A few days after the dreadful gale that had wrecked whole fleets of smacks belonging to the eastern and north-eastern ports, and drowned many hundreds of fishermen, I was visited by a Hull smacksman, who came to tell me that he had lost a son in one of the vessels which had gone down on the Dogger Bank during the storm, and to inform me of the misery and destitution into which the widows and children of the poor drowned men were plunged. He told me in a rough, plain, earnest way how his son was to have been married to a young girl on his return, and how the poor lad had saved up a few pounds to purchase a little furniture for the home, which she was preparing, when the news reached her that the smack in which her sweetheart was had gone down with all hands; how, in house after house, down whole streets, there was a constant sound of wailing and moaning, with misery and hunger indoors, amongst the weeping women and the sobbing children; and, said my fisherman to me, though God knew he was a poor man, yet such was the suffering he had witnessed, so unspeakably great was the calamity that had overtaken the fishing population of Hull—and of other ports, but he spoke of Hull because he belonged to it—that, had the thirty shillings he subscribed to the fund for the relief of these widows and orphans been the last bit of money he had in the world, he must have given it and taken his chance for himself.

The subject was a deeply interesting one to me, who had lived among fishermen, written about them, knew their heroism well, their hardships, the simple-heartedness of them. We got talking about the smacksman’s life, his risks, of various features connected with his calling; and, as the subject is one that has been commended to the British public in an appeal for charity for those whom the frightful storm bereaved, I offer no excuse for repeating in print some of the observations made by this smacksman on his own vocation. His reference to what is known as the “boxing system” enabled me to lead off with my questions. The term boxing, I may say, is applied to the conveyance of fish in boats from the smacks to the steamers which bring the fish home. As the vessels fill up with fish they transfer them to steamers, which, by relieving them of their freight, enables them to remain for weeks on the fishing ground.

“Is it a fact,” I inquired, “that smacksmen object to the boxing system?”

“It is, sir,” was the reply.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous to life, sir. It keeps men working for a considerable time in open boats in all kinds of weather. It answers the owner’s purpose; he shares in the profits of carrying the fish, and it enables him to keep his vessel at sea as long as it is possible for her to remain there; and by this means the men are deprived of all home comforts and of the management of their families.”

“What is the size of the boats employed in carrying fish from the smacks to the steam cutters?”

“Well, their length’ll be about 20 ft., breadth 6 ft., and depth 3 ft.”

“And these boats the men have to launch in heavy weather?”

“Yes, often in weather that may be called heavy. The risk is increased by the peculiar circumstances under which the men are placed whilst working at the boxing system; for you’ll hear again and again of their shoving the whole of a night’s catch into the boat at once, in order to secure a quick despatch and obtain the earliest possible market.”

“How is the Dogger Bank relished as a fishing ground?”

“Well,” he replied, “it passes by the name of ‘The Cemetery’ among us. In the winter time, I don’t suppose there’s a more dangerous place in the world. With strong winds from the N.E., veering to the N.W., there come the heavy seas from the Atlantic—if you can call the ocean to the norrards of the North Sea by that name—which strike the rising ground of the bank and turn the water into a boiling caldron. It was there where the smacks went down. The seas just coiled over and fairly broke upon ’em, smothering ’em, smashing in their decks, stamping ’em out as you might grind a beetle out of sight with your heel.”

“Are your smacks supplied with barometers? I mean by that, have they any means of knowing when to expect foul weather?”

“No, sir; they’re not generally supplied. One firm owning about twenty sail of vessels, who always work on the single-boat system in winter, provide their vessels with barometers. I should think they must be very useful instruments,” said he, speaking as though he had never been shipmates with one; “and I may here add that none of those twenty vessels alluded to were lost. The majority of us smacksmen have nothing to tell the weather by except practical experience.”

“But couldn’t the admiral signal—couldn’t he, at least, be furnished with a barometer?”

“No doubt,” he replied. “But smacks get scattered, and it would be best for each master to understand the weather for himself. The admiral is more for rallying of us. He has his job cut out for him after a storm. His general scheme is to fall in with a steam carrier, and then sail to the ground from which he’s been driven by the gale, expecting the rest of the fleet to do likewise; but it often happens that many days pass before they’re able to get together, and this brings heavy losses among the fishermen, who, having no ice, are forced to find the admiral before they can start fishing afresh.”

