Page 88 - Bulletin 18 2014
P. 88

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               each with his warm clothing, oilskins, and tackle-box, stream towards the wharf. A solemn
               look is on their faces – a look of despondency, yet determination – for things do not go well
               with them at that time of the year. And so the boats are manned at nightfall and drifted into
               position. Some twenty craft lie in the middle of the harbour, others close to the shore, and a
               few  further  towards  the  entrance.  Each  boat  carries  an  improvised  home-made  tin  lantern
               with candle, and the whole scene resembles a strange and silent carnival. Silence in the boats
               is imperative, for the fish are shy and become disturbed by noises. It is remarkable, too, that
               the big catches are made after midnight when the trains have ceased running and all is still.
               On some nights the phosphorous on the water turns the place into a veritable lake of blue and
               violet fire, and passing seals that follow the shoals into the harbour’s shallows make a fiery
               whirlpool with each successive dive.

               In the dead of the dark night more than a hundred men are afloat, barely a stone’s throw from
               the shore: and the uncanny silence is a forerunner of what is to follow. What was that? A
               splash  and  then  a  rattling  sound!  Hushed  conversations  are  passed  on  from  boat  to  boat
               warning all the men that the advance fish of the shoal are there and coming slowly into the
               harbour. The men are roused from slumber and their lines are dropped overboard. You can
               now hear the splash of fish being taken from the water, the spluttering and wriggling sounds
               on the hollow decks gradually growing, as tens and then scores are caught, …… The night’s
               stilly calm is disturbed for many minutes, relapsing to a deep silence only to be broken again
               when the next shoal arrives and a heavy toll is taken. Some nights bring boisterous winds and
               the rain falls in sheets, yet the men persevere.

               Nightly catches made from boats moored within the harbour vary; but when conditions are
               favourable  a  moderate  estimate  shows  eight  men  in  one  boat  to  have  caught  more  than  a
               thousand fish that are invariably sold to dealers at about fourpence or fivepence a bunch.






               Storms





               Inevitably, the new structure and basin were tested by the gale force south-east storms. These

               produced the “easterly seas” that the fishermen referred to and, in spite of the breakwater, the
               waves curved round (a process known as wave diffraction) and swept into the basin causing

               boats to drag or break their moorings and wash up on the beach. (Fig. 2.43.) There were some
               particularly  violent  ones  like  those  in  1927  and  1929  which  snapped  off  lengths  of  the

               breakwater  parapet  and  sent  many  boats  onto  the  beach.  (Figs.  2.44  -  2.46.)  In  1931  a
               mooring chain was provided running parallel to the breakwater and 60 ft. from it to which 15

               of the heavier boats could be moored farther back during storms.
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