When the boat comes in
Dene Bebbington looks back at the legacy of Grimsby’s brave trawlermen.
When Grimsby finally came into view for the tired crew of a trawler, they’d have been glad to catch sight of home after a fishing voyage in the fruitful but unforgiving waters of the North Sea or North Atlantic.
Working aboard a trawler wasn’t for the faint-hearted, or those without good sea legs. The arduous and dangerous conditions were wet and cold, but a crew’s spirits were warmed by a sense of camaraderie and hopes of a big catch.
By the mid-19th century England’s burgeoning railway network connected Grimsby to other parts of the country. Demand for cod and haddock to supply chippies helped the town to grow into the country’s premier fishing port.
Fishing boats and ships had operated from Grimsby for centuries until steam power, coupled with man-made ice, ushered in the age of trawlers able to sail much further to Icelandic waters while keeping caught fish fresh until they returned to port.
Trawlers could be away from port for several weeks when fishing in distant waters, so fish were gutted on the ship then stored in ice so they didn’t rot before unloading back at the docks and distribution to other towns and cities. Stored in round wicker baskets, catches were measured in ‘kits’ – a kit being 140 pounds (10 stones) in weight.
During Grimsby’s heyday one trawler could return with a few thousands kits which added up to hundred of tons!
Navigating the dangers
Crew working on a trawler deck had to balance themselves against the ship’s heaving and rolling in choppy waters while wearing oilskins to protect themselves from spray and rain, making it a perfect environment for injuries.
Typically, more than half of the trawlermen were briefly laid up sometime during their working life – from illness, severe bruising, cuts or broken bones. Sadly, some men never returned home from their job, having been lost to the frigid depths.
The chance of getting washed overboard in stormy seas was a lethal occupational hazard and also a worry for families waiting at home. Worse still, several families might all receive the same dreadful news that their husband, father, brother or son had drowned.
In January 1935, the five-year-old trawler Jeria hit fatal trouble in hurricane force winds off Iceland as heavy seas smashed her funnel and small boats away. The last, remarkably calm and poignant radio message received from her said, “Ship sinking with all crew. Will any who pick up this, probably our last message, send our greetings to our families in Grimsby and to Old England.”
A search failed to find their ship, but some of her lifebelts washed up on Iceland’s coast.
Thankfully, not all hands were lost on every stricken trawler battered by ferocious waves. The Epine suffered a mixed fate, the news of which brought sorrow to some families and bittersweet relief to the rest, when in March 1948 at near to midnight she ran aground off Iceland’s coast.
Her highly respected skipper, Alfred Loftis, unfortunately made a navigation error and was one of several crew who perished. Clinging to the bridge he reportedly shouted, “I do not mind what happens to me so long as the boys are all right. Look after the boys.”
Five men survived the calamity. One swam ashore and the remaining four were eventually rescued from the ship’s rigging.
Wartime challenges
Sometimes a trawler found itself on the other end of a potential rescue. In February 1916, during World War I, the King Stephen spotted distant signal lights, so skipper William Martin set off to see if a vessel in distress needed help. They found a partly submerged Zeppelin airship and the German crew pleading to be rescued, even offering gold in return for salvation.
Martin and the ship’s mate, George Denny, confabbed then agreed that taking aboard over 20 armed enemy serviceman would have led them to being overpowered and taken to Germany as prisoners. Leaving people to drown couldn’t have been an easy decision though.
They headed for port straight away to report the incident, a situation which the skipper found difficult to forget as the desperate Germans shouted vitriolic comments at the departing trawler. As news of the encounter spread, public opinion in Britain supported the skipper’s action.
Grimsby’s trawlers played an important role in World War II, as many were requisitioned and converted to minesweepers. Luftwaffe aircraft attacked trawlers even if they were just fishing, because Germany wanted to cut off Britain’s food supplies in a total war.
In March 1940, an enemy plane strafed the Chandos, killing Skipper John Upton and wounding trimmer Clifford Rawlins (a crewman who kept coal evenly distributed). This being wartime, the trawler was lightly armed with a Lewis machine gun. Despite losing blood, Rawlins fired back at the plane on its repeated attack runs, eventually hitting its tail and forcing the pilot to retreat.
Pieces of a German plane were later found in the trawler’s nets – possibly wreckage from their attacker, if it had gone down in the sea. Rawlins survived to be awarded the British Empire Medal in recognition of his actions.
Fishing waters
While disaster was an ever-present risk for trawlers even in peacetime, most of the time they safely returned to Grimsby. Occasionally good news of a new record catch would be announced. The Coldstreamer, built in 1955 for the Standard Steam Fishing Company, caught a record haul of 3,000 kits on her first working trip. She’s an example of how far trawlers ventured in search of fishing grounds. After persuading the company to allow it, Skipper Jasper Pidgen sailed across the Atlantic Ocean to the waters of Newfoundland in Canada. But the catch on that nearly month-long run only amounted to 1,700 kits.
Strong winds and pack ice resulted in the ship icing up, forcing the crew to break the ice off every few hours.
Trawlermen with money to burn in their pockets thanks to a valuable haul got the nickname ‘three-day millionaires’ for their lavish spending in town during a short time ashore before putting back to sea. They were easy to spot, wearing grey or blue suits and baggy trousers.
British trawlers traditionally fished in waters around Iceland, but in September 1958 the first so-called Cod War started when Iceland extended its fisheries zone from four to twelve nautical miles beyond its coastline.
The situation escalated to the point that Royal Navy warships protected our trawlers. The dispute ended in 1961, then a second Cod War flared up in 1972 after Iceland extended the zone much further to 50 nautical miles out.
Icelandic gunships tried to cut trawlers’ nets or arrest them so they could be prosecuted and fined. As history shows, that Cod War, plus the European Economic Community fisheries policy applying to Britain in 1973, pushed Grimsby’s fishing industry into a decline from which it never recovered.
Many people in Britain once had Grimsby’s tough trawlermen to thank for their weekly treat of fish and chips. It’s a long time since a large trawler fleet thronged Grimsby’s docks and the air filled with the sounds of men unloading catches.
They’re a voice of the past, but visitors can get a taste of that bygone era at the Grimsby Fishing Heritage Centre and aboard the preserved museum ship, the Ross Tiger.
For more information visit www.fishingheritage.com
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Lincolnshire Life Magazine Newsletter 12/25 - mailchi.mp/lincolnshirelife.co.uk/lincolnshire-life-magazine-newsletter-12-25