Bishop Wilson began, or revived, a form of service which was so
beautiful, so picturesque, and withal so Manx that I regret the loss of
scarce any custom so much as the discontinuance of this one. It was the
fishermen's service on the shore at the beginning of the herring-season.
But in order to appreciate it you must first know something of the
herring fishing itself. It is the chief industry of the island. Half the
population is connected with it in some way. A great proportion of the
men of the humbler classes are half seamen, half landsmen, tilling their
little crofts in the spring and autumn, and going out with the herring
boats in summer. The herring is the national fish. The Manxman swears
by its flavour. The deemsters, as we have seen, literally swear by its
backbone. Potatoes and herrings constitute a common dish of the country
people. They are ready for it at any hour of the day or night. I have
had it for dinner, I have taken it for supper, I have seen it for tea,
and even known it for breakfast. It is served without ceremony. In the
middle of the table two great crocks, one of potatoes boiled in their
jackets, the other of herrings fresh or salted; a plate and a bowl
of new milk at every seat, and lumps of salt here and there. To be a
Manxman you must eat Manx herrings; there is a story that to transform
himself into a Manxman one of the Dukes of Athol ate twenty-four of them
at breakfast, a herring for every member of his House of Keys.
The Manx herring fishery is interesting and very picturesque. You know
that the herrings come from northern latitudes, Towards mid-winter a
vast colony of them set out from the arctic seas, closely pursued by
innumerable sea-fowl, which deal death among the little emigrants. They
move in two divisions, one westward towards the coasts of America, the
other eastward in the direction of Europe. They reach the Shetlands in
April and the Isle of Man about June. The herring is fished at night. To
be out with the herring boats is a glorious experience on a calm night.
You have set sail with the fleet of herring boats about sun-down, and
you are running before a light breeze through the dusk. The sea-gulls
are skimming about the brown sails of your boat. They know what you are
going to do, and have come to help you, Presently you come upon a flight
of them wheeling and diving in the gathering darkness. Then you know
that you have lit on the herring shoal. The boat is brought head to the
wind and left to drift. By this time the stars are out, perhaps the moon
also--though too much moon is not good for the fishing--and you can just
descry the dim outline of the land against the dark blue of the sky.
Luminous patches of phosphorescent light begin to move in the water,
"The mar-fire's rising," say the fishermen, the herring are stirring.
"Let's make a shot; up with the gear," cries the skipper, and nets are
hauled from below, passed over the bank-board, and paid out into the
sea--a solid wall of meshes, floating upright, nine feet deep and a
quarter of a mile long. It is a calm, clear night, just light enough
to see the buoys on the back of the first net. The lamp is fixed on the
mitch-board. All is silence, only the steady plash, plash, plash of the
slow waters on the boat's side; no singing among the men, no chaff, no
laughter, all quiet aboard, for the fishermen believe that the fish can
hear; all quiet around, where the deep black of the watery pavement
is brightened by the reflection of stars. Then out of the white
phosphorescent patches come minute points of silver and countless faint
popping sounds, The herrings are at play about the nets. You see them in
numbers exceeding imagination, shoals on shoals. "Pull up now, there's
a heavy strike," cries the skipper, and the nets are hauled up, and come
in white and moving--a solid block of fish, cheep, cheep, cheeping like
birds in the early morning. At the grey of dawn the boats begin to run
for home, and the sun is shining as the fleet makes the harbour. Men and
women are waiting there to buy the night's catch. The quay is full of
them, bustling, shouting, laughing, quarrelling, counting the herrings,
and so forth.