AROUND THE WORLD.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 224, 21 September 1929, Page 5

AROUND THE WORLD.

GOSSIP OF THE PORTS. the favourites of the GULLS. (By LEE-FORE-BRACE.) If a writer on the ships of the sea were to observe them in their proper order, he should certainly deal with the fishing craft first, becarse in the long line of maritime genealogy, she is the foremother from whom all vessels have come. The early seafarer did not seek trade on or over the sea. His business as a hunter tailed him out. But it is a long remove from, the tiny shallops of the early days to the modern .trawler engaged in fishing on the deep waters. The hunt is much the same a wandering course over the waters to seek profit from the depths. While every tendency in modern steamships, liners and tramps, is to adopt and carry the ways 'Of the Land to sea, the fishermen are content to hold by their own peculiar sea ways and customs, and both they and their ships stand out as the most conservative class of seafarers. The sea has witnessed many changes in the craft that ploughs its 'billows, but with the fishing boats there has been little change. As a matter of fact, around the coast 1 of Scotland and Ireland, the very same type of fishing craft can be seen to-day as our fore-fathers saw three and four hundred years ago. The model of a modern Campbelltown fishing-smack that plies its calling in the Firth of Clyde is exactly the same as the model of 1590, as depicted in the famous MacPherson collection -of etchings of sailing ships. Even her sails and rig are the same, and the writer would not be exaggerating when he says the fisherman himself is of the same type, and has the same customs as his forebears. Than the fishing smack, there is no more friendly vessel afloat; the fisherman represents every fine, generous quality that is bred in the bone of man by his daily eontact with wind and sea. No one realises his worth more than the deep-sea sailors, for they know the extent of the debt that is due to him for magnificent war and lifeboat services. Long Trips of the Trawlers. In the Old Country the trade of fisherman is one that comes down from father to son, and perhaps, outside of the old land, a similar type could not be found. In New Zealand there as a different type of man and ship. At Home, and especially an the North Sea, they have the trawler, exactly the same type as we have, but there the similarity ends. In New Zealand, a trawling voyage of, perhaps, two hundred miles is the limit, but trawlers Out of Aberdeen or Grimsby, think ■nothing of a voyage to the North African coast, or a month's trip to Iceland, which often involves a steaming distance of over two thousand miles. The trawler is an exceedingly compact and well-built vessel. One sturdy funnel is the rule, and its position, being nearer to the stern than to the bow, together with a tremendous sheer and lofty bows, gives the craft an appearance of being able to stand up to any wind that blows. And she certainly does not belie her j appearance. Her type is known to sailor- j men as the finest "seaboat" in the world, and the writer has seen her riding out a gale so heavy, that more imposing vessels r had to seek shelter. During the' North Sea ( blizzard of 1903 the weather conditions < were so had, that, for three days not a single deep-waterman was able to depart from 'the River Humber. The blizzard, however, had no effect oil the trawlers, they arrived and departed from Hull J during the height and fury of the gale as ( if showing contempt for the elements.- It was, even to a sailorman, a wonderful sight to see the little vessels coming into j port through the spume and snow,- with their foredecks piled high with a mass of solid ice, the result of the sea-water freezing as it broke aboard. The writer's ship was lying in the Humber roadstead, riding to the hurricane, with both anchors and every inch of cable out, and. as the little ships passed us, coming up from the sea, one was almost tempted to cheer them. Escort of the Gulls. The seagulls are the familiars of the trawlers, the big grey gulls, that, as everyone knows, harbour the souls of honest eailormen when they die and go aloft. At Home and in New Zealand too, wherever a trawler is working, you are sure to find a flock of gulls. Into port, and out again, the trawlers are always followed by the gulls. When next you are near the waterfront oast your eyes over the channel and "if a trawler should be making in or out, you will be sure to see her attendant escort of gulls. Other ships might be coming or going, but the trawler will have the greater number. "Here comes the Cossie," one screams to the others as they poise and hover near the end of the wharf, searching the face of the waters for stray morsels. "Aye, eo it is," answers another. "The old Cossie, and isn't she loaded! Must have been down the Bay to get that cargo aboard!" Swiftly planing, without a stir of feather, the gulls pass and repass the trawler, noting lier trim and draught, and arguing noisiiy as to their -chances of getting some stray bits from the cook's bucket. They dart through the smoke-ring above the black funnel, twitching their feathers as they fly, then circle the mast in graceful banking -curves. For a moment or two they poise over the bridge to survey the skipper, and they eye him with ibold insolent eyes. (Have you ever had a gull stare at you? An appraising, searching and supercilious inspection, just like a bo'sun of the old school eyeing the new hands as they came reeling up the gangWay to join the ship). Anon, wh-eep, they go, wheeling and screeching, to investigate the thrash of slops that the cook has emptied overside. Hopeful to the End. "Wot the 'ell's the sea coming to," one old grey-back screams. "Things is getting iwuss and wusser, nothing but spud peelins and ashes! By the holy hookblock, when I wos sailin' there wos alius a tasty bite'r ifcwo, t' throw overboard when making port. In my day, we wos never mean like that, even wa' our cracker hash and salt iborse." j The Cossie makes her way up harbour, and the gulls refusing to give up hope, perch on every available spot where a precarious foothold can be secured. The jumper-stay is packed with them, twenty or more are seated thereon, all facing the same way, and balancing themselves like so many Blondins as the trawler rises and falls to the harbour swell. And as they swing on their perches they still talk among themselves. "Wonder if they'll keep the trawlers out of the Gulf?" questions a wise looking old veteran. "Be mightly hard_ on us if they do, and we'll have to be doing a hefty bit o' flying then to get- the broken fish." "Hello!" screams another, "wots that comin' out from the North Wall? Blast me blinkin' eyes if it ain't the old Hinenioa. Say, Bill," hopping a bit closer to the veteran, "worn't it the Hinemoa as you wos bo'sun of in '77—afore ye come a-wiug, I mean?" "Aye, glory be, she's my old ship. I wish't I had a fat bacon rind for every time I weathered the Snares in her. Cripes! and they told me that she-wos broken up, they did. And there she is, as and as lady-like as ever. Aye, Booley, I mind the time —Wee-up—Now what the " The gulls go screaming high, as a spurt of white steam throws up, and the Cossie's syren roars out a signal blast. "Now what the whoop did he do that for?" screams the indignant bo'sun. " A dirty trick to play on an old stiff like me. Come on, mates, come on wi' me me old ship, and "we'll get'something better than spud peelings and ashes."