Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 5 (1/4) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3.

Maybe I'm making things sound as though my new life was intolerable - especially when Jolly Rodgers was around - but the Hull Sailors' Children's Orphanage was not a prison. There were some good times too, especially when our school day was over and our duties were done. In the main we were required to keep the buildings and ourselves clean and tidy. Once tasks were taken care of we were at liberty. There was always one afternoon of freedom every week when we could go off on our adventures.

On my first free afternoon George and Sal took me to what became my favourite place in Hull: Pearson's Park. On the route to this destination we passed a railway station. Everyone still called it 'Cemetery Gates,' although it was renamed Botanic by the railway company. The station's original name came about because it faced the entrance to the Hull General Cemetery and this reminder wasn't going to go away.

After we turned right at the railway crossing next to the station we walked up what was then a newly built wide road. This was also renamed: Princes Avenue, but inevitably everyone used older alternatives. The one we used was 'Prinny Bank' - short for Princes Bank Avenue. People like to cling on to the familiar when things around them are changing. Maybe this was why my book became so important to me.

Facing the railway line were open fields stretching off into the west. Further down the road were clusters of new houses, big houses. Some were occupied but most were still under construction. 'Mrs G says that these big houses will need servants. She reckons I'll be able to go into service in one of them. She'll put in a word for me.' The prospect made Sal's eyes glow. 'Be much better than one of them old houses in town.'

Pearson's Park was no more than a mile from the home but when we walked through its towering iron gates I entered a new world. I had never seen so much grass before or such an open expanse without fences or buildings. Everything seemed to shimmer in the sunshine. 'It's like the Wild West!' I was bursting with excitement. 'Is this the prairie?'

'No, it's the park!' George looked at me as though I was stupid. 'What's the wild west?' 'It's in America. It's where there are red indians and buffaloes and wide open spaces ... as far as the eye can see!' 'That sounds like poetry.' Sal sighed and gazed wistfully across the neatly cut grass towards the bandstand in the middle. From time to time her serious face slipped but she soon regained her composure. 'Let's find somewhere to sit before the butter on this bread melts onto me pinny.' Sal always managed to bring some food from the kitchen whenever we went on our expeditions. We found a place in the cool shade of a willow and sat on an old blanket Sal had borrowed from the Sewing Room. 'How do you know about this Wild West place, then?' George was about to dig his teeth into a white bread doorstep. 'Me Dad told me all about it. He's been there. That's where he'll be now!' I nodded vigorously. I wanted to believe it. 'His ship sank off the coast of America, so he'll have swum ashore. Good swimmer, my Dad.' I didn't know this to be a fact but it had to be true, didn't it?

Continued Next Page

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