfer which eventually was granted. This enabled me to move into the ship fitting shop after completing certain projects.

The Easter holiday came soon after my start in the yard and although it was only springtime, the weather was very warm with temperatures approaching the high seventies ― ideal boating weather. We accepted the offer from our neighbour to borrow one of his row boats for the Easter weekend. It was a fascinating experience to potter around the shoreline with its coves and little beaches and the water so clear and warm. Unfortunately, we underestimated the power of the sun and I got extremely sun-burnt. All exposed parts were affected but mainly my feet and face. I was unable to get my shoes on due to the swelling and temporarily lost my eyesight. I was very close to becoming a victim of sunstroke.

Dr Cann had to be called in, but there was little he could do for my immediate relief. I had no option but to report sick at my workplace only a few days after starting my new job. I was off for two weeks while the skin blistered and healed. This episode taught a sharp lesson to all of us about the power of the sun’s ultraviolet rays which, according to Dr Cann was the main factor, and not the sun itself. Although not aware of it at the time, I was to have repercussions in later years from overexposure to the sun during my years in Bermuda even when precautions were taken by wearing light weight protective clothing and when out in the water, by having a sunshade over the boat.

That particular Easter weekend was also a painful experience for my mother too, arising from a picnic party we had at Daniel’s Head which, at that time was open land. She had an unwelcome introduction to the prickly pear shrub, which is a species of cactus with an abundance of needlelike thorns. She had a minor fall on the rocky ground, and landed on top of one of them, getting more than a share of the thorns. Several days afterwards, a mild septic rash appeared on her arms and legs, and she had to seek medical advice which required the use of tweezers to pull the needle like thorns out.

Apart from these minor mishaps, our first Bermuda Easter was a very interesting experience amplified by our introduction to the yearly custom of kite flying by both young and old alike. Kites of all shapes, colour and sizes were a common sight from early morning until dusk, each one emitting a humming noise from a built-in tissue paper buzzer. Apparently this had a religious connection from bygone days and was meant to symbolise a cross in the sky. Everyone seemed to have a kite of some sort and it was a great out door pastime, heralding in Bermuda’s springtime and the beginning of the swimming season.

We also had our first experience of the Bermuda railway system at this same time by having a trip to Hamilton, the island’s capital city. The railway was a single line affair and operated from Somerset to St George’s, via Hamilton, with a wealth of stops along the way. It was a busy service, it being one of the main modes of the limited travel facilities and as such was equal to the ferry service. The Somerset Terminus was located at the bottom of Beacon Hill Road just a few minutes away from the Police Station and the Post office. The train itself usually consisted of three coaches, one of which housed the diesel propulsion unit and light freight and also the bicycles of passengers in transit. The train also carried a conductor who collected the fares along the way and what a task that was as bicycles had to be paid for and of course, luggage and freight.

The journey to Hamilton was a delightful first experience as it followed the shoreline with ever changing glimpses of the myriad of small beaches and inlets too numerous to mention. The journey, I think of some 50 minute duration into Hamilton proper, where we alighted right in the main thoroughfare of Front Street. We used the train service quite a lot when living in Somerset as the terminus and several of the ongoing stops were quite near us, especially that of Broome Street.

Comparing the two main modes of passenger transportation ― the railway and ferry services, I much preferred the latter. Somerset was well served with this, and it too was a picturesque journey to and from Hamilton as the ferry boats cut through several of the smaller islands in the Great Sound. The two ferries operating this service were the Coralita, which was diesel propelled and very slow and the Corona which was steam driven and quite fast and also much larger. The slow Coralita was not a favourite of the Watford Bridge keepers by any means as its shallow draught allowed it to enter Mangrove Bay’s Public Wharf area. This required the bridge to be opened and re-closed. The Corona rarely went into Mangrove Bay and docked most of the time at the Watford Bridge passenger jetty.

The ferry route to and from the city was as follows ― leaving the ferry terminal on Front Street, Two Rock Passage leading to the Great Sound, would be partially navigated. Turning off from here after a few minutes of our journey we would enter a smaller and much shallower channel, taking us through a small group of islands which skirted the Great Sound proper. From here it was a direct run to the Somerset side where we would make our first stop at Somerset Bridge ― a tiny bridge connecting Somerset to the parish of Southampton and not to be confused with Watford Bridge at the other end of Somerset.

With passengers and their bicycles disembarking, we would hug the shoreline to the next stop ― Cavello Bay and leaving there, proceed to Watford Bridge dock which was just around the small headland of Flora Point. Leaving there Ireland Island would be our final docking point before returning to Hamilton. Distance wise the round trip was approximately 18 miles. During the winter, it could get extremely rough in which case the Watford Bridge stop would be cancelled with passengers alighting at Cavello Bay.

Now that we had settled in and experienced our first Easter, it would be prudent for me to mention my work in the ‘yard’. Basically I was assisting everyone in general where painting was being carried out, either aboard ships under refit or on the small craft slip away in the North Yard. My boss, Mr Bennett, would sometimes let me do some of the less important gold-leafing usually on the Admiral’s or Captain’s barges and I almost always got the lowly job of applying undercoats of paint, prior to any top coating or enamelling being done by the more senior staff. Everyone was helpful and friendly, but I just could not adapt myself to the work although I had a lot of freedom which would not have been possible in other workshops in the ‘yard’.

On one occasion we were detailed to work at Admiralty House to repaint and gold leaf the Admiral’s horse-drawn carriage whilst he was out of residence with the Fleet. This was a holiday job really as it entailed an enjoyable boat journey every day to and from Admiralty House across the Great Sound which was about 30 minutes.

Admiralty House was located in beautiful natural grounds and had a little beach and boat dock and several diving boards all of which we took maximum use of whilst the “old man” was away with the Fleet. Another favourite workplace was the small craft slipway which had a roof but was open sided and always had a breeze blowing through it. Adjacent to the Slip Away, the Fleet Air Arm had a big hangar and haul-out facility for the several types of aircraft carried by the larger ships of the fleet, three of whom I remember as the HMS Exeter, HMS Orion and the HMS Ajax — all cruisers that were to make history.

My stay in the Painting Department lasted two to three the months, however, I remember one particular incidence when we were allocated the job of painting the signal mast at the HMS Malabar Naval Barracks located at the extreme end of Ireland Island. The mast itself was of a typical wooden construction about 150-200 feet high.

It was given an intensive survey with typical Dockyard thoroughness every year. Surveying was carried out by the Rigging Shop using a Bosun’s chairs and starting at the top. All the pulleys, sheaves, ropes and the guy wires were given a close examination and so was the mast itself.

On the completion of this work, the final task was the painting ― again from the top to the bottom using the Bosun’s chair arrangement. A Bosun’s chair is a simple wooden seat with a rope suspension bridle. The bridle is attached to the main support rope, which reaved through the topmost pulley of the mast itself, and led down to the ground level to be controlled by the painter’s attendant.

It was my unfortunate lot to be allocated to the attendant’s duties. I did not relish this as the safety of the painter depended a lot on me and my handling of his hoist. I was scared stiff of an accident happening and was thankful when the job was completed. I’ve often wondered how the painter felt having a ‘greenhorn’ handling his progress down the mast, but if he felt like me, he too wasn’t a happy man, but he never mentioned it.

• Cecille Snaith-Simmons is a retired nurse, historian, writer and author of The Bermuda Cookbook. This is the third in a continuing series