God send us hundreds,
One, two, and three !
Some by the head,
Some by the tail;
God send them, never fail !
Some by the cheek,
Some by the chin,
God send us two plarims in—Amen.”
A “plarim” is a fish-room in a boat. This is another word with a lost history; it has a classical sound about it. My old friend had inherited his incantation, and it doubtless was but the modern representative of a custom brought by the Vikings from the north.
Hastings, that prided itself upon being the leading member of the ancient Cinque Ports, had not in my young days quite lost its Cinque Ports traditions, The coast-line had long since changed, the valley to the west of the Castle had become silted up, and the place could no longer be called a “port” in the sense of having a harbour. But ship-building was still carried on; and I have seen many a brig and schooner launched from the stocks there. All our coal and most of our merchandize came to us by sea in these vessels, which were beached at high-tide, unloaded rapidly, and floated off again at the next tide. If a gale sprang up in the meantime, the vessel was often knocked to pieces on the shore. Coal was often scarce in winter when sou’-westers blew for weeks together; and there was sometimes a troublesome delay in the arrival of fruit for our Christmas puddings. The Pelican, or the Osprey, or the William Pitt — we called her the Billy Pitt — would be in the Downs, or perhaps would not have left port, when we ought to have been enjoying her cargo.
Of course, there was not a little superstition lingering among the beach hands as well as among the landsmen. A new vessel was, on a certain occasion, ready for launching. ‘The jacks were under her, and the men were in the rigging to shake her and give her the initial motion, but she would not stir. Presently, a black retriever was discovered on board. The poor creature was well tarred, and chivied away. The vessel slipped gallantly into the water at once. That afternoon, Widow ——, a reputed witch living in a house I knew well, reached her home covered with tar. The Psychical Research Society might be interested to learn that Thad this story from the son of the woman who washed the tar from the widow. But witch and witnesses have all been dead for many years; and it is possible that I alone am left to tell the tale.
