Fishwives fairly formidable

In the 15th Century, you were more likely to see Flemish, Dutch and German fishing boats rather than Scottish ones operating off the east coast of Scotland, attracted by the plentiful shoals of herring that appeared at certain times of the year. By the 16th Century, as many as 2,000 Dutch herring “busses” congregated each year off the coast from Aberdeenshire down to Fife for the summer herring fishing.

The Scottish fishing industry was poorly developed by comparison, carried on in small open boats, able to fish only in certain weathers and limited to how far afield they could fish by the need to bring their catch to their market as fresh as possible. Fishing was largely regarded as a stop-gap occupation for farmers during the slack season of the year between seed-time and harvest. What are now regarded as traditional fishing villages originally were crofting communities.

The Dutch had successfully developed fishing with drift nets and Scots fishermen, with their small boats, could not compete. In cathedral towns such as Arbroath the church encouraged full-time fishing by buying entire catches for distribution to the poor and supporting the fisher families in the lean times.

A market for salt-pickled herring developed in the West Indies where the fish was a staple in the diet of the slaves – many of whom, incidentally, on Scottish-owned plantations, were dressed in tartan. After the Napoleonic Wars, huge markets opened up in Europe, particularly in Russia. This was the start of the herring boom that lasted a century, changing the character and personality of the east coast.

The Scottish fishing industry grew to became the greatest fishery in Europe and the coastal crofting communities were transformed into the fishing villages we know today. The fishing communities lived closeknit lives, often in isolation from their neighbours, developing their own customs and traditions. They regarded outsiders, especially farmers for some reason, with suspicion and there was a saying that cod and corn don’t mix.

Because of the particular hardships of their lives, marriages mostly took place within their own community or at least from another fishing community, which accounted for the prevalence of certain surnames in each village. In Ferryden, across the River South Esk from Montrose harbour, the principal names were West, Pert and Coull.

Fishing was a hazardous occupation and a fisherman’s wife was expected to undertake all the land-based activities that supported the men at sea. Gathering mussels for bait, shelling (sheiling) them and baiting the hooks for the sma’ lines and the gratlins (great lines), cleaning and curing the fish, taking the catch in wicker creels on their backs for sale round the villages and neighbouring ferm touns where they often exchanged their fish for eggs, meal, vegetables and cheese.

In the days before the fishing villages had proper harbours the fishing boats were launched from and beached on the open seashore by the women. It was the womenfolk who kilted up their skirts and waded into sometimes icy seas and carried their husbands on their backs out to the boats so that they should go work dryshod. Ferryden lies half a mile up from the entrance to the River South Esk at Scurdie Ness lighthouse and there are stories of the Ferryden wives taking ropes and walking the fishing boats up the river if a strong ebb tide prevented the boats sailing to the pier.

The women were in charge of the family finances. They bought property and it was often their decision when to buy a new boat or replace worn gear.

Far from just selling their husbands’ catch, some went on to develop their own fish merchant businesses which provided security against bad times and the ever-present fear of widowhood.

In the 1920s in Arbroath, the fish merchants business of Swankie and Smith operated at the Fit o’ the Toon. Betsy Swankie was the boss lady in the partnership and it’s said nothing happened in the fish trade without her approval. She sounds to have been a pretty colourful character – the Doyenne of the Arbroath fish trade, you might say.

Strong women have always emerged from time to time, perhaps no more so than among the wives of the east coast Scottish fishing communities. They were strong, characterful women, often described as matriarchs. While there was an element of petticoat government they lived their hard lives in a partnership of equals with their menfolk.

The uncertainty and dangers of fishing were shared by husband and wife alike. Small wonder that a Newhaven fishwife protested when her prices were challenged as too high, saying: “It’s not fish you’re buying – it’s men’s lives.”

It was the womenfolk who kilted up their skirts and waded into sometimes icy seas and carried their husbands on their backs out to the boats so that they should go work dryshod

Arbroath harbour pictured in April 1962. In the 1920s, Betsy Swankie was the boss of a fish merchants and whatever she said went.

MAN WITH TWO DOGS