17171	----	Watch, Rockland, Maine, with technical assistance from Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. NEW ENGLAND SALMON HATCHERIES AND SALMON FISHERIES IN THE LATE 19TH CENTURY CONTENTS ARTICLE I. Some Results of the Artificial Propagation of Maine and California Salmon in New England and Canada, Recorded in the Years 1879 and 1880 II. Sketch of the Penobscot Salmon-Breeding Establishment (1883) III. Penning of Salmon in Order to Secure Their Eggs (1884) IV. Memoranda Relative to Inclosures for the Confinement of Salmon Drawn from Experience at Bucksport, Penobscot River, Maine (1884) V. Report on the Schoodic Salmon Work of 1884-85 VI. Methods Employed at Craig Brook Station in Rearing Young Salmonid Fishes (1893) VII. Notes on the Capture of Atlantic Salmon at Sea and in the Coast Waters of the Eastern States (1894) ARTICLE I SOME RESULTS OF THE ARTIFICIAL PROPAGATION OF MAINE AND CALIFORNIA SALMON IN NEW ENGLAND AND CANADA, RECORDED IN THE YEARS 1879 AND 1880 Compiled By The United States Fish Commissioner _Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission_, Vol. 1, Page 270, 1881. New Bedford, Mass May 20, 1879. Prof. S. F. BAIRD: Sir: I have just been in the fish market and a crew were bringing in their fish from one of the "traps." A noticeable and peculiar feature of the fishery this year is the great numbers of young salmon caught, especially at the Vineyard, although some few are caught daily at Sconticut Neck (mouth of our river). There are apparently two different ages of them. Mostly about 2 pounds in weight (about as long as a large mackerel) and about one-half as many weighing from 6 to 8 pounds; occasionally one larger. One last week weighed 33 pounds and one 18 pounds. The fishermen think they are the young of those with which some of our rivers have been stocked, as nothing of the kind has occurred in past years at all like this. JOHN H. THOMSON. * * * * * * _Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission_, Vol. 1, Page 271, 1881 New Bedford, Mass. June 1, 1879. Prof SPENCER F. BAIRD: SIR: I received yours. I have examined carefully since your letter, but no salmon have been taken. The run was about the two first weeks in May and a few the last of April. Mr. Bassett had about 30 to 35 from the trap at Menimpsha, and 10 or 12 from Sconticut Neck, the mouth of our river. Mr. Bartlett, at his fish market, had about one dozen; 12 from the traps near the mouth of Slocum's River, six miles west of here, and I have heard of two taken at mouth of Westport River. As to the particular species, I do not get any reliable information, as so few of our fishermen know anything about salmon, and in fact the men from the traps on Sconticut Neck did not know what the fish were. JOHN H. THOMSON. * * * * * * FISHING ITEMS. "A ten-pound salmon and seventeen tautog, weighing over one hundred pounds, were taken from the weirs of Magnolia, Thursday night. This is the first salmon caught off Cape Ann for over thirty years. On Saturday morning three more large salmon were taken and 150 large mackerel. The fishermen are highly elated at the prospect of salmon catching." (Cape Ann Advertiser, June 6, 1879.) * * * * * * [Postscript to a letter from Monroe A. Green, New York State Fishery Commission, to Fred Mather, June 9, 1879.] "P. S.--Kennebec salmon caught to-day in the Hudson River at Bath near Albany weighing twelve and a half pounds, sold for 40 cents per pound. The first that have been caught for years." * * * * * * STATE OF MAINE, DEPARTMENT OF FISHERIES, Bangor, August 25, 1879. [Extracts.] DEAR PROFESSOR: We have had a great run of salmon this year, and consisting largely of fish planted by us in the Penobscot four or five years ago, so far as we could judge; there were a very large number, running from 9 to 12 pounds. The east and west branches of the Penobscot report a great many fish in the river. On the Mattawamkeag where we put in 250,000 and upwards, in 1875 and 1876, a great many salmon are reported trying to get over the lower dam at Gordon's Falls, 13 feet high. These fish were put in at Bancroft, Eaton and Kingman, on the European and North American Railroad. The dam at Kingham is 13 feet; at Slewgundy, 14 feet; at Gordon's Falls, 13 feet and yet a salmon has been hooked on a trout fly at Bancroft and salmon are seen in the river at Kingman, and between the dams at Slewgundy and Gordon's Falls. The dealers in our city have retailed this season 50 tons Penobscot salmon, and about 3 tons Saint John salmon; it all sells as Penobscot salmon. Saint John salmon costs here, duty and all included, about 14 cents per pound. Our first salmon sells at $1 per pound, and so on down to 12 1/2 cents the last of the season.' Salmon at Bucksport has sold to dealers here at 8 cents. Two tons taken at Bucksport and Orland in 24 hours. Average price at retail here for whole season, 25 cents. Truly, yours, E. M. Stillwell. * * * * * * STATE OF MAINE, DEPARTMENT OF FISHERIES, Bangor, October 4, 1879. DEAR PROFESSOR: My delay in replying to your kind letter has been from no want of courtesy, but a desire to send you the required "data" you asked. Neither myself nor Mr. Atkins have been able to procure them. The weir fishermen keep no records at all, and it is difficult to obtain from them anything reliable; while the fishermen above tidewater are a bad set of confirmed poachers, whose only occupation is hunting and fishing both in and out of season. They are always jealous and loth to let us know how good a thing they make of it, for fear of us and fear of competition from their own class. Four or five years since I put in some 300,000 salmon fry into the Mattawamkeag at Bancroft, Eaton, Kingsmore, and at Mattawamkeag village. There are three dams between Mattawamkeag and Bancroft--none less than 12 feet high. About six weeks since Mr. Nathaniel Sweat, a railroad conductor on the European and North American Railroad, while fishing for trout from a pier above the railroad bridge at Bancroft, hooked a large salmon and lost his line and flies. Salmon in great numbers have been continually jumping below the first dam, which is called "Gordon's Falls." My colleague, Everett Smith, of Portland, a civil engineer, while making a survey for a fishway, counted 15 salmon jumping in 30 minutes. A Mr. Bailey, who is foreman of the repair shop at Mattawamkeag walked up to the falls some three weeks since entirely out of curiosity excited by the rumors of the sight, and counted 60 salmon jumping in about an hour, within half or three-quarters of a mile of the falls. This is on the Mattawamkeag, which is a great tributary of the Penobscot. On the east branch of the Penobscot there has been a great run of salmon. An explorer on the Wassattaquoik reported the pools literally black with salmon. A party of poachers, hearing the rumor, went in from the town of Hodgon and killed 25. I inclose you a letter to me from Mr. Prentiss, one of our most wealthy and prominent merchants, which speaks for itself: I will be obliged to you if you will return this, as I shall have occasion to use it in my report. On the West branch of the Penobscot I hear reports of large numbers of salmon, but the breaking of the two great dams at Chesancook and the North Twin Dam, which holds back the great magazine of water of the great tributary lakes which feed the Penobscot, which is used to drive the logs cut in the winter, through the summer's drought, has let up all the fish which hitherto were held back until the opening of the gates to let the logs through. These fish would not, of course, be seen, as they would silently make their way up. I regret that I have nothing of more value to give you. Hoping that this small contribution may at least cheer you as it has me, I remain, truly, yours, E. M. STILWELL, Commissioner of Fisheries for State of Maine. * * * * * * Prof. SPENCER F. BAIRD, United States Commissioner Fish and Fisheries. BANGOR, October 3, 1879. M. STILWELL, Esq., DEAR SIR: Prof. C. E. Hamlin of Harvard, and I made a trip to Mount Katahdin last month for scientific examination and survey of the mountain. I had been salmon fishing in July on the Grand Bonaventure, on Bay of Chaleur, and I could not see why we could not catch salmon on the east branch of the Penobscot at the Hunt place where we crossed it on our way in to Katahdin. I thought the pool from mouth of Wassatiquoik to the Hunt place, about a half-mile, must be an excellent salmon pool, and my guide and the people there confirmed this opinion. They said over a hundred salmon had been taken in that one pool this season. The nearest settlement, and only one on the whole east branch, is about six miles out from there, and the young men go on Sundays and fish with drift-nets. No regular fishing for market--only a backwoods local supply can be used. These fish were about of one size--say 8 to 11 pounds. There were never enough fish here before to make it worth while for them to drift for them. A few years ago no salmon were caught there at all. Twenty-two years ago, before our fish laws were enacted, the farmer at the Hunt place used to have a net that went entirely across the river clear to the bottom, which he kept all the time stretched across, and he only used to get two or three salmon a week. I was there August, 1857, with Mr. Joseph Carr, an old salmon fisher, and we fished for ten days and could not get a rise. The net had been taken up, because the farmer did not get fish enough to pay for looking after it. But the stocking the river makes it good fishing and I intend to try the east branch next season with the fly. Very truly, HENRY M. PRENTISS. * * * * * * October 13, 1879 East Windsor Hill, Conn. Professor BAIRD: DEAR SIR: It may be of interest to you to know that your salmon are not all lost. Last Friday, 10th, I was with a party of three fishing in Snipsic Lake, and one of our party caught a salmon that weighed 1 3/4 pounds. This is the second one taken since the pond was stocked as I was told. The other was caught this summer and weighed 12 ounces. Cannot something be done to save our fish in Connecticut River? There is an establishment at Holyoke, Mass., and another at Windsor Locks, Conn., that are manufacturing logs into paper, and I am told that the chemicals used for that purpose are let off into the river twice a day, and that the fish for half a mile come up as though they had been cockled. Both of these factories are at the foot of falls where the fish collect and stop in great numbers and are all killed. Our shores and sand-bars are literally lined with dead fish. Three salmon have been found among them within two miles of my office. They were judged to weigh 12, 20 and 25 pounds. The dead fish are so numerous that eagles are here after them. I have received nine that have been shot here in the past two seasons. I have written you in order that the fish commissioners might stop this nuisance and save the fish that they have taken so much pains to propagate. Truly yours, Wm Hood, East Windsor Hill, Conn., October 13, 1879 * * * * * * SAINT STEPHEN, March 1, 1880. Prof. SPENCER F. BAIRD U. S. Commissioner Fish and Fisheries: Dear Sir: I send you remarks in relation to the Restigouche and Saint Croix Rivers, which, though crude, I am sure are quite correct, as they are either taken from the official statistics, or are facts of which I am myself cognizant. You may, if of use, publish any part of them. I very much wish we could procure some young shad for the Saint Croix; this fish was once very abundant, and perhaps would be again if introduced. I know you have been very successful in restocking the Connecticut. Our old people deplore the loss of the shad--say it was a much better food-fish than the salmon. I do a great deal of shooting, and am much interested in ornithology, and specimens of our birds that you might want I should be happy to lookout for; do a good deal of coast shooting winters; have been hopefully looking for a Labrador duck for a number of seasons--fear they have totally disappeared. I have nice spring-water conducted to my house and think of doing a little fish-hatching in a small way. The amount of water I can spare is a stream of about half inch diameter; the force will be considerable, as the water rises to top of my house, some 50 feet above where I should set trays. I write to you to ask what hatching apparatus would be best to get, where to buy, and probable cost. I am trying to get some sea-trout ova to hatch in it. I presume all your California ova have been disposed of ere this. FRANK TODD. * * * * * * SAINT STEPHEN, March 1, 1880. Prof SPENCER F. BAIRD, U. S. Commissioner Fish and Fisheries: SIR: In regard to the Saint Croix, would say, that it was once one of the most prolific salmon rivers in New Brunswick, but owing to the erection of impassable dams, fifteen or twenty years ago, this valuable fish had almost entirely disappeared. At about this time fishways were placed in all the dams, and gradually salmon began to increase, but the first great stimulus was given some ten years ago by the distribution of some hundreds of thousands of young salmon in the headwaters, by the fishery commissioners of Maine. The Dobsis Club also placed in the Saint Croix some 200,000 or more from their hatchery, a portion being the California salmon. With these exceptions our river has had no artificial aid, but for the last five years the number of salmon has largely increased, due mainly, no doubt, to the deposits before mentioned. The fish ways are generally in good condition (although some improvements will be made), and fish have easy access to headwaters, That large numbers go up and spawn is evidenced by the large numbers of smolt seen at the head of tidal water in the spring, many being taken by boys with the rod. I have reason to expect that our government will hereafter distribute annually in the Saint Croix a goodly number of young salmon which, together with the contributions of the Maine commissioners will soon make this fish again abundant. Alewives are very abundant and apparently increasing every year. Shad that were once plenty have entirely disappeared. I very much wish that the river could be stocked with this valuable fish; possibly you could kindly assist us in this. Landlocked salmon (here so called) are, I think, nearly or quite as plenty at Grand Lake Stream as they were ten years ago; this, I think, is almost entirely due to the hatchery under the charge of Mr. Atkins; the tannery at the head of the stream having entirely destroyed their natural spawning beds, the deposit of hair and other refuse being in some places inches deep. The twenty-five per cent. of all fish hatched, which are honestly returned to our river, is, I think, each year more than we would get by the natural process, under present circumstances, in ten years. FRANK TODD. * * * * * * SAINT STEPHEN, N. B., DOMINION OF CANADA. Prof. SPENCER F. BAIRD, U. S. Commissioner Fish and Fisheries: SIR: I think it has been clearly demonstrated in this Dominion that by artificial propagation and a fair amount of protection, all natural salmon rivers may be kept thoroughly stocked with this fish, and rivers that have been depleted, through any cause, brought back to their former excellence. I would instance the river Restigouche in support of the above statement. This river, which empties into the Bay of Chaleur, is now, and always has been, the foremost salmon river in New Brunswick, both as to size and number of fish. It has not a dam or obstruction to the free passage of fish from its mouth to its source, yet up to 1868 and 1869 the numbers of salmon had constantly decreased. This, no doubt, was occasioned by excessive netting at the mouth, and spearing the fish during the summer in the pools; natural production was not able to keep up with this waste. In the year 1868 the number of salmon was so small that the total catch by anglers was only 20 salmon, and the commercial yield only 37,000 pounds. At about this date, the first salmon hatchery of the Dominion was built upon this river and a better system of protection inaugurated; every year since some hundreds of thousands of young salmon have been hatched and placed in these waters, and the result has been, that in 1878 one angler alone (out of hundreds that were fishing the river) in sixteen days killed by his own rod eighty salmon, seventy-five of which averaged over twenty-six pounds each; while at the same time the numbers that were being taken by the net fishermen below, for commercial purposes, were beyond precedent, amounting in that one division alone (not counting local and home consumption) to the enormous weight of 500,000 pounds, and the cash receipts for salmon in Restigouche County that year amounted to more than $40,000, besides which some $5,000 was expended by anglers; this result was almost entirely brought about by artificial propagation. A