The Lowestoft drifter
Every year, from the middle of October until the end of December,
millions of herring gathered in the North Sea in shoals about 14km (eight
miles) long and 6km (three miles) wide. The drifters set their nets just
below the surface of the sea, when the herring came up to feed at night,
and simply ‘drifted’ with the current. By morning, they’d pull the nets in
and sort through the catch. One lucky haul could bring in up to 250,
fish, and it wasn’t unknown for fishermen to have to throw thousands
back into the sea for fear of sinking their boat.
By the early 1800s, the type had developed into a three-masted and,
later, a two-masted lugger with lute stern, rounded forefoot and
clinker-built hulls. The 1870s, when Gleaner was built, was a period of
change, as fishermen switched to the short elliptical stern, more upright
stem and, increasingly, carvel rather than clinker planking. Gaff began
to supplant lug, on the foresail at least, as it allowed fishermen to trawl
for deep fish once the drifting season was over. These hybrid ‘dandy’
rigged boats also needed less crew, and slowly the whole fleet
converted to gaff.
The advent of steam was brutal. In 1898, some 483 fishing boats were
registered at Lowestoft, 233 of which were drifters. The year before, in
1897, the first steam drifter was launched, the 27-tonne Consolation, and
within six years, 101 steam drifters were registered, rising to 243 in 1909.
By the end of the First World War, nearly all the sailing drifters had been
destroyed, many broken up for their timber and copper fastenings. Over
in Norway, Gleaner was one of a small handful to survive and is now the
only known example of a once mighty fleet.GLEANER
Gleaner has four lug sails in her wardrobe, with the
smaller three being able to be set from either mast. With
a full crew on board, the 1,500sq ft (140m^2 ) dipping fore
lug can be set on the foremast along with the big mizzen
aft and a jib on the bowsprit, to give a spectacular
3,000sq ft (279m^2 ) of sail. Sailing shorthanded, the sails
are swapped over, with the big mizzen going to the
foremast and the second mizzen set aft, with an optional
jib. The sail that’s not in use sits on a pair of steel forks
(aka lumber irons) set into the bulwarks. This versatility
is an interesting feature, and no doubt one of the reasons
the lug rig was so popular with fishermen.
As we headed out of Penryn, the first job was to take
the big dipping lug off the foremast and raise the big
mizzen in its place. Watching Davies and James (assisted
occasionally by friend Alister and myself) move the boat’s
rig around was a lesson in mechanical advantage. Make
no mistake – these are big weights, as I discovered when
I tried to manhandle the outer end of the big fore lug into
position. If you don’t use the combined effects of gravity,
leverage and pulleys to your advantage, then you’ll
quickly end up with crushed bones.
Yet, despite the apparent ease with which Davies and
James swung, winched and levered the rig into place- more like watching a modern ballet than men at work
- I was still thinking of Gleaner as a lumbering beast
of burden; solid rather than graceful, rustic rather than
elegant. That was until I climbed into the dinghy to take
the photos. That’s when I finally saw what a stunningly
beautiful – and, yes, graceful – boat she is. All those
chunky frames, hefty planking, 10 tonnes of ballast,
two and a half tonnes of masts – all that material weight
suddenly seemed to vanish as she built up speed in the
shelter of St Anthony Head, off Falmouth. Instead,
she just looked supremely purposeful, almost serene.
It helped that the breeze had materialised out of
nowhere, and there were no waves to interrupt her
progress. And perhaps the smaller-than-necessary rig
showed off her elegant sheer to greater advantage. But
she made an astonishing sight cantering across the bay,
with mist swirling behind her, and just two people
on deck (Davies was by now the galley rustling up
a delicious lunch). If this was the vision he had in mind
when those photos came through, pixel by pixel, five
years before, then it’s no wonder he considered the
project “too good to be true”.
L-R: Sailing back across the Channel; Photographed in Norway in the 1930s; Friend James relaxes as Gleaner drifts up Carrick Roads