An Exciting Week-End

Press, Volume LXXII, Issue 21866, 20 August 1936, Page 5 (Supplement)

An Exciting Week-End

WITH THE TRAWLERS OF COOK STRAIT

(By J. R. Hastings)

For me the trawlers of Cook Strait have a peculiar fascination. There is adventure and excitement in the manner in which they patrol ' the grey waters and gather their slithering harvest. I thrill as I imagine the thousands of screeching sea birds which make the day hideous with their noises as the laden nets are dragged on board. Let us persuade the captain of one of these tiny boats to take us on a week-end visit to the fishing grounds. He is a jovial old soul and readily gives his consent to our coming along, but he warns us tp keep out of the way when the nets are being hauled in. Because his boat is not licensed to carry passengers wo must sign on as members of the crew. Our rate of pay is Is a week, but once on board we are treated as guests and given every Opportunity to pry and peer into odd comers of the tiny vessel. The sky is streaked with orange i and the sun is coming up from the back hills as we steam out of Wellington Harbour in the early morning. Away to the right can be seen the shapes of two other trawlers as they break through the morning mist. They are accompanying our ship to the fishing grounds in Cook Strait. We wander from the bridge to the stokehold, where three firemen shovel coal, their figures outlined in the semi-gloom by the furnace fires. The ship carries a crew of 12, and has space to stow several hunched cases of fish. On deck' we find everything spick and span in readiness for the day’s work. The morning air is chilly,.so we scramble down a steep ladder into the captain’s cabin, where breakfast is being served. The mate and engineer are present at the. meal, and the air is filled with their goodnatured quips and jokes. The tiny cabin is extremely cosy, its walls lined with four bunks, complete with warm blankets and heavy rugs. The captain, mate, and engineer all sleep here—that is when sleeping is possible! Breakfast is finished—the eggs and bacon having been reduced to scraps and the coffee drained to the dregs—and we mount on deck just as the trawler steams into one of the four fishing grounds near Wellington. Prom where we lie can be seen the dim coastal outline of Palliser Bay as it breaks the horizon in a series of smudges. The anchor scrapes the bed of the ocean, is caught, and holds the ship fast. The crew are busy with the nets, and have little time for conversation. We gather that the favourable weather makes a good haul possible. In a few minutes the greet nets will sink slowly into the green depths. To the crew this trip iSbuL one of many—they have ceased to marvel at the beauties of the life. They no longer regard it as an adventure, and have ceased to thrill , at the unexpected and unique pranks of old Father Neptuhe. The nets are ready to be cast into the: ocean. Our ship uses what are known as “deep-sea trawls ” which have the appearance of . huge bags, with an opening at one end. As they are dragged along the floor of the sea the fish rush in and are trapped. Large lead , weights keep the nets on the sea-hed, and a wooden frame at the mouth- keeps : them open as they bump over hundreds of. .rocks and through forests at sea*weed* , i.

The ancnor is raised, and the ship ; gets under way as it begins drag* . ging operations. What a glorious - sight it must be under the water as ; the flashing fish dash hither and >•. thither in their mad efforts to es- - cape the relentless folds of the nets! The nets are left, down for a few hours, during which time the crew amuses itself -by exchanging reminiscences and opinions. Then they groan protestinglyas the nets are hauled up. The Slack is' pulled in by hand, and the. catch breaks the surface. With weird cries the multitude of birds swoops down ' on the sea in search of the tiny usn whech escape through the nets. And then the catch is dumped in the • t hold, a wriggling, squirming mass. Barracoota, cod, ling, skate, congw-~ good edible fish—are mixed with fa sorts, which will have to be thiwn back into the sea. A wickedjlw** ing shark threshes with its navy tail and bares a. row of teeth; an octopus twines its groping; .MO®* cles in the great silver, heap .in which stingaree, ray and abound.: All these have to" bfe back into the water, .and many them fall easy prey to the watfniui petrels and Cape pigeons. 1 As soon as the nets areaJ»*j“ they are emptied and cast bacirmw the sea. While they are scouring the sea-bed the eaten , sorted and packed in thick no* 6 *' Then the decks are. cleared. Thus; for three days, flshm£,«Oj tinues with only an oec&8.«w“ change of location. By ni|M we work in the light of flood-lamp* which light up the water for i yards. • With the hold filled with its able cargo the ship makes the ““ haul and sets out on the return h*? to Wellington. The men arejmw* and stretch out in their their work is done. But we WDOr am afraid, have not helpea vgg much, stand on the spray covers decks as the vessel ploughs through the waves. Jfc. And so we return and the life a city leads. transported from a peaceful won one of bustle and daily routine. Weathers This is the .weather the no** oo And so do I; .. .w*, When showers betumble thecnes nUt spikes, .i ir And nestlings ny; And the little brown bills his best. —. m, g <ng> And they sit outside at ‘The *T» , lers’ Rest,’’ imudin And maids come forth spng-m drest, , i-ha snath And citizens dream of tne and west, , - And so do I \ This is the weather the shuns. And so do I; -nd When beeches drip in brown* duns, . And thresh, and And hill-hid tides throb, throe throe, And meadow rivulets overflow' And drops oh gate-bars hang And rooks in families hmne®* 1^ go, . ■■■■:- ■ T And so do l , , —THOMAS SABD** i