new hatchery of size sufficient to produce five million young fish annually will no doubt soon be erected by the Dominion Government upon this river. A somewhat similar record might be given of the river Saguenay. Some years ago anglers and net fishers of this river said it was useless to lease from the department, as the scarcity of salmon was such as not to warrant the outlay. A hatchery was built, and this state of things is now wonderfully changed; so much so, indeed, that in 1878 salmon, from the great numbers which were taken at the tidal fisheries, became a drug in the market, selling often as low as three cents per pound, and angling in the tributaries was most excellent. Some one hundred million young salmon have been artificially hatched and distributed in the waters of the Dominion during the last few years, and new government hatcheries are constantly being erected. Yours, &c., FRANK TODD, Fishery Overseer, Saint Croix District. ARTICLE II SKETCH OF THE PENOBSCOT SALMON-BREEDING ESTABLISHMENT by Charles G. Atkins Written by request of Prof. S. F. Baird, for the London Exhibition, 1883 _Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission_, Vol. 3, Page 373, 1883 The rivers of the United States tributary to the Atlantic, north of the Hudson, were, in their natural state, the resorts of the migratory salmon, _Salmo salar_, and most of them continued to support important fisheries for this species down to recent times. The occupation of the country by Europeans introduced a new set of antagonistic forces which began even in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to operate against the natural increase and maintenance of the salmon and other migratory fishes. In many localities the closing of smaller streams by dams, and the pursuit of the fish with nets and other implements, had already begun to tell on their number; but it was not until the present century that the industrial activities of the country began to seize upon the water power of the larger rivers and to interrupt in them by lofty dams the ascent of salmon to their principal spawning grounds. These forces were rapid in their operations, aided as they were by a greatly augmented demand for food from a rapidly increasing population. In 1865 the salmon fisheries were extinct in all but five or six of the thirty rivers known to have been originally inhabited by them. In many of these rivers the last salmon had been taken, and in others the occurrence of individual specimens was extremely rare. Among the exhausted rivers may be mentioned the Connecticut, 380 miles long; the Merrimack,180 miles long; the Saco,120 miles long; the Androscoggin, 220 miles long; and some twenty smaller rivers. There still survived salmon fisheries in the following rivers, namely, the Penobscot, the Kennebec, the Denny's, the East Machias, the Saint Croix, and the Aroostook, a tributary of the Saint John. The most productive of these was the Penobscot, yielding 5,000 to 10,000 salmon yearly. The Kennebec occasionally yielded 1,200 in a year, but generally much less. The other rivers were still less productive. The movement for the re-establishment of these fisheries originated in action of the legislature of New Hampshire, seconded by that of the neighboring state of Massachusetts, having in view primarily the fisheries of the Merrimack and Connecticut Rivers. The course of the Merrimack lies wholly within the states of New Hampshire and Massachusetts; that of the Connecticut lies partly in the state of Connecticut, and many of its tributaries are in the state of Vermont. These two states were therefore early interested in the project, and their action soon led to similar exertions on the part of Rhode Island and Maine. Within the borders of the six states mentioned, collectively known as "New England," are all of the rivers of the United States known to have been frequented by the sea-going _Salmo salar_, with the possible exception of certain rivers, tributary to the Saint Lawrence, in the northern part of New York. The governments of these states having appointed boards of commissioners to whom was confided the task of restocking the exhausted rivers, other states, one after another, adopted like measures, and in 1872 the United States Government established a commission to inquire into the condition and needs of the fisheries in general, with authority to take steps for the propagation of food fishes. The New England commissioners turned their attention at once to the two most important of their migratory fishes, the salmon and the shad. The utter extermination of salmon from most of their rivers compelled them to consider the best mode of introducing them from abroad. Agents were sent to the rivers of Canada, where for several years they were permitted to take salmon from their spawning beds, and some hundreds of thousands of salmon eggs were thus obtained and hatched with a measure of success. After a few seasons permits for such operations were discontinued, and the only foreign source of supply thereafter remaining open to the states was found in the breeding establishments under control of the Canadian Government, and even these were practically closed by the high price at which the eggs were valued. In 1870 it had become clear that to a continuation of efforts it was essential that a new supply of salmon ova should be discovered. Attention was now directed to the Penobscot River in the state of Maine, which, though very unproductive compared with Canadian rivers, might yet, perhaps, be made to yield the requisite quantity of spawn. A preliminary examination of the river brought out the following facts: The Penobscot is about 225 miles in length. The upper half of its course and nearly all of its principal tributaries lie in an uninhabited wilderness, and in this district are the breeding grounds of the salmon. The fisheries, however, are all on the lower part of the river and in the estuary into which it empties, Penobscot Bay. There was no means of knowing how great a proportion of the salmon entering this river succeeded in passing safely the traps and nets set to intercept them, but supposing half of them to escape capture there would still be but about 6,000 fish of both sexes scattered through the hundreds of miles of rivers and streams forming the headwaters of the Penobscot. It was very doubtful whether they would be congregated about any one spot in sufficient numbers to supply a breeding station, and it would be impracticable to occupy any widely extended part of the river, on account of the difficulties of communication. At the mouth of the river, on the other hand, the supply of adult salmon could be found with certainty, but they must be obtained from the ordinary salmon fisheries in June and held in durance until October or November, and the possibility of confining them without interfering seriously with the normal action of their reproductive functions was not yet established. The latter plan was finally adopted, and in 1871 the first attempt at this method of breeding salmon was instituted by the commissioners' of Maine, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. The site fixed upon for an inclosure was at Craig's Pond Brook in the town of Orland, and arrangements for a supply of fish were made with two fishermen of Verona at the very mouth of the river. The salmon first brought were confined in a newly constructed artificial pond in the brook, which was of such remarkable purity that a small coin could be distinctly seen at the depth of 7 feet. All of these died except a few which after a short stay were removed to other quarters. The most prominent symptom was the appearance of a white fungoid growth in patches upon the exterior of the fish. In a lake (locally designated as Craig's Pond) of equal purity, but greater depth, several of these diseased fish recovered. Of the salmon later obtained some were placed in an inclosure of nets in the edge of a natural pond with but 7 feet of water, of average purity, some in a shallow inclosure in a brook, and some turned loose in a natural lake of some 60 acres area, with muddy bottom and peat-colored water. In each case the salmon passed the summer with few losses, arrived at the breeding season in perfect health, and yielded at the proper time their normal amount of healthy spawn and milt, though the great sacrifice of breeding fish by the early experiments of the season reduced the crop of eggs to the small number of 72,000. The conditions of success were thus sufficiently indicated, and in 1872 the same parties, joined with the United States Commission of Fisheries, renewed operations on a larger scale, locating their headquarters at the village of Bucksport, confining the breeding salmon in Spofford's Pond (Salmon Pond on the general map of Penobscot station), and establishing their hatchery on the brook formed by its overflow. This is the lake of 60 acres in which, as mentioned above, a few salmon had been successfully confined the year before. Though not at all such water as would be chosen by a salmon at large, it nevertheless proved well adapted to the purpose of an inclosure for the breeding fish. It was shallow, its greatest depth, at the season of highest water, being but 10 feet; at its upper end it abuts against an extensive swamp, and almost its entire bottom, except close to the shore, is composed of a deposit of soft, brown, peaty mud of unknown depth. The water is strongly colored with peaty solutions, has a muddy flavor, and under the rays of a summer sun becomes warmed to 70° (Fahrenheit) at the very bottom.* Yet in such a forbidding place as this, salmon passed the summer in perfect health. There were some losses, but every reason to believe them all to have been caused by injuries received prior to their inclosure. * During the month of August, 1872, the bottom temperature at 1 p.m. was never below 70°, and on six days was found to be 71°. During and after the hottest term of each summer (the month of August) very few died. The supply of salmon was obtained mainly, as in 1871, from the weirs in the southern part of Verona. They were placed in cars, specially fitted for the purpose; and towed to Bucksport on the flood tide. From the river to the inclosure they were hauled on drays in wooden tanks 3 feet long, 2 feet wide and 2 feet deep, half a dozen at once. From the weirs to the boats and from the boats to the tanks they were dipped in great canvas bags. From all this handling but few losses ensued. In the establishment at Bucksport village the work was carried on for four years, from 1872 to 1876, with a fair degree of success. Then ensued a suspension till 1879, when the reappearance of salmon in the Merrimack, Connecticut, and some other rivers renewed the hopes of final success, and encouraged the commissioners to reopen the station. It had, however, been found that the old location had serious defects. The inclosure was costly to maintain, and the recapture of the fish involved a great deal of labor and trouble. The water supplied to the hatchery was liable in seasons of little rain to be totally unfit, causing a premature weakening of the shell and very serious losses in transportation. After a careful search through the neighboring country it was found that the most promising site for an inclosure was in Dead Brook, near the village of Orland (though within the limits of the town of Bucksport), and for a hatchery no location was equal to Craigs Pond Brook, the spot where the original experiments were tried in 1871. The only serious drawback was the separation of the two by a distance of some 2 miles, which could not offset the positive advantage of the hatchery site. Accordingly the necessary leases were negotiated, an inclosure made in Dead Brook, and a stock of breeding salmon placed therein in June, 1879. Since then the work has been continued without interruption. It is still found most convenient to obtain the stock of breeding salmon, as in the early years of the enterprise, from about a dozen weirs in the Penobscot River along the shores of the island of Verona. The fishermen are provided with dip-nets or bags with which to capture the fish in their weirs, with tanks or cars in which to transport them to the collecting headquarters, whither they are brought immediately after capturing, about low water. The collection is in the hands of a fisherman of experience, who receives the salmon as they are brought in, counts and examines them, adjudges their weight, and dispatches them in cars to the inclosure at Dead Brook. The cars are made out of the common fishing boats of the district, called dories, by providing them with grated openings, to allow of a free circulation of water in transit, and covering them with netting above to prevent the fish from escaping over the sides. The car is ballasted so that it will be mostly submerged. Ten to fifteen salmon are placed in a single car, and from one to four cars are taken in tow by a boat with two to four oarsmen. From the collecting headquarters to Orland village, a distance of about 5 miles, the route is in brackish water, and the tow is favored by the flood tide. At Orland is a dam which is surmounted by means of a lock, and thence, two miles further to Dead Brook, the route is through the tide less fresh water of Narramissic River. The sudden change from salt to fresh water does not appear to trouble the fish except when the weather is very hot and the fresh water is much the warmest. The cars are towed directly into the inclosure, where the fish are at once liberated. The inclosure is formed by placing two substantial barriers of woodwork across the stream 2,200 feet apart. The lower barrier is provided with gates which swing open to admit boats. Within the inclosure the water is from 3 to 8 feet deep, the current very gentle, the bottom partly muddy, partly gravelly, supporting a dense growth of aquatic vegetation. The brook has two clean lakes at its source, and its water is purer than that of ordinary brooks. The collection of salmon usually continues from the first ten days of June until the beginning of July. During the early weeks of their imprisonment the salmon are extremely active, swimming about and leaping often into the air. After that they become very quiet, lying in the deepest holes and rarely showing themselves. Early in October they begin to renew their activity, evidently excited by the reproductive functions. Preparations are now made for catching them by constructing traps at the upper barrier. If the brook is in ordinary volume, these means suffice to take nearly all, but a few linger in the deeper pools and must be swept out with seines. About October 25 the taking of spawn begins. After that date the fish are almost always ripe when they first come to hand, and in three weeks the work of spawning is substantially finished. Although the salmon are taken from the fisherman without any attempt to distinguish between males and females, it is always found at the spawning season that the females are in excess, the average of four seasons being about 34 males to 66 females. This is a favorable circumstance, since the milt of a single male is fully equal to the impregnation of the ova of many females. The experiment has several times been tried of marking the salmon after spawning and watching for their return in after years. After some experiments, the mode finally fixed upon as best was to attach a light platinum tag to the rear margin of the dorsal fin by means of a fine platinum wire. The tags were rolled very thin, cut about half an inch long and stamped with a steel die. The fish marked were dis missed in the month of November. Every time it was tried a considerable number of them was caught the ensuing spring, but with no essential change in their condition, indicating that they had not meanwhile visited their spawning grounds. In no case was a specimen caught in improved condition during the first season succeeding the marking. But the following year, in May and June, a few of them were taken in prime condition--none otherwise--and it several times occurred that female salmon were a second time committed to the inclosure and yielded a second litter of eggs. The growth of the salmon during their absence had been very considerable, there being always an increase in length and a gain of twenty-five to forty per cent. in weight. The conclusion seems unavoidable that the adult salmon do not enter the Penobscot for spawning oftener than once in two years. The method of impregnation employed has always been an imitation of the Russian method introduced into America in 1871. The eggs are first expressed into tin pans, milt is pressed upon them, and after they are thoroughly mixed together, water is added. The result has been excellent, the percentage of impregnated eggs rarely falling so low as 95. After impregnation the eggs are transferred to the hatchery at Craig's Pond Brook, where they are developed, resting upon wire-cloth trays in wooden troughs, placed in tiers ten trays deep, to economize space, and at the same time secure a free horizontal circulation of water. The hatchery is fitted up in the basement of an old mill, of which entire control has been obtained. The brook is one of exceptional purity, and a steep descent within a few feet of the hatchery enables us to secure at pleasure a fall of 50 feet or less. The brook formerly received the overflow of some copious springs within a few hundred feet of the hatchery, which so affected the temperature of the water that the eggs were brought to the shipping point early in December, an inconvenient date. This has been remedied by building a cement aqueduct 1,600 feet long, to a point on the brook above all the springs, which brings in a supply of very cold water. The shipment of eggs is made in January, February, and March, when they are sent by express, packed in bog-moss, all over the northern States, with entire safety, even in the coldest weather. In the following statement is embraced a general summary of the results of each season's work: [IMAGE orlandeggs.png in html file--table in text file] Salmon Females Eggs Eggs Year bought spawned obtained distrib'd ---- ------ ------- -------- --------- 1871-72 111 11 72,071 70,500 1872-73 692 225 1,560,000 1,241,800 1873-74 650 279 2,452,638 2,291,175 1874-75 601 343 3,106,479 2,842,977 1875-76 460 237 2,020,000 1,825,000 1879-80 264 19 211,692 200,500 1880-81 522 227 1,930,561 1,841,500 1881-82 513 232 2,690,500 2,611,500 1882-83 560 256 2,075,000 2,000,000 ----- ----- ---------- ---------- Total 4,373 1,829 16,148,941 14,924,952 ARTICLE III PENNING OF SALMON IN ORDER TO SECURE THEIR EGGS. By C. J. Bottemanne M.D. [From a letter to Prof. S. F. Baird.] _Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission_, Vol. 4, Page 169, 1884. In the Dutch "Economist" of 1874 I gave a description of the fish breeding establishment of the State of New York, and therein I mentioned the United States salmon-breeding establishment on the Penobscot, principally for the penning of the salmon from June till breeding time. As you are likely aware, the Dutch Government pays yearly $4,800 to salmon breeders for young salmon delivered in spring, at the rate of 10 cents for yearlings, and not quite (4/5) one dollar per hundred for those that are about rid of the umbilical sac, and ready to shift for themselves. For the latter they receive payment only if there is money left after delivering the yearlings. The breeders get their eggs from Germany from Schuster in Freiburg, and from Gloser in Basel; but complain always that the eggs are from too young individuals, that there is always too much loss in transportation, that the eggs are so weak that after the fish have come out there is great mortality in the fry, &c. In this month's "Economist" I published the results on the Penobscot, and figured out that if breeders here set to work in the same style they would get at least four eggs to one, at the same price, and be independent. We have an association here for promoting the fresh-water fisheries, of which the principal salmon fishermen are members, and also several gentlemen not in the business, including myself. In the December meeting I told them all I knew about the Penobscot; and one breeder got a credit for $200 for getting ripe salmon and keeping them in a scow till he had what he wanted, and he has succeeded pretty well. Still this is only on a limited scale. I want to put up larger pens and in the style of the Penobscot. In order to do this I must know exactly what is done on the Penobscot, and how. What is the size of the pen, how large area, how deep? Is it above tidal water? (This I take for granted.) What is the situation of the pond compared with the river? What kind of failures were there, and the probable reasons therefor? In short, I would like a complete description of the place, with the history of it. I hope you will excuse my drawing on you for such an amount, but as the United States is the authority in practical fish-breeding, we are obliged to come to you. I am sorry to say that I cannot report the catch of any _S. quinnat_, yet three fish have been sent in for the premium we held out for the first fifteen caught, but they proved not to be quinnat. Lately I heard that there were so many salmon caught in the Ourthe, near Liege, Belgium (the Ourthe is one of the feeders of the Maas), which was an astonishing fact, as salmon are seldom taken there. Bergen op Zoom, Netherlands, January 12, 1884 ARTICLE IV MEMORANDA RELATIVE TO INCLOSURES FOR THE CONFINEMENT OF SALMON DRAWN FROM EXPERIENCE AT BUCKSPORT, PENOBSCOT RIVER, MAINE. By Charles G. Atkins [In response to request of Dr. C. J. Bottemanne.] April 7, 1884. _Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission_, Vol. 4, Pages 170-174, 1884. The Penobscot salmon-breeding establishment was founded in 1872, at Bucksport; in the State of Maine, near the mouth of the Penobscot River. The location was primarily determined by the necessity of being near a supply of living adult salmon, to be used for breeders. After an exploration of the headwaters of the Penobscot, which lie mostly in an uninhabited wilderness, the conclusion was reached that the chances of securing a sufficient stock of breeders were much greater at the mouth of the river, where the principal salmon fisheries are located; but to avail ourselves of the supply here afforded we must take the salmon at the ordinary fishing season, May, June, and July, and keep them in confinement until the spawning season, which is here the last of October and first of November. As the salmon naturally pass this period of their lives in the upper parts of the rivers, it was thought essential to confine our captives in fresh water. Later experiments in Canada indicate that they will do as well in salt water, but the construction and maintenance of inclosures is much easier when they are located above the reach of the tide, to say nothing of the proximity of suitable fresh water for the treatment of the eggs. In the precise location of the inclosures several changes have been made, but they have always been in fresh water, and within convenient distance (5 to 10 miles) of the place where the salmon were captured. In our experiments and routine work we have made use of four inclosures, which I will now describe. No. 1. In Craig's Pond Brook, a very pure and transparent stream, an artificial pond 40 square rods in area and 7 feet in extreme depth, was formed by the erection of a dam. The bottom of this pond was mainly a grassy sod newly flooded. About half the water came from springs in the immediate vicinity, and the rest from a very pure lake half a mile distant. The water derived from the lake was thoroughly aerated by its passage over a steep rocky bed. The transparency of the water in the pond was so great that a pin could be seen at the depth of six feet. This inclosure was a complete failure. The salmon placed therein were after a day or two attacked by a parasitic fungoid growth on the skin, and in a few days died. Out of 59 impounded not one escaped the disease and only those speedily removed to other waters recovered. Several, removed in a very sickly condition to the lake supplying the brook, recovered completely, from which it is safe to infer that the cause of the trouble did not lie in the lake water. Of the spring water I have some suspicions, and should not dare to inclose salmon in it again. No. 2. After the failure of the above experiment an inclosure was made in the edge of an ordinary lake by stretching a stout net on stakes. This water was brown in color, and objects 4 feet beneath the surface were invisible. The bottom was gravelly and devoid of vegetation. The depth was 7 and one half feet in early summer, and about 4 feet after the drought of August and September. The area inclosed was about 25 square rods in June, and perhaps half as much at the end of summer. This inclosure was entirely successful, very few salmon dying in it except those that had been attacked by disease before their introduction, and all the survivors were found to be in first-rate condition in November. This site was not afterwards occupied, because it was inconveniently located, and was exposed to the full force of violent winds sweeping across the lake, and therefore unsafe. No. 3. The inclosure in use for the confinement of the stock of breeding fish for the four years from 1872 to 1875, inclusive, was made by running a barrier across a narrow arm of a small lake (mentioned in official reports as "Spofford's Pond") near Bucksport village. This body of water, about 60 acres in area in the summer, receives the drainage of not more than 5 square miles of territory through several small brooks, that are reduced to dry beds by an ordinary drought. About a quarter of the shores are marshy and the rest stony. The water is highly colored by peaty matters in solution, and all objects are invisible at a depth of 2 feet: The bottom is composed mostly of a fine brown peaty mud of unknown depth. Aquatic vegetation of the genera, _Nuphar_, _Nymphaea_, _Bragenia_, _Potamogeton_, &c., is abundant. The water is nowhere more than 16 feet deep in the spring, and 11 feet in midsummer. The portion inclosed is 2 feet shoaler. The inclosure occupied sometimes 8 or 10 acres, and sometimes less. The barrier was from 400 to 600 feet long, and was formed the first year of brush; the second and third years of stake-nets, weighted down at the bottom with chains; and the fourth year of wooden racks, 4 feet wide and long enough to reach the bottom, which were pushed down side by side. The brush was unsatisfactory. There were holes in it by which the fish escaped. A single net would not retain its strength through a whole season, the bottom rotting away and letting the fish out, unless before the autumn was far advanced its position were reversed, the stronger part that had been above water being placed now at the bottom. This method was therefore rather expensive and not perfectly secure. The wooden racks were costly and heavy to handle, but quite secure. The salmon placed in this inclosure had to be carted in tanks of water overland about a mile in addition to transportation in floating cars from 3 to 5 miles; they were transferred suddenly from the salt water of the river (about two-thirds as salt as common sea-water) into the entirely fresh water of the lake. To all the supposed unfavorable circumstances must be added the high summer temperature of the water. During August the mean was generally above 70 degrees Fahrenheit at the bottom and several degrees warmer at the surface. Occasionally there was observed a midday temperature of 74 degrees F. and once 75 degrees at the bottom. Yet this proved an excellent place for our purpose, a satisfactory percentage of the salmon remaining in perfect health from June to November. No. 4. The inclosure in use since 1870 at Dead Brook, Bucksport. It is located in a gently running stream bordered by marshy ground, with a bottom in part of gravel but mostly of mud, crowded with aquatic vegetation. The water, supplied by two small lakes among the hills, is cleaner than the average of Maine rivers, but does not in that respect approach the water of inclosure No. 1. The greatest depth is about 8 feet, but in the greater part of the inclosure it is from 3 to 5 feet. The width of the stream is from 2 to 4 rods, and the portion inclosed is 2,200 feet long. The barriers to retain the fish are in the form of wooden gratings, with facilities for speedily clearing them of debris brought down by the stream. Better results were expected from this inclosure than from No. 3, but have not been realized. The percentage of salmon dying in confinement has been greater, amounting commonly to about 25 percent of those introduced, and this notwithstanding the salmon are conveyed to the inclosure by water carriage the entire distance (7 miles) instead of being carted in tanks. The cause of the trouble has not yet been discovered, but there is good reason for thinking that it lies in some of the circumstances attending the transfer of the fish from the place of capture, and that the inclosure itself is perfectly suited to its purpose. This view is supported by the fact that nearly all the losses occur within a few weeks after the introduction of the salmon and almost wholly cease by the end of July. If the cause of disease was located in the inclosure, we should expect it to be more fatal after a long than a short duration of the exposure of the fish to its action, and that with the smaller volume and higher temperature of August it would be more active than in June and July. The above description will, I think, give Dr. Bottemanne a sufficiently correct idea of the character of the inclosures we have tried. There are, however, several other points to be touched upon to put him in possession of the practical results of our experience. The facilities for the recapture of the salmon when the spawning season approaches must be considered. In the lake at Bucksport village (No. 3) we hoped at first that their desire to reach a suitable spawning ground would induce them all to enter the small brook that forms the outlet, which was within the limits of the inclosure. In this matter our expectations were but partially realized. Many of the fish refused to leave the lake through the narrow opening that was afforded them, and were only obtained by pound-nets, seines, and gill-nets, all of which involved a considerable expenditure of labor and material. The drawing of a seine in a large body of fresh water is likely to be a serious undertaking unless the bottom has been previously cleared of snags. In this respect the long and narrow inclosure at Dead Brook possesses great advantages, since it can be swept with a comparatively short seine. However, the influx and efflux of a considerable volume of water is of great advantage in enticing the gravid fish into traps that can readily be contrived for them by any ingenious fisherman. The existence of a gravelly bottom in the inclosure must be considered a positive disadvantage, inasmuch as it affords the fish a ground on which they may lay their eggs before they can be caught; but the danger of such an occurrence is less as the bounds of the inclosure are more contracted and the facilities for capturing the fish are better. As to the number of fish to a given area, I think we have never approached the maximum. I should have no hesitation in putting 1000 salmon in the inclosure at Dead Brook, which covers an area of less than 3 acres. Of course the renewal of the water supply, or its aeration by winds, is of importance here. The capture and transport of the fish in June involves methods requiring some explanation. The salmon fisheries about the mouth of the Penobscot River are pursued by means of a sort of trap termed a "weir." It is constructed of fine-meshed nets hung upon stakes, arranged so as to entrap and detain the fish without insnaring them in the meshes. They swim about in the narrow "pound" of the weir until the retreating tide leaves them upon a broad floor. Just before the floor is laid bare, the salmon destined for the breeding works are dipped out carefully with a cloth bag or a very fine bag-net and placed in transporting cars or boats, rigged specially for the purpose, sunk deep in the water, which fills them, passing in at two grated openings above, and passing out at two others astern, and covered with a net to prevent escape. In a boat 13 or 14 feet long (on the bottom) we put 10 or 15 salmon, to be towed a distance of 7 miles. If the water is cool, twice as many can go safely, but there must be no delay. It is very important that this car be smooth inside, with no projections for the salmon to chafe on, and the gratings must be so close that they cannot get their heads in between the bars. If conveyance overland is necessary, a wooden tank 3 feet long, 2 feet wide, and 2 feet deep, with a sliding cover, will take six salmon at a time for a mile and perhaps farther, and they may be jolted along over a rough road in comparative safety. It has been our uniform experience that all the salmon that survive till autumn were in normal condition as to their reproductive function, and yielded healthy spawn and milt. On two occasions we suffered serious losses of eggs. In neither instance could the loss be attributed to any defect in the inclosure, but on one occasion the conclusion was reached that the water which was well suited to the maintenance of the fish was injurious to the eggs, rendering the shell so soft that they could not be transported safely. With the exception of the disasters enumerated above, there has been but one that I can recall, and that