"TO-MORROW WILL BE FRIDAY."

Otago Witness, Issue 2921, 9 March 1910, Page 13

"TO-MORROW WILL BE FRIDAY."

THE COASTWISE FISHERMAN AT WORK. LINE-FISHING IN DEEP WATER. By Will Lawson. Line-fishing is carried on by the Cook's Strait fishermen, whose headquarters are at Island Bay, at two fishing-grounds in the Strait—at Terawhiti, where blue cod, with occasional trumpeter, schnapper, and hapuka are taken; and at Palliser Bay, which is the fishing ground for hapuka. When the last of the southerly blow is over and the uneasy straits are composing themselves to a semblance of placidity, the launch runs out of the sheltered bay. The afternoon sun is shining with summer zeal, the keen spray lifts, showering above and hissing again on the waves thrown up on either side. The fishermen are preparing the lines and cutting up conger and kawhai for bait. All 'these things are laid at convenient places on deck, ready for use when the fishing grounds are reached. Lines of ordinary strength are used, but of extra length, and armed with three hooks. The sinker differs from the usual type. It consists of half a window-sash weight, of three or four pounds avoirdupois, the line being tied through the hole provided in the weight. The bait is cut in cubes measuring about one inch each way, and is attached to the hooks dexterously end securely. About a mile out seaward from Karori Reef the engine is stopped. " Make a try here," says a fisherman. Overboard splash the sash-weights, and down, down they sink. In the run of the tide, the lines stream out at a sharp angle and then are paid out until the sinkers touch bottom, fifteen to twenty fathoms below. The sinker may rest on a pinnacle at one moment, and at the first, move of the hand drop back into a hole in the sea bottom, so uneven is it. The lines quiver in the tide, at this depth the sinkers hang very heavily, so that the novice often imagines the quiver to be tne nibbling of a fish, and on jerking on the line, takes the pull of the sinker for the tug of a fish. Then follows a heartbreaking, bootless hand-over-hand haul, when the tense line sings on the gunwale and the unaccustomed forefinger works raw and blistered. The fisherman in the bows strikes a fish—two quick, full-length arni-hauls—-there is no delicate work here. His body sways forivard, and, hand-over-hand, his line comes singing in. It is .quite a minute ere the fish are lifted from the water, one on each hook, and all fairsized cod that flap wet fins and bodies on the deck. Deft fingers unhook them, and they are dropped into the hold, ine line is rebaited, while other lines are bringing more prisoners on what is to them what an aerial flight would be to the fisherman. Two other fishing launches—a white one and a blue-painted one have come out and started fishing near by. They dip and lift in the swells, now out of sight save for their spars, now lurching across a green crest. For a quarter of an hour the fish bite well, then sport begins to wane. The white boat loses the fish first; she throbs past us, heading seaward, and her crew call out strange-sounding, soft-toned greetings, to which laughing replies are given. How small she looks among these huge rollers of the ocean ! The blue boat follows her example, healing more to the westward. Then the word is given, " Haul up lines. Try further out." The fish are moving. The skill of the fisherman lies in his power of divining in which direction they are going, and where they are likely to be found in various weather conditions.

Again the pulsations of the engines cease, and the lines are cast. The depth here *e not so great as before. The fish bite well, and presently the man fishing right at the stern gets" a bite, a bighearty one. His line is alive with something finny. Maybe it is a trumpeter or even a hapuka. '

"I . link a dam' conger," he says gruffly. As he hauls the angle of the line becomes nearer and nearer the horizontal. Twenty feet away from the boat what appears to be a huge conger eel comes to the surface. The fisherman quickens his rapid in-hauling. There is a frothy turmoil in the sea and the enormous size of the eel is explained. A shark, apparently. 4ft or sft long', is pursuing the conger. In contradiction of all accepted theories of the shark's mode, of attack, it is swimming above the eel and snapping at it without turning over. As the eel is lifted on board the launch the shark makes a last rush, then retires baffled and reluctant, and not one whit dismayed at the appearance of the launch. ...The. launches have scattered—the white one is a small and constantly-recurring mark on the horizon in mid-strait; the blue one is a dark speck in the glare of the sunset. The head fisherman hauls in his line.

