THE COD-FISHERY 



to haul up two or three hundred of such burdens a day , 

 or, at busy times, to work for fifteen hours with only 

 a short break for dinner, pulling up, on an average, one 

 fish every three minutes ! Unless unusually stormy 

 weather forces the boats to seek shelter for a time in the 

 natural harbours of the Breidi fjord or the Faxafjord, you 

 may say that the fishing never stops as long as the season 

 lasts, except when in fairly slack times, the crew meet 

 over the cabin fire for an hour's chat and smoke before 

 one half " turns in " and the other half starts on the 

 night work. 



While the catches do not rise much above the average, 

 a couple of men can be spared to do the cleaning and 

 salting as the fish are drawn up. Watch the fishers at 

 their work. The main-sail has been pulled round to lee- 

 ward, and on the opposite side of the deck are four line- 

 men and two cleaners, the former standing about ten feet 

 apart in order to avoid fouling, i.e. getting one line 

 entangled with another ; the latter squatting on the deck, 

 waiting for the others to give them something to do. 

 That " something " will soon come. The long, plummeted 

 lines, scarcely the thickness of a blind-cord, slip merrily 

 through the men's fingers ; at last one slackens it has 

 touched bottom then a second. A third does not reach 

 the bottom at all ; a hungry cod, swimming downwards 

 from a little below mid-water, has spied the bait prob- 

 ably a bit of cuttle-fish and, the next moment, the 

 fisherman shouts proudly : " Good ; IVe got the first 

 fish!" 



" You think so ? " asks a stronger, older man, as he feels 



94 



