Jean Newell is Cromarty’s oldest resident. She will be 99 in 2007 but can still close her eyes and remember Cromarty before, during and after the First World War: the huge warships that would glide in and out of the Cromarty Firth; the sailors, soldiers and early airmen on their way to the war to end all wars. She was Jean Campbell then but living in the same house as she is today, where people come and consult her on any and every question relating to Cromarty’s story. She is the town’s most important historical witness.
My first real memory was the Coronation of 1911 (George V and Queen Mary). All the bairns congregated outside the Royal Hotel and we marched to the Reeds Park, which was the playing field at that time. That was where the boys from HMS Natal were playing football when she blew up in 1915. I remember that more clearly.

I was outside the house playing with my brother when we heard the explosion and he caught me by the hand and pulled me after him. We went helter skelter down to the harbour and when we looked up the firth you could see her and all this smoke rising above the Natal. There were big crowds there, but I didn’t really know what was happening.

I remember one of the boys from the Natal who was ashore saying “Oh I left my bank book on board”. That would have been a big thing at that time, even if there was only two pounds in it. But another boy said “My brother was on board.”  It really was a terrible thing.

There were quite a lot of people to do with the Natal in Cromarty that day. You see when the navy used to come up, the officers’ wives would come up as well and stay in Cromarty and were found grand places to stay. We had some here and I remember being asked to post a letter and it was being sent to …something… ‘Hall’. That was the address. Of course I was thinking of the Victoria Hall and I thought ‘fancy staying in a hall’.

But before all that I remember playing down on the shore with Betty MacKenzie before the First World War. We were building sand castles when a flying boat stopped not very far from us and I saw two men getting out over the side and into the sea. We looked in amazement because they had boots on that seemed to come up to their waists. They must have been thigh boots. I didn’t look at their faces because I was so intrigued by their boots. But I later found out their names were Oliver and Longmore.

At that time Cromarty was the only place in Britain which had a flying boat base. The shore was suitable because of the sand and it was free from rocks. As far as I remember the flying boats stayed in the water and it was the men who came ashore, but I was only a bairn. But it shows you how important Cromarty was in those days to the navy. It was Cromarty that was the home base, not Invergordon.

Mr Malcolm was the headmaster at the school when I went. He was excellent and very hard working. He did so much for his pupils. He gave us everything. He shaped our lives, gave us a love of learning all sorts of things, but not just from books. He had a tennis court marked out in the playground and would take the boys down to the Links for cricket. He was really good for Cromarty, but he always seemed to be working.

The only time he took off was a Saturday morning when he used to go over to Nigg to play golf. I can see him yet in John Skinner’s ferry with his golf clubs. There were quite a few who went over. I think it was a nine-hole golf course.

He also offered evening classes in navigation and I remember Albert Watson who ran the ferry to Invergordon and was latterly lifeboat coxswain going to these classes, along with a good number of others. I think Mr Malcolm had gone to Aberdeen on a course so that he could offer these classes.

I spent the final years of school in Dingwall Academy, in the hostel. I had a great time singing at concerts. I would get the ferry across to Invergordon and then the train down to Dingwall and wouldn’t get home again until the holidays. The ferry to Invergordon played a big part in all our lives. It was the main route to and from Cromarty. There were no buses.

After I had finished training as a teacher at Jordanhill College of Education in Glasgow, the first job I got was at Applecross on the west coast. To get there I had to take the ferry to Invergordon, get a train to Dingwall, then another one to Kyle of Lochalsh. Once I got there I got on the steamer that was going to Lewis. It dropped anchor off Applecross where it was met by a rowing boat, which took us ashore. It was quite a journey!

Later I got a teaching job in Invergordon. That was from about 1930 to 1937. I used to get the ferry every day at 7.30am and back again about 5pm, getting home at 5.30pm. I was a good sailor and used to be given the tiller. I could take her in alongside the pier. I became quite good at it. Indeed I remember once something happened to the boat and people said, “Well it wouldn’t have been Jean Campbell who did it.”

I remember the Invergordon Mutiny in 1931. When we got up to Invergordon on the ferry we could see the seamen all leaning on the railings of the battleships, doing nothing. We thought that was strange. You could also hear music, somebody playing a piano. It was clear that something had happened.

It had been announced that their pay was to be cut by 10%. I think Philip Snowden was the Chancellor of the Exchequer at the time. The cut wasn’t so bad for the officers with private incomes, but the ordinary seamen had little enough as it was without getting it cut. They didn’t know how on earth their families were going to feed themselves back in their home ports in the south of England. They had to do something. They refused to put to sea. Then I remember going along to Braehead to see the fleet leave after the mutiny, which only lasted a day or two. They had been called back to the south. I had such a heavy heart seeing the ships pass, these poor men now held in disgrace by the navy that I had loved so much. It was so sad.

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