“What difference is there in the mode of fishing among the Hull, Grimsby, Ramsgate, Penzance, and other smacks?”

“Vessels belonging to Hull, Grimsby, Ramsgate, and Lowestoft use the trawl net; but the Penzance boats are what is called ‘drifters,’ or herring boats.”

“I asked that question,” said I, “in order to inquire what kind of fishing—that is, which sort of voyage—is most in favour among smacksmen.”

“Why, in winter time we like best the single-boat system—when a smack goes out and gets what fish she can, and returns. This system does not require us to use small boats. It pays just as well as the other system, and is less dangerous in other directions than that of doing away with ‘boxing,’ as it leads to vessels scattering, and helps in that manner to lessen the risk of collision. We don’t object to the boxing system in summer, but it oughtn’t to be practised in winter. That’s what we think.”

“Smack-owners manage to secure themselves, don’t they?”

“Well, yes, by what’s termed mutual insurance, which provides for total loss and for damage to a certain amount apart from fishing gear. Masters don’t much like these here insurance companies. They’re too despotic. I’ll tell you what they do, sir: they won’t allow a master the right of defending himself against any charge that’s brought against him before them. Why, they think nothing of suspending a man from acting as master for a couple of years, perhaps for nothing worse than an error of judgment which the Board of Trade Commissioner would have been satisfied to reprimand him for.”

“Do smacksmen make a provision for their families by any method of insurance or clubbing?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered; “as a rule they do. There is a Fishermen’s Widow and Orphan Society, which, for payment of one shilling a month, pays a widow £20 or £25, according to the time her husband has been a member; and there is also a Friendly Protection Society, numbering at Hull 700 members, which gives sick pay for certain periods and £12 at death. Both these institutions do a great deal of good. Many fishermen also join the local friendly societies.”

“But a large number, I suppose, do not subscribe, and it is the widows and children of those who have been plunged into immediate destitution by their husbands’ death?”

“Yes, sir. But it is not always possible to subscribe; there are too many of us, and some go without work for weeks.”

“What is the average tonnage of the Hull and Grimsby smacks?”

“About seventy tons.”

“What is your opinion of them as seaworthy vessels?”

“Well, sir, the build and behaviour of them are first rate; but a great many are ill found, and are in a bad state as concerns leakage; and I can assure you that among us fishermen there is a strong feeling that there ought to be Government inspection of fishing vessels by practical men.”

“Will you explain to me the meaning of shares, and how they are proportioned?”

“It’s in this way,” said he: “the net proceeds are divided into eight shares; the master takes 1? share, the mate 1? share, and the owner 5½ shares, out of which he has to pay three boys or casual hands, who receive together on an average about £2 2s. a week, and he has also to find his vessel’s outfit.”

“Is it true that smacksmen object to lifebelts?”

“No; they don’t object generally. Some do, on the ground of their being too cumbersome to work in. They ought to be worn in ‘boxing.’ There’s a particular danger in that system which I forgot to mention: it’s that of collisions, which are constantly happening owing to the men being anxious to get their fish on board the steam cutter, to do which they all sail to her as close as they can, with their boats in tow and two hands in each boat.”

“And what other special dangers are there,” said I, “connected with your calling?”

“Well,” he replied, “answering that question, as concerning the single-boat system, which I’ve explained, I can but say that what the smacksman has to contend with are just the ordinary perils of a seaman’s life, such as shipping heavy seas which wash us overboard, and being dragged into the sea whilst drawing water, hauling in the net, and the likes of that. But the boxing system adds to these dangers by the risk of collision, the capsizing of boats, and the uselessness of the casual hands, the best of them preferring to ship in vessels on the single-boat system.”

“Your casual hands, as you call them, touch the apprentice question. What is your opinion of smack-boys’ homes?”

“Why, that they’re a great advantage to all fishing ports and to the lads themselves, if the homes are properly managed.”

“Can you say that smack-boys are ill-treated at sea?”

“No, I can’t, sir. There are a few exceptions, but my experience is that the boys are treated with uniform kindness.”

“To return to the question of loss of life,” said I, “amongst smacksmen, what proposals have you to offer to diminish it?”

