YARMOUTH.

After an early breakfast, we landed on the north side of the river, and

made our way over a level sandy plain towards a tall column which rose

in the midst of it. The plain is called the Denes, and extends from the

mouth of the river to the town. It is scantily covered with grass and

sea plants, round which the sand collects in little hillocks.

We had to steer our way among a vast number of tanned nets spread out to

dry. Here and there fishermen and their wives and daughters were

employed in mending those which had received damage. There must have

been acres upon acres of these nets. We soon reached the column, which

we found was erected by the inhabitants of the county to the memory of

Lord Nelson, who was a Norfolk man. At the top of each side of the

pedestal were the names of the hero's chief victories. At the summit is

a ball, on which stands the figure of Britannia holding a trident and a

laurel wreath. The keeper invited us to enter; and we ascended by a

flight of two hundred and seventeen steps to a gallery at the top of the

column, the total height being one hundred and forty-four feet. From

the platform we got a good bird's-eye view of the town below us, and the

country as far as Norwich, and a wide extent of ocean.

"Have you been here long?" I asked the keeper.

"Not so long as the man who had charge before me," he answered; "he came

here when the column was first put up, and here he stayed for wellnigh

forty years."

"What was his name?" I enquired, finding that the old _custos_ was more

inclined to speak of his predecessor than himself.

"James Sharman. He was with Lord Nelson at Trafalgar. It was he who

helped to carry the admiral from the upper deck to the cockpit. He came

home in the Victory, and afterwards joined several other ships, until he

bore up for Greenwich Hospital; but not liking to be shut up there, Sir

Thomas Hardy--who, you mind, was Lord Nelson's flag-captain--got him

appointed to look after this column; and a good berth it is. He entered

the navy as far back as 1799, and was afloat wellnigh twenty years. He

came here, as near as I can remember, in 1819. He was as brave a seaman

as ever stepped. I mind hearing of a gallant act of his, after he had

been here about ten years. It was at the end of November; and the day

was fast closing in, when the Hammond, a brig bound from Newcastle to

London, drove on shore during a heavy gale, just a little way to the

south of where we are standing. As she was heavily laden, and the water

is shallow thereabout, she grounded more than a hundred fathoms from the

beach. In a short time the wreck parted, and both her masts fell,

carrying away, as was supposed, the whole of the crew. A short time

after dark, however, one of the preventive men, named Smith, brought

word to Sharman that he heard groans upon the wreck.

"`The groans must come from some poor fellow, and we will do our best to

save him,' cried Sharman; `come along, Smith.'

"Taking a long rope, they hurried back to the beach.

"`Now you hold on to the rope, and I'll make the other end fast round my

waist; and I'll see what I can do,' cried Sharman.

"Without a moment's delay he plunged unto the surf, which three times

carried him off his legs and sent him back on shore. Again he tried,

and this time the sea drove him right against the wreck. The night was

so dark that he had a hard matter to find out where the poor fellow was.

At length he found a man clinging to the breastwork. The poor fellow

told him that just before three men who had clung on until then had been

washed away, and if he had come a few minutes sooner they might have

been saved. As to swimming to shore, that he was certain was more than

he could do. On this Sharman, taking the rope off himself, made it fast

round the seaman's waist, and shouted to Smith to haul in, while he

himself trusted to his strong arms to hold onto the rope. They thus

mercifully got safe to shore."

A more appropriate spot than this could not have been fixed on for a

monument to Nelson, who was born at Burnham Thorpe, of which his father,

the Reverend Edmund Nelson, was rector. His mother was Catherine,

daughter of Dr Suckling, Prebendary of Westminster, with one of whose

sons, Captain Maurice Suckling, he first went to sea, on board the

Raisonnable, of sixty-four guns. His education was obtained, first at

the High School at Sanwich, and afterwards at North Walsham. After the

misunderstanding with Spain had been settled, he left the Raisonnable,

and was sent in a West Indian ship, commanded by a Captain Rathbone, who

had been in the navy with his uncle. So great a dislike for the Royal

Navy was instilled into him by the merchant seamen, that it was many

weeks after he had joined the Triumph--to which on his return he had

been appointed--before he became at all reconciled to remaining in it.

