?Tunny fishing in Scarborough

The following is from the Scarborough Girls High school magazine published 1923-47 in Scarborough Library

As this is a modern magazine, I think that it is only correct to have in it a few facts about the most modern and energetic of sports, which is Tunny Fishing. It is also very appropriate for us, as Scarborough is the headquarters of the British Tunny Club, better known to its selct few members as as the "B.T.C." This old building is one of the red-roofed houses nestling under the shelter of the Castle Hill, and, although its reputation is now, I hope, quite good, this has not always been the case, as it was, in former times, first a public house, and then a smugglers' haunt. It is interesting to sit in the low, timbered saloon, watching the members as they gossip round th eblazing fire. How different they are in every respect from its former inhabitants, most of them "wanted characters," or, if not that, likely suspects for rum-running.

Many people are under the illusion that tunny fishing is a cruel sport, and that the fish has no chance, but this is definitely wrong. All the angler uses is a thin linen line, a split cane rod, a nine inch reel, and a five inch hook. The tunny, also, is a much more formidable adversary than many people think, as the angler is strapped to the seat of his boat, and, this harnessed, is often towed for miles by his enemy, often to stop suddenly, and find that the fish has either unhooked himself, or thatr the trace has broken. A real sportsman, though, thinks nothing of such small setbacks as these, and yells to his crew to help him to fix up again, and then he tries again. Nothing can be more exhilirating than to set out from Scarborough harbour, at four o'clock one morning, when the sky is a pale, watery grey, and the sea that undefinable greenish silver, which one only sees in the early light, and to be joined on the key by Tom, a good natured seaman, of a kind which one rarely meets today, and who has, by now, bceome unofficial commodre to the tunny fleet. "Come on," he yells, "she's all ready, and we'll ha te hurry if we're te catch trawlers afore t'haul." Away glides the boat over the horizon some forty miles out to sea, until we sight a trawler beginning to haul, and seeing her letters, note that she is Dutch.

"Seen onny tunny?" Yells Tom.

"No," comes the reply, "plenty tunny nowhere." Suddenly there comes a swirl of water, and immediately all eyes are turned towards it, for it is a "boil," made by a tunny when he dives for a herring. The rowboat is lowered and the angler gets in eagerly, but not with careless eagerness, for he first examines his rod, reel, line, hook and harness with minute precision, to ensure that they are in correct working order. Then a handful of herring is thrown overboard, and with it the herring which is on the hook. Nothing happens for a while, and then the line begins to rush out at a break neck speed, as the tunny finds himself caught. He will often swim for miles, diving his this way and that in his efforts to escape. Then, as he dies, he will plunge to the bottom, from which raising the tip of the rod, and reeling in a little, dropping it, surface, when it is gaffed. He is then brought into harbour, and is either exhibited for charity, or sold to an Italian firm for canning.

I think, then, that you will realise that te figyht against a tunny is not en entirely one sided affair, and will appreciate the fact that tunny fishing has done a great deal for Scarborough, both in commercial interests, and in case of publicity; and I am sure that you will agree that whilst there are sportsmen alive, tunny fishing will never die down.

Olive Watkinson