The fishing families of Hull (Yorkshire, England) lived in the most colourful community in the world. They were exposed to the dangers of the Icelandic Fishing Grounds in the Arctic Ocean.
As a local historian, I have dedicated over thirty years researching this unique set of people - since 1974 and ongoing.
I have had six books published, six videos produced, two wall plates designed, written hundreds of articles, presented thousands of talks on the topic.
This is a fascinating topic and, if you are interested, I would like to give you a few insights into the dangerous lives of the Fishing Families of Hull (UK). These are presented under various headings.
(NOTE: If there is any interest out there in this Blog, then I will gladly add more up-to-date material from my more recent writings. Therefore, please let me know if you wish to see more material in the future and I will be happy to oblige.)
HULL'S ARCTIC TRAWLERMEN
Arctic trawlermen were "the last of the hunters" doing the most perilous job in the world. In war or peace, British deep-sea fishermen stared death in the face each time they set sail. They endured many dangers at sea, they had their own on-board superstitions, the fish dock activities were a hectic bustle when the trawlers' landed their catches, then there was the role of trawlers in war-time, the Cod Wars, and 'Spyships' during the Cold War.
Following is a brief extract about a brave skipper involved in both world wars - Mad Rilatt - from my book "Hull's Fishing Heritage" (2003):
SKIPPER HERO OF FIRST WORLD WAR:
'Mad' Rilatt outwitted German U-boats
"Hull trawlers and crewmen were in the heat of battle during both world wars. With guts and cunning they carried out the most dangerous naval tasks. Yet they still get little credit for their role as wartime warriors of the waves and the dangerous duties they performed. Our trawlermen swept safe channels through seas alive with deadly explosives; laid mines within the enemies shipping lanes; hounded U-boats with depth-charges; escorted convoys across the Atlantic Ocean and north into the Arctic Ocean to Russia; guarded river mouths; and, manned boom defence vessels. They were Britain's claws of war that dug deep into the enemy's flesh.
Being at the gory core, they also paid a very high price in life and limb, trauma and trawlers. During the First World War – the focus of the present chapter – a total of 135 Hull trawlers were lost. Just over half of these (73) were civilian losses – those attacked whilst peacefully fishing. On one day alone, 3 May 1915, seven Hull trawlers were sunk during U-boat attacks. These were the Bob-White (H.290), Coquet (H.831), Hector (H.896), Hero (H.886), Iolanthe (H.328), Northward Ho (H.455), and Progress (H.475). A German U-boat(s) in one area of the North Sea (approximately 155 miles ENE of Spurn Point, Yorkshire) sank them all. They were simply trawling the Dogger Bank fishing grounds when the Germans took them by surprise. What tended to happen in this sort of attack was that the trawlermen were forced to surrender or be blown out of the water with their ship. The unarmed crewmen were sometimes taken prisoner or, more often, set adrift in a rowing (coggie) boat. The U-boat commander seized the ship's registration documents (like a scalp, it was proof to his superiors that he had sunk the vessel). Next, a time bomb was placed on board the empty trawler below the water line. Or bullets were fired into the side of the vessel. A torpedo was rarely 'wasted' on a relatively cheap trawler
There are countless untold stories of what Hull trawlermen endured in the First World War. One tale of valour relates to Edward Spencer Rilatt the Second. This patriotic fighter was to become one of the port's most decorated skippers in both world wars. Like many trawlermen he had a nickname. But his, 'Mad' Rilatt, was none too flattering. He had a fiery temper and it is said that "his head literally used to steam" when he got mad. He even took a certain pride in his name. If someone asked, "What do they call you, then, mate?” his usual reply was, "Rilatt's the name and, if you must know, it's 'Mad' Rilatt!” When annoyed he angrily yanked off his cap, flung it to the floor, jumped on it, and did a little stomping dance. But that was the peak of his ire. Soon afterwards, it was all over and forgotten. Yet when on the rampage, he was unpredictable. Rilatt once went berserk with a ginger-headed deckhand, Norman Leech, aboard the Hull Northern trawler Tamora (H.853). In a blind rage to get to the poor man, he made an enormous leap from the wheelhouse, misjudged his landing, struck the winch gear, and broke a leg in two places.
