Excursions in the mountains of Ronda and Granada, with characteristic sketches of the inhabitants of southern Spain, vol. 2/2

by C. Rochfort‏ Scott

We arrived just as the fishermen had enclosed a shoal of Tunny with their nets; so, putting up our horses, we waited to see the result of their labours. The whole process is very interesting. The Tunny can be discovered when at a very considerable distance from the land; as they arrive in immense shoals, and cause a ripple on the surface of the water, like that occasioned by a light puff of wind on a calm day. Men are, therefore, stationed in the different watch towers along the coast, to look out for them, and, immediately on perceiving a shoal, they make signals to the fishermen, indicating the direction, distance, &c. Boats are forthwith put to sea, and the fish are surrounded with a net of immense size, but very fine texture, which is gradually hauled towards the shore.

The tunny, coming in contact with this net, become alarmed, and make off from it in the only direction left open to them. The boats follow, and draw the net in, until the space in which the fish are confined is sufficiently small to allow a second net, of great strength, to circumscribe the first; which is then withdrawn. The tunny, although very powerful, (being nearly the size and very much the shape of a porpoise) have thus far been very quiet, seeking only to escape under the net; and have hardly been perceptible to the spectators on the beach. But, on drawing in the new net, and getting into shallow water, their danger gives them the courage of despair, and furious are their struggles to escape from their hempen prison.

The scene now becomes very animated. When the draught is heavy—as it was in this instance—and there is a possibility of the net being injured, and of the fish escaping if it be drawn at once to land, the fishermen arm themselves with harpoons, or stakes, having iron hooks at the end, and rush into the sea whilst the net is yet a considerable distance from the shore, surrounding it, and shouting with all their might to frighten the fish into shallow water, when they become comparatively powerless.

In completing the investment of their prey, some of the fishermen are obliged even to swim to the outer extremity of the net, where, holding on by the floats with one hand, they strike, with singular dexterity, such fish as approach the edge, in the hope of effecting their escape, with a short harpoon held in the other. The men in the boats, at the same time, keep up a continual splashing with their oars, to deter the tunny from attempting to leap over the hempen enclosure; which, nevertheless, many succeed in doing, amidst volleys of “Carajos!”

The fish are thus killed in the water, and then drawn in triumph on shore. They are allowed to bleed very freely; and the entrails, roes, livers, and eyes, are immediately cut out, being perquisites of different authorities.

The flesh is salted, and exported in great quantities to Catalonia, Valencia, and the northern provinces of the kingdom. A small quantity of oil is extracted from the bones.

Some years since, the Duke of Medina Sidonia enjoyed the monopoly of the tunny fishery on this part of the coast, which was calculated to have given him a yearly profit of £4000 sterling. But, at the time of my visit, he had been deprived of this privilege, much to the regret of the inhabitants of Conil; for the nets and salting-houses, being the property of the duke, had to be hired, and as there were no capitalists in the place able to embark in so expensive a speculation as the purchase of others, the “company” that engaged in the fishery was, necessarily, composed of strangers to Conil, whose only object was to obtain the greatest possible profit during the short period for which they held the duke’s property on lease. They, consequently, drove the hardest bargain they could with the poor inhabitants, who, accustomed all their lives to this employment, could not turn their hands to any other, and were forced to submit.

I do not mean to defend monopolies in general, but what I have stated shows, that in the present state of Spain they are almost unavoidable evils. The inhabitants of Conil, at all events, complained most bitterly of the change.

The fishery lasts from March to July, and the season of which I write (then drawing to a close,) was considered a very successful one, 1300 tunny having been taken at Conil, and 1600 at Barrosa. Each fish is worth ten dollars, or two pounds sterling. The falling off has, however, been most extraordinary, as in former days we read of 70,000 fish having been taken annually.

From Conil the road keeps along the coast for twelve miles, to Barrosa, a spot occupying a distinguished place in the pages of history, but marked only by an old tower on the coast, and a small building, called a vigia, or watch-house, situated on a knoll that rises slightly above the general level of the country. This was the great object of contention on the celebrated 5th March, 1811.