was caused by the bursting of our barriers at Dead Brook under the pressure of a flood. BUCKSPORT, ME, April 7, 1884. ARTICLE V REPORT ON THE SCHOODIC SALMON WORK OF 1884-85 By Charles G. Atkins. _Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission_, Vol. 5, Pages 324-325, 1885. The measurement of the stock of Schoodic salmon eggs at Grand Lake Stream at time of packing and shipment, and the record of previous losses, enable me to complete the statistics, as follows: Original number taken ...................................1,820,810 The total losses up to that time, including the unfertilized, which were removed before packing............254,410 Net stock of sound eggs..................................1,566,400 Reserved for Grand Lake....................................397,400 Available for shipment to subscribers ...................1,169,000 These were divided among the parties supplying the funds for the work in proportion to their contributions, as follows: Allotted to the United States Commission...................608,000 Allotted to the Maine Commission...........................234,000 Allotted to the Massachusetts Commission...................187,000 Allotted to the New Hampshire Commission...................140,000 Total....................................................1,169,000 The share of the United States Commission was assigned and shipped, under orders, as follows: A. W. Aldrich, commissioner, Anamosa, Iowa..................50,000 E. A. Brackett, commissioner, Winchester, Mass..............25,000 H. H. Buck, Orland, Me, to be hatched for Eagle Lake, Mount Desert....................................20,000 Paris, Mich., for Michigan commission.......................50,000 Madison, Wis., for Wisconsin commission.....................50,000 R. O. Sweeny, commissioner, Saint Paul, Minn ...............50,000 South Bend, Nebr., for Nebraska Commission..................20,000 E. B. Hodge, commissioner, Plymouth, N.H....................40,000 Cold Spring Harbor, N. Y., for New York Commission..........60,000 Plymouth, N. H., for Vermont Commission ....................25,000 Plymouth, N. H., for Lake Memphremagog .....................25,000 Central Station, Washington, D.C. ..........................10,000 R. E. Earll, World's Exposition, New Orleans ................5,000 G. W. Delawder, commissioner, Baltimore .....................5,000 Myron Battles, North Creek, N................................5,000 A. R. Fuller, Meacham Lake, N. .............................20,000 F. Mather for transmission to Europe as follows: For Herr von Behr, Germany..................................40,000 For Tay Fishery Board, Scotland.............................20,000 For National Fish Culture Association, England..............30,000 Total to Europe.............................................90,000 Enfield, Maine for Maine Commission.........................58,000 Total......................................................608,000 A few of the shipments have been heard from, and these all reached their destinations safely. BUCKSPORT, ME. March 31, 1885 ARTICLE VI METHODS EMPLOYED AT CRAIG BROOK STATION IN REARING YOUNG SALMONID FISHES By Charles G. Atkins, Superintendent U. S. Fish Commission Station at Craig Brook, Maine. _Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission_, Vol. 13, Pages 221-228, 1893. The station of the U. S. Fish Commission at Craig Brook was founded in 1889, on the same site where, in 1871, the first attempt at the artificial spawning of salmon in the United States was made. This site had been selected by the commissioners of fisheries of the States of Maine, Massachusetts, and Connecticut for that experiment because of its proximity to the salmon fisheries of the Penobscot River and the facilities presented for the maturing of the spawn that might be obtained. The collection of spawn has been carried on in the vicinity annually from 1871 to the present time, with the exception of the three years 1876,1877, and 1878, and since 1879 the development of the spawn has been conducted constantly at Craig Brook. No attempt was, however, made to rear the fry of any species until 1886. Two years later it was definitely determined to found a permanent station at Craig Brook, and in 1889 the purchase of the grounds was effected and permanent improvements begun. The station is located in the town of Orland, Me., 7 miles east of Bucksport, a seaport on the Penobscot River. Its territory embraces a tract of land extending between Allamoosook Lake and Craig Pond and embracing within its limits the entire length of Craig Brook, which connects those two bodies of water. Its latitude is about 44 degrees 42' N. The mean annual temperature and precipitation are believed to approximate those of Orono, 25 miles distant, namely, 42.48° F. [5.8° C.] and 45.44 inches [116 cm.]. The range of air temperature observed at the station is from 18° F. below zero to 92.5°F. above [-27.7° C. to 33.6° C.]. Frosts not infrequently occur as late as the 1st of June and as early in autumn as the first week in September. The lakes in the vicinity are commonly covered with ice before the end of November, and they are not often released until near the end of April. The water supply is derived from Craig Brook and from three large and several lesser springs. The source of the brook is Craig Pond, which affords a constant supply of exceedingly transparent water, warm in summer and cold in winter, moderated, however; in both extremes by the water from the springs, which mingles with the brook in its lower course, forming about a third of its volume. It is this mixed water which is mainly used in the rearing of fish. Its temperature ranges from 34° F. [1.1° C.] to 70°F. [21.1°C.]. The lowest monthly mean in 1893 was 35.8° F. [2.1° C.] in February. The highest was 64.6°F. [18.1°C.] in August. The total volume is variable, ranging from 875 to 3,000 gallons and averaging about 1,200 gallons per minute. The difference of level between the source and mouth of the brook is about 190 feet. The sharpest descent is just above the hatchery and rearing troughs, which therefore receive well-aerated water. The conformation of the ground offers good facilities for the distribution and utilization of the water. The leading motive in the foundation of this station was the desire to apply to the Atlantic salmon the system of rearing fish to the age of at least several months before liberating them. This motive has determined not only the principal subjects of the work, but also to a considerable extent the fixtures and methods. The scheme of work was determined in outline several years before the acquisition of full title to the premises, and, circumstances rendering it desirable to enter at once on its development, it became necessary to have recourse to movable apparatus, pending authority for permanent improvements. Hence the erection of a series of small troughs in the open air, which gave such excellent satisfaction that enlargement took the same direction; and it has thus come about that the rearing operations of the station down to the present time have been almost exclusively conducted in open-air troughs. A series of ponds has been constructed, but with the exception of a few small ones none of them have been as yet brought into use. The troughs are for the most part such as are used in the hatchery for the maturing of spawn, and their form and size have been adapted to the hatching apparatus which has been in use at the Maine station for many years. The eggs are developed on wire-cloth trays measuring 12 and one half inches in width and length, and the troughs are therefore 12 and three quarter inches wide. Their depth is 9 inches and their length is 10 feet 6 inches. Such short troughs were adopted for two reasons: (1) It was thought that a greater length might involve the exposure of the eggs near the lower end to the danger of a partial exhaustion of the air from the water by the eggs above them; (2) these short troughs are very convenient to cleanse and to move about for repairs or other purposes. They are made of pine boards seven-eighths inch thick. On the inside they are planed and varnished with asphaltum. When used for rearing fish each trough is fitted with a pair of thin wooden covers reaching its entire length hinged to the sides and meeting each other, when closed, at a right angle, forming; as it were, a roof over the trough. When closed they protect from predatory birds and other vermin; when open they are fixed in an upright position, in effect adding to the height of the sides and preventing the fish jumping out. The time spent in opening and closing the troughs is by this arrangement reduced to a minimum. Water is fed through wooden tubes, and the volume admitted is regulated by slides The exit of the water is through another tube or hollow plug standing upright near the lower end of the trough, and by its height governing the depth of the water. The outlet tube is movable and is taken out in cleaning. A wire-cloth screen just above the outlet tube prevents the fish escaping. In a trough of standard size 2,000 fry are generally placed, and to accommodate the large numbers of fish reared we bring into use sometimes nearly 200 troughs which are of necessity placed in the open air. They are arranged in pairs with their heads against the feed troughs, supported by wooden horses at a convenient height from the ground. They are given an inclination of about 2 inches to facilitate cleaning. The volume of water fed to each trough has varied from time to time, but is ordinarily about 5 gallons per minute, which renews the water every four minutes. The ordinary arrangement is to use the water but once in the troughs, letting it waste into some small ponds in which yearling and older fish are kept; but there is one system of 52 troughs arranged in four series, which use in succession the same water. From these we have learned that young salmon thrive quite as well in the fourth series as in the first. Indeed, by an actual test, with fish of like origin and character in each series, the fish reared in the fourth series were found to grow faster, to an important degree, than those in the first. This phenomenon probably resulted from a somewhat higher temperature which the water acquired in passing through the several series. A like observation has been made on a few salmon maintained for a few weeks, in the warmer water of a neighboring brook. As already stated, the activity of the station has been mainly occupied with Atlantic salmon, but there have been reared each year a few landlocked salmon and brook trout, and occasional lots of other salmonoids, such as Loch Leven, Von Behr, Swiss-lake, rainbow, and Scotch sea trout. All these have received the same treatment. With the exception of the rainbow trout, they are all autumn-spawning fishes, and their eggs hatch early in the spring. The embryos of salmon begin to burst the shell in the month of March, and the 1st of April may be stated as the mean date of hatching. If the open-air troughs are in order--and we aim to have them so--the eggs are counted out into lots of 2,000 or 4,000 each and placed before hatching in their summer quarters. The water is at that time very cold, the development of the alevins is slow, and it is not until the latter part of May that the yolk sack is fully absorbed. June 1 is, therefore, the date when feeding is ordinarily begun. The growth of the fish is at first slow, the water being still cool, but is accelerated as the summer passes away. In October and November, beginning commonly about the middle of October, most of the fish are counted out and liberated, but a small number, rarely more than 15,000, being carried through the winter at the station. The reserved fish are sometimes left until midwinter in their summer quarters, and with a careful covering of the conduits and banking of the troughs themselves each with coarse hay and evergreen boughs it is possible to keep them there the year round; but for ordinary winter storage there is provided a system of sunken tanks covered by a rough shed with a constant water supply. These tanks are molasses hogsheads, securely hooped with iron, sunk nearly their entire depth into the ground, each with an independent water supply and waste, the perforation for the latter being near the surface. They have a capacity of from 100 gallons of water upward, and will carry safely each 500 to 700 fish in their first winter, that is, just approaching the age of one year. This arrangement has answered its purpose fairly well, and in a very rigorous climate or where the water is very cold it is to be recommended; but since its construction it has been discovered that at Craig Brook it is not at all difficult to protect the ordinary troughs in such a way as to insure their safety from freezing, and their attendance through the winter is less troublesome than that of the sunken tanks. A list of the articles employed for food at the station since its foundation, if designed to include those used on an experimental as well as a practical scale, would be a long one, and I will content myself with naming the following: On a practical scale we have used butcher's offal, flesh of horses and other domestic animals by the carcass, fresh fish, maggots; and on an experimental scale, pickled fish, fresh-water mussels, mosquito larvae, miscellaneous aquatic animals of minute size. In the production of maggots we have also made use of large quantities of stale meat from the markets and some barrels of fish pomace, in addition to the articles mentioned above. The butcher's offal comprises the livers, hearts and lights of such animals as are slaughtered in Orland and Bucksport--mainly lambs and veals. These are collected from the slaughter-houses twice or thrice weekly, and preserved in refrigerators until used. The quantity of such material to be had in the vicinity has been inadequate to our needs and we have been compelled to look in other directions for food. The flesh of horses has been used only during the season of 1893. Old and worn out horses and those hopelessly crippled or dying suddenly have been bought when offered, and used in the same way as the butcher's offal; the parts that could be chopped readily have been fed direct to the fish so far as needed; and other parts have been used in the rearing of maggots. The season's experience has been so satisfactory that greater use will be made of horse flesh hereafter. Next to the chopped meat, maggots have constituted the most important article of food, and their systematic production has received much attention. A rough wooden building has been erected for the accommodation of this branch of the work and one man is constantly employed about it during the summer and early autumn months. The maggots thus far employed are exclusively flesh-eaters, mainly those of two undetermined species of flies--the first and most important being a small smooth, shining green or bluish-green fly occurring at the beginning of summer and remaining in somewhat diminished numbers until October, and the other a large rough, steel-blue fly that makes its appearance later and in autumn becomes the predominating species, having such hardiness as to continue the reproduction of its kind long after the occurrence of frosts sufficiently severe to freeze the ground. In outline the procedure is to expose the flesh of animals in a sheltered location during the day, and when well stocked with the spawn of the flies to place it in boxes which are set away in the "fly house" to develop; when fully grown the maggots are taken out and fed at once to the fish. The materials used for the enticing of the flies and the nourishment of the maggots have been various. Stale meat from the markets has been perhaps the leading article, but we have also used such parts of the butcher's offal and of the horse carcasses as were not well adapted to chopping; fish, fresh dried or pickled; fish pomace from herring-oil works, and any animal refuse that came to hand. Fresh or slightly tainted meat has been used to greater extent than any other material, and has proved itself equally good with any. Fresh fish is very attractive to the flies, and when in just the proper condition may be equally good with fresh meat, but some kinds of fish are too oily, for instance, alewives and herring, and all sorts thus far tried are apt to be too watery. A very limited trial of fish dried without salt or smoke indicates that it is, when free from oil, a very superior article; it has, of course, to be moistened before using. Its preparation presents some difficulties, but in winter it is easily effected by impaling the whole fish on sticks and hanging them up, (after the manner of alewives or herring in a smokehouse) under a roof where they will be protected from rain without hindering the circulation of air; in