There may be much more to the barometer than simply measuring pressure. Or there may be more to atmospheric pressure than its effect on the barometer. Paul Smyth came to this conclusion when carrying out some research on weather patterns and statistics some time ago.
He discovered that a record "high" for the 19th century had occurred in 1879 - the year that Albert Einstein and Padraig Pearse were born. Within the same 12 months, Thomas Edison invented the electric light bulb, there was a celebrated battle between the Royal Welsh Borderers and the Zulus at Rorke's Drift in Natal, and Sister Margaret Cusack, the Nun of Kenmare, set up a famine relief fund.
The Royal Dublin Society was founded, and apparitions appeared in Mayo's Knock. There was, Smyth notes, "something in the air"!
But Smyth's main interest in 1879 was a birth in Dublin's Ringsend. The baby was christened John Breslin Kearney and he had salt in his veins. Regarded as one of this State's most brilliant marine craftsmen, Kearney became a shipwright, studied naval architecture at night, and, as the late John Ryan, author and broadcaster, wrote, designed "more boats than he could remember".
Submarine defence
When Ryan penned his words, "Skipper" Kearney's one-design Mermaid craft was crowding Dublin Bay "like herring gulls the Great Saltee, or kittiwakes, Dunmore East". However, his reputation extended beyond pleasure craft. He is credited with revolutionising quayside construction and with suggesting the concrete ship as a defence against German submarine "packs" during the first World War.
He was a keen sailor, but was also known for his crusty nature. A brass plate nailed above his door, first in Killarney Street and latterly in Monkstown, Dublin, read: "God gave us our relations - thanks be to God we can pick our friends."
Kearney's Dublin Bay Mermaid is of most interest to Smyth, who was born into a nautical family in Clontarf and who has spent nearly half-a-century with these craft. Recently, he distilled Mermaid memorabilia, gathered over almost 20 years, into a book. No boring "factual collection and historical collection of data" here, he promises in the introduction.
It is a promise he keeps. Simple 17-foot wooden craft take on lives of their own - as do their various sailors. Lord Glenavy, Lord Chief Justice for a time and father of Patrick Campbell - Quidnunc with this newspaper - was one of them, as was businessman, Richard Burrows, before he moved on to larger craft.
The late Barney Heron, a close friend of the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas, and a man with a penchant for Sherlock Holmes cloaks, was an exceptional boat builder and helmsman who named his Mermaid (number 29) Milk Wood in tribute to his friend. With his two-woman crew (one being Dodie, his second wife), Heron innovated to increase speed.
At one stage his jealous rivals tried unsuccessfully to ban him from the class. "The lengths to which Barney would go to win can be illustrated by the fact that in fluke winds he would actually light a candle and place it on the foredeck so that he could see from where the wind was coming," writes Smyth.
Almost 200 Mermaids have been built since first designed in 1932, and the class still turns out one of the largest regatta fleets in Irish yacht racing. Smyth's history is not meant to be a "treatise", but is, "about wooden boats and human people, about sailors and regattas, about shackles dropped overboard and missing sail battens".
"It is about spray in your face and coming in last, mugs of hot tea and damp sandwiches, cold fingers and foul tides. It is about making new friends and doing favours for old ones, about finally making your moorings in the dark just before the bar closes, but with nobody to bring you ashore."
The `Muirchu'
A larger vessel which played a part in 20th century Irish history is the subject of another labour, undertaken by Daire Brunicardi, nautical science lecturer at the Cork Institute of Technology. At another time, and in another place, the Helga, later the Muirchu, would have had no significance other than to those who sailed and worked on it, he contends.
The history of a ship with two names actually involves two vessels. Initially, a 150foot Scottish-built, twin-screw steam yacht began life as Ireland's first "fishery cruiser" or research vessel in 1899. Its replacement, a 163-foot ship built in Dublin, was also named Helga. It was commandeered by the British forces in 1915 as an "armed patrol yacht" during the first World War.
A year later, it was deployed up the Liffey to shell Liberty Hall. Its gun was used to fire 24 rounds into a building which had been abandoned by supporters of the Easter Rising the previous day.
The ship played a key role in moving Free State troops during the Civil War, and in 1923 it was renamed Muirchu and allowed to resume its passive life - this time without armaments. In 1939, it was refitted to become the flagship of the world's smallest navy, the State's first Marine Service, "patrolling against invasion and carrying out mine destruction".
Brunicardi charts the ship's eventful life, and its continued use when the Naval Service was established in 1947. A year before, the decision was taken to buy six "Flower" class corvettes. The little Muirchu had had its day, at almost 40, and was sold to Hammond Lane Foundries in Dublin for breaking up - not far from where it had been built.
Sank on final voyage
Uncannily, it cheated fate. On board for its last voyage, from the south coast to Dublin, was Brian Inglis of The Irish Times, who was going to record the last voyage of the historic ship. It never reached its destination, but sank off near the Saltee Islands off the Wexford coast. All on board were saved by a Welsh trawler which had been one of the ship's "oldest adversaries" during fishery patrols.
In 1986, the Muirchu was found in 62 metres of water, close to two other well-known vessels which were casualties of war - the Irish Lights tender, Isolda and the City of Cork steampacket steamer, Ardmore. There it still lies. Several items have been recovered from the wreck, including the bridge steering pedestal and brass steering wheel, which are on display in James Kehoe's pub in Kilmore Quay, Co Wexford.
The Sea Hound - the story of a small Irish ship by Daire Brunicardi is published by Collins Press at £9.99 paperback. The Dublin Bay Mermaid: A History 1932-2000 by Paul Smyth is available from the author at 139 St Mobhi Road, Glasnevin, Dublin 9.