THE LAMMAS FOY
THE LAMMAS FOY
VERY year about old Lammas the haf fishing came to a close. The boats were then hauled up on the green and whumbled in their winter böls. But before the crew finally broke up for the season, the Foy (feast) was held, generally in the skipper's house. To this feast every man brought his wife, and if single his sister or sweetheart.
Although the luxuries of modern times where then unknown, yet the foy table was laden with substantial fare. Home-made scones, burstin brönies, and sonsie cakes, together with an ample supply of fresh butter and eggs, made good eating. A reested (smoked) ham or a few legs of vivda gave variety to the bill of fare. On the table stood a couple of Dutch krooks, the contents of which cheered the hearts of those weather-beaten sons of toil.
The conversation, as may be supposed, turned chiefly on the fishing, each man recounting his experiences of the perils of the deep, and the hairbreadth escapes he had made. The wives, too, were relating to each other their own or some neighbour's experience with trows and witches, and their numerous seasons of anxious waiting while their goodmen were at sea. One of the oldest women was generally called upon to “cast a cup” for the young men, who were anxious to get a peep into the future, particularly in matters of love, and who were generally gratified by hearing of courtships, sporins, and bridals.
As the contents of the krook was handed round, the conversation became more general and noisy. Healths were drunk in warm terms:
“Here's ta dee, boy, as mony a blissin' as we hae crossed a saat watter drap tagedder.”
“Gude hadd His haand ower da corn, an' open da mooth o' da gray fish.”
“Here's death ta da head dat wears nae hair.”
“Aft may we meet, an never waar forn.”
“Eerim skoorim, suntie voorim,
Oorim skaerim skaebo;
If onybody wis me skaed,
May ill beskae himsel', O.”
In those days crews often fished together for many years, and the foy would occasionally take a devotional character, when some of the more emotional of the crew would recount with tear-bedimmed eyes the many providential deliverances of the past.
But when several members of the crew had fished in other boats, it was interesting to hear their tales of adventure, which were generally told with great minuteness. It may be of some little interest, especially in the use of our old words and sea phrases, to record a fisher's yarn over a drop of Hollands at a Lammas foy. The skipper was an oldish man, who had seen many a rough day at sea. His health had been drunk all round, and in reply he gave the following account of an experience at the haf. The narrative is given in his own words, in the dialect, and without any attempt at explaining the phrases he uses.
THE SKIPPER'S TALE.
“Boys, I'm no wirt ta carry noo, bit it's nae winder. Dir mony a saat watter drap gaen ower my head sin' da year '13, whin my midder wis left, an' I rowed in a fram boat my first year wi' aald Maans o' Buddabrake. I wis only saxteen, an' never been farder dan da lempit ebb an' da piltik eela, except a vaege or twa at da seats wi' Saidie o' Widwick.
“Weel, as I wis gaein' ta tell you, upo' aald Beltin Saturday Maans sends me wird ta come at da back o' da helly, hul-an’-hulbaand, ta da lodge. Sae I sets me till an' drew ower da packie o' tows dat belanged ta mi faeder (soul be at rest), mended da gurdastörie o' my skalve, rax'd da tar ledder o' da grice for humbli-baands, bredged a pair o' skoags, an' sorted ae thing an' anidder.
“A' Sunday da wadder wis noo an' sae—a kind o' wasterly röd. I lays me doon brawly shön, sae as ta get a bluint o' sleep, bit dey wir a kind o' amp upo' me a' nicht, an' jöst aboot da swaar o' dim I waukens oot o' a dwaam an' looks i' da door. Da wind haed dauchin'd a guid dael, an' muggled 'im inta a stumba o' weet daag. Says I ta midder: ‘Mam, rise dee wis up as shön as du can, an' mak' me some brakfast. I tink he's gaein' ta be sea wadder.’
“‘Hadd di tongue, boy,’ says shö; ‘dis is only a slud atween wadders. Du'll better lay dee doon a peerie start, an' I'll creep me up an' kirn da tip o' milk, sae dat du gets a aer o' druttle i' da pig.’