this way we have dried many flounders and other refuse fish from the smelt fisheries, which are conducted with bag nets in the vicinity of Bucksport. Doubtless a centrifugal drying machine might be successfully used for this purpose in summer. Pickled alewives, freshened out in water, have been found to answer fairly well, when other materials are lacking, at least to give growth to maggots otherwise started. Fish pomace has not thus far given satisfaction, but seems worthy of further trial. It is commonly necessary to expose meat but a single day to obtain sufficient fly spawn; the larvae are hatched and active the next day, except in cool weather, and they attain their full growth in two or three days. To separate them from the remnants of food and other debris was at first a troublesome task. It is now effected as follows: the meat bearing the fly spawn is placed on a layer of loose hay or straw in a box which has a wire-cloth bottom, and which stands inside a slightly larger box with a tight wooden bottom. When full grown the maggots work their way down through the hay into the lower box, where they are found nearly free from dirt. When young salmon or trout first begin to feed they are quite unable to swallow full-grown maggots. Small ones are obtained for them by putting a large quantity of fly spawn with a small quantity of meat, the result being that the maggots soon begin to crowd each other and the surplus is worked off into the lower box before attaining great size. No attempt is, however, made to induce the young fish to swallow even the smallest maggots until they have been fed a while an chopped liver. In the above methods maggots are produced and used in considerable numbers, sometimes as many as a bushel in a day. Through September, 1893, although the weather and some other circumstances were not very favorable, the average daily production was a little over half a bushel. They are eagerly eaten by the fish, which appear to thrive on them better than on dead meat. Having great tenacity of life, if not snapped up immediately by the fish they remain alive for a day or two, and, as they wriggle about on the bottom, are almost certain to be finally eaten; whereas the particles of dead flesh that fall to the bottom are largely neglected by the fish and begin to putrefy in a few hours. In the fish troughs there are, therefore, certain gains in both cleanliness and economy from the use of maggots which may be set down as compensating the waste and filthiness of the fly-house. As the growth of maggots can be controlled by regulation of the temperature, it is possible to keep them all winter in a pit or cellar, and advantage is taken of this to use them during winter as food for fish confined in deep tanks not easily cleaned. The offensive odors of decaying flesh may be largely overcome by covering it, on putting it away in the boxes, after the visits of the flies, with pulverized earth, and it is not improbable that by this or some other method the business may be made almost wholly inoffensive, but in its present stage of development it is too malodorous to admit of practice in any place where there are human habitations or resorts within half a mile of the spot where the maggots are grown. As remarked above, only flesh-eating maggots have yet been tried. It would be well worth while to experiment with the larvae of other species, such as the house fly, the stable fly, etc. There is also a white maggot known to grow in heaps of seaweed. Should the rate of growth of either of these species be found to be satisfactory they might be substituted for the flesh maggots with advantage. Occasional use has been made of fresh fish for direct feeding. When thrown into the water after chopping it breaks up into fibers to such an extent that it is not very satisfactory, and I do not suppose we shall use it in the future, unless in a coarsely chopped form for the food of large fish. A few barrels of salted alewives have been used, and if well soaked out and chopped they are readily eaten by the larger fish and can be fed to fry, but are less satisfactory with the latter, and like fresh fish they break up to such an extent that they are only to be regarded as one of the last resorts. Fresh-water mussels have been occasionally gathered in the lake close to the station when there has been a scarcity of food. Those employed belong almost wholly to a species of Unio which abounds over a considerable area of soft bottom, under a depth of 2 to 10 feet of water. Many were taken with a boat dredge; more were scooped up with long-handled dip nets of special construction. Finally a wide, flat dredge was made, to be drawn by a windlass on the shore and manipulated by means of poles from a large boat. When needed for food the mussels were opened with knives--a great task--and chopped. The meat is readily eaten by all fishes, and appears to form an excellent diet. Being more buoyant than any other article tried, it sinks slower in the water and gives the fish more time to seize it before it reaches the bottom, a consideration of considerable practical importance. The labor involved in dredging and shelling is a serious drawback, but were the colonies of unios sufficiently extensive or their reproduction rapid enough to warrant expenditure of time in experimentation; improved methods might be devised, which would put this food-source on a practicable basis. During the seasons of 1886 and 1888 some use was made of mosquito larvae. Near the station is an extensive swamp where these insects breed in great numbers. From the pools of water the larvae were daily collected by means of a set of strainers specially devised for this use. Barrels filled with water were also disposed in convenient places near the rearing troughs, and were soon swarming with larvae from the eggs deposited by the mosquitoes on the surface of the water. When near the completion of their growth, which was only some ten days after the deposit of the eggs, the larvae (or pupae) were strained out and fed to the fish. No kind of food has been used this station that has been more eagerly devoured, and so far as our observation has gone no other food has contributed more to the growth of the fish; indeed, I am inclined to put them at the head in both respects. It was found, however, that the time expended in collecting them was out of all proportion to the quantity of food secured, and pending opportunity for further experiment their use was discontinued. I think it quite possible that an arrangement might be devised whereby the greater part of the labor might be saved. Perhaps a series of breeding tanks arranged in proximity to the fish troughs, into which the water containing the larvae might be drawn when desirable by the simple opening of faucet, would solve the problem. Various methods of serving the food have been tried, but at present everything is given with a spoon. The attendant carries the food with the left hand--in a 2-quart dipper if chopped meat, in a larger vessel if maggots--and, dipping it out with a large spoon, strews it the whole length of the trough, being careful to put the greater portion at the head, where the fish nearly always congregate. Finely chopped food, for very young fish, is slightly thinned with water before feeding. At one time the finest food was fed through perforations in the bottom of a tin dish; the food was placed in the dish, which was dipped into the water a little and shaken till enough of the food had dropped out of the perforations; this practice was laid aside because it was thought that the food was too much diluted. In feeding maggots it was, at first, the practice to place them on small "feeding boards" of special construction suspended over the water in the troughs and let them crawl off into the water; but whatever advantage this method may have had in furnishing the meal to the fish slowly was more than counterbalanced by the extra labor of caring for the boards and by the offensive odor, and it was abandoned. For use in feeding fish in a pond a box containing a series of shelves, down which the maggots slowly crawl, was found sufficiently useful to be retained. It is the common practice to feed all meat raw except the lights, which chop better if boiled first, except also occasional lots of meat that are on the point of becoming tainted and are boiled to save them. All meats fed direct to the fish are first passed through a chopping machine. The machine known as the "Enterprise" is the one now in use. It forces the meat through perforated steel plates. The plate used for the smaller fish has perforations 2 inch in diameter, and for coarser work there are two plates 3/16th inch and 3/8th inch, respectively. It is operated by a crank turned by hand. Food is given to those fish just beginning to eat four times a day (in some cases even six times). As the season progresses the number of rations is gradually reduced to two daily. In winter such fish as are carried through are fed but once a day. The cleaning of the troughs has been a troublesome matter, and the subject of much study and experiment, but nothing more satisfactory has been found than the following practice: The troughs are all to be cleaned daily--not all at one time, but as time is found for it in the intervals of other work. To facilitate cleaning, the troughs are inclined about 2 inches. The outlet is commanded, as already explained, by a hollow plug. When this is drawn the water rushes out rapidly and carries most of the debris against the screen. The fishes are excited, and, scurrying about, they loosen nearly all dirt from the bottom; what will not otherwise yield must be started with a brush, but after the first few weeks the brush has rarely to be used except to rub the debris through the outlet screen. Owing to the inclination of the trough the water recedes from the upper end until the fishes lying there are almost wholly out of water, but, although they are left in that position sometimes for 10 or 15 minutes, no harm has ever been known to result. It has been the common rule at the station to count all the embryos devoted to the process of rearing, either before or after hatching; to keep an accurate record of losses during the season, and to check the record by a recount in the fall. When eggs are counted they are lifted in a teaspoon. The counting of small fish is effected in this way: The fish are first gathered in a fine, soft bag-net, commonly one made of cheese-cloth, and from this, hanging meanwhile in the water, yet so that the fish cannot escape, they are dipped out a few at a time, in a small dipper or cup, counted, and placed in a pail of water or some other receptacle. This counting is generally preliminary to weighing, and in this case the fish, after counting, are placed in another bag-net, in which they are lowered, several hundred at a time, into a pail of water which has been previously weighed, and the increase noted. With care to avoid transferring to the weighing pail any surplus water, this is a correct method and very easy and safe for the fish. In conclusion, I submit some estimates of cost. In September, 1893, we fed fry that were estimated at the close of the month to number 238,300. There were also a few hundred larger fish. From the known total outlay for food, attendance, and superintendence a suitable allowance is made for the maintenance of the older fish, and the balance is charged to the fry. By this method we arrive at the following results: Cost...................Total........Per fish. Food $155.00 $0.00065 Attendance 99.79 .00042 Superintendence 205.96 .00086 Total 460.75 0.00193 Applied to the rearing operations of 1891, a similar calculation gives us this result: The fry that were carried through the season from June to October, inclusive, cost, for food, attendance, and superintendence, $0.0081 each; that is, about four-fifths of a cent each for the term of five months. ARTICLE VII NOTES ON THE CAPTURE OF ATLANTIC SALMON AT SEA AND IN THE COAST WATERS OF THE EASTERN STATES By Hugh M. Smith, M. D., Assistant in charge of Division of Statistics and Methods of the Fisheries. _Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission_, Vol. 14, Page 95, 1894. In carrying out its most important function--the maintenance and increase of the supply of food fishes--the U.S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries, in addition to direct efforts to increase the abundance of fishes naturally inhabiting our various rivers, lakes, and coast waters, has given considerable attention to the experimental introduction of fishes into regions or streams to which they were not native. The wonderful success which has followed the planting of shad and striped bass fry in the waters of the Pacific coast is well known. The results attending the recent attempts of the Commission to establish a run of salmon (_Salmo salar_) in some of the large rivers of the Atlantic coast have been so noteworthy in the case of the Hudson as to afford reasonable ground for expecting the early inauguration of a regular fishery, should the present rate of increase in the abundance of the fish be maintained. Similar striking results may also be anticipated in all the more northern streams of the east coast, including the Housatonic, Connecticut, and Merrimac, in which salmon were at one time found in abundance and are now taken in small numbers, if the ascent of the adult fish to the headwaters for the purpose of spawning is permitted and if sufficiently extensive fish-cultural operations are continued. The primary purpose of this paper is to record some of the apparent results of salmon propagation in our rivers as shown by the occurrence of the fish at points on the coast or at sea more or less remote from the places where fry have been deposited. While an interesting and instructive compilation might be made of the instances of the capture of salmon in the Hudson, Delaware, Susquehanna, Potomac, and other rivers in which the fish has been acclimated, such a work is not necessary in view of the notice which has already been accorded the matter in the public press and in the reports of several of the State fish commissions, notably the New York commission. So much yet remains to be learned regarding the lines of migration of the salmon to and from the rivers, its winter habitat, the existence of an "instinct of nativity" which is supposed to impel the return of the fish to the place where hatched, the extent of the coastwise distribution of salmon originally belonging in a given river, and numerous other practical and scientific questions, that the presentation of any data bearing on the occurrence of the fish outside of the rivers may be regarded as acceptable and timely. In an interesting article on "Salmon at Sea," communicated to the issue of _Forest and Stream_ for February 18, 1892, Mr. A. N. Cheney, the well-known angling expert and writer on fish-cultural matters, discusses the question of the whereabouts of salmon after they leave the rivers, and quotes the following from a previous contribution by himself on the subject: "There is a certain mystery about the habits and movements of the sea salmon, after it has left the fresh-water rivers in which it spawns and gone down to the sea, that never has been satisfactorily explained. One theory is that all the salmon of the rivers along a coast may journey down to the sea, and then move ultimately in one great body southward along the coast until they find water of suitable temperature, with an abundance of food, in which to spend their time in growing fat until the spawning instinct warns them to return, when they proceed northward, each river school entering its own particular river as the main school arrives opposite the river month. "Another theory is that the salmon of each river, as they arrive at its mouth after descending from its headwaters, go out to sea sufficiently far to find the conditions of temperature and food which suit them, and there they remain, separate from the salmon of other rivers, until it is time for them to return to fresh water. Considering the certainty with which the salmon of any particular river return again to the stream of their birth, the latter theory seems the more tenable of the two." Another object of this paper is to solicit correspondence from fishermen, especially those engaged in the coast and offshore fisheries, concerning the circumstances of the capture of salmon in their nets, and to bring to their attention the opportunity they will thus have of increasing the knowledge of the movements of the salmon, of aiding in the determination of the results of fishcultural operations, and of ultimately if not immediately benefiting themselves by supplying information that will conduce to the most effective application of artificial methods. To this end it is the intention to send the paper to fishermen