Page 80 - Bulletin 7 2003

77

THE FISHER FOLK

Taking the Cape Town fishing fleet, as at present composed, it probably shows an
average daily muster of some 80 boats; each boat averaging from 4 to 5 men in a
boat. As a rule the owner only lets out his boats, the Captain taking as tithe or
payment one out of every five fish caught, not counting the ultimate division of
profits. Some of the largest owners are the happy possessors of 10 boats, and as such
get a pretty fair return for their ownership, though, taking one catch with another,
there are of course blank days that make a hole in the profits when bigger catches
rule. The usual hour for making for the fishing grounds is from one to two up to five
a.m., the boats returning between 12 and 2 p.m. Saturday, as with their white
brethren, is the Malays’ short day, although Friday being their Sunday, about one
half are usually at Church on that day. Practically they know no Sunday as we
understand the day.

The return of the fish-laden boats is the signal for a helter-skelter scramble in the
direction of the beach. A motley crowd, indeed it is, that greets their return! A very
Babel of voices, a variety of costumes from the picturesque to the dirty ragged sort, a
clamouring, clattering chatter of young and old, toothless veterans of the sea who
have seen service till they can see it no longer, mothers and grandmothers, with here
and there a bright bit of colour in the shape of a gaudy shawl or headgear to relieve
the monotony of bare head and black faces and legs, all with children, in various
stages of squalling or loudly-expressed infantile joy – all go to make up a sketch well
worthy of the artist’s pencil. Vieing with each other as to who shall have the honour
of dragging each fish ashore, as it is thrown out of the boats, the owner stands up,
sterner of countenance, perhaps, than the rest, and as a rule thus easily recognisable,
scanning with eager eye the extent of the catch, and from long habit, measuring at a
glance, the estimate of the profits that are to fall to his lot. Then there are the
contractors, all drawn up and waiting, to hurry the supplies up town. For the general
rule is always to dispose of the catch by contract, previously made, said contracts, to
save time and trouble to both sides, being equally made to cover as long a space of
time ahead as possible. In all, there may be said to be in Cape Town some 40
contractors, who undertake to purchase at a set figure per head for a set period, all
the fish that the several boats of each owner bring in day by day. The money
settlements are, for the most part, arranged to be weekly.

The contractors take delivery, and have their carts in readiness waiting for the return
of the boats. The Malay fishermen themselves say that they consider a good day’s
haul to be one that will bring in each of the crew 10s, but, as with the Chinamen
gold-washers on the bars of so-called played-out rivers, it would seem that their
statements can well be taken with a grain, perhaps rather a big grain of salt, and that,
taking a good day with a bad one, good seasons with bad seasons, they will in truth
average rather more. Snoek, of course, as can be readily imagined from what has
been said above about the quantity and commercial value of this fish, is the Malay
fisherman’s god. It pays him best, and he worships it as such. Cape salmon too they
are partial to, from the grand standpoint of profits, though of course the season being
more restricted, there are not equal chances of making money from this as with the