A Longshore Fisherman

by Jack Maple

Overview

Sometime in the middle of the twentieth century, longshore fisherman Jack Maple, who fished near the shores of his home in East Kent, penned a manual for those seeking to learn how to fish the proper way. Now, decades later, his originally handwritten guide is presented as both a how to manual and a historical perspective on fishing.

In an easy and chatty style, A Longshore Fisherman offers succinct instruction on how to make and use everything from lobster pots to crab hooks. It also explains why one doesnt ever leave shore without a spare bung for the boat and features a variety of amusing anecdotes reflecting a time when people were more self-reliant and did not have the resources to go and buy whatever they wanted. Using this guide, you can make all the gear that Jack made and hopefully derive as much pleasure from fishing with it as he did.

In this unique mid-twentieth-century fishing manual, a longshore fisherman provides personal narratives and practical advice on fishing close to shore.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781504304009
Publisher:	Balboa Press AU
Publication date:	09/12/2016
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	94
File size:	2 MB

About the Author

Jack Maple (1905–1989) lived—and fished—during a span of turbulent times from World War I through the Depression. He was a participant and casualty of World War II and thence onward to the sweeping social and intellectual changes of the 1960s and beyond.

Read an Excerpt

A Longshore Fisherman

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By Jack Maple

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2016 Jack Maple
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5043-0399-6

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CHAPTER 1

WHEN I WAS a boy there was a breed of man who obtained a living from the sea, catching many varieties of fish and using a wide selection of methods to achieve a catch; often close into the shore. These hardy fellows were called "Longshore Fishermen": a race which has practically died out, mainly because the modern fisherman is usually a specialist in just one form of fishing. Even amateur anglers usually only have one rod to fish from a pier or a boat, buying their bait as well.

This is not fishing, it is just plain laziness, so why not try your hand at everything. You may never make a fortune but your brain and body will constantly be rejuvenated with a lifelong hobby. There is no closed season with sea fishing, each and every month is a good period for some kind of fish, and you can eat the lot.

On our coastline, the year starts in January with cod and whiting. They are followed in early spring by flounders and pouting only to be replaced by plaice, sole, dabs, and skate. As summer approaches bass, mullet, eels, pollock, mackerel and tope arrive, and depart by early autumn. Dogfish, hass, and smoothound make a call. The pouting then makes a short second visit to be followed by the cod and whiting.

Shell Fish

During the winter, early spring and late autumn, cockles, mussels and winkles. For the summer, whelks, lobsters, pungers, shrimps and prawns are all to be caught in different ways. Bear with me, and I will show you how not to starve.

As a youngster born by the sea, I spent all of my time with my grandfather (Charles Constable Maple 1859-1938) who happened to be the foreman of our local bathing station (St Mildred's, Westgate on Sea, Kent). In those days you couldn't undress on the foreshore or even walk about half naked. It was not the thing to do and any ladies were certainly not amused. Changing into full-length bathing costumes was always done in bathing tents which had open wood slatted floors. These floors were a constant source of income for bathing assistants as coins would pop through.

Having made up my mind at a very early age that one day I would own a boat, I saved my finds, mainly coppers. I had another regular source of income, collecting sea water for the local nursing home at 3d (1 ½p) for a two-gallon bucket; and two were required at a time. The buckets were covered with linen and filled through this linen, always from the sea and not from pools, even when the tide was a long way out. A piece of wood was placed on top to stop splashing, carried in a hand cart made from pram wheels to the nursing home where it was boiled in a wood-fired copper. The invalids with asthma and breathing ailments were then wheeled into the copper room to inhale the rich beneficial ozone. Next, it was the turn of the cripples, whose feet were immersed in this life intoxicating liquid.

Another income came by digging bait for local gentry at 6d (2 ½ p) a hundred. The enormous wealth gradually mounted until when, at the age of fourteen, I purchased my first boat. Brand new, fitted with a dipping lugsail and drop keel, eleven feet, clinker built and named Imp.

Around my tenth birthday I was allowed to go in the bathing safety boat, and in this, I started to learn how to row, at first with one oar only, and the anchor was always left down. After a whole season of this, I was then started with two oars. I also found it was easier to stand up to row facing the way you were going. The art of balancing the boat with your weight had to be overcome but not before my first big mistake was made: I fell overboard.

Having mastered rowing I turned my attention to local fishermen. Boys who would work for no financial gain were, even in those days, in short supply. Nowadays they don't exist. My gain, however, was a lifelong hobby. I had two favourites amongst the fishermen. One was stone deaf. To learn from him you had to copy: asking how anything was done was impossible. He was known as "Deafy Miller"; always rowed facing the way he was going. This method led me, never go to sea with only one cork for the bunghole. For one day, having been out to Deafy's lobster pots, sitting in the stern bailing out merrily, I knocked out and lost the cork. Oh, what a predicament! Unable to ask for assistance, off came my shoe and sock and wedging one heel over the hole we proceeded ashore.