engaged in the mackerel, menhaden, and other sea fisheries, and to operators of pound nets, traps, and other shore appliances, with the hope that instances of the capture of salmon may be communicated to this Commission and notes on the size, condition, movements, etc., of the fish be furnished. To aid in the identification of the salmon when caught by fishermen who have not previously met with the fish, a figure is presented. In this connection mention may be made of the chinook or quinnat salmon of the Pacific coast (_Oncorhynchus chouicha_), fry of which have been extensively planted in eastern waters by the U. S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries. Up to and including the year 1880, about 12,000,000 fry were deposited in rivers and other waters tributary to the Atlantic. While a few relatively large examples have been taken, this office has no information to show that the attempts to acclimate this species on the Atlantic coast have as yet been successful. In 1891 a few thousand yearling salmon were placed in New York waters tributary to the sea. The possibility of the survival and growth of some of these and of the large early colonies prompts this reference to the matter and suggests the publication of the accompanying figure of the species, to afford a basis for distinguishing the two kinds of salmon, which closely resemble each other. To further aid in the identification of the two species the following key has been prepared: Rays in anal fin, 9; scales between gill opening and base of tail, 120; branchiostegals (false gill openings), 11 ..........ATLANTIC SALMON. Rays in anal fin, 16; scales between gill opening and base of tail, 150; branchiostegals, (false gill openings) 15 to 19..........PACIFIC SALMON. Numerous instances might be cited of the taking of salmon in the waters of the Atlantic coast in recent years. Their occurrence in the traps and pound nets is in fact so common that it would hardly be entitled to notice at this time were it not for the circumstance that in regions in which salmon were already known there has been a decided increase in the number observed outside the rivers, and that the fish is now being taken in localities in which it was not previously found. Instances of the capture of salmon in the coast waters of Maine are naturally numerous, and without significance so far as the purposes of the present paper are concerned. The existence of two important salmon rivers, the Kennebec and the Penobscot, affords an easy explanation of the presence of salmon on the shores of either side of the mouths of those streams. In the report of the U. S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries for 1873-73 Mr. Charles G. Atkins, now superintendent of the salmon-rearing establishment at East Orland, Me., and an authoritative writer on the Atlantic salmon, contributes some notes on its occurrence in the sea adjacent to Penobscot Bay and at Richmond Island, near Portland. These cases, however, have little bearing on the subject in hand, as Mr. Atkins suggests in a recent letter. A special inquiry, personally conducted on Matinicus, Monhegan, and other islands lying far off the Maine coast, and special researches there made with appropriate apparatus, would doubtless disclose many interesting facts regarding the salmon of a practical and scientific nature. A few apparently unrecorded notes concerning the fish among islands off the island of Mount Desert may be given, which are probably indicative of what may be expected in other sections. Mr. W. I. Mayo, who has fished herring brush-weirs at the Cranberry Isles for many years, and is a life-long fisherman in that section, communicates the intelligence that salmon were first observed about those islands in 1888. On June 17 a salmon, weighing 20 pounds, was taken in a herring weir, and on June 19 another, weighing 19 pounds, was caught. On July 14 of the same year 6 salmon, weighing 4 to 6 pounds apiece, were secured, but were liberated on account of their size. During the four years intervening between 1888 and 1893 none was taken around these islands, but in June of the latter year they reappeared. On June 11 a salmon weighing 15 pounds was taken in a weir, and on various occasions during that month a number weighing 12 to 15 pounds each were caught by boat fishermen on trawl lines fished for cod. The trawls were baited with herring and set on the bottom in rather deep water. Mr. Mayo states that these were the first salmon ever taken on trawl lines in that region. The Cranberry Isles lie off the southeastern part of Mount Desert Island, and are about 25 miles east from Penobscot Bay and about 35 miles in a straight line from the mouth of the Penobscot River. On the Massachusetts coast salmon are now regularly taken each year at most of the important pound-net and trap fisheries. The largest numbers are caught in Cape Cod Bay. A State law prohibits the taking of salmon in nets and requires the return to the water alive of all fish so caught. This makes the fishermen diffident about giving information and renders difficult the determination of the abundance of the fish. On June 6, 1879 the _Cape Ann Advertiser_, of Gloucester, contained the following note: "A 10-pound salmon was taken from a weir off Magnolia Thursday night. This is the first salmon caught off Cape Ann for over thirty years. On Saturday morning three more large salmon were taken. The fishermen are highly elated at the prospect of salmon-catching." During the past five or six years a few salmon have been taken almost every season in the vicinity of Gloucester, the average annual catch being 4 to 6 fish. In 1888 the State fish commissioners reported the capture of 18 salmon in traps at Manchester and Gloucester. In 1893, 13 traps in the neighborhood of Gloucester took 5 salmon. In December, 1891, a salmon weighing 28 pounds was caught on a cod trawl line set near Halfway Rock, off Salem Harbor, Mass.; Mr. William Dennett, of Gloucester, who secured the fish, reports that he sold it for $46. Mr. Samuel Wiley, of Gloucester, in September 1893, caught a salmon at sea off Gloucester on a trawl line fished for hake. These are the only instances that have been reported of the capture of salmon on a hook in the vicinity of Gloucester. As the trawl lines in question were set on the bottom at a depth of 20 or 25 fathoms, the fact that these two fish at least were swimming on the bottom may be considered established. Relatively large numbers of salmon have recently been taken in the pound nets of Cape Cod Bay. Capt. Atkins Hughes, of North Truro, one of the best-informed and most reliable fishermen in the region, informs us that at North Truro, the principal pound-net center in the bay, about 70 large salmon have been annually caught for two or three years. The fish are taken throughout the entire pound-net season, but are most common in the early part of the fishing year (May and June). Some fish weighing 25 to 28 pounds have recently been caught. For two or three years he has noticed in the pound nets in October large numbers of young salmon, about 6 inches long; each net probably takes one or two barrels of these annually; he had never observed these small fish before in his long fishing career in that region. In 1893, however, rather less than the usual number of large salmon were observed, and very few of the small fish mentioned were taken. Mr. Vinal N. Edwards, of the Fish Commission station at Woods Holl, Mass., states that in September, 1892, when he visited the Cape Cod region, a great many salmon were being taken in the pound nets. They weighed 4 or 5 pounds apiece. At one pound-net fishery in Provincetown he saw enough salmon to fill two sugar barrels. Concerning the occurrence of salmon in the Cape Cod region, Mr. Cheney, in the article previously mentioned, quotes Hon. Eugene G. Blackford, of New York, as follows: "We get every winter a few fish from the Atlantic coast that are evidently part of the schools of fish that run up into the Kennebec, Penobscot, and other eastern rivers. During November and December we had about 15 to 20 fish, weighing from 12 to 24 pounds each, that were caught in the mackerel nets in the vicinity of Provincetown and North Truro, Mass. These nets are set out from the Cape in very deep water. "During the past two or three weeks we have received several specimens of very handsome salmon from Maine, where they have been caught by the smelt fishermen in their nets when they have been fishing for smelt. I think these catches of salmon go very far to prove that the schools of fish are not very far off from our shores during the time that they are not found in the rivers, and that both shad and salmon, when they leave our rivers, do not go either east or south, but are within 100 miles or so of the rivers where they were spawned. The fish are remarkable in being in splendid condition and perfect in form and appearance." Mr. Cheney thinks the salmon taken off Cape Cod belong in either the Merrimac River or the Penobscot River; and, as in the year in question fish were being caught at the mouth of the Penobscot at the same time they were being taken at Cape Cod, he thinks it probable that the fish in the latter region were from the Merrimac. In the pound-net fishery of the northern coast of New Jersey the recent capture of salmon has been a subject of much interest to the local fishermen and of considerable importance to fish-culturists and naturalists. For a number of years a few salmon have, from time to time, been taken in Sandy Hook Bay, but within the past two or three years there has been an increase in the number caught. At Belford, the principal fishing center in the bay, Mr. M. C. Lohsen states that some have been taken weighing from 12 to 40 pounds, and that in the spring of 1893 more than the usual number were caught in the pound nets. Mr. Harry White, of the same place, never took salmon in pound nets prior to 1891; he secured 1 that year and 2 in 1892, but failed to get any in 1893. Other fishermen, however, obtained one or two fish. The average weight of the salmon taken here is 12 to 15 pounds; the largest caught by Mr. White weighed 17 and one half pounds. Small ones, weighing half a pound each, are sometimes observed. It is only during the month of May that salmon are noticed on this shore. One weighing 16 pounds, taken in a pound net at this place in 1891, sold for $11; the following year two, with a combined weight of 23 pounds, sold for $15.95. In the vicinity of Long Branch, we are informed of the recent capture of a number of salmon in the pound nets set directly in the ocean. Mr. Ed. Hennessey, of North Long Branch, reports that in 1892 two salmon and in 1893 one salmon were taken in his pound; they weighed from 10 to 15 pounds each. In April, 1891, Messrs. Gaskins and Hennessey, of the same place, secured a salmon in their pound; this was the only one they ever took. Messrs. W. T. Van Dyke & Co., pound-net fishermen of Long Branch, communicate the following instances of the taking of salmon by them in 1893: May 10, 1 salmon weighing 9 1/2 pounds; May 11, 1 salmon weighing 13 1/2 pounds; May 17, 1 salmon, and May 18, 1 salmon, weight not given. Messrs. West and Jeffrey, pound-net fishermen at Long Branch, report that in 1892 they caught 2 small salmon. In 1893, 3 fish were taken, as follows: May 10, a salmon weighing 19 pounds; May 18, 1 weighing 12 pounds; May 20, 1 weighing 10 pounds. Mr. Henry F. Harvey, who fishes a pound net at Mantoloking, N. J., about 35 miles south of Sandy Hook, communicates the information that in May, 1893, 2 salmon weighing 10 or 12 pounds each were taken at that place. None had ever before been caught there. One of the most interesting facts at hand concerning the oceanic occurrence of the salmon has been noted in a previous paper in this Bulletin, (*) but may be again referred to in order to make the present article more complete. Instances of the capture or observation of salmon far out at sea or even at relatively short distances from land are very rare and are entitled to publication whenever noted. About April 10, 1893 the mackerel schooner _Ethel B. Jacobs_, of Gloucester, Mass., was cruising for mackerel off the coast of Delaware. When in latitude 38 degrees, at a point about 50 miles ESE. of Fenwick Island light-ship, the vessel fell in at night with a large body of mackerel, and the seine was thrown round a part of the school. Among the mackerel taken was an Atlantic salmon weighing 16 pounds, which Capt. Solomon Jacobs, who was in command of the schooner, sent home to Gloucester. Capt. Jacobs informs us that the fish was fat and in fine condition. Some of the crew told the captain that there was another salmon in the seine, but it escaped over the cork line as the seine was being "dried in." The light-ship mentioned is about 10 miles off the coast, so the place where these salmon were taken was about 60 miles from the nearest land. The foregoing is the only instance known to this Commission of the capture of salmon so far at sea on the coast of the United States or of the taking of salmon in a purse seine with mackerel under any circumstances. Capt. S. J. Martin, the veteran fisherman of Gloucester, Mass., has never known of another such occurrence, and a special inquiry conducted by him among the mackerel fishermen of that port failed to disclose the knowledge among them of a similar case. Footnote: * Extension of the Recorded Range of Certain Marine and Freshwater Fishes of the Atlantic Coast of the United States. 
24808	----	None 
15035	----	Watch, Rockland, Maine Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original tables and maps. See 15035-h.htm or 15035-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/5/0/3/15035/15035-h/15035-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/5/0/3/15035/15035-h.zip) FISHING GROUNDS OF THE GULF OF MAINE [1] by WALTER H. RICH Agent, United States Bureau of Fisheries CONTENTS Introduction Acknowledgements Gulf of Maine Geographical and Historical Name Description Bay of Fundy Inner Grounds Outer Grounds Georges Area Offshore Banks Tables of Catch, 1927 Maps Index to grounds PREFACE TO THE 1994 EDITION Fishing Grounds of the Gulf of Maine by Walter H. Rich first appeared in the U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of Fisheries, Report of the United States Commissioner of Fisheries, for the fiscal year 1929. When Captain Robert McLellan of Boothbay Harbor died in 1981, the employees of the Maine Department of Marine Resources contributed money to be used to purchase books in his memory, for the Department's Fishermen's Library. Captain McLellan's family was asked what purchases they would recommend, and a top priority was to somehow reprint this work on the fishing grounds. This was a book that had been helpful to Captain McLellan in his career, and one which his son, Captain Richard McLellan, found still valid and useful. Contributions from the employees of the Department of Marine Resources paid to get this project started; film to reproduce the pages of the original text was donated by the Bigelow Laboratory for Ocean Sciences; printing costs were paid by the Department. It is the hope of the Department and its employees that the fishermen of today will benefit from the detailed information in this publication, and that they will remember Captain Robert McLellan, a man who knew how to use books to enhance his career as a fisherman, who knew how to share his knowledge with the scientific community, and who was widely respected by fishermen and scientists alike. INTRODUCTION Paralleling the northeastern coast line of North America lies a long chain of fishing banks--a series of plateaus and ridges rising from the ocean bed to make comparatively shallow soundings. From very early times these grounds have been known to and visited by the adventurers of the nations of western Europe--Northman, Breton, Basque, Portuguese, Spaniard, Frenchman, and Englishman. For centuries these fishing areas have played a large part in feeding the nations bordering upon the Western Ocean, and the development of their resources has been a great factor in the exploration of the New World. According to statistics collected by the Bureau of Fisheries.