No Grave But the Sea

Manawatu Times, Volume LIV, Issue 6867, 23 March 1929, Page 20 (Supplement)

No Grave But the Sea

Majestic Memorial in London

Recently a memorial teas unveiled at Tower Hill in honour of the Merchant Navy and Fishing Fleets, and the 12,000 officers and men who lost their lives in the war and have no grave hut the sea.

ROM the majestic Memorial on Tower Hill which bears the names of 12,000 merchantmen and fishermen who lost their lives at sea in the

war, and whose grave is the deep, you can get a glimpse of the coming and going of the “cutters” which, through Billingsgate, link London with the two fleets that ceaselessly trawl the North Sea banks, writes Walter Wood in a London newspaper. And from the as these fish-carriers the hardest-driven vessels in the world —are still called, you can see the Memorial, which,is to London River what the Dover Memorial is to the Channel. When Barking Was a Port' There is a peculiar significance in the site of the Memorial, for Barking, not far distant, was, until only. 5Q years ago, reckoned as a fishing port, and it claims with Brixham thO renown of originating deep-sea trawling. At the beginning of the 19th century smacks were being built at Barking, Greenwich and Gravesend for North Sea fishing, and in 1852 Barking had 180 trawlers and smacks, and Barking smacks went fleeting for two months at a time, the “cutters” bringing the fleet’s fish to Billingsgate. Twenty-five years later Barking ceased to count as a fishing port, but the Thames remains the great waterway for sea-borne fish, and the "cutters’” crews are deep-sea fishermen.

So Barking was a great home of the fleeters and single-boaters, whose immediate successors swept the near and distant seas of mines, fought submarines, patrolled and did numberless odd jobs that could not be undertaken by their brethren of the Royal Navy and the mercantile marine.

The Trawler Reserve Barking, Brixham and East Coast #macks and men were the nucleus of |he 20,000 fishing vessels and 65,000

men who now go from ports in Great Britain to reap the harvest of the sea, from Iceland to Morocco; and the names of Barking and other London river men are on the Memorial which overlooks their former haunt. The trawler reserve came into being only in 1911, with 30 skippers and 90 ratings, enrolled at Aberdeen, and this small band grew to the vast auxiliary without which the British Navy could not have existed. The time soon came when in the war there were 2,500 skippers and some hundred thousand fishermen serving with the navy. No one knew their worth better than Earl Jellicoe, who lately said of them: “There are few men I admire more than the fishermen who earn their living in the North Sea. These men are real sailors in every sense of the word.” Out of 3,000 steam fishing vessels •employed during the war more than a .third were lost. The only two Victoria Crosses awarded to fishermen were given to Skipper Joseph Watt—he is still a fisherman —and posthumously to Skipper Thomas Crisp. Skipper Watt, in the drifter Gowan Lea, was attacked by Austrian cruisers in the Straits of Otranto. He defied the order to surrender, and called for three cheers and a fight to a finish, and that call was heroically answered. An Heroic Skipper

Skipper Crisp was fishing in the North Sea in the smack Nelson, to help the nation’s food supply. He was attacked by a submarine, and fought to the death against hopeless odds. Lying mortally wounded on the deck of his sinking smack he ordered “Abandon ship. Throw the books overboard.” His son, a member of the crew, asked if they could not lift the skipper into the boat, but the answer was a firm, unselfish “No.” Then the skipper said, “Tom, I’m done. Throw me overboard.” Many fishermen, all courageous and self-sacrificing, who found their rest in many waters, are remembered on the Hill; but none can have greater honour than that peaceful skipper who, having fought to a finish in his own defence, went down with his helpless smack, - '

Bottled Joy.— A traveller stopped to change tyres 1 1 a desolate region In th» West. “I suppose.” he remarked to a native onlooker, "that even in these parts of the country the bare necessities of life have risen tremendously in price.” "You’re right, stranger,” replied the native, gloomily, “and it ain’t worth drinking when you get it.” * # * Dogged Does It.— Brandon was almost broken-hearted about his heavy losses on the Stock Excange, but he found there was plenty of sympathy for him at the club. One member was particularly kind. "Cheer tip, old chap!” he cried. “You mustn't worry too much about a little bad luck. Come along to my office in the morning and I’ll give you a few pointers.” Brandon, however, was not easily cheered. "Very kind of you,” he began. "But it isn't pointers I’m after, it’s ret trie vers.” .

Holding a Wake.— The little boy’s favourite uncle was to be married on the following Sunday, and the boy was questioning his mother about the wedding. "Mother,” he said, "the last three days they give them anything they want to eat, don’t they?” Hurry Up, Parson, —Chairman of the meeting: "Fren’s! You are gathered hero to-night for the presentation of tlxo collection we have taken for the benefit of our worthy pastor, who is leavin’ us to take a church down south. We could not let him go without giving him a little momentum.” Speedy. Elderly gentleman, expounding at length about his accomplishments, finally said: "Young man, I did not ride in a motor-car when I first started in life, I walked!” “That’s amazing.” retorted the young man. "It was a long time before I even learned to crawl!”