14 
LAND & WATER 
Fishing Notes 
By J. C. Squire 
September 13, 1917 
PENBOLLOW, in Cornwall, I seemed to remember, 
was a good plaee for fisliini,'. One could go out for 
a day and count on getting at most n. dozen and a 
half and, if one struck a good patch, a hundredweight. 
Fishing with lines is no tax on the intellect, and before sittmg 
down to Hcnrv James's two postiuimous novels— much 
as I hope to enfoy them— I felt that my brain might well lie 
fallow for a week. This it has done. , 
***** 
.\t PenboUow, it is notorious, fisii of all sorts abound. 
There is a wide open bay ; there is a tidal river with a bar ; 
there are plenty of rocks and large stretches of sand ; there 
are flat shallows in shore and deep waters farther out. Every 
fish in the Calendar is provided for ; you have only to make 
your choice of victims. There are p(jllack, with their beautiful 
brown-black backs and pale bellies. There are bass, and 
whiting, and dabs and flounders, all sorts of flatfish. There 
are mackerel, swordlike and swift, their backs striped with 
dark blue and rich green, their sides gleaming like silver. 
There are gurnards, red as Turner's sunsets, and strange 
uneatable spiny tish of even mort; gorgeous hues. There are 
congers whose room is more pleasant than their company, 
and dogfish with mouths like sharks' mouths and skins like 
sandpaper — now a popular article i of food, but not under 
the familiar name. All these are to be got by the simple 
process of dropping a hook overboard and pulling it in when 
it twitches or tugs. No fatigue of trudging through marshes, 
* losing for a convenient place for a cast, straining one's 
eyes for a rise and playing about with fancy flies with even 
fancier names. Sea-fishing is really restful, really a sport, 
and in a place like Pcnbollow, one can make certain of a good 
catch. The one thing to fear, according to the guide-book, 
is a swarm of chad which may infest the place and snap at 
one's bait before the other fish can get a look in. I remember 
those greedy, grasping, flat-sided little twisters. I hoix; I 
shan't strike a crowd of chad. 
* * « * « 
Day I. — Pollack said to be plentiful inside Devil's Rock. 
Row out alone after lunch with one line. Rubber worni. 
Why on earth any fish should want to eat a rubber worm 
1 cannot imagine : . but that is their business. 3 p.m., drop 
anchor. 4 p.m., they don't seem very active. 6 p.m., they 
always bite better in the- evening. 8 p.m., getting dark. 
Might as well go home. Wish 1 could have caught a pollack. 
But there is plenty of time. 
* * * * * 
Day 2. — One might as well make a day of it. So a bag of 
food and a flask. A fresh breeze, but not too rough : just 
the day for a sail, whiffing for mackepel. A sailing boat 
therefore. One companion. Two lines. Spinners and 
mackerel bait. These beasts are cannibals. You can tell 
from their faces that they are at once the stupidest and the 
most voracious of fish. That large vacuous eye, that long 
curved trap of a mouth. They will go for anything that 
shines : artificial minnows, spinners, reels of cotton. Many 
a mackerel has died with a silver spoon in its mouth. But 
they like their brethren best. 11 a.m.. Lord knows what 
one will do with this great pile of fish when one brings it in. 
Cannot possibly post it home : they don't like mackerel. 
Suppose we shall have to give it to those fishermen on the 
quay : they will know where to sell it. 4 p.m. Let's go 
across a little farther out. 5 p.m., Let's go across a little 
farther in. 7 p.m. It doesn't matter : the week's young yet. 
But I wish I could have caught a mackerel. 
* * * * * 
Day .].■ -Morning. First two hours of outgoing neap tide, 
the time for bass. Bass, very appropriately, to be caught on 
Bar, only at certain hours. Small boat. " Hire three rods ; 
one to hold and two to stick out with their butts under seats. 
Long fat struggling worms. Bald man over there in brown 
boat said to be a great expert. He doesn't seem to be doing 
anything this morning. That is a consolation. Afternoon. 
Said to be first-class whiting ground three miles down coast. 
Dead calm. Shall have to row. 4 p.m. Here at last. 6 p.m. 
These brutes never seem to want anything to eat. 7 p.m. 
No go. Perhaps water is too cloudy and they can't see bait. 
Perhaps it is too clear and they can see me. 8 p.m. This 
wretched tide looks like carrying me to America, in which 
ca.se I shall break Admiralty regulations about three mile 
limit. 10.30 p.m. Man looked rather sick at being kept up. 
Wish I could have caught a whiting. 
