Difficulty of obtaining Statistics of our White-Fish Fisheries—Ignorance of the Natural History of the White Fish—“Finnan Haddies”—The GadidÆ Family: the Cod, Whiting, etc.—The Turbot and other Flat Fish—When Fish are in Season—How the White-Fish Fisheries are carried on—The Cod and Haddock Fishery—Line-Fishing—The Scottish Fishing Boats—Loss of Boats on the Scottish Coasts—Storms in Scotland—Trawl-Net Fishing—Description of a Trawler—Evidence on the Trawl Question.

It is among the white fish, as they are called, that we find the chief food-fishes of this kingdom—as the haddock, cod, whiting, ling, sole, flounder, turbot, and skate,—all of which, and about a dozen others (not including the mackerel), equally good for food, belong to two well-known fish families—GadidÆ and PleuronectidÆ—and give employment in their capture to the two best-known instruments of destruction, the line and the trawl.

It is exceedingly difficult to procure reliable statistics of the total quantity of fish taken in the British seas. These can only be obtained in a crude way from the fishermen, there being no tally kept by the salesman, except of a rough kind. I made some inquiries into the London fish supply at Billingsgate, but they were unsatisfactory, as there is no register kept there of the quantity sold. Each of the wholesale men can give an idea of the total number or quantity of fish consigned to him; but even if the whole body of salesmen were to give such statistics, it would only, after all, represent a portion of the London supply, because much of the fish required for the London commissariat is sent direct by railway to private dealers. But London, although it requires a very large total of fish, seldom obtains all that its citizens could eat, nor does it by any means get all that are captured, or that are imported. Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool, and other large towns in England; and Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dundee, and Aberdeen, in Scotland, require likewise to be supplied. And besides this home demand, we send considerable quantities of our white fish to the Continent, especially in a dried or prepared state. The fishermen of the Shetland Isles, for instance, cure largely for the Spanish and other Continental markets. Finnan haddocks and pickled cod can be so prepared as to bear shipment to a long distance, and kippered salmon are found on sale everywhere, as are also pickled and smoked herrings.

The natural history of our white fish, as I have already said, is but imperfectly known. As an instance of the very limited knowledge we possess of the natural history of even our most favourite fishes, I may state that at a meeting of the British Association a few years ago, a member who read an interesting paper On the Sea Fisheries of Ireland, introduced specimens of a substance which the Irish fishermen considered to be spawn of the turbot; stating that wherever this substance was found trawling was forbidden; the supposed spawn being in reality a kind of sponge, with no other relation to fish except as being indicative of beds of mollusca, the abundance of which marks that fish are plentiful. It follows that the stoppage of the trawl on the grounds where this kind of squid is found is the result of sheer ignorance, and causes the loss in all likelihood of great quantities of the best white fish. It is not easy to say when the GadidÆ are in proper season. Some of the members of that family are used for table purposes all the year round; and as different salmon rivers have their different close-times, so undoubtedly will the white fish of different seas or firths have different spawning seasons. In reference, for instance, to so important a fish as the turbot, we are very vaguely told by Yarrell that it spawns in the spring-time, but have no indication of the particular month during which that important operation takes place, or how long the young fish take to grow. Even a naturalist so well informed as the late Mr. Wilson was of opinion that the turbot was a travelling fish, which migrated from place to place.

The combined ignorance of naturalists and fishermen has much to do with the scarcity of white fish which is now beginning to be experienced; and unless some plan be hit upon to prevent overfishing, we may some fine morning experience the same astonishment as a country gentleman’s cook, who had given directions to the gamekeeper to supply the kitchen regularly with a certain quantity of grouse. For a number of years she found no lack, but in the end the purveyor threw down the prescribed number, and told her she need look for no more from him, for on that day the last grouse had been shot. “There they are,” said the gamekeeper, “and it has taken six of us with a gun apiece to get them, and after all we have only achieved the labour which was gone through by one man some years ago.” The cook had unfortunately never considered the relation between guns and grouse.

The GadidÆ family is numerous, and its members are valuable for table purposes; three of the fishes of that genus are particularly in request—viz. whiting, cod, and haddock. These are the three most frequently eaten in a fresh state; there are others of the family which are extensively captured for the purpose of being dried and salted, among which are the ling, the tusk, etc. The haddock (Morrhua aylefinus) has ever been a favourite fish, and the quantities of it which are annually consumed are really wonderful. Vast numbers used to be taken in the Firth of Forth, but from recent inquiries at Newhaven I am led to believe that the supply has considerably decreased of late years, and that the local fishermen have to proceed to considerable distances in order to procure any quantity.

In reference to the question, “Where are the haddocks?” which is asked on another page, it is right to say that this prime fish has more than once become scarce. I have been reminded of a time, in 1790, when three of these fish were sold for 7s. 6d. in the Edinburgh market; but although there have been from time to time sudden disappearances of the haddock from particular fishing-grounds, as indeed there have been of all fish, that is a different, a totally different matter from what the fisher folk and the public have now to complain of—viz. a yearly decreasing supply. Mr. Grieve, of the CafÉ Royal, Edinburgh, tells me that this season (August 1865), he is paying ninepence each for these fish, and is very glad to get them even at that price. I took part in a newspaper controversy about the scarcity of the haddock, and I found plenty of opponents ready to maintain that there was no scarcity, but that any quantity could be captured. In some degree that is the truth, but what is the hook-power required now to capture, “any quantity,” and how long does it take to obtain a given number, as compared with former times, when that fish was supposed to be more plentiful? Why do we require, for instance, to send to Norway and other distant places for haddocks and other white fish? the only answer I can imagine is that we cannot get enough at home. As to the general scarcity of white fish, the late Mr. Methuen, the fish-curer, wrote a year or two ago:—“This morning I am told that an Edinburgh fishmonger has bought all the cod brought into Newhaven at 5s. to 7s. each. I recollect when I cured thousands of cod at 3d. and 4d. each; they were caught between Burntisland and Kincardine, on which ground not a cod is now to be got; and at the great cod emporium of Cellardyke, the cod-fishing, instead of three score for a boat’s fishing, has dwindled down to about half-a-dozen cod.”

The old belief in the migratory habits of fish comes again into notice in connection with the haddock. Pennant having taught us that the haddock appeared periodically in great quantities about mid-winter, that theory is still believed, although the appearance of this fish in shoals may be easily explained, from the local habits of most of the denizens of the great deep. It is said that “in stormy weather, the haddock refuses every kind of bait, and seeks refuge among marine plants in the deepest parts of the ocean, where it remains until the violence of the elements is somewhat subsided.” This fish does not grow to any great size; it usually averages about five pounds. I prefer it as a table fish to the cod; the very best haddocks are taken on the coast of Ireland. The scarcity of fresh haddocks may in some degree be accounted for by the immense quantities which are converted into “Finnan haddies”—a well-known breakfast luxury no longer confined to Scotland. It is difficult to procure genuine Finnans, smoked in the original way by means of peat-reek; like everything else for which there is a great demand, Finnan haddocks are now “manufactured” in quantity; and, to make the trade a profitable one, they are cured by the hundred in smoking-houses built for the purpose, and are smoked by burning wood or sawdust, which, however, does not give them the proper goÛt. In fact the wood-smoked Finnans, except that they are fish, have no more the right flavour than Scotch marmalade would have were it manufactured from turnips instead of bitter oranges. Fifty years ago it was different; then the haddocks were smoked in small quantities in the fishing villages between Aberdeen and Stonehaven, and entirely over a peat fire. The peat-reek imparted to them that peculiar flavour which gained them a reputation. The fisher-wives along the north-east coast used to pack small quantities of these delicately-cured fish into a basket, and give them to the guard of the “Defiance” coach, which ran between Aberdeen and Edinburgh, and the guard brought them to town, confiding them for sale to a brother who dealt in provisions; and it is known that out of the various transactions which thus arose, individually small though they must have been, the two made, in the course of time, a handsome profit. The fame of the smoked fish rapidly spread, so that cargoes used to be brought by steamboat, and Finnans are now carried by railway to all parts of the country with great celerity, the demand being so great as to induce men to foist on the public any kind of cure they can manage to accomplish; indeed smoked codlings are extensively sold for Finnan haddocks. Good smoked haddocks of the Moray Firth or Aberdeen cure can seldom now be had, even in Edinburgh, under the price of sixpence per pound weight.

