Present State of The Ecréhous Jersey C.I. (1884)

The Ecréhous Jersey C.I. 1884

Illustrated by P. J. Ouless

Present State of The Ecréhous (1884)

Letters by Commander C. V. Anson, R.N.

By the kind permission of Commander C. V. Anson, R.N., we republish a series of letters on the Ecréhous, written by him to the BRITISH PRESS and JERSEY TIMES, in November, 1882. They contain by far the most correct account of the islets as they now exist, and are particularly valuable on account of the knowledge of the subject exhibited by their author.

(Letter I).—Where on earth are the Ecréhos Rocks? Will be exclaimed by the general reader, including I fear some residents of Jersey. So to answer this first, after the manner of the sailing directions:

The main group of the Ecréhous Rocks is nearly the centre of a reef of rocks, the greater part of which are covered at high water, and of sand banks and shoals which extend quite nine miles, forming a fringe to the North Eastern Coast of Jersey. The ‘Dirouilles’ are the Western extreme of this plateau, and the ‘Ecrevière’ sand bank, or ‘Le Banc de Pierre des Fammes,’ are at the Eastern end.

Narrow and intricate channels are found between these tangled masses of reefs and banks of gravel and sand, but none of them are safe to attempt, even in a small boat, without local knowledge, and much less in a vessel of any size; though instances have been known of ships having providentially drifted through, the crews not realising their danger until they had escaped from it; still sailors of every nation avoid this side of the channel, and pass outside the Caskets and Guernsey, well clear of the many dangers surrounding the coast of Jersey.

Heaven knows how many vessels have been wrecked on these reefs and islets. Before ships were propelled by steam, the dangerous indraught during the flood tide into the gulf of St. Malo was the cause of many and many a vessel being driven out of her course, and if the ‘Rocques Douvres’, the ‘Pater Nosters’, and the ‘Ecréhos’ could speak, they could tell tales of disaster, heroism, and perhaps cowardice, unrecorded by human hands, and on account of unavailing misery and attending errors, thus mercifully shrouded by the veil of the great unknown.

The largest islets belonging to the Ecréhos groups are called "Maître," and "Marmotier", on which once perched the old smugglers’ nest, and on which are now some half a dozen small cottages owned by Jerseyans who, equally interested in the products of land and sea, and equally good men and true on both elements, may with truth be called "Marine Farmers."

In bygone days, the Ecréhos were claimed by both Jersey and France; but in 1857, an act of the States of Jersey distinctly set forth that they were an integral portion of the Island of Jersey, and that they were situated in the Parish of St. Martin’s. It is open to question whether our Republican neighbours admit this claim; but at any rate, orders have been issued by the British Government that, so far as fishery rights are concerned, the three mile limit which is "tabooed" for French boats round our coasts and islands, except under circumstances of "force majeure" is not to be enforced around the Ecréhos, and French fisherman are thus free to resort there. They have therefore, lately come at low spring tides, much to the disgust of the Jersey fisherman, who by no means look on this proceeding with the eye of favour. Rumour has it that on these occasions they combine a little smuggling of an inferior kind of spirit, called "Trois Six," into Jersey and a return cargo of tobacco into France with the more innocent employment of turning over stones and catching shell fish. "Trois Six" is distilled from beetroot. It is very potent and deleterious to the health of all but metal lined people. The profits accruing from a successful run across from France to Jersey with a cargo of this spirit in, say a boat of 3 tons burthen, would be about £35, and for the return trip, tobacco can be bought in Jersey for a franc a pound and sold in France for five francs a pound. So the reader will agree with me that there can be a very profitable little business done in this way, even in this moral age, provided that the Impôt officers of Jersey and the Douaniers in France do not catch the offenders and spoil the trade!

