The following is an excerpt from Joe’s memoirs, “My Odyssey and the People I Have Met Along the Way,” reproduced with permission
Reprinted from Downhome Magazine, August 2022
by Joseph Seward
Grandfather
Pap Ivany
Caleb Ivany was born Sunday, January 2, 1881, at Fox Harbour, Southport, Newfoundland. All his grandchildren called him Pap Ivany …
When I was seven years old and started fishing with Pap Ivany, I was at most three-foot-nine-inches tall and probably weighted 80-90 pounds. I travelled in an open boat, and the ocean water sprayed over the sides with any wind. Protection from rain and rough seas was achieved by wearing a waterproof suit. Unfortunately, Dad could not find a commercial suit to fit me, so Mom made one from flour bags.
First, Mom removed the dye from the bags, then shaped and sewed the pants and jacket with pockets. She then boiled the suit in linseed oil; the boiling process took about eight hours. The waterproof suit was hung on a clothesline to dry. The bottom of the jacket sleeves would come into contact seawater and rub against the wrist, causing water pups (boils) to form. Some fishers wore brass rings on their wrists to protect their jacket sleeves from chafing against their skin.
Pap Ivany was a fisherman for most of his adult life. Not having a cod trap or a powered boat, he fished as his ancestors had in the 1700s, using a five-meter rowboat, which he rowed every day to the fishing grounds several kilometres away. His trip would be augmented with a sail when the wind blew in the right direction. There he fished using a baited hook or cod jigger.
Southport Harbour. Bottom left Grandfather’s fish stage, James Smith’s house, our house, and Grandfather’s house. The boat could be owned by Harold Lambert – his house and fish stage is shown in the background.
In June 1942, Pap Ivany asked me if I would like to fish with him during July and August when school would be out on summer break. I was excited to be asked to fish. I spent much time with Pap Ivany, playing around the pier and in his boat. I did not sleep very much that night.
Finally, the day of my debut came. Dad awakened me at 5 a.m., and I was ready. He had breakfast ready, which I devoured quickly and walked down to the stage head to wait for Pap Ivany to arrive; this was the most important day of my young life.
Pap Ivany arrived, and we boarded the rowboat. As he rowed out of the harbour, I was snugly wrapped in an old coat, and I settled in the boat’s bow for protection from the cold Atlantic wind. There was little conversation during our Heart’s Ease Ledge fishing grounds trip. Pap Ivany was busy rowing, and I was daydreaming of jigging my first codfish. Fishers used powered boats much faster than rowboats and would pass us on their way to haul their cod traps or trawl lines.
As Pap Ivany rowed toward our destination, I enjoyed the gentle motion of the rolling boat that seemed to guide us on our way. We maneuvered past Western Head (locally referred to as Wester Head) and the eastern end of Green Island. We arrived at Heart’s Ease Ledge. After 10 or 15 minutes, Pap Ivany pulled in the oars and cast out the anchor. He secured the anchor line, letting the rowboat drift downwind to a point lining up with east and west markers. We were in the prime fishing spot, and I was given my first lesson in cod-jigging.
Pap Ivany passed me my fishing reel with a line and jigger attached. He then taught me the essential points in jigging a codfish: play out the line until the jigger hits bottom, then pull it up a fathom (two metres), and with strong pulls on the line and some patience, you may jig a cod. I hooked something a few moments later; I had difficulty getting it to the boat. Pap Ivany took my line and said, “Let me see what you have on the line.” He passed the line back after hauling it in a metre or two, saying, “You’ve got a big one there; keep hauling it in.” Excitement grew with every metre I gained on the line. Finally, I saw my catch near the surface. Pap Ivany pulled it in the boat. I had jigged a 30-centimetre (12 inches) tom cod by the tail. The difficulty I had getting it to the surface was caused by the tomcod swimming downward, trying to escape. I was just as determined to get him in the boat.
Left to right: Me (Joseph Seward), Great Uncle Joe, Mom (Rebecca (Ivany) Seward), my late brother Bill, Aunt Betty (Uncle Ron’s war bride), my late sister Marie, Pap Ivany, my step Grandmother Patience (Avery) Martin Ivany, and my cousin Julie Seward.
Shortly after, Pap Ivany reached into the cuddy, took out the bottom of a cast-iron stove he used as a galley, and placed it on the gangboards. He made a wood fire to set a pot and put in a few salted pork pieces. While the pork was rendering, he chose an appropriately sized cod, which he cleaned, skinned, and put in the pot. In a few minutes, he drained the hard bread (hardtack) that had been soaking overnight and put it in with the now cooked fish and salted pork. When all was ready, he pulled out two wooden spoons he had carved earlier. We sat there and enjoyed our meal of fisherman’s fish and brewis. It was a meal like this that I would enjoy many times during the next four summers with someone I loved, respected, and admired. I loved being with my Pap Ivany.
In those days, it was customary for young boys who were starting to fish to cut a “v” in the tail of each cod they caught; so it was with me. When the fishing season was over and the cod cured, it was taken to the local merchant where it was culled (graded). The fish with “v” cuts in its tail was placed to one side; they were mine. There always seemed to be more fish in my pile than I ever caught.
Pap Ivany and I would repeat our trips to the fishing grounds for the next four summers, six days each week. During that time, I was becoming more efficient in things related to fishing. We would stop at Kline’s Cove and we cast for caplin on our way to haul our trawl, which we used as bait. I learned to row the boat, which helped us get from one fishing ground to another. I also learned to cut bait and coil a baited trawl. Sometimes we row across the Arm to Random Island, where we would fish in various places until we reach Ford’s Head. We raised our sails and sailed home to Southport in the favourable winds…
I will never forget the valuable lessons I learned from this quiet, wise, and soft-spoken man, and my love, admiration, and respect for him. I am now an elderly man, and a great-grandfather, but I still miss one of the most influential men in my life.
Fishing with Pap – PDF – Downhome Article
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Transcribed by Wanda Garrett, June 2023.
These transcriptions may contain human errors. As always, confirm these as you would any other source material