“I lays me in ower da bed an' fa's upon a dwaam, an' I draems dat I wis gaein' i' da ebb alangst da banks o' da Hivda. I toucht dat I dang mi fit in a peerie toog, an' awa' I tumbled headicraw ower da banks. As I fell I felt a' in a vimmer, wi' a undömious yewk ower da sma' o' mi back. I lippens every moment ta faa among da caavies. Weel, wi' dat sam I sees a great muckle white fool comin' laavin in inonder me an' kaeps me upun her back. An' jöst as I wis being carried awa', the soond o' mam kirnin' an' da klaag o' wir klokkin flukner waukened me.
“Da sun wis noo come in trow wir ben lozen wi' a gludder dat wisna sma, sae I stramps furt, an' da first I meets is Tammy o Nort'ouse. Says he: ‘Boy, du's no sleepid sae lang as some o' wis. What tinks du o' 'im i da' moarnin'?’
“‘He's baith da w'ys laek,’ says I. ‘He's a pooshin wadder-head, a dirty söal i' da sea, an' I döna laek dis önd o' haet, wi' da öel risin' oot o' da grund. We'r a' seen a attrie mund comin' oot o' da laek o dis.’
“‘Du shörly minds eer-fern-yer,’ says Tammy, ‘aboot dis sam' time, whin da men o' Braken cam' vaan o' dir tows, an' wir nearly misförn takin' da String o' da Braagie.’
“‘I mind dat weel enouch, an' fur my pairt, I widna gaeng oot ower da door da day, bit Maans, sent me wird ta come ta da lodge—be-me-sang, sees du yon whillie rowin' ower da pöl. It's no anidder ene bit wir men comin', sae I'll awa' in an' mak' upo' me.’
“Whin I comes in my midder wis döne wi' kirnin'. Says sho: ‘Boy, du wis in a roos whin du raise. Wha's yon du's been laugin wi'?’ ‘It wis Tammy o' da Nort'ouse. He's no gaein' aff da day.’ ‘Sae is he wise,’ says mam. ‘Dy oot-gaein' 'ill gie me a sair haert, as mony a ene I'm haed afore. Bit Gude hadd His haand ower dee, an' sae I hoop He will.’
“I telt my midder da draem I haed afore I raise, an' shö said : ‘Believe du me du's gaein' ta hae trouble an' be in danger, bit du'll be broucht oot o' it a'. It's no ill ta draem aboot onything dat's white. Pairtin' wi' dee dis mornin' mak's da aald sair ta blöd—laess an' döl, da hidmaist oot-gaein' o' him dat belanged ta me is as vieve as da ooer dat I heard dat he wis nae mair.’
“Weel, I gets a' thing ready, an' awa' I gaengs ta da banks. Whin I comes inta da lodge, da skipper wis sittin' wi' a viskal o' gloy windin' fytlins fur da cappies. Robbie o' Vaaland an' Jockie o' Hamar wir repairin' da bink an sortin' da ringalodie, an' Henry o' Viggie wis sittin' wi' a yarkin alishen shodin' da rackie. Lowrie o'da Krö wis trampin' aboot da door, glowerin' i'ta da lift, seemin'ly in a ill-plaesed möd. Says da skipper ta me:
“‘Boy, tak' dee wis da watter keg an' gaeng ta da green wal an' fill 'im, an' mind ta swill 'im oot.’
“‘Whaar's da keg,’ says I ta Lowrie. “‘He's lyin' afore da fiskafel i' da oost-room' o da sixern.’
“Weel, awa' I gaengs an' fills da keg, an' lays 'in i' da shoormill. Noo, whin I comes in da skipper says:
“‘Boys, I'll tell you what it is. I tink we'll try ta weet da tows, an' hae a set if it wis bit oot da lent o da Vords. Da twartree piltiks i' da skjo ar noo faan upun, bit dey'll dö fir saide bliggs, an' it'll gaeng ill ta wark if we canna yaag twartree saide piltiks.’
“‘Well,’ says Lowrie, ‘Gude guide dee, an' sae wis a', bit I'm no seen some o' you sae aaber whin hicher shines. Be-me-sang, der as vogerous follows as edder dee or me settin' da fit afore dem i' da moarnin'.’
