Merchant Navy Memories - Fishing Snappers Sharks and Snakes
by Published on 28th February 2024 10:02 AM
On reaching the Southwest coast of Iceland, the trawlers I worked on would shoot their gear to ‘stretch the warps’ before proceeding to the fishing grounds around Northwest Iceland. The idea I suppose was to sort out any problems with the warps and fishing paraphernalia and, on the off-chance of hitting a shoal of fish in these waters. I remember once hauling in a bag of red mullet. Red mullet tends to lose its colour from red to a greyish colour after a week or so in the fish room and the British housewife was reluctant to buy grey mullet from the fishmonger, therefore British trawlers would only take mullet on the final few days of the trip. On the other hand, the ‘Deutsche Hausfrau’ would go shopping for mullet red or grey. Our skipper would call up the German fishing boats to inform them of the shoals of mullet -‘Entente cordiale’ between British and German seamen.
I wasn’t working on the fishing boats during the second Cod War (1972 to 1973) when Iceland unilaterally extended its fishing limits from 12nm to 50nm or the third Cod War (1975 to 1976) again extending the fishing limits from 50nm to 200nm. However, I was working on the trawlers during the first Cod War (1958 to 1961) when Iceland extended the fishing limits from 4 nautical miles to 12 nautical miles. This forced British fishing boats to find new and deeper grounds. Trawling the deep at 200 fathoms, and deeper, brings up some weird and wonderful items, among the Cod, Haddock, Monk, Pollock, Cats, Dogs, rocks, and unexploded WW2 mines were some pretty odd-looking fish. If the fish could not be identified it was put on one side and posted down to the Natural History Museum in London for identifying and recording.
Catfish are mean creatures, they bite the heel of your boot and grip on like grim death, getting them to let go is pretty difficult. See one in the pound, kick it down the deck so it bites someone else’s boot.
Fleetwood trawlers hunted mainly for the shoals of white fish - Cod and Haddock, however, the nets are not fussy about what swims in them. Occasionally we’d catch Halibut and Sturgeon. Halibut at today’s prices is £35 per pound but the fish made a nice halibut stew for the crew (FCC - For Crews Consumption) and many halibut caught were not landed. Sturgeon was declared ‘Royal Fish’ by King Edward II 14th century and any sturgeon landed in the UK had to be offered to the Crown (Nowadays just a formality). Once while fishing in a mud bottom-seabed on the Iceland's east coast we brought up a bag of rare saltwater Crayfish or Spiny Lobster. Regardless of what they are called, salt water crayfish are more tasty than normal lobster and attract a higher price in the fish market. Needless to say, these tasty creatures never made it to market (FCC).
Before working on the trawlers and long after I returned to deep sea ships, I, along with other sailors, fished over the side whenever possible. I used a hook, line, sinker, and any bait I could lay my hands on.
While stopped mid-Pacific for engine maintenance (MV Dartmoor) two large fish were caught by the lads. One was a large shark the other was a massive Snapper. The shark was about 3 metres long. With its tail tied to the poop deck handrail, its head and snout lay on the deck. The shark’s mouth was open showing two rows of wide serrated teeth. After the shark had been trussed up for half an hour one of the cadets thought it a good idea to pull out a shark tooth as a souvenir. But first, he shoved a broom handle in its mouth. The shark bit down and snapped the handle in half, which put the cadet off going anywhere near the shark’s mouth again. On another occasion, a large Snapper was caught. It lay on the deck with its massive mouth wide open. The fish had what looked like collagen-filled lips, (A bit like the caricature fish on a Fish and Chips Shop sign board) and some long sharp-looking teeth. I was a 16- or 17-year-old idiot and thought I’d show off to the other boys by putting my hand in its mouth, thinking the fish was dead. Lucky for me, instead of my hand I inserted a large rope hook The Snapper clamped down so hard on the hook it smashed through the scull of the fish’s head! Snappers, they are well-named.
On another occasion, we were anchored in a lagoon off the New Caledonian coast loading pineapples. The palm-lined beach and the marine-rich lagoon seemed to me unchanged since the days Captain Cook visited these waters back in 1774. The only sign of civilianization was the heavy smell of pineapples on the breeze, pineapple juice flowing into the sea from a river gap in the palms, and the lighters transferring canned pineapples from the cannery to the ship (MV Eugenie S Embiricos). I imagine now the beach is lined with bars and hotels.
The chief engineer, a sailor, and myself borrowed the ship's jolly boat for a day’s fishing in the lagoon. We caught a couple of red snappers then I caught what I thought must be a pretty big fish as I pulled the line hand over hand. The water was crystal clear and I could see the fish below I thought it was a small shark, but as it got closer to the boat the fish went berserk fighting like mad to get off the hook. Then as I hauled it over the gunnel the fish really kicked off. Leaping in the air snapping and snarling, thrashing about it looked like it was trying to bite one of us. I was terrified, sitting up on the gunnel wanting to jump over the side. I tried hitting it with an oar but kept missing. The fish getting more and more tangled in the fishing line. This went on for ages, I thought when the hell is it going to stop? Eventually, the chief pulled out the tiller and whacked the fish on the head. The fish was about a metre long. It looked very much like a barracuda, except it had a flat head with V-shaped gills on the top of its head and a long mouth full of razor-sharp and dangerous-looking teeth. I cut the line not wanting to retrieve the hook. We tossed it over the side and called it a day fishing in this particular lagoon.
My final memory of fishing is the day I caught a sea snake. We were moored in a river near Puntarenas Coast Rica. On board was a Spanish speaking American Supercargo watching the cargo for pilfering. Stevedores were working the winches unloading cargo into lighters. I was fishing over the side with a hook line and sinker. Suddenly the line went tight, I thought I’d snagged the bottom, whatever was on the line didn’t want catching. Hand over hand, I pulled hard on the line, looking over the side, I thought, I’ve caught an eel. It looked like an eel with a paddle-like tail. As I hoisted it over the handrail and was about to retrieve my hook, the Stevedores started yelling, ‘Serpiente, serpiente marina!! Sueltalo!’ The Supercargo shouted, ‘Drop it! Don’t touch it! It’s a snake!’ I dropped the line and the snake slithered into the scupper. Being a devout coward, I cut the line and flipped the snake over the side with a broom handle. The snake I found out, was a ‘Yellow Lipped Sea Krait’. The Super told me that the sea snake was deadly venomous, he said if it had bit you would die screaming and there is no antidote. He also said the snake can reactive strike even when they are dead!!
That’s all for now folks, any more fishy tails (tales) to tell?
PC R710198