(Letter II.)—We lately gave a few introductory remarks to a Fishing Excursion at the Ecréhos, but since then we have been again exercised by the question of Where are they? So to be more explicit let us say, that if a straight line be drawn from the lighthouse at the end of St. Catherine’s Breakwater on the Eastern Coast of Jersey to Cape Carteret in France, and if the line be divided about the middle, the point of intersection will be the Isle of Marmotier, of which we will write more anon, and on which we lived and had a ‘real good time’ for three or four days.

But it is now time to relate our experiences. Leaving Gorey in two small cutters about 8.30 a.m., we took a fine breeze out of the roads, and over the ‘Banc du Chateau,’ passing which the Ecréhos quickly rose above our horizon, and our steersman soon pointed out a remarkable rock called "Bijorne," but which looks more like a fish’s dorsal fin than a hatchet. This rock kept midway between the only two others near it, viz. The Grand Galère and the Sablonière, which are never covered by the tide, will lead any sized vessel up to anchorage; but towards low water care must be taken not to mistake the North Eastern rock, which appears nearly the same height and also has a rather flat top, for the Sablonière. Tradition says that years ago a large passenger ship was wrecked hereabouts, and the captain, thinking that this North Eastern rock could never cover, ordered the female passengers to be landed on it. Alas! The tide rose at high water ten feet above the rock, and before they could be rescued, all the women were drowned. It has ever since been called the Pierre des Femmes, and some of the local fishermen aver that on stormy nights the shrieks of the drowning are still to be heard, rising above the howling of the tempest; and many of them are afraid to approach it after dark, even in fine weather, to lay down their lobster pots.

We soon opened out the houses on Marmotier, and ran into a little sandy gully beneath them, just saving our water in, having run across in an hour and a quarter. Having disembarked and stowed our traps away, we shouldered our stop nets and trudged off over the shingle beach passed Blanc’ Isle and on to the bay beyond called Blanc Gant, where the first nets were to be placed. A description of these nets may interest amateur fisherman. Each is in size 12 feet deep by 120 long, of plain strong netting, foot and head ropes, ¾ in. rope meshes, 1½ inches in diameter; and one, two, three or four are used, laced temporarily together, according to the breadth of the channel or gully at low water, that is going to be stopped. The top of the net has corks about 3½ inches in diameter, and 1 inch thick, placed at intervals of one foot apart and the bottom is confined to the ground by stones which are placed close together on top of the bottom line of the net, so that about two thirds of their weight rests on the net to keep it down. Every four fathoms or 24 feet, a line about 24 feet long is fastened with a running eye to a stone as heavy as a man can lift, the other end being spliced into the top row so that when the top of the net is floating it will be kept to a perpendicular position by these radial lines. Lifting stones on the bottom of the net is hard work for hands unaccustomed to toil, and especially so where the former stones used have been washed away or buried in the sand, and others have to be brought over the "ploughed field" of rocks in their stead. Some amusement was caused by the fruitless endeavours on the part of an amateur to turn a round flint stone out of its bed; he had been trying to cure sea sickness with sundry anti-spasmodics kept in a square bottle during the passage over, and each attempt to move the stone resulted in assuming a sitting posture at a little distance from it, with arms and legs well elevated. After the third attempt he was heard to call the stone a "blooming blue ribbon stone," and he went to seek others more accommodating. We laid down another net close to a large rock called the "Tas de Pois" which I believe means "Heap of Peas"; and the "Peas" surrounding its base though "green" were uncommonly "hard boiled" as I found to the cost of my knees And elbows when coming a ‘cropper’ over them. Whilst we had been laying the nets, two or three of the party had gone out armed with long sticks, at the end of which a large size fish hook was securely seized, and with shrimp nets; and when we returned to our house we found that they had caught several small conger and a few lobsters by turning over the stones that were moveable, and by thrusting their hook-sticks into the crevices of those that could not be moved. I may as well say here that when "on such game intent," it is of no use to turn or try a stone laying on the gravel as nothing but a small crab or so will be found in such places; but where stones lay on a rock or weed so that water is lodged underneath them, lobsters, large crabs, and conger may frequently be found. It stands to reason that as the tide recedes, they will only take shelter in places where they are sure of being submerged in water until the incoming tide approaches. One of our party an old ‘Ecréhoser’ had been told off as cook, and when dinner time came round a basin of hot fish soup, and a slice of cold roast beef, washed down with home brewed cider and a chase of hot coffee royal went far to reconcile us to life, though out hands and feet felt rather sore after their first rencontre with the shingle and stones. Pipes, grog, and songs, sitting round a blazing fire, concluded the evening, except to three told off to go and look at the nets at midnight and bring back the catch. On the principle of conserved energy these three were volunteers from those who had not been suffering from sea-sickness. So leaving the water to boil under the care of our cook, so that a hot cup of coffee should await their return, they left with baskets and bags, returning in an hour or so with a huge conger, weighing over 30lb., half a dozen red mullet, a dozen rockfish, and a bream, as the somewhat poor results of the first catch of our stop nets.