The common cod (Morrhua vulgaris) is, as the name implies, one of our best-known fishes, and it was at one time very plentiful and cheap. It is found in the deep waters of all our northern seas, but has never been known in the Mediterranean. It has been largely captured on the coasts of Scotland, and, as is elsewhere mentioned, it occurs in profusion on the shores of Newfoundland, where its plentifulness led to a great fishery being established. The cod is extremely voracious, and eats up most greedily the smaller inhabitants of the seas; it grows to a large size, and is very prolific in the perpetuation of its kind. A cod-roe has more than once been found to be half the gross weight of the fish, and specimens of the female have been caught with upwards of eight millions of eggs; but of course it cannot be expected that in the great waste of waters all the ova will be fertilised, or that any but a small percentage of the fish will ever arrive at maturity. This fish spawns in mid-winter, but there are no very reliable data to show when it becomes reproductive. My own opinion has already been expressed that the cod is an animal of slow growth, and I would venture to say that it is at least three years old before it is endowed with any breeding power. I may call attention here to one of the causes that must tend to render the fish scarce. As if the natural enemies of the young fish were not sufficient to aid in its extirpation, and the loss of the ova from causes over which man has no control not enough in the way of destruction, there is a commerce in cod-roe, and enormous quantities of it, as I have mentioned in the preceding chapter, are used in France as ground-bait for the sardine fishery! The roe of this fish is also frequently made use of at table; a cod-roe of from two to four pounds in weight can unfortunately be bought for a mere trifle, but it ought to cost a good few pounds instead of a few pence. I have elsewhere stated that the quantity of eggs yielded by a female cod is more than three millions: supposing only a third of them to come to life—that is one million—and that a tenth part of that number, viz. one hundred thousand, becomes in some shape—that is, either as codling or cod—fit for table uses, what should be the value of the cod-roe that is carelessly consumed at table? If each fish be taken as of the value of sixpence, the amount would be £2500. But supposing that only twenty full-grown codfish resulted from the three millions of eggs; these, at two and sixpence each, would represent the sum of fifty shillings as the possible produce of one dish, which, in the shape of cod-roe, cost only about as many farthings!

Cuvier tells us that “almost all the parts of the cod are adapted for the nourishment of man and animals, or for some other purposes of domestic economy. The tongue, for instance, whether fresh or salted, is a great delicacy; the gills are carefully preserved, to be employed as baits in fishing; the liver, which is large and good for eating, also furnishes an enormous quantity of oil, which is an excellent substitute for that of the whale, and applicable to all the same purposes; the swimming-bladder furnishes an isinglass not inferior to that yielded by the sturgeon; the head, in the places where the cod is taken, supplies the fishermen and their families with food. The Norwegians give it with marine plants to their cows, for the purpose of producing a greater proportion of milk. The vertebrÆ, the ribs, and the bones in general, are given to their cattle by the Icelanders, and by the Kamtschatkadales to their dogs. These same parts, properly dried, are also employed as fuel in the desolate steppes of the shores of the Icy Sea. Even their intestines and their eggs contribute to the luxury of the table.” I may just mention another most useful product of the codfish. Cod-liver oil is now well known in materia medica under the name of oleum jecoris aselli. The best is made without boiling, by applying to the livers a slight degree of heat, straining through thin flannel or similar texture. When carefully prepared, it is quite pure, nearly inodorous, and of a crystalline transparency. The specific gravity at temperature 64° is about ·920°. It seems to have been first used medicinally by Dr. Percival in 1782 for the cure of chronic rheumatism; afterwards by Dr. Bardsly in 1807. It has now become a popular remedy in all the slow-wasting diseases, particularly in scrofulous affections of the joints and bones, and in consumption of the lungs. The result of an extended trial of this medicine in the hospital at London for the treatment of consumptive patients shows that about 70 per cent gain strength and weight, and improve in health, while taking the cod-liver oil; and this good effect with a great many is permanent. Skate-liver oil is also coming into use for medicinal purposes, and I have no doubt that the oil obtained from some of our other fishes will also be found useful in a medicinal point of view.

The codfish is best when eaten fresh, but vast quantities are sent to market in a dried or cured state: the great seat of the cod-fishery for curing purposes is at Newfoundland. But considerable numbers of cod and ling are likewise cured on the coasts of Scotland. The mode of cure is quite simple. The fish must be cured as soon as possible after it has been caught. A few having been brought on shore, they are at once split up from head to tail, and by copious washings thoroughly cleansed from all particles of blood. A piece of the backbone being cut away, they are then drained, and afterwards laid down in long vats, covered with salt, heavy weights being placed upon them to keep them thoroughly under the action of the pickle. By and by the fish are taken out of the vat, and are once more drained, being at the same time carefully washed and brushed to prevent the collection of any kind of impurity. Next the fish are pined by exposure to the sun and air; in other words, they are bleached by being spread out individually on the sandy beach, or upon such rocks or stones as may be convenient. After this process has been gone through the fish are then collected into little heaps, which are technically called steeples. When the bloom, or whitish appearance which after a time they assume, comes out on the dried fish the process is finished, and they are then quite ready for market. The consumption of dried cod or ling is very large, and extends over the whole globe; vast quantities are prepared for the religious communities of Continental Europe, who make use of it on the fast-days instituted by the Roman Catholic Church.

Besides the common cod, there are the dorse (M. callarias), and the poor or power cod (M. minuta), also the bib or pout (M. lusca).

The whiting (Merlangus vulgaris) is another of our delicious table-fishes, which is found in comparative plenty on the British coasts. This fish is by some thought to be superior to all the other GadidÆ. Very little is known of its natural history. It deposits its spawn in March, and the eggs are not long in hatching—about forty days, I think, varying, however, with the temperature of the season. Before and after shedding its milt or roe the whiting is out of condition, and should not be taken for a couple of months. The whiting prefers a sandy bottom, and is usually found a few miles from the shore, its food being much the same as that of other fishes of the family to which it belongs. It is a smallish fish, usually about twelve inches long, and on the average two pounds in weight.

I need scarcely refer to the other members of the GadidÆ: they are numerous and useful, but, generally speaking, their characteristics are common and have been sufficiently detailed.[11] I will now, therefore, say a few words about the PleuronectidÆ. There are upwards of a dozen kinds of flat fish that are popular for table purposes. One of these is a very large fish known as the holibut (Hippoglopus vulgaris), which has been found in the northern seas to attain occasionally a weight of from three to four hundred pounds. One of this species of fish of extraordinary size was brought to the Edinburgh market in April 1828; it was seven feet and a half long, and upwards of three feet broad, and it weighed three hundred and twenty pounds! The flavour of the holibut is not very delicate, although it has been frequently mistaken for turbot by those not conversant with fish history.

The true turbot (Rhombus maximus) is the especial delight of aldermanic epicures, and fabulous sums are said to have been given at different times by rich persons in order to secure a turbot for their dinner-table. This fine fish is, or rather used to be, largely taken on our own coasts; but now we have to rely upon more distant fishing-grounds for a large portion of our supply. The old complaint of our ignorance of fish habits must be again reiterated here, for it is not long since it was supposed that the turbot was a migratory fish that might be caught at one place to-day and at another to-morrow. The late Mr. Wilson, who ought to have known better, said, in writing about this fish:—“The English markets are largely supplied from the various sandbanks which lie between our eastern coasts and Holland. The Dutch turbot-fishery begins about the end of March, a few leagues to the south of Scheveling. The fish proceed northwards as the season advances, and in April and May are found in great shoals upon the banks called the Broad Forties. Early in June they surround the island of Heligoland, where the fishery continues to the middle of August, and then terminates for the year. At the beginning of the season the trawl-net is chiefly used; but on the occurrence of warm weather the fish retire to deeper water, and to banks of rougher ground, where the long line is indispensable.”

