The Lonely Dorymen

For more than four centuries, young Portuguese fishermen have followed their fathers to the Grand Banks of Newfoundland and in recent years to Greenland’s banks to fish the cold waters for cod. Intrepid men, set off for the Banks on schooners under full sail, then adrift in a flat-bottomed dory, they bait the hundred of hooks of their long-line, oblivious to fog, rain and Arctic wind, they labour 18 hours a day and haul up cod by the score. For more than four centuries, young Portuguese fishermen have followed their fathers to the Grand Banks of Newfoundland and in recent years to Greenland’s banks to fish the cold waters for cod. Intrepid men, set off for the Banks on schooners under full sail, then adrift in a flat-bottomed dory, they bait the hundred of hooks of their long-line, oblivious to fog, rain and Arctic wind, they labour 18 hours a day and haul up cod by the score. For more than four centuries, young Portuguese fishermen have followed their fathers to the Grand Banks of Newfoundland and in recent years to Greenland’s banks to fish the cold waters for cod. Intrepid men, set off for the Banks on schooners under full sail, then adrift in a flat-bottomed dory, they bait the hundred of hooks of their long-line, oblivious to fog, rain and Arctic wind, they labour 18 hours a day and haul up cod by the score. For more than four centuries, young Portuguese fishermen have followed their fathers to the Grand Banks of Newfoundland and in recent years to Greenland’s banks to fish the cold waters for cod. Intrepid men, set off for the Banks on schooners under full sail, then adrift in a flat-bottomed dory, they bait the hundred of hooks of their long-line, oblivious to fog, rain and Arctic wind, they labour 18 hours a day and haul up cod by the score.