• " Fish not too good, more better go back and go for habuk' to-morrow to Palasier. Three 'clock to-morrow morn'."

So we "turn our back to the western glory, and go ome to seek an ear'y bed. - •

'To awaken at half-past 2 is an easy task 'for a. fisherman, for 'tis said that he awaken, whenever the wind changes. To the townsman the task is not so easy, and, moreover, when the dawn .is hanging fire behind Pencarrow and the eye of the lighthouse is winking . derisively across the indistinct sea one is apt to wonder whether the prospect is really worth the effort-of such early rising. But when the launch- reaches the wide expanse of. Pvdliser Bay the dawn-lights are already dying and the sua > lifting above the oCeanjS rim. And this coming of the sun is alone worth while. There is a sense, of freedom that brings a feeling of

exhilaration to be out O far fro*n the land and all the bondage of the city. Yet to the men whose living is won on the waters the bondage of toil is even here.

The lines are ready—thick, strong lines and very long, each arr';ed with six or seven hooks. They would hold a goodsized shark or seven, big groper. This comparison will illustrate the fact that the groper or hapuka is a- placid, . nonfighting fish. The deptti here is 150 fathoms, and since the placid groper does not meet the fisherman halfway the line must go right down to the groper. To carry it there - a sinker weighing from 71b to 101 b is fashioned, this time a whole sash-weight being used. The engine is stopped.

" Try here." Overboard go the window fittings, the lines rush out and down, each hook well baited. Down—there seems to be no end to the swiftly-running lines. They touch bottom at last, and, iike the cod lines, they stream out in the tide. To take one of these lines and to- feel its pull is, in these soundings, like taking the halter of a stubborn horse —one has to pull pretty hard before it gives. Yet in spite of this there is no mistaking the bite of a hapuka. It is as though the horse suddenly took the halter in his teeth and ran away with it. The head fisherman has struck a fish and is hauling in. The sight makes the inexperienced >ook round instinctively for a winch to wind the line round, but there isn't a winch in sight. The hands of the fisherman do it all, and the palms of those hands have skin of the toughness of leather. There is no struggle worth mentioning at the lower end of the line, for the hapuka is not a fighting fish. If-he -were it would be almost : impossible to take him with tlie hand-line. • As it is, however, the line sears the hard hands, and before the day is over many hands will be bleeding from the friction and cutting of the lines.

It is when the hapuka comes to the surface and realises that the limits of his native element are reached that the trouble begins. The fish " goes to market " with a vengeance, and since the weight of it is anything from 801 b to 1001 b it is not a thing to toy with. " Ready witli that gaff," says the fisherman.

The long- pole with the crook at its end is swiftly taken' and the big fish gaffed none too soon. Upon the deck it lies for a moment gasping and flapping, then it goes into the hold.

A second man is hauling in his line as though he had hooked the South Island, as Maui did the North. There is evidently more than one fish at the other end.

■ . Much interest centres about him and his line. Peering over the side we see a dark mass slowly approaching the surface. Surely there must be half a dozen fish there! , One, • two, three—five hapuka! They range from the largest to a medium s.ize. . The. line is held with the topmost fish just at he surface. That fish is gaffed. Then another, and so on, until the. whole five-are dealt with. This fisherman's hands, when he turns to rebait his line, are seen to be bleeding. With such a strain on the lines it can be readily realised what muscular effort is required for this work, and the eye runs over the build of the men. Br-c'-d and deepchested, slightly stooped at the shoulders, and with legs and backs suggesting immense power—that, is the .picture that meets the eye. The fisherman never tires while there are fish biting, and for hours this big-fishing goes on. In the afternoon, with a deeply-ridir>g vessel, deep with the weight of more than a hundred fish, the launch is headed for home, while the men go down into the hold and sort the fish for market. And to-morrow will be Friday.