The turbot was well known in ancient gastronomy: the luxurious Italians used it extensively, and christened it the sea-pheasant from its fine flavour. In the gastronomic days of ancient Rome the wealthy patricians were very extravagant in the use of all kinds of fish; so much so that it was said by a satirist that

The turbot is very common on the English and Scottish coasts, and is known also on the shores of Greece and Italy. This fish is taken chiefly by means of the trawl-net, but in some places it is fished for by well-baited lines. We derive large quantities of our turbot from Holland, so much as £100,000 having been paid to the Dutch in one year for the quantity of these fish which were brought to London, and on which, at one time, a duty of £6 per boat was exigible. This fish spawns during the autumn, and is in fine condition for table use during the spring and early summer. Yarrell says the turbot spawns in the spring; but, with due respect, I think he is wrong; I would not, however, be positive about this, for there will no doubt be individuals of the turbot kind, as there are of all other kinds, that will spawn all the year round. The turbot is a great flat fish. In Scotland, from its shape, it is called “the bannock-fluke.” It is about twenty inches long, and broad in proportion; and a prime fish of this species will weigh from four to eight pounds.

The best-known fish of the PleuronectidÆ is the sole (Solea vulgaris), which is largely distributed in all our seas, and used in immense quantities in London and elsewhere. The sole is too well known to require any description at my hands. It is caught by means of the trawl-net, and is in good season for a great number of months. Soles of a moderate weight are best for the table. I prefer such as weigh from three to five pounds per pair. I have been told, by those who ought to know best, that the deeper the water from which it is taken the better the sole. It is quite a ground fish, and inhabits the sandy places round the coast, feeding on the minor crustacea, and on the spawn and young of various kinds of fish. Good supplies of this popular fish are taken on the west coast of England, and they are said to be very plentiful in the Irish seas; indeed all kinds of fish are said to inhabit the waters that surround the Emerald Isle. There can be no doubt of this, at any rate, that the fishing on the Irish coasts has never been so vigorously prosecuted as on the coasts of Scotland and England—so that there has been a greater chance for the best kinds of white fish to thrive and multiply. Seaside visitors would do well to go on board some of the trawlers and observe the mode of capture. There is no more interesting way of passing a seaside holiday than to watch or take a slight share in the industry of the neighbourhood where one may be located.

The smaller varieties of the flat fish—such as Muller’s top-knot, the flounder, whiff, dab, plaice, etc.—I need not particularly notice, except to say that immense quantities of them are annually consumed in London and other cities. Mr. Mayhew, in some of his investigations, found out that upwards of 33,000,000 of plaice were annually required to aid the London commissariat! But that is nothing. Three times that quantity of soles are needed—one would fancy this to be a statistic of shoe-leather—the exact figure given by Mr. Mayhew is 97,520,000! This is not in the least exaggerated. I discussed these figures with a Billingsgate salesman a few months ago, and he thinks them quite within the mark.

I have already alluded to the natural history of the mackerel, and shall now say a word or two about the fishery, which is keenly prosecuted. The great point in mackerel-fishing is to get the fish into the market in its freshest state; and to achieve this several boats will join in the fishery, and one of their number will come into harbour as speedily as possible with the united take. The mackerel is caught in England chiefly by means of the seine-net, and much in the same way as the pilchard. A great number of this fish are however captured by means of well-baited lines, and in some places a drift-net is used. Any kind of bait almost will do for the mackerel-hooks—a bit of red cloth, a slice of one of its own kind, or any clear shiny substance. Mackerel are not quite so plentiful as they used to be.

As to when the GadidÆ and other white fish are in their proper season it is difficult to say. Their times of sickness are not so marked as to prevent many of the varieties from being used all the year round. Different countries must have different seasons. We know, for instance, that it is proper to have the close-time of one salmon river at a different date from that of some other stream that may be farther south or farther north; and I may state here, that during a visit which I made to the Tay in December last, beautiful clean salmon were then running. There are also exceptional spawning seasons in the case of individual fish, so that we are quite safe in affirming that the sole and turbot are in season all the year round. The following tabular view of the dates when our principal fishes are in season does not refer to any particular locality, but has been compiled to show that fish are to be obtained nearly all the year round from some part of the coast:—

FISH TABLE.

S denotes that the fish is in season; F in finest season; and O out of season.

There is no organisation in Scotland for carrying on the white fisheries, as there is in the case of the oyster or herring fisheries. So far as our most plentiful table fish are concerned, the supply seems utterly dependent on chance or the will of individuals. A man (or company) owning a boat goes to sea just when he pleases. In Scotland, where a great quantity of the best white fish are caught, this is particularly the case, and the consequence is that at the season of the year when the principal white and flat fish are in their primest condition, they are not to be procured; the general answer to all inquiries as to the scarcity being, “The men are away at the herring.” This is true; the best boats and the strongest and most intelligent fishermen have removed for a time to distant fishing-towns to engage in the capture of the herring, which forms, during the summer months, a noted industrial feature on the coasts of Scotland, and allures to the scene all the best fishermen, in the hope that they may gain a prize in the great herring-lottery, prizes in which are not uncommon, as some boats will take fish to the extent of two hundred barrels in the course of a week or two. Only a few decrepit old men are left to try their luck with the cod and haddock lines; the result being, as I have stated above, a scarcity of white and flat fish, which is beginning to be felt in greatly enhanced prices. An intelligent Newhaven fishwife recently informed me that the price of white fish in Edinburgh—a city close to the sea—has been more than quadrupled within the last thirty years. She remembers when the primest haddocks were sold at about one penny per pound weight, and in her time herrings have been so plentiful that no person would purchase them. We shall not soon look again on such times.

The cod and haddock fishery is a laborious occupation. At Buckie, a quaint fishing-town on the Moray Firth, which I will by and by describe, it is one of the staple occupations of the people. At that, little port there are generally about thirty or forty large boats engaged in the fishery, as well as a number of smaller craft used to fish inshore. These boats, which measure from thirty to forty feet, are, with the necessary hooks and lines, of the value of about £100. Each boat is generally the property of a joint-stock company, and has a crew of eight or nine individuals, who all claim an equal share in the fish captured. The Buckie men often go a long distance, forty or fifty miles, to a populous fishing-place, and are absent from home for a period of fifteen or twenty hours. At many of the fishing villages from which herring or cod boats depart, there is no proper harbour, and at such places the sight of the departing fleet is a most animated one, as all hands, women included, have to lend their aid in order to expedite the launching of the little fleet, as the men who are to fish must be kept dry and comfortable. Even at places where there is a harbour, it is often not used, many of the boats being drawn up for convenience on what is called the boat-shore. At Cockenzie, near Edinburgh, several of the boats are still drawn up in this rude way, and the women not only assist in launching and drawing up the boats, but they sell the produce taken by each crew by auction to the highest bidder—the purchasers usually being buyers on speculation, who send off the fish by train to Edinburgh, Manchester, or London.

From the little ports of the Moray Firth, the men, as I have said, have to go long distances to fish for cod and ling. As they have none but open boats, it will easily be understood that they live hard upon such occasions. They are sometimes absent from home for about a week at a stretch, and as the weather is often very inclement the men suffer severely. The fish are not so easily procured as in former years, so that the remuneration for the labour undergone is totally inadequate. A large traffic in living codfish used to be carried on from Scotland; quick vessels furnished with wells took the cod alive as far as Gravesend, whence they were sent on to London as required. Although the railways have put an end to a good deal of this style of transport, some cargoes of cod have been carried alive all the way from the Rockall fishery to Gravesend. But the percentage of waste is necessarily enormous: however, it pays to do this, and one result of the Rockall discovery has been the starting of a joint-stock company to work one of the large North Sea fisheries. The cod-bank at the Faroe Islands is now about exhausted; but the gigantic cod-fishery which has been carried on for two centuries on the banks of Newfoundland still continues to be prosecuted with great enterprise, although, according to reliable information, not with the success which characterised the fishery some years ago. In a few years more it will be quite possible to make a decided impression even on the cod-banks of Newfoundland. The Great Dogger Bank fishery has now become affected by overfishing, and the Rockall Bank fails to yield anything like the large “takes” with which it rewarded those who first despoiled it of its finny treasures. A gentleman who dabbles a little in fishing speculations writes me—“In 1862, I sent a fine smack to Rockall, and fish were in great plenty—some very large; but the weather is usually so bad, and the bank so exposed to the heavy seas of the North Atlantic, that the best and largest vessels fail to fish with profit in consequence of the wear and tear and delay. This will account in some degree for the cessation of enterprise as regards the Rockall fishery.” A writer in the Quarterly Review, a few years ago, said of the Dogger Bank:—“No better proof that its stores are failing could be given than the fact that, although the ground, counting the Long Bank and the north-west flat in its vicinity, covers 11,800 square miles, and that in fine weather it is fished by the London companies with from fifteen to twenty dozen of long lines, extending ten or twelve miles, and containing from 9000 to 12,000 hooks, it is not yet at all common to take even as many as fourscore of fish of a night—a poverty which can be better appreciated when we learn that 600 fish for 800 hooks is the catch for deep-sea fishing about Kinsale.” I cannot say much about the white-fish fisheries of Ireland from personal knowledge, but I have been informed on good authority that the coast fisheries of that country are not half worked, and consequently are not in such an exhausted state as those of Scotland and England. The west coast of Ireland, from Galway Bay to Erris Head north, and north-west to Donegal Bay, is said to contain all the best kinds of table fish in great quantities—mackerel being plentiful in their season, as are cod, hake, ling, and others of the GadidÆ. As for turbot, they can be had everywhere, and have been so plentiful as to be used for bait on the long lines set for haddock, etc. Lobsters and other shell-fish can likewise be procured in any quantity. If the accounts given of the abundance of white fish on the Irish coasts are to be relied upon, there must be a rare field there for the opening up of new fishing enterprises.