[2] these banks annually produce over 400,000,000 pounds of fishery products, which are landed in the United States; and, according to O. E. Sette,[3] annually about 1,000,000,000 pounds of cod are taken on these banks and landed in the United States, Canada, Newfoundland, France, and Portugal. Apparently the earliest known and certainly the most extensive of these is the Great Bank of Newfoundland, so named from time immemorial. From the Flemish Cap, in 44° 06' west longitude and 47° north latitude, marking the easternmost point of this great area, extends the Grand Bank westward and southwestward over about 600 miles of length. Thence, other grounds continue the chain, passing along through the Green Bank, St. Peters Bank, Western Bank (made up of several more or less connected grounds, such as Misaine Bank, Banquereau, The Gully, and Sable Island Bank); thence southwest through Emerald Bank, Sambro, Roseway, La Have, Seal Island Ground, Browns Bank, and Georges Bank with its southwestern extension of Nantucket Shoals. To all these is added the long shelving area extending from the coast out to the edge of the continental plateau and stretching from the South Shoal off Nantucket to New York, making in all, from the eastern part of the Grand Bank to New York Bay, a distance of about 2,000 miles, an almost continuous extent of most productive fishing ground. Within the bowl that is the Gulf of Maine, the outer margin of which is made by the shoaling of the water over the Seal Island Grounds, Browns Bank, and Georges Bank, this chain is further extended by another series of smaller grounds, as Grand Manan Bank, the German Bank, Jeffreys Bank, Cashes Bank, Platts Bank, Jeffreys Ledge, Fippenies Bank, Stellwagen or Middle Bank; and again, lying inside these, this fishing area is increased by a very large number of smaller grounds and fishing spots located within a very short distance of the mainland. All these banks are breeding places of the most valued of our food fishes--the cod, haddock, cusk, hake, pollock, and halibut--and each in its proper season furnishes fishing ground where are taken many other important species of migratory and pelagic food fishes as well as those named here. It is probable that no other fishing area equaling this in size or in productivity exists anywhere else in the world, and the figures of the total catch taken from it must show an enormous poundage and a most imposing sum representing the value of its fishery. With the most distant of these grounds we shall not deal here, leaving them for later consideration when noting certain of the fishery operations most characteristic of them. Thus, we may treat of those well-defined areas that lie within or are adjacent to the Gulf of Maine, such as the Bay of Fundy, the Inner Grounds (those close to the mainland), the Outer Grounds (those within the gulf), the Georges area, Seal Island Grounds, and Browns Bank, these forming the outer margin of the gulf; and also make mention of certain others of those nearer offshore banks that are most closely connected with the market fishery of the three principal fishing ports within the Gulf of Maine. [Footnote 1: First published as Appendix III to the Report of the US Commissioner of Fisheries for 1929. Bureau of Fisheries Doc# 1059. Submitted for publication Jan 18,1929.] [Footnote 2: U.S. Bureau of Fisheries Statistical Bulletin No. 703] [Footnote 3: U.S. Bureau of Fisheries Document No. 1034] ACKNOWLEDGMENTS As to the charts, it has been the writer's endeavor, by consulting a large number of fishing captains of long experience upon these grounds, to reduce the margin of inaccuracy as much as possible. In case of conflict of their opinion, the greatest agreement as to the facts has been accepted. The grounds as drawn are not meant to include any definite depth curve but are meant to show certain fishing areas. It is known of course, that most species frequent the shallows and the deep water at the various seasons: also, that certain other species are found on the deeper soundings during virtually all the year. Thus, if a given area appears as a larger ground than is shown upon other charts made for navigating purposes, often this is because we have included in it a cusk ground or a hake bottom lying adjacent to the shoal as charted. A large number of these grounds have been described before by G. Browne Goode and others, and where possible their work has been used as a basis for the present paper, with any further information or the noting of any changed condition of the grounds or difference in fishing methods employed upon them that was obtainable. Grateful acknowledgment is hereby made to the many captains who furnished information that, made the drawing of the charts possible and for the facts used in the descriptions of the fishing grounds. With the offshore banks, particularly with the Georges area and Browns Bank and to a certain extent, also, the western portion of the Inner Grounds, the writer has had a considerable personal acquaintance from which to draw. For the geographical and historical data the writer has quoted freely from various modern authors, who, in their turn, have drawn their facts from older records. Among those quoted are Holmes's American Annals; Parkman's Pioneers of France in the New World; Southgates History of Scarburo; Abbott and Elwell's History of Maine; Willis's History of Maine; Sabine's Report on the Principal Fisheries of the American Seas; A History of the Discovery of the East Coast of North America, by Dr. John G. Kohl, of Bremen, Germany; various chapters of Hakluyt's Voyages; the Journal of John Jocelyn, Gent.; and New England Trials of the famous Captain John Smith. GULF OF MAINE--GEOGRAPHICAL & HISTORICAL NAME What is apparently the earliest mention of this body of water appears on some old Icelandic charts that show, roughly, Cape Cod Bay in their southern areas and the Bay of Fundy in the northern. On these maps the cape itself was shown on the "Promontory of Vinland" and was given the name Kialarnes, or the Ship's Nose, from its resemblance in form to the high upturned prow of the old Norse ships. To the entire area of the gulf was given the title Vinland's Haf. Oviedo (Historia General de las Indias) sometimes names this gulf the Arcipelago de La Tramontana, or the Arcipelago Septentrional--the northern archipelago. He gives us to understand that he, himself, or Chaves, had this information from the Report and Survey of Gomez, who, in his search for a northwest passage to Asia in 1525, "discovered all these coasts lying between 41° and 41° 30' north". As a matter of fact, his careful explorations certainly covered all the territory between 40 and 45 degrees. The Spanish navigators who followed Gomez, in describing these coasts, when indicating this gulf, usually named it in honor of Gomez, the first of their nation to make a careful survey of its shores. Thus it became known as the Arcipelago de Estevan Gomez, and the mainland behind it as La Tierra de Gomez. It was so named on the map of Ribero in 1529 who thus acknowledged the source of his information. The Biscayans followed Gomez but later gave way to the French fishermen, who followed down the chain of banks extending southward from the Grand Bank and entered these waters by way of Cape Sable. These gave to it the name Gulf of Norumbega or Sea of Norumbega. The name Norumbega was for a time applied to the coast lands and to the inland country stretching away indefinitely westward and northwestward from the waters of the gulf. Later, with the coming of the English and the establishment of their colony in Massachusetts, the title Massachusetts Bay came into general use, although this name was afterwards restricted to the smaller section of the gulf at present so termed. The charter of Gorges (in April, 1639) designated the territory deeded to him as the Province or County of Maine,[4] whence, perhaps, the modern custom of referring to these waters as the Gulf of Maine may have arisen. This latest name seems especially appropriate, in view of the fact that the present State of Maine lying directly opposite its entrance capes, stretches along the inner borders of the gulf and with its deeply indented shore line occupies by far the greatest section of its coasts. Thus the title has finally come into general use and acceptance in modern times. Apparently it was first officially proposed and used by the Edinburgh Encyclopedia in 1832 [5] and later was adopted by the United States Coast Survey. [Footnote 4: "All that parte, purport and porcion of the Mayne Land of New England, we doe name, ordeyne and appoynt shall forever hereafter bee called and named The Province and Countie of Mayne."] [Footnote 5: Edinburgh Encyclopedia, Philadelphia edition, by Thomas Parker, Vol. XVIII, p. 263.] DESCRIPTION A very striking and peculiar body of water is this Gulf of Maine, markedly different in character from any other of the bays on the coast line of the eastern United States. Especially does it differ in the depth of its coastal waters, where in all the others, except the much smaller New York Bay, the shoal water is found extending far out from the land. In the Gulf of Maine, however, with the single exception of the vicinity of Ammens Rock on the eastern part of Cashes Bank, the entire central area presents navigable deep water having a mean depth of 100 fathoms, out of which rise the various underwater plateaus, whose depths average about 50 fathoms and which constitute the larger of the fishing grounds. In addition to these, many smaller banks and "fishing spots" are found nearer the land where they lie a along the 50-fathom curve. In general this curve lies at a distance of about 16 miles from the coast line, but in many instances it approaches much neared to the mainland. From this 50-fathom depth the soundings decrease very gradually to the 20 and 10 fathom marks. These latter soundings are often held far in toward the coast line, even carrying the deep water well into the river mouths, so that in deeply indented hays, in long inlets running far into land, in the river mouths, the deep water behind the rocky headlands, or in the lee of the thousands of surf-washed islands that line the coast, are found innumerable safe anchorages within easy run of the fishing grounds, where the fleets may take shelter from a sudden blow or await the arrival of a "fish day," when conditions may permit "making a set" under the hardships of winter fishing. If the marine features of this region are radically different from those of other coastal bodies of the eastern United States, so, too, the shore land, battered as it has been by sea and storm or worn by glacial action or Arctic currents, is no less remarkable. No other section of the eastern United States has a similar coast, so serrated, indented, and rugged, as has this shore line of the Gulf of Maine. Here the battering by the forces of nature has resulted in making thousands of safe harbors and havens for the navigator. All along shore are strewn hundreds of islands, a characteristic feature of the region and one noted with wonder by every early explorer. [6] These islands, if near the land, are beautiful and smiling; if in the open sea, of rugged grandeur; and mainland and island alike are inhabited by a numerous and hardy race of fisher folk. The tides within the Gulf of Maine have a very great rise and fall as compared with other waters in this region. At the south of Cape Cod tides are seldom over 4 feet in their range, but beginning at once at the north of Cape Cod with a rise of from 7 to 10 feet these increase quite constantly as they go eastward reaching about 28 feet in the neighborhood of Passamaquoddy Bay, to touch their highest point in the Bay of Fundy, where in many places is a rise and fall of 50 feet, and in some few places tides of 70 feet are reported. These Fundy tides probably are the greatest in the world. This great ebb and flow of water serves to aid shipbuilding and the launching of vessels as well as to carry the deep water far up into the inlets of the coast and into the mouths of the rivers, making these navigable for crafts of considerable size well into the land or up to the lowest falls of the streams. The climate here is one of extremes, and, lying as it does between 42° and 45° north latitude, the region may be said to be cold. Apparently the waters of the Gulf of Maine are not affected by any stray current from the Gulf Stream, which passes at a considerable distance from its mouth, thus doing little to temper the cold of this area either on land or at sea. Whether these waters are cooled further by any flow from the Labrador Current may be questioned. The winters are long, usually bringing heavy snowfalls; and strong gales are frequent during much of the fall and winter season. Perhaps the most dangerous of these "blows" come out of the mountain to the north and northwest of the gulf. Thus, in addition to the uncertainty of an opportunity to set gear when once upon the fishing grounds, the winter fishing here is not without its element of serious danger. While the ice crop in northern New England never fails, yet, perhaps because of the strong tidal currents of these waters, the principal harbors rarely are closed by ice, or, if closed, for but a few days only. While the summers are fairly mild and in certain parts of them even extremely hot, fogs are heavy and virtually continuous during the "dog days" (July 20 to September 1). when southerly and south-westerly breezes bring the warm moist air from the Gulf Stream into the cooler currents from the land. The fogs of Fundy are especially noted, even in these waters. During the summer seasons winds from the east and north bring the only clear weather experienced in the outer chain of fishing grounds. The main body of the gulf lies approximately between 42° and 45° north latitude. It is in form like a deep bowl whose outer rim is made by Georges Bank and Browns Bank, with a narrow, deep-water spillway between: its area is half encircled in the arms of the mainland, two conspicuous headlands reaching bodily seaward to mark its wide entrance at the opposite sides--Cape Cod, Mass. [7] on the western side, and Cape Sable, [8] Nova Scotia, on the eastern flank, distant from each other about 230 miles. These two capes range with each other about ENE. and WSW, thus matching alike the general trend of the coast line, of the island chains and of the offshore ledges within this area. From a base line connecting these outposts of the gulf the distance to the Maine coast opposite averages about 120 miles. From Cape Sable, at its eastern end, the coast trends for some distance to the northwest, whence a continuation of this course strikes the coast of Maine near West Quoddy Head at a distance of rather more than 110 miles. From West Quoddy head to Cape Elizabeth (in a direct line about 160 miles) the coast, in general rough, rocky, and with many lofty headlands is extremely irregular and deeply indented and follows a general course of WSW. Thence, the coast, lower and becoming more and more sandy, begins to trend more decidedly south-west until it reaches Boston, when it turns to the southeast, and to the east toward Cape Cod. But this is not the entire story. There remain outside of these stated limits the Bay of Fundy in the north, with a possible area of 3,000 square miles; and at the south Cape Cod Bay, whose area, with that of the waters west of a perpendicular drawn from the western end of the base line that strikes the land in the vicinity of Portsmouth, N. H. makes an additional section containing close to 1,500 square miles. Within the limits thus inclosed there are, roughly, 30,000 square miles of most productive ground most intensively fished through all the year. The Bay of Fundy is divided at its head by Cape Chignecto, making two branches to north and to east--Chignecto Bay and Minas Basin. With these smaller areas, lying as they do entirely within the territorial limits of Canada, American fishermen have little to do, although both are valuable and productive fishing grounds. [Footnote 6: William Strachey (1609), speaking particularly of Casco Bay, but the words equally applicable to almost any stretch of the Maine coast, says "A very great bay in which there lyeth soe many islands and soe thick and neere together, that can hardly be discerned the number, yet may any ship pause betwixt, the greatest part of them having seldom lesse water than eight or ten fathoms about them"--History of Travalle into Virginia Britannica.] [Footnote 7: This, the most striking cape of the Atlantic coast line, made a very prominent landmark for all the early ocean voyagers approaching it, and all were greatly impressed by it, whether they came from the south and fought their way through its shoals to eastward, or, coming from the north, found themselves caught in the deep pocket which it makes with Cape Cod Bay. The Spaniard Gomez (1525) gave it the name "Cabo de do Aricifes" cape of the reefs, referring to the dangerous shoals to the eastward. The Frenchmen Champlain and Du Monts named it "Cape Blanc", and the Dutch pilots, also noting its sandy cliffs, called it Witte Hoeck. The English mariners at first accepted his last name of White Cape, but the English Captain Anthony Gosnold, the first to make a direct passage to the waters of the Gulf of Maine from Europe, although at first he called it "Shoal Hope", soon changed this, because of the success of his fishing, to "Cape Cod", which title, commonplace though it be, has been the name to endure despite Prince Charles's attempt to change it to Cape James in honor of his father.] [Footnote 8: Cape Sable, at the southern end of Nova Scotia, has held this title from very old times. It is so indicated on a Portuguese map of the middle of the sixteenth century.] BAY OF FUNDY At the different seasons of the year the entire Bay of Fundy [9] is a fishing ground for sardines and large herring; and while these are of somewhat less importance in recent years than formerly, the principal fisheries of this region still center around the herring industries--the supplying of the canning factories with the small herring used as sardines and the taking of large herring for food and bait. The sardine industry of the State of Maine is largely concentrated in the district about and including Eastport and Lubec, where about 30 of the 59 factories and 16 of the 43 operating firms are located; so that, while the herring catches of recent years have fallen much short of their former proportions, they still show imposing figures. In the past much of the catch was taken in St. Andrews (Passamaquoddy) Bay and along the north shore of the Bay of Fundy to Lepreau Bay and Point. Lepreau. Of late years virtually no herring have been taken in these waters, in which the herring schools that arrive in October were accustomed to remain until spring. Of past fishing in this locality Capt. Sumner Stuart, of Lubec, says: "The herring left St. Andrews Bay and the North Shore about 1885. There is no summer netting there now. Those waters and Lepreau Bay were formerly very productive fishing grounds, it being not unusual to take 5,000 (count) big herrings (food fish) in a single haul. These were mainly spring and winter fishing grounds for large herring. The fish seem to have disappeared from all these grounds at about the same time.