Kinsale: A town that harbours a rich maritime history
FEW Irish towns or cities have the dramatic history of Kinsale. Not least was the watershed Battle of Kinsale, when the English defeated an Irish army in 1601, resulting in the Flight of the Earls. Kinsale has long been a home to artists, soldiers and assorted salty sea dogs, who have washed up on her shores over the years.
Two new books on Kinsale’s nautical history bring much of this drama to the surface.
Events in the town have often centred on the harbour and it is on this that John Thuillier focuses in Kinsale Harbour: A History. The town has a distinguished maritime history, with trading links to “the furthest corners of the known world” established in the time of the East India Company.
Thuillier cites a reference to the Earl of Orrery who, in 1666, described Kinsale as “one of the noble harbours of Europe” with three, linked harbours providing ample shelter from the stormy seas. The writer discovers numerous mentions of the harbour teeming with ships which, of course, helped to create the wealth of the town and gave it a cosmopolitanism absent from many inland and coastal towns.
As an aside to the geographical and nautical narratives, Thuillier learns how a young James Joyce, on a visit to the Old Head, probably incorporated what he saw into Ulysses, viz a “silk umbrella embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Hole Open Bay”.
Continuing this literary theme, he unearths a linguistic quiddity in local language, which he suggests may be a result of trade with Cornish merchants. It is the habit of dropping the ‘h’ at the start of some words and then inserting it where it isn’t needed, as in: ‘E’s on the Lobster Quay, weathering a pair of hoars’.
A further connection to that Celtic realm of Cornwall is the settlement of Scilly, named after the isles of the same name. Cornwall, too, had an elaborate tradition of smuggling, and Kinsale was no stranger to that rebellious mercantilism. Along with the smuggling went piracy and wrecking — the practice of enticing ships onto the jagged rocks and killing the sailors.
Much plunder then abounded.
It was vitally important, Thuillier writes, to take depositions from survivors of wrecks to ascertain the truth of sinkings and, to this end, the customs undertook the task in their role as receiver of wrecks. Thus could be determined the ownership of goods that may have been jettisoned or been left scattered on the sea.
Fishing was probably the lifeblood of the town, until supplanted in latter years by tourism, primarily of the foodie sort, and angling.
Trading with the west coast of France — Bordeaux, Brittany and La Rochelle — was well underway in the 15th century, according to the great maritime writer, John De Courcy Ireland. Joulters (named after the jolting of the horses’ carts) were colourful characters who sold fish on the black market in the 17th and 18th centuries.
A thorough picture of the people engaged in the industry is presented — girls working in gutting and selling in the 1880s could expect to earn £17 to £20 for the season, about the same as a fisherman.
Thuillier’s book is as indispensable to knowing Kinsale as a rudder is to a boat.
Another just-published nautical study of ‘Ceann tSáile’ is Jerome Lordan’s No Flowers on a Sailor’s Grave, which examines shipwrecks from Kinsale to Courtmacsherry, from the 16th century to the present.
A riveting read, updated to include the Astrid’s fate last year, it is completed with detailed maps, press reports, underwater photography, and, of course, an exhaustive list of every ship known to have sunk in the area.
The Lusitania disaster has been well-documented elsewhere, but another notable is Cardiff Hall, which sank at the Seven Heads in 1925 with the loss of up to 40 men. It was carrying a 7,000-tonne cargo of maize from Argentina to Cork, but got embroiled in a storm and sank within half an hour. Its anchor is displayed in the village of Butlerstown.
Detailed descriptions, including manifest and origins of the crew, down to the draught, are provided for the Cardiff Hall, as well as for all the stricken ships mentioned in the book. The maritime heritage of this town is ample proof that it has always looked to the sea rather than inland.
These two books capture much of the fortunes of those who sailed its waters.
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