“‘Dat may be,’ says Maans, ‘bit I see you a' as graam an' as kibbie as I fir your pairt whin we come ashore. Sae, nae mair aboot it, bit lat wis draw doon, i' da name o' Gude.’
"Wi' dat every ene taks his buljaments an' awa' we gaengs ta da faar. Takin' frae da shords (da croon bane o' a whaal an' da röt o' a ragatree), we set wir backs till her, gettin' da eft drawil on a oak lin smeer'd wi' rotten droo, an' at da wird o' commaand frae Lowrie, whaa is takin' afore, we a' pu'd tagedder, an' doon shö cam' withoot ever makin' a stick.
“Lowrie, wha's saet wis eft upo' line-börd, jimps in ta stow da gear. Da packies o' tows wir first haandid in an' laid be-eft da post-room fiskafel i' da shott. Da drink keg wis laid afore da baand. Da haandline reels were set i' da fore stammerin', an' da grind wi' da skoags, da skönes, an' da glaan wir a' laid i' da nabert locker i' da eft room. Every man noo took his place, set in his humbli-baand, an' laid oot his raemik. We turns da faar wi' da sun i' da richt coorse, an' dan da skipper says: ‘Noo, boys, Gude hadd His haand aboot wis.’
“Very little wis spoken till we got oot da Nort' Soond, whin Lowrie wappit in his raemik an' stöd upo' da eft tilfer. Says he: ‘Boys, if what's aboot 'im comes as he's laek, we'll shön hae a shange o' wind.’
“‘Da carry is comin frae da nor'-wast,’ says Jockie, ‘an' if it hings up dat it widna be a fairlie if he sood be maughtly troo da swaar o' da dim.’
“‘Du says da carry is comin' frae da nor'-wast,’ says Lowrie. ‘Dat's a' da waar sign, fir, be-me-sang, he's sookin' till 'im. Onyene 'at haes een i' dir head can see dat dis only a loor atween wadders. We'll hae a ungastö afore sun-risin'.’
“‘I döna laek yon önd alang da nort' banks,’ says Jockie, ‘an' dey wir ower monny brynics aboot 'im i' da moarnin' ta be lang guid.’
“Very little mair wis said till we cam' befram Vordadaal, whin Maans said dat we sood hadd better oot an' wast, till we got da Stack i' Slaggie an' da Daa at Stickie, an' dere hae a shot ta da boddim.
“‘I never saw muckle guid dere,’ says Lowrie. ‘If we wir oot da lent o' da Stack at da Suilik an' da Ooverburg at da Rönie, I widna say bit we wid get da grip o' da mamik, an' dan if dir ony saide i' da watter, we sood feel 'im dere.’
“Lowrie's plan wis taen, an' in a short time we wir at da seat. Maans an' Lowrie wir ta rin da boddim fir ling, an' Jockie an' Henry wir ta shut fir saide.
“Haand me a kippok o' piltiks,’ says Lowrie.
“‘Be-ye-blithe,’ says Robbie, ‘no ene is in 'er.’
“We noo fan oot dat we haed left da bait piltiks i' da skjo. Da taen blamed ta tidder, till at lent Lowrie says: ‘What's da öse o' irpin aboot a thing eence dat it's döne? Rex me da sköne an' glaan.’
“Lowrie noo pu's oot da lap o' his jūp an' snee'd aff a tivlik o' white claith. He fixed dis by da damp ta his saide heuk, an' haddin' up dis he spat upo' it, an' says ‘Twee’ as he shot da line an' beguid ta yaag. It wisna lang till he felt 'im, an' shön we haed plenty o' guid bait.
“‘Noo, boys,’ says Maans, ‘we'll lay tö da sail an' hadd oot efter, an' by the time we'r da lent o' da Aald Grund, da aest tide 'ill be saagin.’
“Da wind wis noo blawin' a guid rinnin' frae da sooth-wast, sae by da time we haed snee'd da nabert an' aeten a bite o' bread, we wir at settin' grund. Da bow and börop wir heaved owerbörd, an' Lowrie an' Jockie beguid ta set. By da time 'at da fort packie wis done we haed ta shoo-inonder.
“‘Haand me a cappie,’ says Lowrie. ‘da deil ae span gaengs mair oot ower her börd da nicht.’
