While I was working in Durban with Mr Roberts, I was sent to join some Reef auditors in Port Elizabeth, to audit the branch in Main Street. I recall Messrs Eales and Barnard being on the team but I was the only clerk. The accountant at the time was Ernie Jones and his deputy, Basie Ferreira, two excellent bank clerks and all round nice guys.
One Wednesday afternoon, Basie got a bunch of fellows from the branch, hired a fishing boat and went fishing out in the Bay. They wanted me along and rubbed their hands with glee when I revealed I had never fished in my life, never been in any kind of boat and had in fact already been working when I saw the sea for the first time. They were sure this greenhorn would soon be feeding the fishes. But Basie, (Bless him!) dosed me liberally with anti-sickness tablets on the harbor and my system didn’t revolt.
There had been gales earlier in the week and the swells coming in off the open sea were enormous. I thought the mountains of water were normal so took it all on the chin and started enjoying the trip. I was comforted by the thought that we’d be fishing off Summerstrand and if the worst happened, I could probably happily float in to the beach. But that was just that devious Ferreira’s lie to get me along. Off Summerstrand there is a bell buoy marking a reef and when we reached it, I thought that was where we’d fish but no. Off we went out into the open sea and I just watched aghast as the city dipped below the horizon and all one could see was mountains of water.
One or two of the other fellows were already seriously seasick and offering good money to be taken back to shore. Poor Tom Moolman was queasy the moment he set foot on the deck, still in the harbor but no amount of begging could get Basie to head back. I was amazed to note that seasick people really DO go an unhealthy shade of green. Basie and I started fishing with handlines. I never expected to catch a thing but all of a sudden there was a tug on my line and up came a respectable, silvery fish. I was thrilled to have caught my first fish ever and wondered why I had thought the sport was boring.
Before long, Basie and I had a respectable pile of wriggling beauties around us, Basie hooked a wickedly toothed little hammerhead shark and I just sat there, fascinated by that strange looking thing, until it came perilously close to snapping at my leg. It took a thump on its head with a club subdue the beast long enough for Basie to throw it back. At around sunset the Captain headed back and soon the lights of the city hove into view – damn, they looked good. Some kind of fish called elf was running and a good spot to catch elf was right at the bell buoy. At night, the sea is dreadfully quiet and menacing (At least it was to this Free Stater) and that mournfully clanging brass bell in the darkness, emphasized the eeriness. Small wonder sailors are superstitious.
Back in the harbor, poor Tom nearly kissed the ground – he swore off going to sea forever and for a good few days afterwards he was still having bouts of giddiness. Basie meanwhile, was busy cleaning our haul of fish on the harbour wall and was making two piles. I queried the second pile to be told they were mine. Alarmed, I reminded Basie that I was staying at the quite posh Beach Hotel and couldn’t just walk in there with a smelly bag of fish. But that Ferreira never learned the meaning of the word no and insisted I give the fish to the kitchen. This would normally be a sound idea but not so at well after 11 pm at night.
Talk about panic. Everything was in darkness and I had no idea what to do with the fish. Just then a rather befuddled bushdweller came wandering by and I asked him if he’d like some fish. He eyed me suspiciously and demanded, “HOEVEEL?” I just thrust the sack at him and exclaimed. "Nee, dis verniet. Lekker eet!” I think he and his fellow bushdwellers ate jolly well that night and might still be marveling at the crazy white man who was dishing out free fish in the middle of the night.
Basie of course has NEVER forgiven me for just giving that fish away that night.
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