A fisher went sampaning, out to the west.
Out to the west and his heart was gay
He'd a list of the spots where “the fishin' was best”
And he thought of the haul he would make that day.
So he fished from morn to evening's close
And the Sun peeled off the skin of his nose
So list ye now to his moaning.
After profuse apologies to the shade of Henry Kingsley, it may be observed that the fact has recently been impressed upon the Pilgrim that, as a fishman, he is not what might be regarded as a brilliant success. The tedium of convalescence was varied by his participating in a fishing trip which resulted in a fiasco. He is thus sore, physically, mentally and morally. Hinc illae lacrimae.
Fish here is good, plentiful and comparatively cheap but, in an evil hour, the suggestion was made by someone (it may be said that everyone now denies the responsibility) “Why not catch one's own fish? It is a healthy and invigorating occupation, to say nothing of rendering one independent of the local tradesman.” This and much more to the same effect.
Oura
The debate which followed materialised into concrete plans being formed for a fishing party of five. A discussion of ways and means resulted in the appointment of a committee empowered to charter a sampan for the day and procure the necessary tackle and refreshments.
It is indeed fortunate that the optimistic spirit, which prevailed throughout the discussion and preparations, did not induce the promoters to hire or erect a godown or storage space for the anticipated big catch, nor, indeed, were carriers directed to be in readiness upon the return of the party, to convey the “haul” to the place appointed for storage. These humiliations, at least, the party were spared.
To the Pilgrim, putting aside the commercial aspect of the scheme, the idea of a day afloat outside the harbour seemed good. Also, if fish were to be caught, it might be as well to secure local opinion as to the best spot to ply hook, line and sinker. Local opinion appeared to vary considerably and included places at distances to be covered only by the use of steam or motor power, which were described as “the best place” or the “very” ditto ditto.
Fishing tackle was procured and arrangements made for an ample supply of bait and all preliminaries being completed, the party retired to rest, preparatory to a start, bright and early next morning.
The Pilgrim prefers the lugworm as bait for sea fishing, but it appears that none was available locally - at least, that is what the bait purveyor said when taxed with its absence. The bait actually supplied was an awesome and wondrous mixture, varying as it did, from live shrimps to hama-amame, (a species of amphibious cockroach!) declared to be an irresistible lure.
Lug not being procurable, the Pilgrim gathered a few of what Harry Lauder terms “worrrums” from the garden, immediately before the start. Not having a can handy, these were wrapped in a piece of paper and as one of the party sat upon them in the boat, they were found to be in a more or less depressed condition when the time arrived for their use.
The embarkation was uneventful and unattended with thrills, or any incidents worthy of comment - the first of the thrills it may be remarked. synchronised with the discovery of the “worrrrums” - and in due time the fishers arrived at the first spot marked upon the list of “sure things”.
As the rocky bottom precluded the use of an anchor, wallop! overboard goes a big stone attached to the painter, with a splash fit to scare away every fish within a quarter of a mile.
The Pilgrim's gentle admonition to the boatman was received with a polite bow, accompanied by a pitying smile. At the time it was assumed that the smile formed part of a friendly apology, subsequent events, however, served to convince him that the smile was more pitying than apologetic - the smile bestowed upon wayward children, or harmless lunatics, in fact. Query: Are these people also, subject to that obsession prevalent among the Latin races, which impells them to regard the English as being mad?
All this time one of the party had been sitting upon the package of “worrrums” and it was at this juncture that a careful search discovered them “in the Press,” so to speak. However, it was no use crying over spilt milk, or in the instance referred to, flat worms, so selecting one of the least damaged, that is the most cylindrically shaped, and bearing in mind the advice, tendered by Old Isaac, the Father of Anglers, the Pilgrim impaled his “worrrum” upon his hook “as though he loved it” and lowering the same into clear, blue water calmly and confidently awaited results.
After about an hour or so of such waiting, with a steady diminution of confidence, it appeared to dawn upon the party that this sort of thing was an apt illustration of “a worm at one end of a line and a fool at the other” and as assorted baits had also been used, it was decided to up anchor and shift to the next “sure place” on the list.
The same experience awaited the party at each successive shift to a fresh “sure place.” Certainly, once a little mild excitement was caused by “a bite!” Such a big fish, indeed, that when the line was hauled in, hooks, sinker and several feet of line were found missing. There was considerable elation and an insufferable exhibition of superiority on the part of the fisher anent this “fish that he nearly caught”; elation that was somewhat damped by the boatman, who said that the line had been broken owing to its having fouled a rock on the sea bottom.
The party drifted past Nezumi Jima, with its crowded beach and happy bathers and, as a final attempt, brought up close to Takaboko, where “fishing” was resumed. Half-an-hour spent in waiting for the bite that never came ensued and a general feeling of “fed-up-ishness” becoming apparent, the return journey was commenced.
Takaboko, it may be remarked is a precipitous island, of which legend avers that it was from its cliffs, the survivors of the 40,000 Christians (who had gathered from all parts of Kyushu at Shimabara, for defence against the Shogun's troops) were thrown into the sea. Like many other interesting legends, however, there are considerable doubts as to its authenticity. Gloaters and admirers of the horrible appear to be its staunchest supporters.
Coaling Ship, Nagasaki
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