Prolific as our coast fisheries have been, and still are, comparatively speaking, the North Sea is at present the grand reservoir from which we obtain our white fish. Indeed, it has been the great fish-preserve of the surrounding peoples since ever there was a demand for this kind of food. All the best-known fishing banks are to be found in the German Ocean—Faroe, Loffoden, Shetland, and others nearer home—and its waters, filling up an area of 140,000 square miles, teem with the best kinds of fish, and give employment to thousands of people, as well in their capture and cure as in the building of the ships, and the development of the commerce which is incidental to all large enterprises.

It will doubtless be interesting to my readers to know something about the general machinery of fish-capture, so far as regards the British sea-fisheries. The modern cod-smack, clipper-built for speed, with large wells for carrying her live fish, costs £1500. She usually carries from nine to eleven men and boys, including the captain. Her average expense per week is £20 during the long-line season in the North Sea; but it exceeds this much if unfortunate in losing lines. Fishing has of late been a most uncertain venture. The line is chiefly used for the purpose of taking cod and haddock. The number of lines taken to sea in an open boat depends upon the number of men belonging to the particular vessel. Each man has a line of 50 fathoms (300 feet) in length; and attached to each of these lines are 100 “snoods,” with hooks already baited with mussels, pieces of herring or whiting. Each line is laid “clear” in a shallow basket or “scull”—that is, it is so arranged as to run freely as the boat shoots ahead. The 50-fathom line, with 100 hooks, is in Scotland termed a “taes.” If there are eight men in a boat the length of line will be 400 fathoms (2400 feet), with 800 hooks (the lines being tied to each other before setting). On arriving at the fishing-ground the fishermen heave overboard a cork buoy, with a flagstaff fixed to it about six feet in height. The buoy is kept stationary by a line, called the “pow-end,” reaching to the bottom of the water, and having a stone or small anchor fastened to the lower end. To the pow-end is also fastened the fishing-line, which is then “paid” out as fast as the boat sails, which may be from four to five knots an hour. Should the wind be unfavourable for the direction in which the crew wish to set the line they use the oars. When the line or taes is all out the end is dropped, and the boat returns to the buoy. The pow-end is hauled up with the anchor and fishing-line attached to it. The fishermen then haul in the line with whatever fish may be on it. Eight hundred fish might be taken (and often have been) by eight men in a few hours by this operation; but many fishermen now say that they consider themselves very fortunate when they get a fish on every five hooks on an eight-taes line. Many a time too the fish are all eaten off the line by “dogs” and other enemies, so that only a few fragments and a skeleton or two remain to show that fish have been caught. The fishermen of deck-welled cod-bangers use both hand-lines and long-lines such as have been described. The cod-bangers’ tackling is of course stronger than that used in open boats. The long-lines are called “grut-lines,” or great-lines. Every deck-welled cod-banger carries a small boat on deck for working the great-lines in moderate weather. This boat is also provided with a well, in which the fish are kept alive till they arrive at the banger, when they are transferred from the small boat’s well to that of the larger vessel.

Hungry codfish will seize any kind of bait, and great-lines are usually baited with bits of whiting, herring, haddock, or almost any kind of fish. For hand-lines the fishermen prefer mussels or white whelks. White whelks are caught by a line on which is fastened a number of pieces of carrion or cod-heads. This line is laid along the bottom where whelks are known to abound. The whelks attach themselves to the cod-heads, and are pulled up, put into net bags, something like onion-nets, and placed in the well of the vessel, where they are kept alive till required for use. Another kind of bait used by the boat fishermen for hand-lines is that of the lugworm. The “lug” is a sand-worm, from four to five inches long, and about the thickness of a man’s finger. The head part of the worm is of a dark brown fleshy substance, and is the part used as bait, the rest of the worm being nothing but sand. The “lug” is dug from the sand with a small spade or three-pronged fork.

The principal fishing-grounds in the North Sea where cod-bangers are employed are the Dogger Bank, Well Bank, and Dutch Bank. The fishing-ground of the open-boat fishermen is on the coasts of Fife, Midlothian, and Berwickshire; for haddocks, cod, ling, etc., it is around the island of May and the Bell Rock, Marrbank, Murray Bank, and Montrose Pits, etc.

The Scottish fishing-boats, with a few exceptions, are all open; but whilst the open boats are a subject of dispute, they are an undoubted convenience to the men. The boats, as a general rule, seldom go far from home except to the seat of some particular fishery, and being low in the build the nets are easily paid out and hauled in when they are so fortunate as to obtain a good haul of fish. The Scottish fishery is mostly what may be called a local or shore fishery, as the boats go out and come home, with a few exceptions, once in the twenty-four hours. A few boats with a half deck have been introduced of late years, and in these the fishermen can make a much longer voyage; but, as a rule, the Scottish fishermen have not, like their English brethren, a comfortable decked lugger in which to prosecute their labours. In the event of a storm the open Scottish boats are poorly off, as some of their harbours are at such times totally inaccessible, and the boats being unable, from their frail construction, to run out to sea, are frequently driven upon the rocky coasts and wrecked, the men being drowned or killed among the rocks. It is gratifying to think that a good number of harbours of refuge have lately been constructed, and that in particular an extensive one is being at present erected at Wick, the seat of the great herring fishery. I have more than once, while conducting inquiries into the fishing industries of the United Kingdom, seen the storm break upon the herring-fleet while it was engaged in the fishery. Such scenes are terribly sublime, as boat after boat is engulphed by the ravening waters, or is dashed against the rocky pillars of the shore, and the men sucked into the deep by the powerful waves. The sea is free to all, without tax and without rent, but the price paid in human life is a terrible equivalent:—“It is only they who go down to the sea in ships who see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep.”

There has been a large amount of exaggeration as to the injury done to the white-fish fishery by the trawls. Fishermen who have neither the capital nor the enterprise to engage in trawling themselves are sure to abuse those who do; but the trawl is so formidable as to have induced various French writers to advocate its prohibition. They describe this instrument of the fishery as terrible in its effects, leaving, when it is used, deep furrows in the bottom of the sea, and crushing alike the fry and the spawn; but there is a very evident exaggeration in this charge, because as a general rule the beam-trawl cannot be worked with safety except on a sandy or muddy bottom, and, so far as we know, fish prefer to spawn on ground that is slightly rocky or weedy, so that the spawn may have something to adhere to, which it evidently requires in order to escape destruction; and when a quantity of spawn is discerned on a bit of seaweed or rock, we always find that, from some viscid property of which it is possessed, it adheres to its resting-place with great tenacity. The trawl-net, however destructive its agency, cannot, I fear, be dispensed with; and, used at proper seasons and at proper places, is the best engine of capture we can have for the kinds of fish which it is employed to secure. The trawl is very largely used by English fishermen, but it is only of late years that the trawlers have come so far north as Sunderland and Berwick, and it is the fishermen of these places who have got up the cry about that net being so injurious to the fisheries. In Scotland there are no resident trawlers, the fisheries being chiefly of the nature of a coasting industry, where the men, as a general rule, only go out to sea for a few hours and then return with their capture. Having been frequently on board of the trawling ships, I may perhaps be allowed to set down a few figures indicative of the power of the great beam-net.

