Loss of life was once a tragic but common occurrence among fishermen. It remains a precarious profession but in the 19th century, when the Scottish fleets were at their greatest strength, men faced a daily battle to make a living and, too often, risked their lives doing so.
There is a misconception that being lost at sea was a distant event; a horror that unfolded somewhere beyond the horizon. There would be the waiting, and the prayers, when a boat failed to return. There would be the hope that a safe haven had been found and word would come of loved ones secure in shelter. Time would pass and so would that hope, to be replaced with sorrow, loss and, so frequently, hardship.
While that was all true, along the east coast of Fife tragedy could unfold in sight of home lights, with wives and children watching a gruesome battle to survive rage before them.
The Forth offered a rich harvest for the area’s fishermen but the hazards were as great as the open sea. Newspaper reports from that time tell of wives and children anxiously following the boats as the crews struggled to find a harbour or safe inlet if caught in a sudden storm.
In early 1846 one such event was recorded that captures the danger that could suddenly descend on the boats.
Winter fishing was always unpredictable, with the weather adding to the hardship of the bitter cold.
On the morning of Monday, January 19, a squall quickly fermented into a ferocious storm. The boats closest to the shore made it to safety but lying along off the East Neuk there remained some 40 vessels mainly from St Monans and Cellardyke, carrying upwards of 200 men.
As one newspaper reported, “With such fury did the surf rage, and foam, and dash on the rugged iron-bound coast, exhibiting such a scene of terrific grandeur, that every harbour to windward of Elie was rendered utterly inaccessible.”
And so the 40 boats battled through the tempest towards Elie while family members kept pace with their struggle from the shoreline.
Miraculously 39 boats would reach the shelter of Elie but one of the St Monans yawls, with a crew of five young men, was swamped in the surf and disappeared beneath the waves.
Three men were lost immediately to the depths - James Gerard, a father to five with another on the way, and Alexander Meldrum and Alexander Paterson, an uncle and nephew.
But two brothers, Robert and William Tarvit, continued to struggle in the stormy waters. Witnesses said they exchanged words before another yawl managed to reach Robert, but his brother was unable to be reached and was lost, leaving a pregnant wife and three children.
The Fife Herald later reported, “It was painful to witness the distressing looks of many females from St Monance, who hied anxiously awaiting the arrival of dear friends, who were still tossed about among tempestuous billows. Even among the hardy weather-beaten fishermen a gloom was visible in every countenance, for many claimed relationship to those who were no more.”
The tragedy, which could easily have cost more lives, prompted a call for Elie to be more utilised for the East Neuk fleet.
As an Elie correspondent stated, “We hope public attention will be directed towards this place, which, at a comparatively trifling expense, might be made one of the best safety harbours in the United Kingdom.”
It was a plea that did not gain wide support but this particular tragedy would later prompt an appeal by the Shipwrecked Fishermen and Mariners' Benevolent Society that all those making their livelihood from the sea subscribe to ensure support for their families in the event of such a loss. That followed a decision to grant financial aid to the widows of James Gerard and William Tarvit of £8 and £6 respectively; in 2025 the equivalent would be £1200 and £900.
“Had the deceased husbands been members of the society, the donations to the widows would have been much larger. We are astonished that all the fishermen and mariners' do not become members of this praiseworthy society, more especially as the subscription necessary to constitute a member is only 2s. 6d yearly – a mere trifle; and as the advantages are so great,” stated the Society in a report published in March 1846.
It would appear that despite the comparatively small annual outlay many of the fishing community refused to consider the danger they faced, “an evil... no one is willing to apprehend as likely to be his lot”, as the Society described it, adding, “We fondly trust that those who have not yet joined the society will lose no time in doing so. We are persuaded that there is not a fisherman or mariner in this or the neighbouring towns who could not spare the small sum of half-a-crown out of his yearly income; and we hold, therefore, that he has not the interests of his wife and family at heart if he does not at once enrol himself as a member.”
It is possible Thomas Mathers of St Monans, the 'Fisherman Poet', contributed parts of the report on the tragedy to the Fifeshire Journal and Fife Herald. And on January 29, the former published these verses, possibly inspired by the events earlier that month.
The Time For Prayer
When is the time, and where,
To bend the knee in prayer?
At morning, when the flashing dawn,
In robes of light trips o’er the lawn,
With form divinely fair.
God’s omnipresence then most bright
Appears in rays of purest light:
His ever watchful eye
Beholds us everywhere;
His ear is open to our cry
Where’er we kneel in prayer.
When is the time so fair,
To bow the knee in prayer?
At midday, when bright Sol sublime
Unfolds to man the flight of time,
Proclaiming loud, “Prepare
To meet thy God”; for in thy glass
Life’s last sand specks may be to pass
E’er evening shadows close:
Thy vital spark so bright,
Like Sol, which in the east arose,
Must set in shades of night.
When is the time, and how,
The suppliant knee to bow?
At evening, when the chequered skies
Are burnished with the varied dyes
Of Nature’s fairest glow.
Power, wisdom, majesty divine,
Are seen pourtrayed in every line:
While Nature feasts our eyes,
How should our hearts expand
To Him who paints the chequered skies
With his Almighty hand.
When is the time most fit
Our God to supplicate?
At midnight, when the sable skies
The Night of Death doth symbolize,
And shows our fallen state.
In this that awful hour we trace,
When blushing Nature veiled her face,*
And heaved convulsive sighs
For Him, the Prince of Peace,
Who man’s redemption did devise
To save our fallen race.
Thomas Mathers
St Monance, January 1846
*Now, from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And, behold the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, the earth did quake, and the rocks rent. Mat., XXVII, 45-51.
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| Scheduled for publication early 2026. |
