Stinker’s History: Silvertails

“SILVERTAILS” were a fascinating species.

They were made up of doctors, lawyers, school teachers and even wrestlers.

Generally holidaymakers, “Silvertails” were those who, it seemed, always had an inner desire to be a fisherman, but fate had led them elsewhere in life.

Their method of operation was to start talking to the fishermen and slowly move closer into the circle, convincing themselves, and telling their mates, that they were part of it. Being “accepted” into a fishing crew was a grand achievement for a Silvertail; it gave them some sense of belonging.

While it was generally agreed by the fishermen that they were of little value to the crew work wise, the late Charlie Asquith didn’t mind bringing Silvertails along for the ride.

A great storyteller, Charlie was a well regarded local with decades of experience fishing the waters of Port Stephens and beyond.

“It would give them (Silvertails) a day out and it was fun,” Charlie said.

“They would help pull the nets and get in the bloody road but we didn’t mind.

“If there was a flathead in the net they would pull it out and go over and bury it in the sand and put a little stick over the top claiming it as theirs.

“We always had a bit of a laugh.

“We always called flathead ‘front seaters because the Silvertails would always put them in the front seat of their cars.”

Even when Charlie set off to sea in the “Seal” to check his lobster traps he could regularly count on a couple of Silvertails waiting on the wharf to go with him.

Being poor seamen they suffered from extreme sea sickness and on a couple of occasions they lay on the deck of the boat and attempted to write a will.

“Lenny Fenton, a Pommy who used to work on the Council, would come with us and get so crook he thought he was going to die, but the next day he was ready to go again.

“One time in a heaving sea he was really crook,” recalled Charlie.

“If I had the strength and the courage,” Lenny said, “I would strike out for the shore.”

Another day the “Seal” had finished work for the day and was on the way home, but Lenny was green.

Just to stir things along Charlie said that he thought they might head off to Boulder Bay in the other direction, which of course would extend Lenny’s misery.

“Oh Jesus, don’t go down there,” Lenny said, barely able to speak as he crawled along the deck.

Having no intention of doing so, Charlie told Lenny, “We will go in to Big Island and I’ll drive the boat in as close as I can and you dive in and swim up onto the island and we will pick you up on the way back.”

Lenny quickly began taking his shoes off, jamming his cigarettes up into one shoe and stuffing a sock behind it.

This was all very amusing to the fishermen on board and a great relief to Lenny when he found out that his leg was being pulled.

As usual, he was on the jetty the next day ready to go back to sea.

Charlie remembers fondly another Silvertail, this one a school teacher from Sydney.

“He had a wife and four little kids and the day that school knocked off he would call in.

“Every day he was there, ready to go.

“On each occasion, as soon as we reached the heads, he was down on the deck beside the cabin crook, green like you wouldn’t believe.

“We would throw a bag over him and tip a bucket of water on him at times just to freshen him up, but as soon as we came back inside the heads on our return to port, he was up scrubbing the deck.

“His family was waiting for him on the wharf.

“‘Oh, I’ve had a beautiful day,” he would say. ‘What time are we leaving tomorrow?’

The “Silvertails”, so called by the fishermen, provided a mild sense of amusement for the hardened locals as they spent the tedious hours waiting for the fish to travel.

The fishermen would even debate among themselves as to who had the best Silvertails. Every crew had a couple, sometimes up to six, as in the case of Charlie’s team.

Charlie, never one to be taken seriously, took the whole situation one step further by writing a code of conduct, a document to preserve the rights of the Silvertails that were attached to his crew.

He named them “Charlie’s Angels” and established an appreciation of the Silvertails which was to be adhered to by his crew.

By John ‘Stinker’ CLARKE