(Letter III).—We three were ready to get to bed, but over the last pipe I induced the cook to give me his recipe for making the excellent Fish Soup we had at dinner; and as it may be some day of use to my readers, I will describe his modus operandi. He first cuts off the heads and cuts out the back-bone of the conger; if small fish he adds pices of their bodies, and rock fish, dog fish, and almost any other fish well skinned—the more bones they have the better—will not come amiss. Letting these gently boil in a kettle of water for an hour or an hour and a half, he then adds any vegetable obtainable (potatoes, onions, and carrots chopped up are the best suited) and if possible, a sprig of thyme, sage, or any other seasoning. When the vegetables are boiled he puts in a good large lump of butter, and "stirs well and serves hot"; or as he tersely said "the whole art of making soup without meat consists of boiling down plenty of butter." Do this and tasting is believing!! Next morning we awoke early, feeling as stiff as if we had swallowed a ramrod for supper; but a tub in the sea found us at 8 a.m. with a tremendous appetite, quenched by a basin of tea and hot lobster for breakfast; after which, as the tide was not yet low enough, we cleaned and salted the fish caught last night and then went to call on the King and Queen. They have lived on the Ecréhos for 39 years, seldom visiting Jersey more then five or six times a year, when the king takes over the seaweed or "vraic" that he has burnt and exchanges it for flour and other necessaries. This burnt vraic is valued highly by the Jersey farmers for manure, and by some of them is considered extremely good for promoting the growth of Jersey’s principal industry (i.e., early potatoes). It must be burnt indoors, or otherwise it would soon be blown away and loose its goodness. A large sack of it sells for about four shillings. The King’s Palace consists of two huts, in one of which he cooks and lives, and in the other he keeps his stores, &c. These huts are built on the ridge of shingle on Blanc’ Isle, but they are well protected by large rocks on each side. Still at very high spring tides the King and Queen have to seek refuge with their "bags and baggage" on Marmotier; as the old king says, "The Sea put it there and the Sea can take it away again." He is engaged in building with loose stones a kind of citadel of refuge on the rock north of his house. With more faith then, we thought, probability, he told us it would be ready next year, and he formally invited us to a house warming on that occasion. The only vegetation on Blanc’ Isle is a few Marsh Mallow shrubs and some samphire, the latter of which, when soaked in water for a couple of hours and then placed in malt vinegar, makes a healthy and succulent pickle. The King told us that he had lived on the ‘Main Land’ when he first came to the Ecréhos. We were rather surprised when he pointed out the Maître Ile as the ‘Main Land;’ but then everything is relative ! He also told us that he had to leave that island because there was no safe accommodation for a boat to be moored there. If kept afloat he had to shift his boat from one side of the Island to the other, according to the direction of the wind; and if hauled up on shore, for days on end he could not launch her. He told us that lobsters are getting scarcer every year, and I cannot help putting this partly down to the fact that so many small lobsters are taken and eaten (for they are rightly forbidden to be sold under a certain size) by the frequenters of the Ecréhos on the principal of " If we don’t take them someone else will." This is a penny wise and many pounds foolish notion, as for every young lobster that is taken old enough to protect itself from all its enemies but man, the productive power of many hundred, even thousand, young ones is brought to an untimely end. If I may here give a hint to the authorities who regulate the lobster fisheries, I not only would recommend them to see to the practical infractions of their laws, but above all they should sentence to perpetual indigestion any person capturing, buying, or eating a lobster full of spawn, as this practice is even worse then the former. This can be more clearly and forcibly understood when it is recollected that when the progeny of all fish are in their earliest stage myriads of them succomb to their natural foes; for if all spat come to maturity there would soon not be room enough in the sea for the fish living therein, and perhaps I may add that man should interfere with nature as little as possible.

