 |
| Seine Fishing from The Lizard |
Seine Fishing from the Lizard, an extract from
"Down to the Sea in Ships", the memoirs
of James Henry Treloar Cliff, as told to
P.W. Birkbeck and edited by Rita Tregellas Pope.
Published in 1983 by Dyllansow Truran, Redruth.
James Cliff was born in 1858 and until his
death in 1938 he was intimately connected with
all aspects of the sea including coasting, deep
sea trading as well as fishing and salvaging
(both legal and illegal).
The book is a very vivid portrayal of the life
of the seafarer, and as coxswain of the
Porthoustock lifeboat he experienced many of the
tragedies that took place off the coast of the
Parish.
The description of fishing for pilchards with
seine nets printed below appears to have taken
place about 1883 and gives a very clear idea of
the co-operative nature of seine fishing under
the control of the "Huer". The boat
shown was working out of Coverack in 1909.
After several voyages I left and came home. I
thought I would try my luck again at the
pilchards. So I went over to the Lizard. This
time I heard they wanted some hands, so my old
friend, W. Peters, went with me and we engaged
for six weeks, and went to lodge with the Huer,
Mr. Edwin Matthews. He was also the Coxswain of
the Lifeboat.
We had to walk about a mile to the cove, which
was a quaint old place, and very narrow, - just
wide enough to launch one boat at a time with her
oars out. Our usual routine was - Launch the
boats; put them out in the stern, and moor; then
(that is, if the weather was suitable, and if
there was likelihood of fish passing) we would
remain in the boats all day, and the women would
bring down our dinner to us.
If the weather was not suitable we would be in
the cellars, playing games or - wandering about,
but within call of the Huer, who was always on
the cliffs looking out. If it was nice weather I
very often went for a swim, out as far as the
boats. I remember I went down to an old boat that
was on the slip and undressed and went out as
usual, it being near dinner time. When I was
swimming I saw the women coming down, and when I
got to the old boat - what a surprise!
My clothes were all gone! I was in a dilemma
what to do. I looked round and saw a small piece
of old tarpaulin and some seaweed. So I attired
my self as well as I could, with a piece of
string round me. I was like Neptune leaving his
native element to face his subjects who dwell on
the sea-shore! However, I thought it an
ungentlemanly (or unladylike) action. I never
discovered the culprit. I had my suspicion that
my clothes were in the cellar, and when I got
there I saw a goodly company, being dinner time.
They were the Seiners, their wives and daughters,
and after a long search I discovered them hidden
away, and I can tell you there was some
twittering going on, especially among one section
of the company.
About a week after the last event the boats were
sterned out and all the crews were on board as
there was a likelihood of fish passing. I was in
the inside boat. As usual the small boats went to
the shore to bring the dinners off. When passing
one man's dinner from the small boat to the
large one it accidentally fell overboard. It
belonged to a man called Joe Roberts, a pal of
mine. Joe said, "I would not mind losing the
dinner, but mother, the silly old soul, will
always send down a silver spoon to eat it with,
and now it is lost". Some of the men in his
boat said, "Joe, there is Cliff there in the
inside boat."
They had often seen me diving off the boat. So
they sent a boat for me. I said, "What is
all the commotion in the outer boat?" They
said, "Why, Joe Roberts has lost his dinner
overboard and wants to know if you could fetch it
up for him". So I went off and said
"What is the trouble, Joe?" He was in
great distress about the spoon. I said,
"Where did it go down?" Joe pointed,
"Down here somewhere." I said, "It
is very deep water." (It was somewhere about
three to four fathoms of water. I had never dived
so deep but once before and that was in Mauritius
Harbour, after a piece of coral). So I stripped
off and said, "I will try, but I have grave
doubts about getting it." So I took a good
breath. Now in a great depth of water you have to
swim straight down, and no time to waste. So off
I goes and put all my strength into it.
I got to the bottom, saw the dish and the spoon
about two feet from it, took both in my left hand
and came up with a gasp. And what between the
water in my eyes and ears and the men in the
boats and the Huers on cliff 'hooraying',
it was quite bewildering. But Joe was delighted.
Of course the dinner was washed out. That
evening, after tea, I went down to Hill's
Hotel to get a drink, as was usual. My first
salute was, "Here comes the man that ate Joe
Roberts dinner." And in after years,
whenever I went over to the Lizard, I was greeted
with the same salute. I think that now they are
all passed away that were in that swim.