“Well, sir, if I had my way, I’d totally abolish the boxing system from the end of September till the end of March. That alone would greatly reduce the death-rate among fishermen; and I’d also have Government inspectors to survey the vessels, and see that they were found, and equipped, and ballasted, and so on.”

“And now,” I asked, referring to the vessels which trade among the smacks in spirits and tobacco, “what can you tell me about the system called ‘coopering’?”

“Why,” he answered, warming up, “my opinion of ‘coopering’ is that steps ought to be taken to put a stop entirely to such degrading traffic. If it could be put an end to, it would be a blessing to all concerned—particularly to the men. It ’ud make your hair stand on end to hear of some of the awful things I and scores besides have witnessed—many of our men having, in their drunken fury, jumped overboard, and in many instances been drowned, and in hundreds of cases ‘coopering’ has been the means of causing the men at sea to fall out and fight almost to death’s door. I’ll explain how it’s carried on. The trafficking craft is in most cases an old vessel that has been condemned in England and sold to some foreigner for the purpose of carrying on this trade—some one hailing from Hamburg, Bremerhaven, Antwerp, or some port along the Dutch, German, or Belgian coast. This man—or call it these people—get their tobacco, cigars, liquors, and the various other articles they deal in, in large quantities from agents in the different ports they visit, at a very low price. The articles sold are of a very inferior quality—especially the drink, which is chiefly rum and gin of a very common and fiery nature. The prices charged, as a rule, are—for shag tobacco, 1s. 6d. per lb.; cavendish, 2s. per lb.; cigars, from 6s. to 12s. per box. Gin and rum are sold at 1s. 6d. per bottle; brandy, 2s. The smacksmen generally arrange to take a little money to sea with them for the purpose of buying tobacco, to save paying 4s. per pound for it at home. In my opinion, this traffic would receive a blow if fishermen were allowed to get their tobacco out of the bonded stores.”

This, it will be seen, coincides with the report of the Sea-Fishing Trade Committee, who called attention in strong terms to the evils of “coopering.” Not only, was it stated, do these boats lead to the bartering of ships’ stores and gear for drink, “but they bring about the demoralization of the hands and even of the skippers serving on board smacks, and directly lead to risk and loss of life. We have it in evidence that they are floating grog-shops of the worst description, and that they are under no control whatever.”

There was little more that I could think of to ask my intelligent friend. In reply to my inquiry as to the value of smacks at various ports, he said the question was difficult to answer, “as there’s a vast deal of difference among the smacks belonging to the ports, and likewise in the damage done ’em, for its damage that counts heavily in the support of them. The cost of a new smack at Hull and Grimsby, with all the modern appliances, will be about £1500; the average worth of smacks at those ports is about £900, and the cost of their fishing-gear about £70.”

“And a Hull smack’s earnings?”

“Between £800 and £900 a year—I mean the gross earnings.”

“Smacks are being constantly run down by vessels. Do they want better lights? What is the reason of these frequent disasters?”

“As a rule,” he answered, “smacks carry very good lights; but there is room for improvement. I’m one of many who strongly advise that smacks should carry more powerful lights than they now use. If smacks are very often rundown—and true enough that is—it’s mainly because of the bad look-out that’s kept aboard vessels navigating the North Sea. There are captains who don’t respect our lives. They see us lying-to our nets, they know we can’t get out of the road; but on they come, never shifting their helm, and if they pass by without striking us, and we call to ’em to know where they’re coming, all the answer we get consists of brutal curses.”

Apparently, then—and I say it not alone on the evidence of this man, but on the assurance of many others engaged in the fishing trade—the measure that is required to diminish the loss of life at sea among the valuable class of men employed in the North Sea fishery is the suppression of the boxing system during the winter months. And another most important step would be the supervision of smacks by qualified inspectors appointed by the Board of Trade. At present I do not know of any law to prevent an owner from sending, or to punish an owner for despatching, to sea the craziest old smack that can be kept alive by long and frequent spells at the pump. It is certainly most anomalous that close attention should be given to the loading, construction, and equipment of ships belonging to one section of the English marine, whilst another section that finds occupation for many thousands of men and boys is utterly disregarded by the State in all things saving the exhibition of lights.