Day 4. — Thinking this was getting rather serious I decided 
yesterday to take desperate measures. Arranged, therefore, 
to be called at 5.15 this morning and proceed to sea in Bob 
Tint's boat, he having guaranteed supply of fish if only one 
will try for them when their appetites have Been whetted 
liy nochirjial fast — if that is what accounts for it. 5.30, 
Arri\rc at jetty. Sky, sea and coast unilorm dark grey. 
Silence over all. Fleet of small boats sleepiiif^ peacefully 
in little harbour. Utter calm. l-Jut did not got out of bed 
to brood on utter calm, and am irritated by absence of Bob. 
a.m., Still not a human being in sighj. Rose flushed break 
in middle sky : east still dark : pipe but no matches : de 
profundis damavi. 6. 1.5, Suddenly through hole in eastern 
clouds golden sun bursts. Coast melts in golden haze ; 
golden pathway across waves ; wonderful hues where ripples 
break on beach ; damn the sun ; damn the morning glory ; 
damn Bob ; damn mvself for a fool. 7.15, Bob arrives 
saying he thought I did not mean to come. He has" no 
matches, being a non-smoker and probably a Dissenter. 
7.30, Brisk wind off shore. No, that was much too solid for a 
bite ; it is probably a rrab-pot. V'es, it is a crab-pet. S 
o'clock. Three miles from land. Doldrums. Boo will have 
to row the tub home. Serve him right, the scoundrel. 9.30, 
1 have at least got up an apjietite for breakfast. Fish for 
breakfast ; this seems rather pointed. 10.13, Half-an-hour's 
rest in smoking room. Picked up \et another man. Hope he is 
not a, German sjiy. Perhai">s if four of us join forces we may 
have better luck. Agreed best plan to go to still better whiting 
ground three miles up coast. Discussion as to scarcity. New 
man says ridiculously that other fish have been driven away 
by dogfish. H so why do we not catch dogfish ? Wish I 
could catch dogfish. Daik man argues, more reasonably, 
that pilchards have unaccountably not ;urived this year. 
Other fish like them. Perhaps they've gone uj) Bristol 
Channel by mistake. Or been swept up by mine-sweepers. 
W ish I could catch a pilchard. 8 p.m.. Never mind : one 
does get some good from this out-of-door life But I wish I 
could have caught, say, a chad or two. 
Day 5. — Weather again beautiful. Getting sick of sun and 
blin' sky. Everybody knows fish don't like it. Deter- 
mined to do something to-day, though. What with the old 
sportsman and his son we are now six. Huge galley the only 
tiling for it. Morning : Whiffed for mackerel. No n\ackerel 
about. Tried rocks for pollack. Getting conviction that 
reputation of this place for pollack is exaggerated. After- 
noon : Span fruitlessly on way to whiting grounds. Also 
on way back. Now universal opinion that if we try for plaice, 
about sunset, just off the beach, we are absolutely bound to 
catch some. Anchor, therefore, and Vhop whole ten lines 
over. Boat long enough for twenty. Let thei;y right down 
for plaice. Plaice lie flat on the sand. Very happy arrange- 
ment, therefore, having cj'cs on top of their heads. Avoids 
discomfort of lying on backs. Good God ! A nibble ! Haul 
up. Worm gone. Down again. •Three lines up at once 
All worms gone. No, not plaice. We liave struck a colony 
of crabs. Better go home. Wish I could catch a-crab. Wish 
I could catch a starfish. 
• * * / * * * 
Day 6. — Impossible to do anything. Weather simply 
foul. Perhaps just as well. Luck obviously out. Nobody 
else here has caught anything. That's a good thing, anyhow. 
Raining, blowing, almost freezing. Wish 1 could catch a cold. 
' « « * * m 
The diary is a favourite form with professional humorists,, 
who find its compressed expression a good medium for carry- 
ing off their exaggerations and lies. I am not a humorist ; 
still less am I a liar ; and I present the above to psychologists, 
piscatorial hydrographers,- and writers of guide books as a 
narrative, literally and verbally true, of my outer experiences 
and mental life. during a week of that ludicrously overrated 
occupation — if it be an occupation, but I certainly will not 
call it a sport — known as sea-fishing. 
"The Church Army is offering a three months' course of training 
at its 730 acre farm in Essex, with the object of enabling men 
honourably discharged from either of the services, partially 
disabled or otherwise, to earn their living as workers on the land. 
Kven in cases where men do not intend to take up such work as a 
livelihood, a time spent on the lantl cannot fail to be beneficial 
to them. It is a good .scheme. Full particulars can be obtained 
of the .Secretary, Discharged Soldiers and bailors Deparbneut, 56. 
Br>-anston Street, London, W.i. 