A trawler, then, is a vessel of about 35 tons burden, and usually carries 7 persons—viz. 5 men and 2 apprentices—as a crew to work her.[13] The trawl-rope is 120 fathoms in length and 6 inches in circumference, and to this rope are attached the different parts of the trawling apparatus—viz. the beam, the trawl-heads, bag-net, ground-rope, and span or bridle. The trawler is furnished with a capstan for hauling in this heavy machine. The beam, a spar of heavy elm wood, is 38 feet in length, and 2 feet in circumference at the middle, and is made to taper to the ends. Two trawl-heads (oval rings, 4 feet by 2½ feet) are fixed to the beam, one at each end. The upper part of the bag-net, which is about 100 feet long, is fastened to the beam, while the lower part is attached to the ground-rope. The ends of the ground-rope are fastened to the trawl-beds, and being quite slack, the mouth of the bag-net forms a semicircle when dragged over the ground. The whole apparatus is fastened to the trawl-rope by means of the span or bridle, which is a rope double the length of the beam, and of a thickness equal to the trawl-rope. Each end of the span is fastened to the beam, and to the loop thus formed the trawl-rope is attached. The ground-rope is usually an old rope, much weaker than the trawl-rope, so that, in the event of the net coming in contact with any obstruction in the water, the ground-rope may break and allow the rest of the gear to be saved. Were the warp to break instead of the ground-rope, the whole apparatus, which is of considerable value, would be left at the bottom. The trawler, as I noted while the net was in the water, usually sails at the rate of 2 or 2½ knots an hour. The best depth of water for trawling is from 20 to 30 fathoms, with a bottom of mud or sand. At times, however, the nets are sunk much deeper than this, but that is about the depth of water over the great Silver Pits, 90 miles off the Humber, where a large number of the Hull trawlers go to fish. When they are caught, the fish (chiefly soles and other flat fish) are then packed in baskets called pads, and are preserved in ice until brought to market. To take twelve or fourteen pads a day is considered excellent fishing. Besides these ground-fish the trawl often encloses haddocks, cod, and other round fish, when such happen to be feeding on the bottom. It sometimes happens that the beam falls to the ground, and, the ground-rope lying on the top of the bag-net, no fish can get in. This accident, which, however, seldom occurs, is called a back fall. Mr. Vivian of Hull, in a letter to the editor of a Manchester newspaper, gave two years ago a very graphic account of the trawl-fishing, and stated that 99 out of every 100 turbot and brills, nine-tenths of all the haddocks, and a large proportion of all the skate, which are daily sold in the wholesale fishmarkets of this country are caught by the system of trawling. Trawling is without doubt the most efficient mode of getting the white fish at the bottom of the ocean; and were it made penal, London and the large towns would at times be entirely without fish. As a matter of course, trawling must exhaust the shoals at particular places. A fleet of upwards of 100 smacks, each with a beam nearly 40 feet long, trawling night and day, disturbs, frightens, or captures whatever fish are to be found in that locality, entrapping, besides, shell-fish, anchors, stores that have been sunken with ships ages ago; even a wedge of gold has been brought up by this insatiable instrument. The only remedy is to widen the field of action.

It is best, however, in a case of dispute, as in this trawl question, to allow those interested to speak for themselves. I have gone over an immense mass of the evidence taken by a recent commission appointed by Parliament to make inquiry on the subject, and will set some parts of it before my readers, so that, if a little trouble be taken in weighing the pros and cons of the matter, they may be able to form their own judgment on this vexed question. A Cullercoats fisherman is very strong against the beam-trawl. He is certain that thirty years ago we could get double the quantity of fish, during the fishing season, that we obtain now, and that the supply has fallen away little by little; and he says that even ten years ago it was almost as good as it was thirty years ago. Some years hence England will cry out for want of fish if trawling be allowed to go on. The price of fish has doubled, he says, of late years. “When I was a young man, there were nine in family of us, and my wife could purchase haddock for twopence which would serve for our dinners. Now she could not obtain the same quantity for less than ninepence or tenpence. Of recent years the number of fishermen and fishing-boats has greatly increased. I do not think the fishermen of the present day are better off than those when I was a young man.” The fishermen at Cullercoats, when they trawl, use the small trawl, and fish in shallow water. Under these circumstances they do no injury. The trawlers, with the large trawl, says a Mr. Nicholson who was examined, not only sweep away the lines of the fishermen, but also destroy the fish. At Cullercoats a man engaged in the line-fishing gets all the fish on his own lines, and his wife goes to town and disposes of them. The beam-trawling commenced about six years ago. The number of boats and the fishing population still go on steadily increasing. Beam-trawling does two kinds of harm: in the first place, it sweeps away the fishermen’s lines; and next, it destroys the spawn. “There may be a remedy for a fisherman losing his lines, but I never heard of it. I am aware that they could recover damages, but the difficulty is to get hold of the offending parties. The only remedy I can suggest is to do away with the trawl-fishing altogether.” This witness stated that ten years ago he used to take sixty or seventy codfish per day, and that now he cannot get one. The trawlers, being able to fish in all weathers, beat the local fishermen out of the field.

Templeman, a South Shields fisherman, says that when engaged in trawling he has drawn up three and a half tons of fish-spawn! He also says in his evidence that in trawling one-half of the fish are dead and so hashed as to be unfit for market. Has seen a ton and a half of herring-spawn offered for sale as manure. The take of fish upon the Dogger Bank has decreased very much. The fishermen cannot catch one quarter part there now that they used to do. The number of trawl-boats on the Dogger Bank has increased about 10 per cent within the last year, and yet they are getting about a quarter less fish. Some of them can scarcely make a living now at all. They have impoverished all other places, and now they have come here, and in a short time there will not be a fish left. It is the same with the other fish-banks, and that accounts for the trawlers now coming to this neighbourhood. They have destroyed the Hartlepool and Sunderland ground, and now they have come to a small patch off here, and they will sweep it clean too. A trawl-boat will sometimes catch five tons a day; but on the average a ton and a half; but as a great deal of that has to be thrown overboard, they only bring about ten cwt. to market. The boats belonging to Cullercoats, carrying the same number of hands as the trawlers, only catch upon the average about five stones. The fish caught in the trawl are not fit for the market, as the insides are broke and the galls burst and running through them. “If I had my way, I would pass an Act of Parliament to do away with trawling, and oblige every man to fish with hooks and lines. I think that would increase the quantity of fish for the country, because the young fish would not take the hooks. I am not aware that if the small boats get five stones a day it would at all diminish the supply of fish for the market; but if the trawling is allowed to continue that very soon will.”

Thomas Bolam, on being examined, said: “I have followed the herring-fishing for twenty-one years, and the white-fishing six years. In the course of those six years I have found that the supply of white fish has gradually diminished both in the number and size of the fish. In twenty years’ experience in the herring-fishing I find a fearful diminution in the total quantity caught. The shoals of herring are now only about one-third the size they were when I first commenced the fishing. At that time we used to get 14,000 or 15,000; now the length of 4000 or 5000 is thought a good take. I attribute the falling-off to the existence of the trawling system.”

Many other fishermen gave similar evidence. A fisherman named Bulmer, residing at Hartlepool, said that the white fish were not only scarcer, but that they were deteriorating in size as well. The falling off in quantity has decidedly been accompanied by a smaller size, more particularly in haddocks. Haddocks, twenty years ago, were caught from five pounds to six pounds in weight; now they hardly average three pounds. There is scarcely a single cod to be caught now, and formerly our boats got them scores together, and had to trail them out in rows, and could only sell them for about 10s. a score; now they realise at Christmas 5s. and 6s. each. “Of turbot-fishing I am sorry to speak. It pains me to think of the injuries we have sustained in this particular fishing by trawlers. At present we dare not cast our nets, as they are sure to be lost. I lost two ‘fleets’ of turbot-nets worth £25. About twenty-six years ago I have caught two hundred turbot in one day: now there are none to be got.” Another resident gave similar evidence, and thought that if trawling was persisted in their noble bay would soon be fallow ground. John Purvis of Whitburn also says that haddocks have decreased in size as well as in quantity—thinks they are at least a third smaller now as compared with former years. Considers that the trawling system has caused the diminution of fish which has taken place during the last four years. David Archibald of Croster had bought trawled fish not for food, as they were only fit to be used as bait.

