Riot, profligacy, want and misery have retired, and labor has scarcely risen. As we approach Billingsgate, the profound silence of the dawn is now and then broken by the wheels of the fishmonger's light cart, which is proceeding to the market.
AN AUCTION AT BILLINGSGATE FISH MARKET.
The whole area of the market, brilliantly lighted with streaming flames of gas, comes into view. One might fancy that the stalls were dressed for a feast. The tables of the salesmen, which are arranged from one side of the covered area to the other, afford ample space for clustering throngs of buyers around each. The stalls appear to form one table, but the portion assigned to each is nine feet by six. Each salesman sits with his back to another, and between them is a wooden shelf, so that they are apparently enclosed in a recess, but by this arrangement they escape having their pockets picked, a common occurrence where there is a large crowd. There are about 200 fish salesmen in London and half of that number have stalls in this market for which a pretty good rent is paid.
Proceeding to the bottom of the market, we perceive the masts of the fishing boats rising out of the fog which envelopes the river. The boats lie considerably below the level of the market, and the descent is by several ladders to a floating wharf, which rises and falls with the tide, and is therefore always on the same level with the boats. About fifty of these craft are moored alongside of each other.
THE OYSTER BOATS.
The oyster boats are crowded together by themselves. The buyer goes on board the oyster boat, as oysters are not sold in the ordinary, morning market. The fishermen and porters are busily engaged in arranging their cargoes for quick delivery as soon as the market begins. Two or three minutes before five the salesmen take their seats in the enclosed recesses, watching each other eagerly. The porters with their dirty canvass aprons and their huge scooped hats stand ready with their baskets on their heads, but not one of them is allowed, however, to have the advantage of his fellows by an unfair start, or to overstep a line marked out by the clerk of the market. The instant the clock strikes the melee commences and then woe to the bystander who blocks up the way—he is knocked down and trampled on, and fish of all sizes are spilled over his prostrate body, while his eyes, hands, limbs and other members, are blessed with great fervor by the porters.
Each porter now rushes at his utmost speed to the respective salesman to whom his basket is consigned. The largest codfish are brought in baskets which contain four; those somewhat smaller are brought in boxes; and smaller sizes in dozens, and still larger numbers, but always in baskets. All fish are sold by the "tail," or by number excepting salmon, which are sold by weight, and oysters and shell-fish by measure. The baskets are instantly emptied on the tables, and the porters hasten for a fresh supply. It is the fisherman's interest to bring his whole cargo into the market as soon as possible, for if the quantity brought to market be large, prices will fall the more quickly, and if they are high, buyers purchase less freely, and he may miss the sale. As, for example, a boat load of mackerel from Brighton sold at Billingsgate for forty guineas per hundred, or seven shillings each, an extraordinary price—while the next boat load produced but thirteen guineas per hundred.
The majority of the fishing vessels are sloops and schooners under fifty tons each, and of this number the greater part belong to ports on the coast as follows: