rendered heavy by lead, so that the dand may float upright, and it has also a loop, or a ring, to which the rope connecting it with the nets or lines is fastened; and a piece of bunting, or coloured cloth, is attached, as a small flag, to the upper end, in order that it may be more perceptible at a distance.
The village of Cullercoats, which lies about a mile to the northward of Tynemouth, is mostly inhabited by fishermen. The duties performed by the wives and daughters of the Cullercoats fishermen are very laborious. They search for the bait—sometimes digging sand-worms in the muddy sand at the mouth of the Coble-dean, at the head of North Shields; gathering muscles on the Scalp, near Clifford's Fort; or seeking limpets and dog-crabs among the rocks near Tynemouth;—and they also assist in baiting the hooks. They carry the fish which are caught in North Shields in large wicker baskets, called creels, and they also sit in the market there to sell them. When fish are scarce, they not unfrequently carry a load on their shoulders, weighing between three or four stone, to Newcastle, which is about ten miles distant from Cullercoats, in the hope of meeting with a better market. The fish principally caught by the fishermen of Cullercoats are codlings, cod, ling, (Gadus molva), halibut, usually called turbot in Northumberland, haddocks, and whitings. Herrings are also taken in the season; and the colesay (Gadus carbonarius), is occasionally caught, but it is a fish which is hardly worth the bait, as it is scarcely saleable at any price. The most valuable sea-fish caught by the fishermen of Cullercoats, is the bret, or turbot of the London market. But this fish, when caught by them, is mostly sold to the bret smacks, by which it is conveyed to London. Gentlemen residing at Cullercoats or Tynemouth during the bathing season, may often obtain excellent sport in fishing for whitings, in fine weather, off the north-eastern end of the Herd Sand. The best time is in the evening, towards high-water; and the best bait is sprats cut into small pieces; it is no extraordinary feat for a party of three, with half a dozen lines, to take twelve or fifteen dozen of whitings in three hours, on a summer's evening.
For the amateur sea-fisher, in the neighbourhood of Tynemouth, there is no bait generally so good when fishing within six or eight miles of the shore, as the small dog-crab, called in the neighbourhood of Shields a pillan. It is known from the common dog-crab by the facility with which its shell may be stripped off; for instance, in breaking the shell round one of its claws, the broken portion may be withdrawn from the member as a glove from the hand; and the shell of the back may also be stripped off in the same manner. From this facility of peeling, it is probable that the crab derives its local name of pillan. Pillan, however, are not plentiful; and when such are not to be got, then sand-worms, muscles, and common dog-crabs are the most likely bait. Codlings and rock-codlings are plentiful a little to the eastward of Tynemouth; but, haddocks and cod, the staple of the Cullercoats fishermen, are not often caught in any great quantity within seven miles of the shore. The young of the colesay, called a hallan, a beautiful little fish, is frequently caught with a rod, from the rocks in the neighbourhood of Tynemouth. The weaver, (Trachinus draco,) or stinging-fish as it is called at Shields, is often caught when fishing off Tynemouth Bar; and strangers, who are unacquainted with the formidable character of this little fish, are sometimes pricked by it when taking it off the hook. The men who are employed in the salmon fishery, at the end of the Herd Sand, have sometimes their bare feet stung by it when hauling their nets. The average length of this fish, as caught at the mouth of the Tyne, is about five inches; though some are occasionally caught there three or four inches longer. The dangerous spines are those of the first dorsal fin; and the best remedy for the wound is to rub it well with sweet oil.
Cullercoats is a kind of land-mark for vessels leaving Shields Harbour; for as soon as the man at the helm can see the village opening behind Tynemouth Cliff, the ship is over the bar.
DUNSTANBROUGH CASTLE,
FROM THE EASTWARD.
Dunstanbrough Castle, in the county of Northumberland, is situated about seven miles north-east of Alnwick, and about two miles north by east of Howick, the seat of Earl Grey. Of the keep there are no vestiges remaining; and it is even questionable if it was ever completed. Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, who is generally considered to have been the founder of the present castle, only obtained the king's licence to crenelate, or fortify, his house at Dunstanbrough in 1316: and as he was beheaded at Pontefract in 1321, and in the intermediate years had been much engaged, in the south, in rebellion against Edward II., it is not unlikely that the keep might be unfinished at his decease, and never afterwards finished. Of Dunstanbrough Castle history records little that is interesting. In 1464 it was held, after the battle of Hexham, for Henry VI., by Sir Peter de Bressy, and a party of Frenchmen; but was taken, after a vigorous defence, by Ralph Lord Ogle, Edmund and Richard de Craster, John Manners, and Gilbert de Errington, all Northumbrians, and partisans of Edward IV. From this period the castle, which was dismantled by the victors, is never mentioned in the history of the county as the scene of any memorable event. It was in the possession of the crown in the 10th of Elizabeth, but was granted by James I. to Sir William Grey, afterwards Lord Grey of Wark. It is now the property of the Earl of Tankerville, whose ancestor, Charles Lord Ossulston, became possessed of it in 1701, through his marriage with the daughter and heiress of Lord Grey, Earl of Tankerville, son of Lord Grey of Wark.
In the present engraving a view is presented of the principal remaining tower of Dunstanbrough Castle, as seen from the sea at the distance of about a mile; and whoever has seen it at that distance in a blustering day, towards the latter end of October, will immediately acknowledge the fidelity of the artist's delineation. Though the Abbess of Whitby and her nuns, in their fabled voyage to Holy Island, passed the place in summer, and in fine weather, yet they seem to have been near enough to be sensible of the danger of too close an approach to its "wave-worn steep;" for Sir Walter Scott, in Marmion, Canto II., relates that—
"They crossed themselves, to hear
The whitening breakers sound so near,
Where, boiling through the rocks, they roar
On Dunstanborough's caverned shore."
The contemplation of Dunstanbrough Castle, like that of many similar edifices, the ruins of which still frown upon the promontories and headlands of our coast, cannot but awaken feelings little favourable to what are frequently called the "good old times." If we may compare what our ancestors have left with what the present generation is exerting itself to accomplish, antiquity has little to boast of. Our forefathers crowned the cliffs of the land with strongholds, bristling with lofty towers and warlike battlements, nominally for their own defence from the incursions of foreign foes, but too often diverted into engines of tyranny and oppression to their fellow-citizens. The shipwrecked mariner of those days had often more to dread than to hope for in the approach to such beacons as Dunstanbrough; and if unhappily thrown upon the mercy of its owners, they were only too ready to seize upon what the waves had spared, and deem that in permitting him to depart unharmed, they had done all that could be expected from them. In our days, we no longer erect castles on our coasts; we rather stud them with lighthouses, and thus mark out the track of safety, not only for the ships of our own nation, but confer equal benefits upon those of every other maritime power. We no longer pour down upon the distressed seamen with armed bands, whose only aim is plunder; but we rush to the beach, and with life-boats constructed in the best manner, and manned by the bravest and most skilful of our countrymen, we hasten to succour and to save those whom the elements are threatening to destroy. Of a truth, the ruins of these fortresses of old might instil a spirit of thankfulness in the minds of many of those who profess to admire the days which are gone, and render them grateful that their lot has been cast in happier times.