Having given a fair sample of the evidence against the trawling system, it will be but just that we now hear the other side of the case. It is unfortunate, of course, that we cannot obtain really impartial evidence on this vexed question, as the party complaining is the party said to have had their fishery prospects ruined by the use of the beam-trawl, whilst the trawlers, of course, won’t hear a bad word said of the engine by which they gain their living. A Torbay fisherman, accustomed to trawling for the last twenty-six years, flatly contradicts much that has been said against the trawl-net. He asserts that he never took or saw any spawn taken, and that only about half a hundredweight in each two tons of the fish taken is unfit for the market. He does not think the fish are decreasing either in quantity or size.

John Clements, a trawl-net fisherman from Hull, was one of the men examined at Sunderland; his evidence was as follows:—“I have followed trawling for twenty-six years. I have fished down here for ten years. There was no diminution of fish at Hull; but we land it easier here, and in a better condition for the market. I never noticed any spawn in the nets, but I have got a basket or two of small fish, which, when not fit for food, we throw away. In the ten years which I have come down here I have found an increase in the quantity and take. I think trawling increases the fish, as the trawl-net turns up the food of the fish, worms and slugs, and the fish follow the net like a swarm of crows after a harrow. I do not think that we disturb the spawn in that way. This morning there were two or three haddocks broken out of sixteen or seventeen baskets, each basket containing seven or eight stones. The trawl-net fish do not fetch such a good price as the line fish, but it is from the quantity and not the quality. We have added to the enjoyment of the people of this town by the good supply of fish we have given them. Twenty years ago a month’s catch was about £50, and now it is from £80 to £120; and this is not from the better price, but the greater quantity which we are enabled to get by going farther out to sea with the larger boats. In the winter time I fish on Dogger Bank, and in summer inshore. I never came across any of the long-line nets. I have found herring-spawn in haddocks; but I have never found any in the net. We catch a good deal of sand here. It comes in as soon as we stop; but it falls through before we get the net to the surface of the water. The farther off we go the more haddocks we get; and the nearer we come to the shore the more soles we get. I have caught a good deal of cod. In one instance I caught one hundred and eight cods in a haul. That was forty miles off Flambro’ Head. My nets have been examined officially only once in twelve years. The shorter the haul the better the fish; but I have had the fish in splendid condition with a large haul. I have never had any fish damaged by having the gall-bladder burst. A gall-bladder may be burst, but we would not see it unless we opened the fish.”

A Hull trawler spoke to the following effect:—“I never saw any spawn in the net. It is impossible for spawn to be caught in the net. There is often unmarketable fish, but it is only when there is a strong breeze and a difficulty in getting the gear on board. We generally get seven or eight hampers in a haul, and one basket would perhaps be unfit for the market. The hooked fish is a more saleable fish, as it has got the scales and slime on it, and the trawl fish has not got the slime on it, and the scales are sometimes rubbed off.” Some haddocks were here produced which the witness said were a fair specimen. The scales were on them, and on one being opened the inside was found to be in a unbroken state.

The following is a summary of the evidence given by William Dawson, a very intelligent fisherman of Newbiggin, who spoke from fifty years’ experience:—“He had fished cod, ling, turbot, and several kinds of shell-fish, but not oysters. He was still engaged as a fisherman. He fished with a line for soles. The number of fishermen and boats had increased. In 1808 there were eight boats, and there are now about thirty boats. Fifty years ago the boats were about one-third the size. The boats carried just about the same lines as now. The boats now carry about three times as much net as they did. The number of white fish is falling off a great deal. In 1812 every boat brought in more white fish than they could carry. We do not go much more frequently to sea now. In the size of the fish now there is not much difference—a little smaller. The haddock and herring fisheries had decreased. He had not noticed much difference in the size, only in the quantity. There was a greater number of boats engaged now in the herring-fishing—the number of herring having decreased within the last ten or twelve years. Little mackerel was caught there. Large quantities of mackerel were off this coast at times, but they had no nets to take them. Although a good many sprats were seen, they did not try to catch them. The cause of the falling off in the quantity of fish he considered was their being destroyed farther south. No trawling vessels came here till last summer. They went about twelve miles from land, and trawled in the fishing-ground. The lines of the fishing-boats were parallel, and about a quarter of a mile apart. When there was a south-east storm they got plenty of fish, but it was not so now. With a north-east storm they had plenty of fish. In his recollection, fifty years back, there was plenty of fish with a south-east storm. There had been no interference with their nets, and no one had regulated the times of fishing. There might be some advantage if the government made a law to prevent either the English or French fishing from Saturday morning to Monday night. That would give time for the fish to draw together. That alluded to herring. They should not allow the trawl-boats to fish on the coasts. The French boats often came within three miles of the land. Herring are caught within three miles of the shore. The French boats shifted with the herring along the coast, and have caught a great quantity. There should be a rule that herring-nets should not be shot before sunset. When the Queen’s cutters came the French boats made off to more than three miles from the land. Lobsters had diminished, but not the crabs. He believed they had caught too many lobsters. The boat’s crew is not so well off now as thirty years ago. Lodgings were better. They do not earn so much money now. In the course of a year (about 1825) he made £126, and a few years back he made only £78. The average for the last five years at the white fishing was about £50. Other £50 might be made at the herring-fishing. The buoys of the lines were large enough for the trawlers to see them, and they could see where the nets were. They destroyed both the fish and the lines. A line boat with fittings costs about £40, and a herring-boat with nets not less than £100. The men bought the boats with money saved. Little fish was destroyed on their lines, except what was eaten by the dogfish. There were herring there in January and February, but were not caught. Their boats fished between Tynemouth and Dunstanborough castles. He could remember when there were no French boats on the coast; they first came about 1824. The French boats fish on the Sundays. Their boats did not. A young man ought to earn £100 a year. It would cost a full third to keep his boat and tackling up. The boats lasted about fourteen years.”

I need not go on repeating similar evidence, but the witnesses were nearly all agreed that the beam-trawl did not do the injury to the fisheries that was charged against it, especially as regards injury to spawn. I may perhaps, by way of conclusion to this contradictory evidence, be allowed to quote from the Times a portion of a letter on trawling, written by a “Billingsgate Salesman:”—“Seven years’ experience in Billingsgate, and my lifetime previous spent among the fishermen in a seaport-town, may enable me to offer a few remarks, which through your able abilities may be sifted, and perhaps leave a portion of matter which you may consider of some value and turn to some account. My personal interest is not only in trawl-fishing, but hook and line, seined-net, drift-net, and other kinds; for, being a commission agent, it is all fish that comes to my net. I cannot speak of the qualities of trawl-net fishing, either for or against, not having been connected with that branch of the trade, but after a remark or two on the information received by Mr. Fenwick, and which is conveyed in your columns from certain gentlemen professing to have a knowledge of the trade, I will give you my information as briefly as possible. The fact is this—it never will be possible to catch what we consider trawl-fish in sufficient quantities to meet the demand but by the trawl, the principal kinds being turbot, brill, soles, and plaice. A small quantity may be taken by other means, but more by accident than otherwise. As for trawl-fish being mutilated and putrid before landing, how does it happen that so many spotless and pure fish, out of the above kinds, are not only sold in London but all over the country, and exhibited on the tables both of rich and poor? Yourself and every nobleman can speak on this point; and when informed that they are all caught by the trawl (a fact undeniable), you will consider it wrong on the part of any one to mislead the public on a matter of so much importance. Advise him to fathom the secrets of the ocean, and discover a better mode to obtain them.”

A great deal of obloquy has been thrown on the trawl, because it hashes the fish; but the destruction of young fish—that is, fish unfit for human food because of their being young—is not peculiar to the trawl. When the lines are thrown out for cod the fishermen cannot command that only full-grown fish are to seize upon the bait: the tender codling, the unfledged haddock, the greedy mackerel will bite—the consequence being that thousands of sea-fish are annually killed that are unfit for food, and that have never had an opportunity of adding to their kind. But this mischance is incidental to all our fisheries, no matter what the engine of capture may be, whether net or line. Look how we slaughter our grilses, without giving them the opportunity of breeding! The herring-fishing is a notable example of this mode of doing business: the very time that these animals come together to perpetuate their species is the time chosen by man to kill them. Of course if they are to be used as food, they must be killed at some time, and the proper time to capture them forms one of those fishing mysteries which we have not as yet been able to solve. We protect the salmon with many laws at the most interesting time of its life, and why we should not be able to devise a close-time for the cod, turbot, haddock, and sole of particular coasts—for each portion of the coast has its particular season—is what I cannot understand, and can only account for the anomaly on the ground of salmon being private property.