How different might have been his lot had he not got over his prejudices

though, wherever he might have been, he would have contrived to make his

name known.

On leaving Nelson's column, we proceeded along a road parallel with the

river, having on our right the new barracks and on our left the Naval

Hospital, which is placed in a fine airy situation, with the Denes in

front and the sea beyond. It was here that Nelson, when the fleet came

into Yarmouth, visited the poor wounded seamen, and going along the

wards, spoke a kind word to each. It was by acts such as these that the

admiral won the affection of his men, who used to say of him, "Our Nel

is as brave as a lion, and as gentle as a lamb."

We presently found ourselves on the quays, running for a mile along the

bank of the river, and which are considered equal to any in the kingdom.

Opposite to us, on the south shore, a modern town has sprung up; and we

here saw a number of vessels building, the chief of them, judging from

their size, intended for the deep-sea fishery.

We had heard that Yarmouth was likened to a gridiron, and we now saw the

reason. Comparatively few broad streets run north and south; they are,

however, joined by one hundred and fifty or more narrow passages, called

rows, which run east and west, like the bars of a gridiron. In many of

them the houses project beyond their foundations, so that the

inhabitants can almost shake hands with their opposite neighbours. Most

of the rows are paved with pebbles brought up from the beach. Uncle Tom

observed that the word "row" is probably derived from the French _rue_,

a street. In many of them we observed curious pieces of old

architecture. They are now numbered, but used to be called after the

names of some of the principal inhabitants. One is called George and

Dragon Row; and in it we noticed a somewhat tumbledown cottage, built in

what is denominated the "herring-bone pattern;" the bones or frame being

of wood placed in a zigzag fashion, filled up with masonry. Another row

is Kitty Witches Row. One end is scarcely three feet wide. It is

supposed that this row was inhabited by women, who used to go about at

certain seasons of the year, dressed in fantastic fashions, to collect

contributions. Yarmouth carts are formed probably after the model of

the most ancient vehicles in the kingdom. They are long, narrow, and

low, the wheels being placed under the seat, so as to occupy as little

space as possible. The shafts are fastened to the axles, and two or

three perpendicular pieces of wood--the hindermost being the longest--

support the seat, on which a person can recline at his ease. It will

thus be seen that wherever the horses can go, the cart can follow.

Passing a very fine Town Hall we reached the end of a remarkably

handsome bridge, which unites Southtown to Yarmouth. We then turned to

our right through some narrow roads; and having crossed a broad street,

we found ourselves in an open space in front of the Church of Saint

Nicholas, one of the largest parish churches in the kingdom. Turning

back and passing the fine Fisherman's Hospital, we entered the

market-place, which occupies nearly three acres of land. About the

centre of the market-place there are some smooth stones in the form of a

cross, which mark the spot where the town cross once stood. It was

formerly adorned with the pillory and stocks, but they have long

disappeared. The freemen of the town have the right of selling here

free, with one stall. At the north end of the market is an avenue of

lime-trees, which adds to its pleasant foreign appearance. In the yard

of the Fisherman's Hospital we saw a figure of Charity; and the cupola

above is adorned by a statue of the Apostle Peter, who, in former days,

was looked upon as the patron of fishermen.

We went to see the Toll House and Gaol, which are the oldest buildings

in the town. We entered a hall by an external staircase, leading to an

Early English doorway, which has the tooth ornament on the jambs.

Opposite to it is an enclosed Early English window, with cinquefoil

heads and shafts in the jambs.

We were shown an ancient iron chest, called a hatch, in which the

Corporation of Yarmouth kept their charters and valuable documents.

