The Deed Hoose

Lizzie Griggs was always dressed in a thick coat and she scuttled along the fish quay beach like a black scarab beetle. With her little round spectacles and gold earrings that dragged slits in her ear lobes, she was well known by all the local folk. She had been married once but now lived ‘over the brush’ with a ferryboat man. This was considered to be shameful though no-one voiced their opinions on the matter.

In blazing sunshine or freezing blizzards she monitored whatever washed up, though not in the way that a beachcomber searches for driftwood or sea-glass. Lizzie retrieved dead bodies that were returned to shore. Whether through high spirits or depression, accident or inebriation, they shared the same watery fate. Sometimes, at high-tide the rip currents could easily drag men into the black waters.

Drunken seafarers who lost their footing whilst clambering over vessels were engulfed by the swell. Some were deliberately pushed into the River Tyne following a fight; these victims of foul play stood little chance of redemption. Bodies that drowned at Cullercoats, Whitley Bay or further north would also wend their way here, bloated, ravaged by crabs and decomposed.

Although Lizzy was small in stature, she was incredibly strong. She transported the deceased to the mortuary in a decrepit, pull-along cart. It did not afford any dignity but provided a practical solution to a transfer problem.

The Deed Hoose stood on the quay at Cliffords Fort, next to a smokehouse. It was the designated holding place for any washed up corpse. The building was squat and built of blackened sandstone . Inside there was a lead lined slab with a sink at the bottom and a washing trough with hose. Though only crudely equipped, it was refrigerated, at least. Crates of beer and boxes of fish were stored right next to instruments that performed the post-mortem operations.

The long summer days attracted children, much to the dismay of the police officers who patrolled the quay. It was an unsafe playground which offered derelict hiding places and the potential for mischief.

One afternoon Lizzie was keeping watch when she noticed something unusual. A greyish shape was washing up, which she assumed was a dead seal or dolphin. She was shocked to see it was the body of a boy. Though hardened by the repetition of her job, a tear escaped from her eye as she lifted him into her arms and carried him to the Deed Hoose. There was nothing else to be done . His eyes stared blankly and his limp limbs flayed. A member of the River Police who had been out searching for him responded to Lizzie’s shouts.

She laid the lad on the slab. He was declared dead and covered with a blanket. A couple of hours later his grandfather came to identify him, and was led away, distraught and weeping.

Lizzie stripped the lad and briskly sluiced his body with the hosepipe. Suddenly he began coughing and spluttering. Lizzie cried, “Quick, this laddie’s alive, get the doctor to him! There’s no place for him here in my Deed Hoose!!”