Cover

Dedication

To the memory of my father, Ted, and my father-in-law, Percy.

Chapter 1

After five long days at sea, drifting for mackerel around the Wolf Rock, the Perranbarvah fishing fleet sailed back through a heavy swell and made its way into Mount’s Bay, heading for Newlyn’s fish market. As the black-stained luggers made their way past the inhospitable granite headland of Pengarron Point, the fishermen were in good humour. At regular intervals they soaked down the most recent catch with sea water to keep it fresh; an excellent catch was already salted down in the fishrooms of their boats. This meant food on the table and a few extra shillings to invest in the maintenance of the boats, or, if the vessels were rented, something to put by towards the dues.

The fleet came from a close-knit community of men and boys of three generations from fifteen families, of whom many had intermarried down the centuries. They put to sea together and returned home together. They kept a close watch on each other’s interests and shared the same griefs and fortunes. When one family ate, they all ate; more often they went hungry.

The fleet would soon tie up at Newlyn, the catch would be unloaded, weighed, and sold for either local or overseas consumption. Then the luggers could finally sail for home. They would be washed down, their equipment assessed for loss or damage and the fishermen could at last take a short, hard-earned rest.

The sky this morning was taking longer than usual to lighten and usher in the dawn. The wild coastline of the little horseshoe-shaped Trelynne Cove was barely visible.

A short time later, as the fleet neared its home village, the strong south-easterly wind that had been whipping up the waves suddenly dropped away, as though two giants quarrelling at the south and east ends of the earth had ceased their puffing and blowing. A dense fog swept over the boats with uncompromising speed.

All talk in the boats came to an abrupt halt, as though a mighty voice had cried ‘Hush!’ and the fishermen had obeyed it without exception. Within seconds the fog spread a shroud of chilled damp air in all directions, obliterating sky, landmarks, horizons and fellow vessels. The fishermen lit more lanterns against the gloom. Some of the men fidgeted with nets and tackle or tried to count the slithering mass of oily blue- and green-backed fish of the most recent catch. The older fishermen remained still, their weathered hands clamped into fists as they peered through the thick dank air and tried to locate a familiar landmark, looking for reassurance that they were not heading too close inshore towards the congregation of silent deadly rocks.