Among the contents are the tallies or cleft sticks upon which the

accounts were formerly kept, the stick being notched according to the

amount of money advanced, one part being given to the creditor, and the

other to the debtor. The same plan is used in the present day by the

hop-pickers in Kent, the overseer having one stick, while the picker

keeps the other, and notches it each time a basket is emptied. Beneath

this Toll House is the ancient Gaol or House of Correction. Up to the

present century this gaol was as defective as that of prisons generally.

Under the ground is an apartment called the hold, with iron rings fixed

to a heavy beam of wood crossing the floor. To this beam--in olden

times--prisoners were wont to be chained. The sufferings of these

unfortunate persons stirred up the heart of a Christian woman, Sarah

Martin, residing in Yarmouth. Though compelled to support herself as a

dressmaker, she devoted much of her time, as did John Howard and

Elizabeth Fry, to visiting her suffering fellow-creatures. For

twenty-four years she thus laboured, visiting day after day the

prisoners and malefactors in the town gaol. There was no one on earth

to reward her, no one to thank her; but she trusted in God, and gave Him

the praise that she was thus able to labour in His service. By her

instrumentality many who were looked upon as hardened wretches by their

fellow-men were brought to the foot of the cross as penitent sinners.

When she lay dying, a friend asked, "What shall I read?" her answer was

one word, "Praise." To the question, "Are there any clouds?" she

answered, "None: He never hides His face; it is our sins which form the

cloud between us and Him. He is all love, all light." And when the

hour of her departure was come, her exclamation was, "Thank God! thank

God!"

We read this account of the humble dressmaker near the spot where she

laboured, and from whence her spirit took its flight to be with Him whom

she had served on earth.

Between the old walls and the sea a new town has sprung up, with fine

terraces facing the water, and a battery at either end; running out from

it, over a narrow part of the Dene, into the ocean are three piers. The

one known as "the Jetty," from its jutting out into the sea, is between

the others. It is composed of strong oaken piles driven into the soil

and braced together with wooden beams, further secured by iron

fastenings. During heavy weather, at high tide, the sea breaks

completely over the end, while at low-tide it is left almost completely

dry. Of late it has been considerably extended. We walked to the end,

to have a look at the town, with its towers and windmills rising from

amid the smaller houses. Near the beach we visited the Fishermen's

Chapel, to which an Institute is attached, containing a library,

reading-room, etcetera.

Along the shore are several high wooden structures with platforms on the

top. They are built to enable the pilots or boatmen to take a survey of

the roadstead and the sands beyond, that they may see any vessel

requiring their assistance.

Near these structures were two or more handsome boats drawn up on the

beach, which are called yawls. They can be launched when no ordinary

boat can put to sea, and they are principally used for rendering

assistance to vessels in distress. They are from fifty to seventy feet

in length, and each carries from ten to twenty men.

An old boatman told us of a very disastrous accident which occurred some

years ago to the Increase, to which a man named Samuel Brock belonged.

A signal of distress was seen flying on board a Spanish brig in the

offing, when the Increase, with a crew of ten men and a London pilot,

put off to her assistance.