The labour of the Scottish fishermen is greatly augmented by the want of good harbours for their boats. Time and opportunity serving, the men of the fisher class are really industrious, and this want of proper harbourage is a hardship to them. It is curious to notice the little quarry-holes that on some parts of the Moray Firth serve as a refuge for the boats. There is the harbour of Whitehills, for instance: it could not be of any possible use in the event of a stiff gale arising, for in my opinion the boats would never get into it, but would be dashed to pieces on the neighbouring rocks. I have witnessed one or two storms on the north-east coast of Scotland, and shall never forget the scenes of misery these tumults of the great deep occasioned. Even lately (October 1864) there was a storm raging along these coasts that left most impressive death-marks at nearly all the fishing places on the Moray Firth. I was not an eye-witness of this last gale, but I have gathered from various sources, oral and written, one or two passages descriptive of its violence and the loss of life it occasioned.

At Portessie, one of the Moray Firth villages, a boat called the Shamrock, containing a crew of nine men, was numbered among the lost. It had sailed on a Wednesday morning in October 1864, for the fishing-ground known as “the Bank,” about twenty miles off. John Smith, the principal owner of the boat, an old man, was not at the time able to go to sea; but he had seven sons, and five of these, with four near relatives, sailed in the ill-fated Shamrock from Portessie harbour on that fatal morning. The Shamrock was accompanied by some other boats belonging to the same place, and the little fleet left as early as three A.M., keeping together more or less until they reached the fishing-ground. On arriving at the Bank the Shamrock, it appears, had separated from the others, the crew preferring to go some distance in order to cast their lines; and she had not been seen by the other boats after parting from them. About seven o’clock on the following morning, some of the people of Whitehills, on going round to the spot known as Craigenroan, a quarter of a mile to the westward, were alarmed at seeing a boat lying high and dry among the rocks, as if it had been tossed up at high tide and left perched there on the receding of the waters. The mast, some oars, and other articles, were seen lying here and there beside her, strewn among the rocks, and there were holes seen in her sides—evidence only too conclusive that the boat was a wreck. A closer inspection discovered her mark and number—“B.F., 743,” and then was also seen the name and unmistakable designation, “Shamrock, Pt. Essie—J, Smith.” On examination it was conjectured, from the way in which the mast had been wrenched off, that the boat had foundered, either some distance at sea, or among inshore breakers, righting again as she was beaten up on the rocks, where, as we have said, she was found sitting high and dry on her keel. It was at once felt that all the crew had perished, and the bodies of the men were eagerly sought for by their friends and relatives. On Friday, the lifeless body of John Smith, “Bodie,” was found washed up on the beach. On the same day the corpse of his son, a young man who was to have been married in a week—and whose house, like that of a friend and namesake, was being furnished at home—was cast ashore at Whitehills, and one of the first to recognise the body was the father of the betrothed. Another body was got at the mouth of the little burn at the further end of the Boyndie Links. This also was on Friday: it was found to be the remains of one of the five brothers—namely John, aged twenty-five, the namesake alluded to, who was to have been married on the morrow. The body of another of the five brothers—namely William—was found floating in the bay, off Banff Harbour, lashed to a buoy, to which the poor fellow had attached himself, probably in the boat, for safety. At one time the body was seen in this position at Whitehills, suspended from the buoy, and so close to the shore that had a grappling-iron been at hand it might have been secured. It would have been of no avail, however, as the vital spark had long since fled; but the passage of the body, drawn back with the tide and carried round to Banff, served to reconcile certain apparently conflicting evidences as to the history of the wreck, or rather as to the spot where it occurred.

On the occasion of this storm there was deep wailing at Buckie, for in that town there was more than one woman who was widowed by the tempest. Of necessity a fisherman’s wife is extremely masculine in character. Her occupation makes her so, because she requires a strength of body which no other female attains, and of which the majority of men cannot boast. The long distances she has frequently to travel in all weathers with her burden, weighing many stones, make it essential for her to possess a sturdy frame, and be capable of great physical endurance. Accordingly, most of the fishwives who carry on the sale of their husbands’ fish possess a strength with which no prudent man would venture to come into conflict. Then the nature of their calling makes them bold in manners, and in speech rough and ready. Having to encounter daily all sorts of people, and drive hard bargains, their wits, though not refined, are sharpened to a keen edge, and they are more than a match for any “chaff” directed towards them either by purchaser or passer-by. So long, however, as they are civilly and properly treated, they are civil and fair-spoken in return, and can, when occasion serves, both flatter and please in a manner by no means offensive. Altogether, the Scottish fishwife is an honest, out-spoken, good-hearted creature, rough as the occupation she follows, but generally good-natured and what the Scotch call “canty.” She does not even want feeling, though, it may be, her avocation gives her little opportunity to show it. But who is so often called upon to endure the strongest emotions of fear, suspense, and sorrow, as the fisherman’s wife? Every time the wind blows, and the sea rises, when the boats of her husband or kinsfolk are “out,” she knows no peace till they are in safety; and not seldom has she been doomed to stand on the shore and look at the white foaming sea in which the little boat, containing all she held dear, was battling with the billows, with the problem of its destruction or salvation all unsolved.

To return to the history of the storm. No less than twenty-seven boats belonging to Buckie had left for the fishing, some of them as early as two o’clock in the morning. Some hours previous to the boats leaving, there were indications of the coming storm. A heavy surf was rolling on the coast, but almost unaccompanied by wind, only slight airs now and again coming from the north, but the barometer had fallen considerably during the night. With these indications of bad weather, the men on duty at the Coast Guard station hailed the Portessie men when on their way to join their boats at Buckie harbour, and warned them of the likelihood of a storm overtaking them. Little heed, however, appears to have been given to this warning, and the boats left the harbour with more than usual difficulty, the sea at the entrance being so rough. The boats pursued a north-east course, but from the absence of a breeze the oars had to be resorted to, and nearly twelve hours elapsed before they got to the fishing rendezvous. In ordinary circumstances, with a good wind, the boats would have reached the fishing-ground in about three hours, and would have returned by the next tide—about mid-day. About six P.M. the storm broke upon the fishermen with great violence. The majority of the boats kept close together, and as the first of the gale was succeeded by comparative calm, the crews, imagining that they had seen the worst of the storm, began to finish their fishing. This would have occupied about an hour, but, before it was half accomplished, the wind, veering rather more to the north, blew a perfect hurricane, and the sea became so disturbed that it was hardly possible to manage the boats. The sails, which had been hoisted when the wind first sprang up, were reduced, some of them by as many as six reefs, but the experience and energy of the hardy fishermen seemed scarce sufficient to battle successfully for existence among the warring elements. Some of the crews in this strait made for the Banff coast; others made up their minds to endeavour to ride out the storm, and a good number ran for Cromarty, or the ports on the opposite side of the Firth. The attainment of either of these three alternatives was a work of peril, for there is no harbour of refuge on either side of the Firth to which boats may with safety run from a storm; and the broken water is about as plentiful and dangerous in the centre of the Firth as it is along the shore. While the brave fishermen were encountering the severest perils attending their calling, the anxiety and suspense of their relations were heartrending. The storm in its intensity, though its coming had been foreshadowed, was not felt on shore till about nine P.M. on Wednesday evening. From that hour, however, the wind, now from the east, and again from the north, came in terrific gusts, and the whole bay at Buckie boiled and moaned as it had been seldom known to do before.

