The Lives, Deaths and Seafaring Memories of the Portuguese Fishermen : People: Descendants of a tradition begun by Yankee traders, these ancestors of Connecticut’s last fishing fleet gather at the docks to reminisce and taste the salty breeze.

Like their fathers and grandfathers before them, Ben Maderia and Johnny Roderick have spent their lives by the sea.

“The water,” as they call it, has nourished and shaped them from their earliest days. And, more than once, it has claimed the lives of those dear to them.

The two men are lifelong friends, the ancestors of what today is Connecticut’s last commercial fishing fleet. They are among a group of old Portuguese fishermen who gather by the Stonington town dock each morning, just to touch base with each other and sniff the salt breeze.

Often, as they sit and watch the water, the talk drifts back through the decades, to when they and their forefathers went to sea in wooden ships.

“We call them the Antique Club because they’re all in their 70s,” said Joe Rezendes. “They feed the cats and talk about fishing, or anything else that’s on their minds. They’re down there at the dock every day, rain or shine.”

Rezendes, 43, is himself a Portuguese fisherman. He speaks affectionately about the old men who paved the way for today’s Stonington seafarers, the descendants of a seafaring tradition begun by intrepid Yankee traders in clipper ships.

Stonington was settled on a rocky point near the Rhode Island border in 1649. Within a few decades, it was a major sealing and whaling port, its sea captains renowned.

One of those storied Stonington sailors--Nathaniel B. Palmer--is credited with discovering Antarctica while on a seal-gathering expedition in 1820. By the mid-19th Century, Stonington ships were making regular voyages to China.

The earliest settlers were attracted by Stonington’s snug, protected harbor and its easy access to the rich bounty of Long Island Sound. Over the decades, as their ships improved, the sailors ventured out ever farther into the deep until, finally, they were traveling around the world.

But today, Stonington’s fishermen no longer travel vast distances. Nor do they hunt whales and seals as did the sailors of yesteryear.

“Most of us fish just a few miles from port. We mostly catch flounder, fluke, lobster, squid and scup, which some people call porgies,” says Art Medeiros, 61, the fleet’s captain.

The fleet, known as the Southern New England Fishermen’s & Lobstermen’s Assn., included more than 50 boats when it was formed on Dec. 4, 1931. Now there are 30.

“This includes three scallop boats, 12 lobster boats and more than a dozen draggers,” Medeiros says. “We have a few trip boats that stay out for a week or more, maybe going as far as the waters off New Jersey or Cape Cod. But most are day boats. They go out in the morning, drop their nets a few miles off shore and then come back the same day.”

Sometimes, after they’ve docked their boats and sold their catch, the fishermen gather at the Portuguese Holy Ghost Society, a local fraternal club.

“We come in, have a few beers and talk about where we went and what we caught,” said Rezendes, who works as a deckhand on a dragger, a trawler that drags a heavy net across the ocean floor.

Like all crew members, Rezendes works for a percentage of the catch.

“If we don’t catch any fish, we don’t make any money,” he said, nursing a beer. “Some days we don’t catch much. On a good day, we’ll bring in 3,000 pounds of fish. Fluke and flounder usually bring the best price, but lately we’ve been catching a lot of squid.”

Medeiros says crew members can earn between $20,000 and $40,000 a year, depending on the catch. To earn that much, however, they must work every day. And, he says, there are no fringe benefits such as health insurance or paid holidays.

“These days,” Medeiros says, “the boat usually takes 50% of the catch, or maybe even more. The boats used to take less, but that was back when they were made of wood and cost a lot less.”

Jimmy Souza used to build some of those wooden ships that sailed from Stonington. He says the Portuguese have been in the town almost as long as the English.

“Our people came from the Azores back in the whaling days,” said the 73-year-old retired carpenter. “The English sea captains would stop in the Azores and pick up Portuguese fishermen on their way out and then, when they brought the catch back to Stonington, our people would jump ship and stay.”

By the early 19th Century a sizable Portuguese community had grown up in Stonington.

“The borough was almost all Portuguese years ago, before the ritzies moved in and bought up all the houses,” recalls Ben Maderia, who grew up in Stonington but now lives in nearby Pawcatuck.

Maderia is a thin man with graying hair. His skin is the color and texture of weathered leather, tanned by thousands of days on the water. He says he first began hanging around the docks as a child.

“I’d come down to watch what was happening, and to help my father if I could,” he says. “My father and brothers were all fishermen. Later, I worked at Electric Boat (a Groton shipyard), but I also fished about every day. I’d work the second shift, come home at 1:30 in the morning, get some sleep and then go out and set some lobster pots.”

Roderick dropped out of school at 16 and immediately went to work on a dragger. A series of ailments forced Roderick to retire several years ago, but Maderia didn’t quit fishing until just last year, when he sold The Nancy, an old wooden boat named for his daughter.

Not far from where the old men gather each day is a granite memorial. It bears the names of 32 Stonington fishermen who have died at sea. Almost a third of those names are Maderias and Rodericks.

Ben Maderias and Johnny Roderick can recall, in agonizing detail, each fatal accident. They are the last surviving brothers in their families, they say.

“They’re all dead but me,” Maderia says. “I lost three brothers on the water. One died of a heart attack while fishing; one got caught in a rope and was pulled overboard, and one fell from the mast and broke his back while swordfishing. Another of my brothers got his leg caught in a winch, and went round and round before they finally got the motor stopped. He always walked with a limp after that.”

Roderick says two of his brothers died at sea. He also has seen the ocean take four of his nephews.

“One of them had just gotten a new boat. He was so proud and happy that he took his little girl and boy with him, to set out his lobster pots.”

Roderick stared into the past for a moment, then continued.

“While they were out on the water, the boy got his leg caught in a rope and was pulled overboard. My nephew kicked off his boots and went in after him. When he came back up, the boat was gone. The little girl had put it into gear. My nephew and his son both drowned.”

Despite the danger and the grueling days, Roderick says he never considered doing anything else.

“It’s a hard life. I can see that now, as I look back,” he said. “But it never seemed all that hard when I was starting out. My family always fished. It was just something you did. I’d still do it, if I could.”

“Fishing gets in your blood,” he said quietly. “That’s why we come down here every day. There’s nothing going on, but we don’t want to miss anything.”