The yawl, having reached the brig, put three hands on board to navigate

her into Yarmouth Harbour. She stood back for the shore. On passing

the Newarp Floating Light, a signal was made requesting them to take a

sick man on board, which they did, and then continued their cruise with

a strong breeze, under three lugs. They were taking a snack of food,

when, having imprudently trimmed the ballast to windward--a most

dangerous practice--a tremendous squall took the sails aback, and in a

moment capsized her. Brock being a good swimmer, struck out to get

clear of his companions, his ears assailed by their cries, mingled with

the hissing of water and the howling of the storm. After a moment or so

he swam back to help an old man to get hold of a spar; he then himself

got on the boat, and stood upon its side; but finding that she was

gradually settling down, he again struck off. By this time he supposed

that all his companions were lost; and he began to think of the awful

position in which he was placed, the nearest land being fully six miles

distant. He remembered that it was half-past six just before the boat

went over, and that as it was now low water, the tide would be setting

off the shore, making to the southward, and that, therefore, he must

swim fifteen miles before the ebb would assist him. Just then, a rush

horse-collar, which had served as a fender to the boat, floated by. He

got hold of it, and putting his left arm through it, was supported until

he had cut the waistband of his cloth trousers, which then fell off. He

in a similar way got rid of his frock, his waistcoat, and neckcloth; but

he dared not free himself from his oilskin trousers, fearing that his

legs might become entangled. He now put the collar over his head, but

although it assisted him in floating, it retarded his swimming, and he

had to abandon it. He had gone some little distance, when he discovered

one of his messmates swimming ahead of him. The wind having gone down,

no cries were heard, and the moon shone calmly on the water. Ere long

he beheld the last of his companions sink without struggle or cry.

Should he give in also? Not for a moment would he yield to such a

thought; and he prepared himself for the desperate struggle.

For some time Winterton Light, to the north of Yarmouth, served to

direct his course; when the tide carried him out of sight of it, a star

served to guide him. At length this was obscured by the clouds, from

which flashes of lightning, with crackling peals of thunder, burst

forth. Still he swam on, until again the moon shone forth. Having cut

off his heavy boots, he swam more easily. And now Lowestoft Light came

in sight, and he saw the checkered buoy of Saint Nicholas Gat, opposite

his own door, but still four miles away from land. He had been five

hours in the water. Here was something to hold on by; but he reflected

that his limbs might become numbed from exposure to the night air, and

that it would be more prudent to swim on. So abandoning the buoy, he

steered for the land. Not long afterwards he heard a whizzing sound

overhead. It was a huge gull which had made a dash at him, mistaking

him for a corpse; a number followed, but by shouting and splashing he

drove them off. He was now approaching Corton Sands, over which the sea

was breaking, and he much doubted whether he could live through it; but

in a short time he was driven over them into smooth water, and the wind

and swell coming from the eastward, he regained his strength. Some

distance to the southward, he saw a brig at anchor. He was in doubt

whether he should make towards her or continue his course to the shore.

There was a great deal of surf breaking on the beach, and he might not

have strength to climb up out of its reach. Also, if he swam to the

brig, he might fail to make himself heard by the crew. However, on

reflection, he determined to make for the brig. He got within two

hundred yards, but nearer it was impossible to get. He now sang out

with all his might. Happily, his voice was heard by the watch, a boat

was lowered, and at half-past one, having swum seven and a half hours,

he was on board the Betsey, at anchor in Corton Roads, nearly fifteen

miles from the spot where the yawl was capsized. On being lifted on

deck he fainted; and it was not until long afterwards, by careful

attention from the captain and crew, that he was brought round. He

suffered great pain in several parts of his body, and it was with

difficulty that he swallowed some warm beer. He was landed at

Lowestoft, and five days afterwards was able to walk back to Yarmouth.

We were shown the knife with which he was enabled to cut off his clothes

and boots. A piece of silver was fixed to it, on which were engraved

the names of the crew of the yawl, and the words, "Brock, aided by this

knife, was saved, after being seven and a half hours in the sea. 6th

October, 1835."

It was a remarkable thing that for some time previous he had been

without a knife, and only purchased this two days before. Nearly half

the time he was exposed to the full sweep of the North Sea; the other

half he was partly sheltered by the Newarp and Cross Sands.

Between this and Yarmouth Roads is another long sandbank, at the south

end of which is the Nicholas Gat; then comes the Corton Sandbank, over

the end of which he was driven. He was described to us as a

strongly-built man of five feet five. Though Captain Webb and others

have swum far greater distances, few Englishmen have ever performed such

a feat as this under similar circumstances.

Afterwards we inspected the lifeboats, which are kept in houses built to

shelter them from the weather. They belong to an institution called the

Norfolk Association for Saving Life from Shipwreck, and are similar in

construction to those already described. They are fitted to carriages

to convey them along the beach or down to the harbour.

We went through a number of sheds where were some fine luggers, used for

the herring and mackerel fishery. Their crews were getting them ready

for sea. Each vessel is from forty to fifty tons burden, and carries a

crew of ten men.