Long before the storm was at its height, the wives and sweethearts of those at sea had become alarmed for their safety; they could well remember the desolation that a similar tempest, which occurred on the 16th August 1848, caused in their households. They left their homes to wander along the sea-beach, and peer through the storm for any sign of the approach of the boats containing their relatives. A huge fire was kindled on the top of the braes in the hope that its glare might attract those at sea, and beacon them to a safe shore. During the early part of the night the suspense and fear of the whole inhabitants of Buckie were extreme, and while this anxiety was being endured the boats that had first left the fishing-ground were nearing the land. Some of the boats for a considerable time were allowed to run before the wind, the crews not knowing whither they went, as they were not within sight of lights. When at length they got within sight of the lights very great caution had to be exercised, and a little confusion was occasioned by the unusual number of fires exhibited. Shortly after eleven o’clock a boat was seen approaching Buckie harbour, and getting a favourable opportunity of crossing the bar, it entered the harbour in safety. Two other boats followed, but these had much greater difficulty in gaining the port. The tide was at its height about two o’clock A.M., when a fourth boat approached. At the entrance to the harbour she shipped a sea, and it was thought by all on the shore that she had been upset. The same wave, however, carried the boat a considerable distance into the harbour, and as she continued in an upright position she was soon pulled to the beach, and her crew landed in safety. When the tide was fully in, it stood about twenty feet above its ordinary point, the waves breaking almost on the foundations of the Coast Guard watch-house. On the pier the water fell so heavily that it was often some feet deep, and the spray from the waves mounted to a height of about forty feet above the lighthouse. The people kept watching on the shore till daybreak, but no sign of any of the other boats was visible, and as no known casualty had occurred to the boats that made for Buckie and Portgordon, keen hopes were entertained that the remainder of the boats had found shelter on the opposite side of the Firth, or would be able to ride out the storm. The anxiety in Buckie continued during Thursday, and was rather intensified towards the afternoon when the wind, veering round to W.N.W., again heightened almost to the pitch it had reached during the previous night. Several people from the villages on both sides of Buckie came into that town in the afternoon to ascertain whether the post should bring tidings from their missing friends. With great consideration the captain of one of the boats that got into Cromarty wrote by first post to say that no casualty had occurred within his knowledge, and that a number of boats (some eight or nine) had entered Cromarty in safety, and others were approaching the harbour.

I was a witness to some of the effects of the previous great storms that had raged in the Moray Firth about the close of the year 1857. A number of fishing-boats and their crews were lost at that time, Buckie again coming in for a large share of the desolation. I have preserved a few scraps descriptive of the storm, cut, I think, from the Banffshire Journal; and these, supplemented by what I gathered personally from the descriptions of those engaged in the contest, will give my readers a good idea of the scene at Buckie. Premising that before the storm attained its culminating point one or two of the boats had got safely into the harbour, I may state that as the sea increased in anger and the waves lashed the shore in ever-augmenting fury, the excitement of those on land became terrible. People seemed disposed to run everywhere, and no one knew where to run. It was nearly an hour—sixty minutes of terrible suspense—after the two first boats came into the harbour ere any others came in sight. By and by, however, they began to appear, most of them evidently making for the sands opposite and east of the new town of Buckie, some for Craigenroan, a place of shelter east of Portessie. The attention of the Buckie people was chiefly centred in the arrivals at their own shore, as other boats were scarcely seen; and while their own boats were every now and then, from two to three o’clock, dropping in at home, there was the chance that those running for Craigenroan belonged to other towns. At two o’clock the storm had about culminated, and as the boats came each in sight (they were only seen a short way off land) there was a shriek from those assembled on the shore, while the utmost anxiety prevailed till they were each ashore and the men landed, every one providing themselves with ropes and whatever could be supposed likely to be useful in putting forth efforts to save life. The crowd ran from one point to another along the coast to whatever place it was likely the boats would strike, and most enthusiastic were the exertions made by one and all to get the imperilled men out of jeopardy, so soon as ever they came within reach. The boats, as they arrived, were secured with mooring-ropes, and a hand or two left to take care of each, while the spare men spread themselves along the beach to assist in saving the lives and property of their fellows in distress. Four boats got safely in. Alas for the fifth! About half-past two o’clock this fifth boat, like the others, without a stitch of canvas, came in sight pretty far west, and was expected to land in “The Neuk,” opposite New Buckie. Tossed mountain high at one moment, and the next down between the gigantic waves, she came along in much the same circumstances as the others. Hundreds soon gathered at the point she was expected to reach. The boats had come so near the shore that the men on board were perfectly well recognised by their friends, among whom there were wives in the greatest anxiety to rescue their husbands from the angry deep, fathers to rescue their sons, brother to welcome brother, etc. But how sad was the scene beggars all description, for within a hundred yards of the shore a tremendous sea struck the boat on her broadside, and turned her right over, as quick as a man would turn his hand, the crew of course being all cast into the water. The crowd on shore held up their hands appalled, and cried and shrieked, many of them in perfect distraction. The scene was heartrending in the extreme; but the first manifestations of grief and alarm by and by toned down to mournful wailings, although, as was to be expected, the excitement and confusion were very great. Three of the men were never seen, having at once sunk to rise no more. Two seemed to get on the bottom of the boat, but one of them very shortly disappeared. The other one, however, stood up on his feet, and put his hands to his waistcoat near the buttons, from which act it was supposed he was preparing to strip and be in readiness to swim. The situation was heightened by the interest of those on shore in seeing him in this perilous position, and the grief of his friends was intensely unspeakable when they saw the first heavy sea wash him away from the footing he had gained, and, in its rolling fury, hide him perhaps for ever from human eyes. The remaining three of the eight who were on board (the crew numbered eleven, but three had not gone to sea that day) also disappeared for a little, but in a short time they were seen floating about on spars and pieces of the masts; and hope still existed that rescue might be extended to them. They were driven from one point to another with fearful velocity, and indeed were only now and again visible. Anxiety was felt in every breast still more acutely than ever, as these three were wafted nearer and nearer the shore; and so sorely did they struggle, that, even against every probability, hope whispered that their safety was possible. For full twenty minutes they floated about in this situation, latterly coming within about twenty yards of where the people were standing—so near that, had the sea been ordinarily calm, hundreds were there who would have considered it no difficult task to rush into the water and give them their hand. One man cried to his brother to put his hair away from his eyes, when, by the motion the latter made, it was evident he heard quite distinctly. Two or three different times he obeyed, putting up his hand, and rubbing his hair over his forehead. An anxious wife actually rushed into the tide nearly to the neck, in an endeavour to rescue her husband, but her heroic effort was completely unavailing. The tide was ebbing at the time, but the waves, in terrible force, rushed far up on the beach, and swept back again with fearful power. No one could keep his footing in the water. Attempts were made to join hands and thus extend help to the unfortunate men, but, besides the weight of the water itself, the backwash of the waves hurled the gravel beach from below their feet, so that to stand on it was impossible; and even while these vain efforts were being made at rescue, the men, worn out in the raging surf, sank, one after another, amid the cries and shrieks of their despairing relatives.

The number of men drowned on the north-east coast—i.e. at Wick, Helmsdale, and Peterhead—during the great storm of 1848, was one hundred, and the value of the boats and the nets that were lost upon that remarkable occasion was at least £7000. The gale broke upon the coast on the 19th of August, just as the fishing was being busily prosecuted. Most of the boats ran for shelter to the nearest haven, and it is melancholy to know that many of them foundered at the very entrance to their harbour. The whole of the mischief was done in the brief period of three hours. In that period many a poor woman was made miserable, and many a hearth rendered cheerless. It is gratifying to think that since the date of the great storm considerable improvement has been made in the Scottish fishery harbours, and that at Wick a great harbour of refuge is now in progress. The weather prophecies now published by the Board of Trade, and telegraphed to all important seaports, are also of great use to the fisher-folk, as are the large barometers which have been erected in nearly every fishing village. These are the elements of science which will ultimately chase away superstition from our sea-coast villages, if indeed we can honestly call the poetic fancies of these fisher-folks superstitions. We cannot wonder that, as the dark remembrance of some great bereavement escapes from the chambers of their memory, they see forms in the flying clouds, or hear voices in the air, that cannot be seen or heard by landsmen unaccustomed to the treacherous waters of the great deep.

Large quantities of fish offal are used by the farmers as manure. The intestines of the herring are regularly sold for the purpose of being thrown upon the land, and I have heard of as many as three hundred barrels of haddock offal being sold from one curing-yard. It is thought by some economists that the commoner kinds of fish might be largely captured and converted into fish guano. I have not studied that part of the fishing question very deeply, but I am disposed to doubt the propriety of employing fishing vessels to capture coarse fish for manure, as I do not think it will pay to do so. In former years fish were extensively used as manure, but that was during seasons when the capture was so large as to produce a glut. I reprint, in the shape of an appendix to this volume, an account of the fish-guano manufactory at Concarneau in Finisterre, as well as some information about the fish-manure of Norway.