Having bid "good morning" to our host, we divided into two parties, one to go to the nets, the other to go down to where the low tide had receded, and to try for prawns and lobsters. The most suitable form of shrimp net is a horseshoe-shaped framework, of about 18 inches diameter; the curved portion of it is made of strong wire let into the ends of the cross piece into which is morticed the handle; the advantage of this is that when shrimping the net can be placed close down to the bottom, and the shrimps cannot escape underneath it, as is the case, when the frame work is all made of wood. The bag or cod of the net should be wide enough to admit the hand easily, otherwise much time and trouble is wasted in turning it inside out, when shrimps are caught. At the risk of boring the general reader, we must add that the largest prawns will be found underneath stones or close to the edges of the banks, and it is obvious that there is more satisfaction financially and edibly out of one large prawn then out of a dozen small shrimps. For work of this description in the shallows or among the grass, much larger nets of a semi-circular form are needed, as then you must trust to the size of the net, recollecting that it is always of no use pushing to deeper water, and that "against the stream and towards the banks" should be the shrimper’s motto.

(Letter IV).—Returning to our proceedings the morning of the second day at the Ecréhos, and promising no more recipes, the tide them went very low, and we proceeded down to its outskirts, catching several large crabs and ormers under the stones. "Try that hole" ! called out one of our Ecréhos friends, pointing out an immense stone, weighing at least a ton resting on a flat rock. Poking the hooked stick in I felt something moving inside, and after groping about with four feet of the stick inserted, I had the satisfaction of hooking a large male lobster between the head and tail, and dragging him out tail first to daylight and durance. Flap ! Flap ! went his tail, with claws thrown back in the air ! ready to exact reparation if a chance was given him, and human flesh will not understand the ‘pressing’ attentions of a fresh caught lobster’s claw, for these only stop at the bone !! Carefully grasped behind the claws he was disengaged. "Now, sir as he came out tail first, there may be something else here," said my guide. "I’ll tell you why ! If a conger gets inside a hole, he will resent any other occupant’s arrival, and being a very particular fish he prefers the lobster’s tail to his claws. The lobster knowing this, presents his armed front to the enemy, and using his eyes and feelers has no difficulty in keeping the conger at bay until the rising tide admite of his making a stern-board to safer company." So in went the stick again, and this time to its hilt, a wriggle ! a snap !! and then such a twist !! the hook caught, and out came a huge conger which when clear, coiled itself round the stick, and gave good sport, until with both feet standing on its head, my companion drew his sharp knife across the nape of its neck, and it then followed its companion in misfortune into our bag !! The tide’s making, and so off home, for time and tide wait for no one, and it does not do to play at King Canute’s game at the Ecréhos, for before you can shake your leg the tide will be over your ankle, leaving on time for adjuration or expostulation. The other party had caught a few fish including a "stinging ray." Not knowing the peculiarities of this amiable fish his captors put him in the bag, and with its other contents, the bag was shouldered and its porter gaily tramped off for home, singing "All the way to Limerick !" But before the first stanza was completed an unearthly yell rent the air and down fell the bag of fish, whilst the lower extremities of him who carried it were propelled suddenly forward as if he had been "kicked," "like the little foot page as he flew, As an arrow from the bended yew; and wither he went no man knew," Halloo old man, what is the matter? With wrathful visage, our porter looked round at his companions, but seeing no signs of practical joking he examined the bag of fish. He evidently saw something there, for out came all the fish ! and out came his knife !! Quickly he be-tailed the offending ray, holding up to the light a most formidable weapon, about six inches long, and sharp as a needle, with curved saw-like edges, which could easily penetrate, but once inserted could only be with extreme difficulty withdrawn. When they got home our host explained that before attempting to carry a stinging ray it is necessary to de-tail him, and he mentioned an instance of a former occasion when he had placed his foot on a male stinging ray’s head, and that the fish had doubled itself over quickly, just missing his foot and thereby killing itself instantaneously by penetrating its head ! and giving itself a coup-de-grace. He also told us that the male has two of these weapons in the tail. These fish frequently grow to enormous sizes. Their liver is full of a kind of essential oil which is highly esteemed by fisherman as a local application for bruises or rheumatism; the flesh is coarse, but not inedible—the body a reddish kind of brown on its dorsal side and whitey brown on its other side.