My other favourite fisherman was Christopher Case. A very religious man, he never fished on Sundays, spending the day teaching at Sunday School. I liked Chris for one thing, he had a different approach to boys. While instructing how to tie knots or splicing he would always stand behind you with his arms around you. This way, his left hand was on the same side as yours whereas if you face the instructor your hands are opposite, whereupon one becomes fumble-fisted. At least I did.

In the autumn, herrings come to our shoreline, caught in drift nets often a quarter mile long. Hanging down from the surface of the water supported by corks, fishing is usually done at night from open boats. The net is laid across the tide, a buoy on one end and the boat on the other, then the whole lot drifts along with the tide. My favourite fisherman for this activity was Chris. Once the net was set and the boat made tidy, out came a pocket-sized bible. Extracts from this, the quiet lapping of the water against the boat, the sea all aglow with phosphorus small fry was an experience you had to witness to really appreciate. Of course, I went out with the others, but their topic was more of the hops and barley flavour.

That, my good friends, is one way to learn how to fish. Another is to own your own boat and have a go. With my own boat, Imp, I started to do just that and found out how much I did not know. If you can own up to your mistakes, then you are more than half way to finding a happy hobby with excellent friends for company. Hide your mistakes, and you'll walk alone forever.

You will not become an expert overnight; a lot of what I know now about small boats and fishing I learnt by making mistakes. So don't get distressed. If at first you do not succeed and come in with nothing, try again.

To start with, I had three major blunders. The first episode resulted in being on the wrong side of a sand bank (Hook Sands) two miles from shore, an ebbing tide and an offshore wind increasing while in the lee of the sand bank the sea was calm. But at the two ends, things were different. Oh dear, now what do we do? While pondering my plight a very observant coastguard had noticed my predicament and with very great relief I heard the lifeboat maroons being fired. After watching the RNLI lifeboat plough through an ever increasing sea I was mighty glad to jump aboard. It can still be seen recorded in the Margate lifeboat house and I still have the greatest respect for this wonderful service. However, I got a real ripe lecture from the coxswain. So take heed my friends; learn how to read a barometer, learn how to read charts, and never, no never, go to sea without a life jacket or signal flares.

My second blunder was while sailing "Imp" up to Faversham for a holiday in 1931. Off SeaSalter. I ran into a fish trap, a contraption which has now died out. As an obstruction, they were made from slatted hurdles placed in a V shape so as to trap fish on an ebbing tide. Seasalter is one of those places that when the tide goes out, it gets lost. So within seconds you're high and dry and no sea to see. However, lecture number two, again about charts, but this one also about buoys that mark navigational channels

We've only got one off my home port, Westgate on Sea. You can't get very thrilled over just one, which only marked (in those days) a depression on the seabed which at that time was filled with old World War 1 seaplanes and five anchors belonging to Imp. However, afloat once more, I soon discovered trying to sail up a twisting river like Faversham Creek is no joke with a dipping lugsail, with a head wind, not to mention the drop keel which won't turn about in the thick mud that abounds each side of the creek. A lugsail, by the way, very seldom seen now, is an ideal sail to learn all about, tacking up to the wind and turning around, you either go around or you don't, in which case out comes the oars. (How degrading).

One item which hinders a boat from swinging around is a dirty bottom, so turn her over occasionally and give her a wash and brush up.

A year later (1932) blunder number three was also caused by misreading buoys while trying to get into the River Stour at Pegwell Bay. That darn drop keel got itself buried in a sand bar again. It was a Ramsgate fisherman's turn to give Jackie a lecture. Imp was now beginning to get loaded with navigational aids but alas more was to come. A lead line that you can tell the depth of water. Naturally being a true Redskin he had one for sale; ten shillings. One complete week's wages and a compass. You can't read a chart by guessing where North is. Naturally, he had a spare for half a crown (12 ½ p) rather a financial set back to a weeks holiday. I made quite sure to sail well clear of Ramsgate on my return trip. But first, up the Stour to Fordwich. The rest of this trip passed peacefully apart from getting my sail caught up under Pluck's Gutter Bridge. On the return trip, the water was not so high as on the way up. I think someone had found a new cork for the plughole. On entering the open sea, the wind was South East with the lug sail set on my boat side one haul brought me well past Ramsgate.

While using the boat hook as a boom, North Foreland Lighthouse was passed all on one tack. In Botany Bay I put about and reset the sail on my starboard side, one haul past the Longhouse buoy, skimming past Margate jetty by a hundred yards brought me safely home to Westgate on Sea.

That's the way to learn sailing.

Do it alone

In 1933 while out with a companion and five lobster pots on board, not only did I discover that vacant space was in short supply, but also the amount of free board had severely shrunk So I sold Imp for twice what I had paid; retaining my navigation aids.

