A maritime heritage - Bermuda

American Visions, August-Sept, 1997 by Henry Scarupa

Bermuda lobster, catch of the day, ... visitors to Bermuda, scanning the menu at a restaurant, frequently pause at these items to consider the delectable possibilities.

Providing the stuff for such tasty entrees are a few hundred island fishermen, sole survivors of a coastal seafaring tradition that dates back to the earliest settlement of Bermuda, in 1612. The island's rich maritime heritage owes its existence in part to the abundance of Bermuda cedar found by early settlers. The resilient wood holds up well in water and resists worms, making it ideal material for boats. Shipbuilding naturally thrived, and with it, trade. By the late 1600s, the Bermuda sloop, a fast, rugged sailing vessel, proved its worth in commerce and in privateering.

Even before then, though, enslaved labor was a critical feature of the island's seafaring tradition. Unlike slaves on the other lands of the New World, who principally tilled the soil, enslaved Africans in Bermuda toiled mainly at boatbuilding, fishing and shipping. Slaves not only built boats; they sailed them as crew members. To ensure that enough ablebodied white men remained on shore to prevent a slave uprising, island authorities issued strict regulations on the number of white men who could be away at sea. Blacks filled the gap.

Some of these slave seamen took part in the salt trade to the Turks and Caicos Islands, south of the Bahamas, where fellow slaves labored on the salt flats, evaporating salt from seawater. Others sailed to the Grand Banks, off Newfoundland, to fish for cod. Still others sailed to foreign shores to trade for sugar, cotton and other necessities, often working themselves up to positions of responsibility in overseeing the master's business. Concern for their wives and children back home prevented most from jumping ship. When slavery was abolished, on August 1, 1834, and shipowners had to pay all members of their crews regular wages, shipping declined sharply, testimony that slavery was critical to the industry's profit margins.

Other enslaved and free black men worked as shipwrights and craftsmen in Bermuda shipyards. When the Royal Naval Dockyard was established in the early 19th century, some slaves were "leased', to the Royal Navy by their owners, who pocketed their wages.

With emancipation, newly freed blacks continued to employ the skills gained from years of experience as seamen and boatbuilders. Men could still eke out a living from the bountiful sea, never more than a mile or two away, as fishermen and turtle hunters. In small, open boats powered by oars, they also went after whales that ventured close to shore. In the late 19th century, tourists began coming to Bermuda in growing numbers, and escorting visitors on waterborne excursions and fishing expeditions provided a new source of jobs.

Today, though, Bermuda's maritime tradition is under severe pressure, especially as regards fishing. Consider Calvin E. Carmichael, a modern descendant of those Africans who centuries ago were forcibly brought to this remote Atlantic island more than 500 miles off the coast of North Carolina. The wiry, affable 53-year-old fisherman sits at the wheel of his 50-foot boat, the Tranquilo, and steers out of Ely's Harbor in Bermuda's Sandys Parish with a 17-foot whaler in tow, heading west toward the island's Outer Banks, 30 miles away. There, Carmichael and his helper, Ralph Haney, will spend the next two days hauling in fish--if they're lucky.

Once the Tranquilo reaches the fishing grounds, Haney enters the whaler and casts a small, fine-mesh fishing net into the water, draws it close and lifts it into the metal boat. He extracts from the bundle handfuls of wiggling anchovies and other small fish, silvery and glistening in the sun, and dumps them into a bucket. He repeats the process until he has enough bait for the morning's fishing.

Now the work begins in earnest. Hooks are baited, lines are out and Carmichael throttles down the twin diesels to a slow crawl, trolling. If the fish are biting, Haney is kept busy, removing red hind and rockfish from the lines, along with an occasional wahoo or tuna. But the fish don't always bite, and the sea doesn't always cooperate: It's not unusual for a day to go by with barely enough fish caught to pay for the Tranquilo's fuel. Unlike some fishing boats in Bermuda, the Tranquilo has comfortable living quarters, enabling Carmichael and Haney to stay out two or three days if necessary.

Carmichael sells most of his catch from a roadside stand set up Sundays on Middle Road, Bermuda's busiest thoroughfare. Haney tends to sales, dipping into an ice chest to bring out a fish for a customer's approval. Red hind, one of the more popular local fish, brings about $8 a pound, while rockfish sells for as much as $10 a pound.

Competition comes from abroad, for imported fish are cheaper. With fuel costing more than $5 a gallon, Bermuda's fishermen cannot compete on price. But they can offer freshness and superior taste in their fish--qualities that Bermudan diners seem to prefer and that tourists are quick to discover.