The Germans also felt the wrath of the Rilatt rage when he was skipper of HMD [His Majesty’s Drifter] Dawn. This was a brand new purpose-built World War One drifter specially designed as a minesweeper. Along with two other British vessels, Rilatt ordered his engines to be stopped while ratings dropped a lead line to check the ship’s location and begin clearing a safe channel. Then a U-boat suddenly surfaced. The Germans began to shell the armed British ships. A frantic battle ensued as rapid shellfire was exchanged. The Dawn's gunner was a tall Newfoundlander. With Mad Rilatt's daring seamanship and the gunner's accurate shooting, they sank the U-boat despite the odds. During the violent action and quick loading of shells, the big Canadian lost two fingers in the breech of the gun. The whole crew were highly commended for their bravery.
Earlier in the war, Ted Rilatt had been 'mentioned in dispatches' ..... "
S U P E R S T I T I O N S :
"Of all seafarers there are none more superstitious
than fishermen and their families"
I entered the topic of superstition from a background of scepticism. While conducting interviews with the Hessle Road fishing families of Hull, they kept making mention of superstitions. Initially I ignored them as nonsense. But when a set of taboos were central to a life-and- death story, I was forced to note them down. Then I began to compile a list of them. This grew and grew. I then began to ask questions and ponder their origins. This work then became my largest book to date - 'SUPERSTITIONS: Folk Magic in Hull's Fishing Community'. Indeed, it is this subject more than any other which has resulted in me being asked to appear on television in the UK and USA. I started a sceptic and now I am a specialist on superstitions - is that a stroke of Good Luck? Every generation since the dawn of time has written off superstition as being nonsensical and about to 'kick the bucket'. Yet taboos keep springing back to life. Why do primitive omens survive in the Age of Science? Superstitions are many-sided: silly and serious, illogical and practical, Pagan and Christian. The ancient omens once touched every aspect of daily life: in the home; at birth, marriage & death; animals; and women in particular were the centre of many home-spun rituals.
Below is a brief extract from an article I had published in The Dalesman magazine some years ago about Friday the 13th:
"Friday is called the Devil's Day. And thirteen is the unluckiest of all numbers. Only during this century, apparently, have these two separate superstitions been married together into a new one (c.1913). During my exploration of these two separate taboos, I was not surprised to find that Yorkshire had made its own contribution to these folklore beliefs.When Scarborough was at its height as a Victorian spa town (c.1869), a bathing-machine assistant often warned visitors not to swim on a Friday as that was when most accidents happened.This negative attitude toward any Friday is reflected in a string of sayings which echoed around many a Yorkshire home: "Friday flit / Short sit" cautioned against moving house that day because you will not remain long in the next abode. "A Friday sail / Will always fail" is a common expression in fishing communities. At one time, many Hull skippers refused to leave port that day."Never go a courting on a Friday / Or you'll never meet again" - because Eve tempted Adam with the apple that day. Weatherlore observed "If it rains on a Friday / Then Sunday will be fine" and "A Friday moon brings foul weather".Finally, "Friday nights dream on Saturday told / Is sure to come true be it ever so old". So if it is a nightmare, keep it to yourself; but if a good dream, tell everyone you can.Likewise, there are all sorts of tasks to avoid on Friday: never begin any new work, write a letter, knit, lay a keel, launch a ship, begin the harvest, cut finger-nails, start a journey, get married, or give birth. In some parts of Yorkshire, however, it was safe to do these activities on a Good Friday - except, that is, for washing clothes.Apparently, there was a Methodist belief (in Cleveland) about what happened to Jesus while carrying the cross up to Calvary. A woman who was washing, deliberately splashed His face with a wet garment. He is said to have cursed her and "everyone who hereafter shall wash on this day". A Whitby belief goes that clothes hung out to dry on a Good Friday "will be taken down spotted with blood".
LUCKY FOR SOME Almost universally, thirteen has a phobic dimension. Fear of this number is called tridecaphobia.Many a house number in British streets leaps from No.11 to 15 - or it becomes 11a. Estate agents find it hard to sell a house numbered thirteen. When Barratt Homes set out a new construction site, they omit Plot No.13.Many hotels and hospitals avoid having rooms or wards with this number. The large Hull Royal Infirmary has thirteen storeys. The wards number from One up to Twelve, but the sequence abruptly stops and the top-storey ward is No.130. In March 1992 part of the roof collapsed into the ward - on Friday the Thirteenth.When fishermen join a different boat, some pay particular attention to the ship's number to check if it adds up to the dreaded figure (e.g. WY.175). In the event of a mishap, factors like this usually get blamed.When Hull trawlermen passed their radar exam they got their certificates at the end of a two-week course. Presentations always fell on a Friday; but if it coincided with the thirteenth, pandemonium broke out! No skipper in thirty years had it dated correctly...."
That is enough for now (14 April 2005);
if you would like me to print more, please let me know...
Thank you, Alec Gill.