Boat No. 2 was purchased, Nextopolita, 21 feet, clinker built, fitted with a steel drop keel and a foredeck and equipped with a leg of mutton sail; a great improvement. To get Nextopolita in and out of the water a pole truck was purchased, a legacy left behind by the retreating Romans. A pole truck has two large wooden wheels about 6 feet in diameter. These are joined together by an iron axle which is raised in the centre. From this, a chain passes under the boat. Fastened to the raised section of the axle is a pole which is half the length of the boat. When the pole is raised the chain and boat are lowered.

Dipping Lug sail – set on the starboard side. Main sail and foresail are all one sheet of canvas.

Leg of mutton sail set centre of the mast plus foresail which is separate.

Racing yachts "B" goes to a point. There is no yard "D". mast "I" is taller which is a handicap to a boat laying at anchor. A mast assists roll

A
Foresail
Extra power used alone in a stormy sea
B
Mainsail
Main source of power
C
Boom
Supports bottom of sail
D
Yard
Supports top of sail
E
Bow Sprit
Protruding fixture for "A"
F
Forestay
Support for "I"
G
Strop
Fastens "D" to "J"
H
Mainstays
"Port" and "Starboard" support "A" and "B"
I
Mast
Pole or stick supports "A" and "B"
J
Traveller
Secured to K and travels up and down "I"
K
Main Halliard
Hoists "B"
L
Foresail Halliard
Hoists "A"
M
Rudder
For steerage
N
Tiller
Handle for "M"
O
Stern
Back end of boat, blunt end
P
Bow
Front end of boat, sharp end
Q
Drop Keel
Extra stabiliser
U
Handle
For "Q"
V
Gunwale
Top plank of boat
W
Free Board
Amount of boat out of the water
X
Sea
Water level "draught"
Y
Pennant
Shows helmsman direction of wind
Z
Main Keel
Ironclad for beach work
T
Support
For "E"
R
Horse
A rail raised above stern and over "U".

Sliding along the rail is a
ring onto which is spliced a cord "3"
S
Main sheet
Fastens to 2 passes through a wheel
block secured to "C" and is held by the crew

Boat Expressions

A
Stern
Transome
B
Port side
C
Bow
Fore end hence foredeck
D
Starboard side
E
Midship
E-C Forward
E-A Astern
E-D Starboard Beam
E-B Port Beam
F
Thwart
Seat
G
On the underside of the boat. Bilge Keel
H
Mast

Lights

B
Port – Red light
D
Starboard – Green light
H
Mast – White: shielded to show forward

With an ever increasing selection of fishing equipment, Nextopolita soon proved her value. As an amateur, fishing was restricted to weekends from May until September. Fishing started on Friday evenings when lobster pots (5) and whelk pots (also 5) were laid providing the weather was fine with an offshore wind. The boat was left to ride out the night at anchor about 100 yards from the shoreline. We have no harbour, and you certainly do not lug a pole truck about unnecessarily.

Saturday morning, fishing bait was dug, then a trip out to the lobster pots which would all be hauled and stowed with a fresh supply of green crabs to use as bait. A visit was then made to the whelk pots which were re-laid. The first lay of lobster pots was made over rocks near our low water mark, but whelks lived in a muddy depression about three- quarters of a mile out.

We then sailed out about one and a quarter mile to a ridge of rocks. The lobster pots were laid and the boat anchored nearby so that a days rod fishing could be enjoyed with both fresh lugworms and whelks as bait.

At the end of the day, the lobster pots were lifted and stowed away to be re-laid near the shoreline for the second night. The whelks were bypassed and the boat again anchored off for the night

Following day, Sunday, a small trawl was loaded on board. This was a homemade effort, a cross between a lawn roller and an inverted shrimp net.

Five folding bales were also loaded on. Then a trip to the lobster pots which were re-laid at a favourable position for picking up last, later on in the day.

With a good supply of green crabs, the whelks were again passed, crabs were threaded onto large size blanket pins first removing the shells. These became bait for the bales which were laid open altogether in a circle, at a point near the edge of the rocks and large sandy bay. The rocks here were flat, and all sorts of queer things crawled about here apart from lobsters and flat fish – sea urchins – sea mice – hermit crabs – starfish and a lot more creepy crawlies that appear to have little purpose in life. God's good intentions are not always appreciated.

We then sailed close into the shoreline and put about. The trawl would then be lowered over the side with the corks on the bales as a marker. A course was set, all against professional fishermen's rules. We would sail across the tide and not with it as they do and tow out towards the bales hauling the trawl. Down came the sails, there were two on Nextopolita, and out would come the oars.

Now folding bales must be snatched shut quickly. Lobsters have a mighty powerful tail for taking off and hop it quickly and providing you keep pulling, even fish like skate and bass can be caught. The bales would be rebaited and re-laid changing the spot slightly.

Then once again the trawl would be lowered and according to the direction of the wind a wide circle would be set towards the shore and out again to the bales. Hauls would be occasionally made on route. Sailing was the real enjoyment, any fish caught, with luck sole; was a welcome bonus.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from A Longshore Fisherman by Jack Maple. Copyright © 2016 Jack Maple. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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