I think it was the following week after the
dinner incident that we were all in the boat and
word came to the Huers that large shoals of fish
were passing from the Westward, and we were all
on the alert.
About two o'clock in the afternoon we saw
the signal, "Up Anchor." That was a
furze bush going up and down. Then we got on the
warp and up she came, then all hands on the oars,
the bowman watching the Huer. Then the signal,
"Go to sea", and paying out the warp
which was attached to the inside boat, - she
would remain at anchor.
When we got abreast of the shoal, the signal,
"Go to net" was made. The tarpaulin was
stripped off and the Coxswain in the stern abaft
the net and the after oarsman (he would lay in
his bar) they, one at the head-rope with corks
attached, the other at the foot-rope with leads
attached, would commence to throw the net
over-board as fast as they could, and all hands
rowing as fast as they could, the bow man
watching the Huer and pulling or tacking as the
case required.
We got pretty well round the shoal when the net
was all out. It was then a very anxious time, for
fear that the fish would escape. Then the Stop
Seine boat came to the rescue and shot her net
across the gap. Then the seine boat (the large
one that shot her net) rowed in shore as fast as
she could, paying out her warp, which was
attached to the seine, and dropped Graper
(anchor), rigged out her capstan, put the warp to
it, then all hands manned it and warped the whole
seine, fish and all, into shallower water and out
of the tide, and then laid out grapers on all
sides to keep her safe. The leads would then be
on the bottom and the corks on the surface and
surrounding the fish like a wall. Then the next
thing to do was to go on shore and put the tuck
seine in the boat, ready for tucking. Then the
Huer said, "I think we had not better wait
for tomorrow low water, we have no salt here. We
will send word to Mevagissey and Newlyn for boats
to come at once, and at low water tonight it will
be bright moonlight." So we decided on that.
I may say that those boats got one sixth part
for carrying, so those boats that were idle were
very anxious to come. The boatmen were not very
particular about their cabins and forecastle
being fishy, and it often happened that there
were some loose boards in each place, - and it
sometimes happened that a good tithe of fish
slipped through which were not noticed by our
representatives (which we sent in each boat to
count the out-put). Now, when everything was
ready for tucking the Huer said, "Men, you
had better go home and get your suppers, and be
down by eleven o'clock. I expect some of the
boats will be down by that time." Some went
to the Pubs in anticipation of a good sharing,
and some of them were pretty well primed when
they arrived at the Cove.
There was one man, named Ned E...y, whose
favourite drink was one and one, which was half a
pint of beer and a pennyworth of rum in it. I got
my supper and was down early, as I lodged with
the Huer. You should have seen them coming down
one after the other. Our friend Ned was shearing
about very wildly and carrying a very rich
colour. You could see he had taken in a good many
'one and ones' but we all managed to get
in the boats and rowed off to the seine. There
was one boat arrived and we could see more
coming. When we got off we drove the fish to one
point of the seine by means of rubble stones and
they shot the tuck net, gave the draw strings to
the seine boat and commenced to haul up. Then the
first boat that came hauled in position. We could
feel it was a pretty good tuck and when it came
in sight it would have made a very pretty
picture. It was like a huge mass of molten
silver.
One boat load was taken on shore for local
consumption. Then men who tucked the fish would
sit across the gunwhale of the boat with one leg
inboard, the other leg outboard, with the casket
between them, one at each handle. Our friend Ned
volunteered to tuck. He had not tucked many
baskets when the boat lurched a bit, and Ned took
a dive right into the shoal of fish and
disappeared. We saw one of his sea-boots visible
and we made a grab at it and hauled him on board
stern first. It was a sight to see him covered
all over with pilchard scales from to (to use a
seaman's expression) and the moonlight made
us wish we had a camera with us.
Poor old Ned went into the stern of the boat,
wet outside as well as in, a sadder, if not a
wiser man. It would have made a good picture.
When the first boat was loaded the others came in
turn, and we loaded several out of that tuck.
Then the Huer said, "We will tuck the
remainder tomorrow at low water", which we
did. Both tucks were about three hundred
hogsheads of very fine fish, which gave us a very
decent sharing, but it was the only shoal for the
season. Then, after several days and no
likelihood of fish we took the wet net in a
waggon to a field to dry it, and then put it back
on board again.
Top Of Page
|
|
|
