Tales From Newhaven

Life aboard a side trawler, or any fishing boat, was not all work and little sleep, even although it was a dangerous job in all types of weather, when shooting and hauling the nets. Each member of the crew depended on his shipmates to do their allotted jobs efficiently and make sure that there were no accidents. My brother and I were told by my father when we first went to sea during the summer holidays from school, watch but don’t touch and mistakes can cost lives.

Whether there were 4 or 16 of a crew it was a close knit work unit able to deal with most situations. Any arguments were kept for the pier. Most of the crews, mates and Skippers came from Newhaven, Granton and Leith, and were from fishing families, some of whom could be traced back as far as the year 1693. Families with names like Liston, Carnie, Rutherford, Paterson, Lyle, Hume, Main, Wilson, Linton, Logan and many more. All these names were members of “The Society of Free Fishermen of Newhaven”, which sadly disbanded in 1989.

In all fishing communities where a lot of the fishermen had the same surname, you would find the use of a “Bye-Name” was used to distinguish them, such as, Wee Binkie and Auld Binkie, Carnie Bunner, Wullie P Jock P and Watson P, Charlie Moon.

Any leisure time, at a meal or when in the pounds gutting the fish, there was always time to talk, and discuss the most bizarre subjects. Who could drink the most whiskey? How do you steer the unit of a lorry with two trailers when it is reversing? Another art was the telling of a good story, and the older hands that had been at sea for a good number of years, could always come up with some real beauties.

Here is a couple of my own to give you an idea of this art. It was not unusual for a story to last for ½ an hour.

 In a Pickle

It was the month of May in 1945 and we were fishing 4 miles NE of the Longstone Lighthouse off the Berwickshire coast. The weather had been very warm for the past month and there was a lot of growth in the sea making the net heavy to haul and as a result the fishing was poor.

To pass the time, and as I was the cook I decided to make some Piccalilli. There were lots of ingredients, tins of dried mustard, lots of dried fruits, spices, curry powder, vinegar and onions enough I was sure to do the job.

That afternoon when the crew had finished their meal I set about the task of making my Piccalilli. The biggest pot, the soup tureen was put on the galley stove, and all the ingredients were put in. It was ¾ full and brought to the boil, and allowed to simmer for 3 hours. After several tastings and the addition of a fair amount of sugar, and a good shot of rum, the piccalilli was ready.

Having let it cool I poured it into a gallon glass bottle, which normally held distilled water used for topping up the batteries, and corked it.

The next time when the crew had cleared and boxed the haul of fish, they came down to the cabin for a tea break, and of course had to sample the piccalilli. Everyone agreed it was delicious and a success, in fact for the next 2 days it was eaten at every sitting. By the third day they had had enough, and the now half empty bottle was put away in the spare locker at the aft of the cabin.

After another 2 days whilst the crew were having a meal the door of the spare locker suddenly burst open and a deluge of yellow piccalilli came oozing out. It had started to ferment, blown the cork out and filled the locker.

I quickly grabbed the bottle, ran up the cabin steps and onto the deck where I threw it over the side into the sea. It took a whole day to clean out the locker and I would think the yellow stain that it left would have been there till the day the boat was broken up.

 “Now , everyone who reads this tale will say it’s just another fisherman’s story, but should you pass over the position 4.25 nautical miles NE by E of the Longstone Lighthouse, you will see that there are still bubbles coming up from the sea bed !!”

 The False Teeth

 Wullie McKay the skipper of the fishing boat “Eminent” was a very heavy smoker and one day whilst fishing on the West Coast of Scotland off Oban, in a force 7 wind, had his head out the wheel-house window with the usual cigarette in his mouth. Suddenly the ash from the cigarette was blown into his mouth causing him to take a fit of coughing, whereby his false teeth were coughed out and went over the side into the sea.

Now he did not have a spare set of teeth so he was forced to eat only liquid food and drink tea which did not please him as he was a big eater. Over the next 2 days he became more and more bad tempered taking his temper out on any of the crew who crossed his path.

One of the crew, his Uncle Tam, decided he would try and cheer Wullie up. When the next haul of fish came onto the deck, he picked the biggest cod he could find, slit its belly open, took out his own false teeth and put them in the belly.

“Wullie!!” he shouted, “ You’ll nae belief this bit a think oo’ve fund yer teeth.”

Wullie was out the wheel-house like a shot and down onto the deck, where he removed the said teeth from the cod’s belly, washed them in the tub of salt water, and put them in his mouth. After a couple of biting motions, he took them out and threw them over the side saying rather despondently,

“Na they’re no mine!!”

This is a true story but the names are fictitious.

© Reproduced with acknowledgment to Malcolm Main