The herring usually arrives on the Norfolk coast about the last week in

September, for the purpose of spawning, and they are then in the best

condition to become the food of man. The name "herring" is derived from

the German _heer_, an army, to which they are likened in consequence of

the vast number which keep together. They are mostly caught at a

considerable distance from the coast; but they do not always appear in

the same place. Formerly it was supposed that they were migratory; but

it is now believed that they keep within the deeper parts of the ocean

until they rise nearer the surface in the autumn to deposit their eggs.

For some years they have appeared near the surface as early as the last

week in August. A herring seldom measures more than fourteen inches in

length; but we were told that one was caught some years ago seventeen

and a half inches in length, seven and a half in girth, and that it

weighed thirteen ounces! Each lugger carries from sixty to a hundred

nets; each net is about fifteen yards long, and is floated by corks

placed a few feet apart. The united nets form what is called a train

fleet, or drift of nets. The depth to which they are sunk is regulated

by ropes seven or eight yards long, called seizings, of which there are

two to each net. They are made fast to a stout warp, running along the

whole of the train, which is upwards of a mile in length, and supported

near the surface by kegs, called "bowls." The warp is useful in taking

the strain off the nets, and in preventing their loss, in case the nets

should be fouled, or cut by a vessel passing over them. The meshes are

about an inch square.

Drift fishing is carried on at night. The nets are "shot" a little

before sunset, the vessel keeping before the wind, with only enough sail

set to take her clear of the nets as they are thrown overboard. When

all the nets are out, about fifteen more fathoms of warp are paid out;

and by this the vessel is swung round, and then rides head to the wind,

a small mizen being set to keep her in that position.

One of the masters of a lugger showed us the way the nets hang in the

water; the whole train being extended in nearly a straight line, the big

rope to which the corks are fastened being uppermost, and the body of

the net hanging perpendicularly in the water, forming a wall of netting

more than two thousand yards long and about eight yards deep. The

strain from the vessel serves to keep the net extended, and the whole--

vessel and nets together--drifts along with the tide.

During the day the fish keep near the bottom; but as night closes in,

should the weather be fine, they swim nearer the surface, and attempting

to swim through the barriers of net on each side of them, a large number

become entangled or meshed, their gills preventing their return when

once their heads have passed through the meshes.

After waiting two or three hours, the first net is hauled on board,

when, if it is found that a number of fish have been caught, the whole

of the net is hauled in by means of a capstan and the warp to which the

nets are fastened. The fish are then shaken out, and the vessel beats

up again to the spot from which the net was first shot, and the process

is repeated.

Mackerel nets have larger meshes, being twenty-four or twenty-five to

the yard. They are not so deep as the herring nets, but they are twice

as long, often extending to a distance of nearly two miles and a half.

Occasionally in one night a single boat has taken from twelve to

fourteen lasts of herrings, each last numbering ten thousand fish; but

of course the catch is uncertain. One boat, however, has been known to

bring in the enormous quantity of twenty lasts. Some few years ago

upwards of nine thousand lasts, or nearly one hundred and twenty

millions of fish, were caught by the Yarmouth luggers. Several vessels

bring in one hundred lasts each.

As is well-known, immediately the herring leaves the water it dies;

hence the phrase, "dead as a herring." To preserve the fish, salt is

immediately thrown upon them in the boats; they are carried to the

fish-house in open wicker baskets, called swills, where they are

delivered over to a man called a "tower," when they are placed on the

salting floor. If they are to be used at home, they remain for only

twenty-four hours; but if for the foreign markets, for several days.

They are afterwards washed in fresh water, and strung up by splits

passed through their gills, one tier below another, to about seven feet

from the ground. Oak-wood fires are then kindled under them for

fourteen days, if intended for the foreign market; but if for home use,

only twenty-four hours. The first are called red-herrings, and the

latter are known as bloaters. When sufficiently cured, they are packed

in barrels, each containing about seven hundred fish. Between thirty

and forty thousand barrels are sent to the Mediterranean, but a far

larger quantity is used at home. Upwards of two hundred boats, carrying

two thousand men, are employed in the herring fishery; but many more are

engaged on shore in curing the fish.