The nets were removed from the "Mare de Pallot" and the "Tombe," and all placed down in one row on a place called the "Braies de Boeufs," or the Bull’s Breeches, which at low spring tide had now uncovered sufficiently. This afternoon as the tide rose, the wind increased and by four p.m. it was blowing a strong gale from the South West. At high water the tide had risen at least 5 feet higher then it had been the preceding day, and it now almost reached up to the basements of the houses—the seas striking the rocks reverberated up the walls with dull roars and thuds, making us feel our littleness and how small a margin of safety remained. Looking out to seaward, the many square miles of rocks which had been visible at low water were now all covered, save three or four patches, by the raging seas. Spray leapt into the air, completely covering the weather houses, whilst the tide as it increased seemed to become more angry as it rushed past us over the rocks forming our foundations; here being raised several feet above them on our wind-ward side, it like a huge waterfall eddied and whirled itself into white foam as it sloped downwards on the further and leeward side of the rocks. We were all glad to note when the water began to fall again, and an hour after high water, the tide having become slack, we dried the deck, and as soon as the bridge to Blanc’ Island was uncovered we hastened over to see how the King and Queen had weathered the storm. As Blanc’ Island is much lower then Marmotier the sea wall had suffered a great deal, and the sea had nearly washed Her Majesty off her legs; but luckily no great harm had been done; and after helping the king to keep his spirits up, we all returned to our real Island home to bed until "net time" came on again. That evening we got a splendid haul of 70 bream, 100 rockfish, 4 rays, 12 red mullet, and 30 or 40 whiting, and had great sport gaffing the fish, always seize them round the head, shutting down the dorsal fin nearest it, and the other fins follow suit, and insert the fingers in the gills otherwise, especially at night, unaccustomed hands will probably get very nasty pricks from their spicular fins, but a very little experience of this sort goes a long way. Watch the difference between the tyro and the older hand. The former, after several fruitless attempts, at last catches the fish round the middle with both hands, and is triumphantly taking it to the basket or bag; but his triumph is shortlived, a desperate wriggle ! and he attempts to recover the prize !!! A slip of the foot and a splashing downfall; the fish escapes ! and its would-be captor is wet through !! and laughed at !!! But now look at the older hand; he waits till he sees exactly where his prey is, deftly seizing it with both hands about the head, he slips each of his forefingers into the gills, and disregarding all its struggles to escape he "bags" his game. Early next morning the gale had gone down and now my story is nearly done. Another capital catch of red mullet, whiting, a fine young codfish, and a dozen splendid bass, altogether 100 fish! And 2 lobsters! The latter having been stoped by the net, had buried themselves under two large stones some yards inside of it, and then all on board—leaving our surplus stores to the King and Queen, we gaily made sail and a prosperous return home to Gorey.

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Ruins on Maitre Ile Les Ecréhous Jersey C.I. 1884

Ruins on Maître Ile

Maître Ile

Fishing Party

Fishermans Hut

Rocking Stone

Les Ecréhous Map 1884

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