I grew up in West Demerara when, unless you owned a boat, the only way to cross the Demerara River was the various government ferryboats operating between Georgetown and Vreed-en-Hoop. Running usually from daylight to dusk, the ferryboats moved everything, from passengers to cargo to motor cars and even trucks. The only bridge across the river was some 50 miles or so upriver at Linden (formerly Mackenzie). In town, to get to West Dem, it was the ferryboat, or small private boats or, if your name was Jerry Goveia (the Banks one), you could swim it.
The ferry boats were a lifeline, as well as a social experience – there were passengers you saw every day – and any delay in the schedule was a major inconvenience for the thousands using the service. Although generally calm, the river, at that crossing area, could become very rough at times, particularly when the tide was falling, creating substantial waves and strong currents. One example was the day the ferry Lady Northcote, coming across from Vreed-en-Hoop, got caught in one of those currents and was headed straight for an American Navy vessel anchored in the river. I had crossed earlier, but my two sisters Celia and Mell, were on the ship that morning and it was a hair-raising experience for them. I believe the Northcote slammed into the navy’s ship anchor chain and the two vessels ended up in a collision. Several passengers from the Northcote,