Hearing that the deep-sea fishing was going on, papa and Uncle Tom

agreed to accompany one of the cutters which was about to rejoin the

fleet; and as we had seen more of Yarmouth than of most places we had

visited, we returned on board to get ready to sail with our friend.

Before long the cutter appeared, and we stood out of the harbour after

her. We sailed in company for two days, when on Sunday morning, shortly

after breakfast, we made out the fleet, with most of the vessels near us

hove-to, a steamer being among them, stationary, like the rest. In the

distance were many other vessels, some standing towards the fleet,

others sailing in different directions, and a few ships passing by. On

getting near enough to distinguish their flags, we found that several of

them carried the "Bethel" flag, a notice that service was to be held on

board. Both the yachts therefore hove-to, and under the guidance of our

friend we pulled on board one of the vessels. We were gladly received

by the master, who was going to conduct the service. The crews of

several other vessels having come on board, he invited us to join them,

which we willingly did, although the space was somewhat confined.

Several hymns were sung, the fine manly voices of the fishermen

producing a good effect. A chapter of God's Word was read, and a gospel

address was given. After service, the men returned on board their

vessels with books and tracts, which had been distributed among them.

We remained until the following day, that we might see the fish caught.

Our friend the skipper gave us a great deal of information about

trawlers. The Yarmouth fleet consists of several hundred vessels,

ranging from fifty to seventy tons. They have increased rapidly. Fifty

years ago, there were none belonging to Great Yarmouth. They only form

a small portion of English and Irish trawling vessels. Many hundred

sail leave the Thames, the Humber, Scarborough, and Lowestoft, to fish

in the North Sea; while several other places send out fifty or sixty

vessels to the English or Irish Channels, manned by some thousands of

fishermen. It is calculated that they supply the English markets daily

with three or four hundred tons of fish.

The beam trawl consists of a triangular purse-shaped net, about seventy

feet long, forty wide at the mouth, gradually diminishing to four or

five at the commencement of the cod, as the smaller end is called. This

part of the trawl, about ten feet long, is of a uniform breadth to the

extremity, which is closed by a draw-rope, like the string of a purse.

The upper part of the mouth is made fast to a beam about forty feet in

length, which keeps the net open. This beam is supported by two upright

iron frames, three feet in height, known as the trawl heads, or irons;

the lower being flattened, to rest on the ground. The under side of the

net is made with a curved margin. The outside is guarded from chafing,

when the trawl is being worked over the bottom, by pieces of old net.

The meshes vary in size according to the part of the trawl. Near the

mouth, they are four inches square, and in the cod, an inch and a

quarter. The trawl is hauled along by a bridle, that is to say, by two

ropes of about fifteen fathoms each, which are fastened to the ends of

the trawl heads, and unite at a warp, one hundred and fifty fathoms

long, which serves to haul the net along. Trawling, as a rule, is

carried on in the direction of the tide, although sometimes across it,

but never against a stream. It is usually kept down for one tide, and

its rate of progress is generally from half a mile to two miles an hour

faster than that of the stream. The fish caught are turbot, skate,

soles, though others are occasionally taken in the net. The trawl can

only be used with advantage on smooth ground; and, of course, a sandy

bottom is preferred, not only from that being the usual resort of

several valuable kinds of ground fish, but from the less danger there is

on such a surface of tearing the net to pieces.

Formerly, the fish as soon as they were caught, were sent to market in

fast-sailing cutters, but now steamers are generally employed; the fish,

as soon as collected, being packed in ice. The trawlers themselves stay

out for six weeks at a time, in all seasons of the year. They are

remarkably fine vessels, and capable of standing a great deal of rough

work; and a hardier set of men than their crews can scarcely anywhere be

found. Steam trawlers are gradually coming into use, being independent

of wind and weather, and one boat is capable of doing the work of

several ordinary vessels.