“‘I daarsay du's richt,' says Maans; he's no laek ta dauchin i' da stö.’
“‘Du'll maybe ken dat er shö comes in,’ replies Jockie, ‘some o' wis is no sae vogerous for umplists o' dis kind.’
“By dis time we cuist da fraamer bow an' bent da vaarline. It noo took fower o' wis ta andow. Lowrie an' Robbie got on dir skin jups an' barmskins, an' made for hailin', bit juist as we wir lyin' till 'er, da vaarline bruke, an' da bow gaed doon wi' da russie o' da tide. We hanvayged aboot fir maistlins an ooer, bit never saw da bow again. We couldna shaa ae inch o' sail, da wind wis sae strong, an' nae weight i' da faar. We manned da raemiks an' set wis till her ta andow ahead. We rowed awa', seven lang an' seven short. Every noo an' dan shö wis takin' da green ludder in ower da forehead.
“Noo, whin we haed rowed until da turn o' da dim, Maans bids me gaeng awa' i' da forehead, an' look oot ower da waster side—‘Fir wha kens,’ says he, ‘du'll maybe see da inner bow.’
“I wisna been lang till I toucht dat I saw da oomund o' sometin' i' da ask bewast wis. Rubbin' da saat watter oot o' my een, I tak's a guid look, an' ye'll no hinder me ta see da bow.
“‘Dere shö is,’ says I, ‘a börop lent fram an' wast.’
“‘Gude lat dee see a guid sight upo' dysel',’ says Lowrie, ‘pör aamis ting.’
“We noo got hadd o' da bow, an' began ta hail. Da first dat comes ipo' da steid heuk wis a muckle skate. We wirna lang hailin', fir ye see we haed afore da wind. Da wadder wis sae dat we never wid tried her, haed it no been ta get some weight i' da boat, fir no ae oucht haed we bit twartree gaupins o' kleepie stanes.
“Whin we wir gottin in da tows, Maans toucht dat we sood close reef da sail an' lay da faar's head ta da aest'ard. Dis wis döne, bit pör sailin' we haed. Da spönd o' da sea gaed ower wis, an' it took twa o' wis—ene wi' a ouskerry an' ene wi' a fiddok—ta keep her wi' lee watter.
“We didna sail lang till we pat her aboot an' stöd ta wast'ard, wi' bow-kegs filled wi' saat watter an' da muckle skate hung ta da wadder kabe. We hadds at her a while; dan da ask lumed up an' we saw da kaavies. We haed da Holshyler at da Wilmer, an' da Stooraskord o' Widwick ower Fadaman's Stack.
“Da sea wis noo come ta dat 'at dey wir nae livin ava. Maans wis headin' a lump, whin we never kens till da wadder raebaands made up an' da sail töre, an' noo dey wir naethin' fir it bit ta andow as lang as we wir able. Jockie haed a strae böddie, sae we ties da kappie stanes intil 'im an' rins 'im doon wi' da börops, an' what tink ye, it made a winderfil odds. It keepid wir head ta da wind. Da böddie wi' da sea bannocks wis a' weet, an' da bread wis in a sirpa.
“Weel, ta mak' a lang tale short, we andowed awa' laek dis till oot upo' da day, whin da rain hained an' da wind banged ta wast wi' a perfect gyndagooster.
“We noo hauls in wir fastie, an' rivs da sail wi' revatwirries an' set it upun her, an' awa' we gaengs wi' a bit o' sheet aff. We ran brawly weel till we wir crossin' da String o' da Braagie, whin a lump strack wis be-eft da shott an' carried awa' twa packies o' tows an' a half-a-score o' ling. Da boat wis filled ta da hadabaands, bit we dang da head oot o' da dririk keg an' emptied her. Weel, as Gude wid hae it, we got safe ta da laand, juist whin da wives wis takkin' in da booriks.
"Wir ain folk haed been rinnin aboot da banks a' day, never tinkin' ta see wis again. Dat wis da sam' nicht 'at Rasmie o' Spraagatup an' his crew wis cassin awa' takin' da String o' da Röcok. Bit, Gude be tankit, it wis idderwise wi' wis fir dat time."
