Huw and Ifor grew up together in Mumbles, West Wales. They went to the same school and when they were called up for national service, they joined The South Wales Borderers. Each married girls from th same street and when children came along, they were just one big happy family.
Huw was doing some weeding in the back garden when Dylis, his wife, shouted to him that Ifor was on the phone. “He sounds a bit worried,” she said. “You’d better come in and see what’s wrong.” Huw dusted himself down, took off his boots and grabbed the phone. “What’s up Ifor?” he said. “There was a pause before Ifor replied – “Mam’s dead.” The news was not entirely unexpected as the old lady had been ill for quite some time. “I’m sorry Ifor,” said Huw, “she was a lovely woman and she lived a good life. I feel as if it’s my mam who’s gone.” Ifor muttered his thanks and then gave details of the funeral and cremation that he was arranging for the following Saturday.
Ifor’s father served in the Merchant Navy during World War Two; his ship was hit by an enemy torpedo while sailing to Russia in one of the Arctic convoys and he was lost along with the rest of the crew. “Mam told me that she wanted to join Dad when her time came and have her ashes scattered in the sea,” said Ifor. Huw’s eyes opened wide: “How are you going to get them up to the Arctic? That’ll be an expensive business.” “No, not the Arctic,” said Ifor, “there’s no need to go that far, Swansea Bay will do.” He went on to say that he had asked the coxswain of the Mumbles lifeboat if he could help but had ruled that out when told how much it would cost. Huw said that a neighbour of his owned a boat and he offered to speak to him about using it.
The following day, Huw saw Ifor and told him that all was arranged; the boat would be ready in Swansea harbour at two o’clock on the Tuesday afternoon following the funeral. “I told him there would be four of us - that’s you, me, Uncle Will (Mam’s brother) and the preacher. With Dai, who owns the boat, there’ll be five altogether.”
Two days after the service in Morriston Crematorium, the funeral director delivered a plastic pot containing Mam’s ashes. It was placed reverently on the mantel-piece in Ifor and Janice’s front room.
Uncle Will came for lunch the following day and he went with Ifor to pick up the preacher. Going down the hill towards the sea, Uncle Will could see that the waves in Swansea Bay were being blown into ‘white horses’. “I hope you’ve got a nice big boat for us, Ifor,” he said. “Don’t you worry Uncle Will,” his nephew replied, “Huw’s sorted it out. We’ll be alright.”
When they got out of the car near the harbour wall they saw Huw talking to a man wearing a blue peaked-cap. He was introduced to the others as Dai – the boat owner. After a round of hand shakes, Dai pointed towards some stone steps and said: “If you would like to follow me, we’ll get started.” He led the way to where a small boat was tethered to an iron ring on the side of the jetty. The Reverend Rufus Llewelyn took hold of Ifor’s arm and said: “You’re not serious about going to sea in that small boat, are you?” Ifor was in a difficult position: he was as surprised as the preacher about the size of the boat but he knew that if he showed any signs of anxiety, Mam’s farewell might have to be called off. A chain reaction had already set in though and Uncle Will voiced his concern about setting out on a voyage in a vessel not much bigger than a bath tub. “I can’t swim,” he said, hoping that the absence of sufficient life jackets would rule him out. Ifor asserted his authority at this point and before the uneasy passengers could voice more objections, he grabbed each one by their coat collars and dragged them aboard. As soon as everyone was sitting down, Dai started the engine and headed for the open sea.
If the Reverend Llewelyn and Uncle Will thought it was choppy inside the harbour it was mild compared with the conditions they met as they nosed their way into Swansea Bay. They had not gone more that 30 yards from the end of the harbour wall when Uncle Will yelled: “Drop the pot in here, Ifor, we’ll all get drowned if we go any further.” Ifor clung to the pot containing his mother’s ashes to which he had prudently tied a house brick, and replied: “No, Uncle Will. If we drop her in here, she might float back. We’ve got to go a bit further.” Even Huw became anxious, but Dai was in his element and opened the throttle until they were bouncing over the waves. After they had travelled about half a mile, he said: “This is far enough” and shut off the engine.
Rufus Llewelyn delivered the oration from the sitting position and when he came to the bit about ‘committing the ashes to the deep’, Ifor pushed the pot and the brick over the side. Uncle Will was sick as the charred remains of his sister disappeared beneath the waves and he pleaded with Dai to turn the boat around and head back to the harbour. But the ceremony was not yet over and Ifor drew from his pocket five sheets of paper upon which was printed the words of the mariners’ hymn – ‘For Those In Peril On The Sea’. Ifor, a powerful baritone, lead the singing with Dai in the stern singing the bass part and Huw coming in as the tenor. Uncle Will and the vicar identified themselves completely with the sentiment but were quite unable to utter a sound as the boat bucked and rolled and gave every indication of following Mam’s ashes to the bottom.
Janice was waiting at home with Dilys for the men to return. “Where’s the pot then, Ifor?” She asked. “I left the ashes in it as the wind was blowing so hard. It’s at the bottom of Swansea Bay now.” Oh, there’s silly,” she pouted,” “it looked nice on the mantel-piece. We could have had some daffodils in it in a few week’s time. Mam would have liked that.” “Well, it’s too late now,” said Ifor, “besides, I don’t think Uncle Will would like to be reminded of what he’s been through every time he comes to see us.” Will had partly recovered and was half way through his second sour cream scone. “You’re right there, Ifor,” he said, “and don’t have any ideas about sending what’s left of me to join your mam when my time’s up.”
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