[10] "In past years (25 to 30 years ago) small herring were driven ashore in such quantities by their enemies--squid, silver hake and dogfish--that it sometimes became necessary for the authorities at St. John to use a snowplow to cover them where they lay decaying on the beach." From the statistics of the sardine and smoked-herring industry for the year 1924 (a year, be it noted, in which the sardine industry almost reached low--level mark for the pack) the waters of the Bay of Fundy furnished to American purchasers alone a total of herring for smoking and canning purposes amounting to 76,756,250 pounds valued to the fishermen at $957,665. This showing, poor as it is when compared with the figures of other years, by no means represents the herring fishery as an unimportant industry. There still remains to be accounted for the catch of herring of Grand Manan and the neighboring Canadian Provinces. A new source of profit to the fishermen in this industry has been developed in the purchase of herring scales by firms engaged in the manufacture of artificial pearls. For this purpose there were collected at Eastport and Lubec 700,000 pounds of herring scales, valued at $39,000; and a further amount was taken at Grand Manan of 140,000 pounds, valued at $7,000. With other entrants already in the field, this branch of the industry bids fair to grow to still greater importance. An estimate of the number of weirs in St. Andrews Bay, by Capt. Guilford Mitchell of Eastport, Me., is as follows: Canadian: 1921: 126 weirs 1923: 40 weirs Calais to Eastport: 1921: 35 weirs; 1923: 7 weirs Total number in operation, 1923, Canadian, about 300; American less than 130. North Shore and coast of Nova Scotia. Along the North Shore and from Yarmouth to Cape Sable, over a hard bottom, cod abound. The western shore of Nova Scotia is virtually all fishing ground for cod, haddock, hake, and cusk, but trawling is somewhat handicapped here by strong tides and rocky bottom, these combining to destroy much gear. Halibut are somewhat unusual on this western shore except about the mouth of the Bay of Fundy, but in summer these fish are occasionally found close inshore along the southwest coast, going somewhat beyond Digby to the northward. Haddocking is quite an important industry off Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, during the winter, the sets being of rather short duration and made at the slack of the tide at high water. This practice is made necessary by the heavy tidal currents on these grounds. The whole western coast of Nova Scotia is herring ground at some season of the year. "Drifting" for herring was formerly a considerable industry from Digby to Briers Island, but in these last few years it has not been important, although the year 1927 had a very good run of large food fish. This western coast is also an important fishing area for lobster men. Swordfishing in the Bay of Fundy was formerly profitable in September, although these fish were never so numerous here as upon the outer shore of Nova Scotia. St. Marys Bay is a summer herring ground. Good haddocking may be had here, also, from April 15 to October 15, with the period from the opening of the fishing in April up to July 15 the best of it. The mackerel fishery of the Bay of Fundy seems of comparatively small importance in these latter years. The local fishermen say that the fish can not stem the tides of these waters! The abundance of small herring should be an inducement sufficient to bring them here. Apparently these fish pass straight inshore northwesterly and reach the coast of Maine. A considerable amount of this species is taken by traps and by netting in St. Marys Bay and in the general vicinity of Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, as at Cranberry Head, Burns Point. Beaver River, Woods Harbor, and at various other points between Yarmouth and Cape Sable; but the inner waters of the Bay of Fundy show very slim catches when compared with the great amount taken on the outer shores of Nova Scotia in a normal mackerel season. It has been 32 years, it is said, since any number of mackerel have been "hooked" in St. Mary's Bay. Lurcher Shoal. This lies WSW, from Cape St, Mary 19 miles and WNW, from Cape Fourchu, distant 13 miles, it is an irregularly shaped piece of bottom, a rocky ground, about 5 miles long, north and south, by 3 miles wide, There are a number of "nubbles" arising to 5, 7, and 9 fathom depths--with a spot reported as having only 12 feet of water over it-- rising from the average depths over the rest of the shoal of from 13 to 15 fathoms. Over this generally rocky bottom are scattered patches of gravel and of shells, Depths about the shoal are from 30 to 50 fathoms over a bottom consisting mostly of stones, Tide rips are very heavy here, The seasons and species found here are as on Trinity: cod, haddock, pollock, and herring, it is a good lobster ground. Trinity Shoal. This shoal, 14 miles N. by W. from Cape Fourchu and 7½ miles SW. from Cape St Mary, with a rocky bottom upon it and over an indefinite area about it, is perhaps 3 miles long, NE and SW, by some 2 miles wide. Near the center is a rock, uncovered at low water, but over the greater part of the shoal there are depths of from 6 to 10 fathoms, with an average of from 12 to 16 fathoms over the sandy and stony ground about it. There is a strong tide rip here on the eastern and northeastern part known as Flood Tide Eddy, where is good fishing by hand line for pollock in September and October. Cod and haddock are taken here in small amounts by trawling. It is a herring ground also, and there is a lobster ground on the shoal and all about it. A cod ground extends offshore SW from Briers Island, beginning about 5 miles out from the island and extending to about 18 miles from the land. Its width is about 4 miles. Depths over this area are from 40 to 60 fathoms over a hard, shelly bottom. Cod are taken here in from 30 to 44 fathoms on the shoal ground running from 5 miles from Gull Rock and the South-West Ledges down to the Lurcher Shoal, a distance of about 22 miles. Between these points fishing is done mostly by hand-lining "at a drift." Cod are taken over the ledges in 5 fathoms of water and thence out to 60 fathoms about them from August to November. Pollock are taken by the same method. The best season is August. September, and October. This is a good lobster ground. Northwest Ledge. Lies about 3 3/4 miles northwesterly from Briers Island. This is a piece of rocky bottom about 2 miles long by something less than 1 mile wide with depths of from 2 to 10 fathoms over the ledge and soundings of 12 to 30 fathoms on the gravelly ground about it. Cod are found here in good number from September to November, inclusive, and are taken by hand-lining. Pollock also are taken here in summer, "drailing" by hand line. A narrow piece of rocky ground with somewhat greater depths connects this with Batsons Shoal, some 5 miles SW., the two thus making what is virtually one piece of ground. Depths on Batsons Shoal are rather less than on Northwest Ledge, but the methods of fishing, the species taken, and the seasons of their abundance are the same on both. The bottom all about these two grounds is rocky, with from 20 to 40 fathoms inside of them, but this deepens rapidly to 100 fathoms over rocks and coarse gravel outside of them to W. and NW. West-Northwest Rips and the Flat Ground. These lie WNW from Briers Island, extending offshore about 18 miles. On the eastern end of this area, two parallel shoals, about 1½ miles across and having 50-fathom depths between them, rise from the 100-fathom depths of water over the muddy ground around them to reach 15 fathoms on the landward end of the rips, deepening to 35 fathoms off the western part, where the two ridges come together at about 9 miles distance from Briers Island, to carry on to the westward over the Flat Ground, which extends to a distance of about 18 miles from the island. This Flat Ground, deepening gradually westward, averages to have 50 fathoms of water over a level, gravelly, and rocky bottom, to pitch down suddenly, as do all other slopes of this piece of ground, to the 100-fathom depth, which prevails on all sides of The Rips. Currents are very strong here, as elsewhere in these waters, so that trawls are set only on the slack of the tides, beginning about one hour before and remaining down until about one hour after these periods. Formerly this was a good ground for the taking of large herring. In these days The Rips furnish good cod and haddock fishing for the entire year, with hake abundant at all times on the mud about them. In fact; virtually all the ground from this point south to the Lurcher Shoal furnishes good fishing for these species. Boars Head Ground (also called Inner Ground). This parallels the coast about 4 miles N. by NW from the Head, at Petit Passage, into St. Marys Bay. This ground is about 4 miles long by 3 miles wide, having depths from 55 to 65 fathoms over a hard bottom of broken ground. Cod are most numerous here from April to July, inclusive; haddock from July to September, inclusive. Hake are found here in summer and early fall, principally on the muddy ground between this and the next fishing ground--the Outer Ground. Outer Ground. This is about 3 miles long by 2 miles wide, lies about 9 miles out from the main on the same bearing as the Inner Ground, and is visited by the same species, their periods of abundance upon this piece of bottom being the same as on the former ground. Virtually all taking of ground fish on these grounds is done by hand-lining, though the practice of trawl fishing has come more and more into use in recent years. Head and Horns. A shoal of 68 fathoms, about 2 miles long in a NNE and SSW direction by 1 mile wide, lies due north from the Boars Head of Long Island. Here is a hard bottom where good cod fishing is had during the spring and summer. Hand-lining from the bottom is carried on in summer for pollock. Haddock are few here, these appearing mostly in the summer. Depths about the ground average 80 fathoms over mud and stones. Sandy Cove Ground. Lies offshore NNE about 7 miles from West Sandy Cove. It has from 40 to 50 fathoms of water over a sandy bottom, lying parallel with the coast, about 4 miles long by 2 miles wide. Cod are abundant on this ground from May to July, hake coming somewhat later. As were most of the grounds of this vicinity, this ground was mainly a hand-line spot, but in recent years fishing here has been done mostly by the trawl method. Inner Sandy Cove Grounds. About 2 miles NNW. from West Sandy Cove. These are 3 miles long NNE. and SSW. by ½ mile wide. Both hand-lining and trawling methods of fishing are in use here, but the trawl is fast displacing the older gear. Depths are about 35 fathoms over a sandy bottom and 50 fathoms all about it. Species and their seasons of abundance are as on the Outer Sandy Cove Ground. Almost anywhere between Spencer Island and Cape Split there is good haddock fishing in June and July and cod fishing in May and June. Depths are from 16 to 40 fathoms: the bottom is generally stony, with considerable areas of gravel. The fishing is done principally by trawling, rather short "sets" being made. Off Cape Split are considerable whirlpools, which, with spring tides, are very dangerous. These sometimes run 9 knots an hour. Spencer Island. Almost anywhere between Spencer Island and Cape Split there is good haddock fishing in June and July and cod fishing in May and June. Depths are from 16 to 40 fathoms: the bottom is generally stony, with considerable areas of gravel. The fishing is done principally by trawling, rather short "sets" being made. Off Cape Split are considerable whirlpools, which, with spring tides, are very dangerous. These sometimes run 9 knots an hour. Isle au Haute. Lies far up within the bay 9 miles W. ½ S. from Cape Chignecto. All about this island are good summer haddock grounds with fair cod fishing. The latter are taken by trawling principally. Depths about the island are from 9 to 14 fathoms, deepening offshore to 35, the average depths being 22 to 27 fathoms. North of the island the bottom is generally sandy; elsewhere much of the ground is rocky or stony, with here and there a small patch of gravelly ground. To the S. of this ground, toward the Nova Scotia shore and to within 2 miles of the coast, the bottom is mainly muddy and of little account as a fishing ground. Tides are very heavy on all the inner grounds of the Bay of Fundy. Quaco Ledges. This ground lies about 10 miles SE, from Quaco Head and is out at low tide, the water about the ledges having depths from 14 to 30 fathoms over a bottom of stones and gravel, There is a heavy tide rip over these ledges when covered, These furnish good pollock fishing in the summer months, and cod fishing is carried on here by hand-lining from May to July. Salmon Netting Ground. A salmon-netting ground lies off about the Mouth Harbour and St, John Harbour, where these fish are netted, for the most part during June and July, when they are en route to the St, John River, where are their spawning grounds. Ingalls Shoal. This is the name given by some of the fishermen of the vicinity to a shoal lying about midway between Digby, Nova Scotia, and Point Lepreau, New Brunswick. This ground is about 9 miles long. NE. and SW., by about 5 miles wide. It lies about 22 miles NW. from Digby and 18 or 20 miles from Point Lepreau. The depths are from 35 fathoms on the shoalest area (where is a piece of ground some 4 miles long by 1 mile wide near the center of the bank, lying in a NE. and SW. direction), the bottom sloping away from this on all sides to 47 or even 55 fathoms in a few places. The bottom is mostly of sand and gravel or of small stones over much of the ground except for the shoal parts, where it is mainly rocky. This piece of fishing ground furnishes good cod fishing in June, July, and August, which formerly was carried on by hand-lining but now, as elsewhere in the bay, is more and more becoming a trawl fishery. Haddock and pollock also are taken here in fair amounts. Mussel Shoal Ground. This is a mussel-covered bottom lying 8 miles ESE. from the Eastern Wolf and 9 miles from Point Lepreau. It runs in an E. and W. direction and is about 2 miles long by 1 mile wide. Depths are from 40 to 50 fathoms. This is a mussel and scallop bed, where large cod are usually in abundance in winter. Pollock are plenty here in June, and hake are here and in the surrounding Hake Ground in all the summer months. The Wolves. These make a group of small islands lying N. ½ E. from Grand Manan, distant 8 or 10 miles. On the bottom of rocks and gravel, extending about a mile from the shores of these, in depths of from 18 to 34 fathoms, small boats and small vessels take a quantity of fish by trawl and hand line. These are mainly haddock and cod grounds in May and June and pollock grounds in June and July. It is also a winter lobster ground for Canadian fishermen. The Wolves Bank. This bank lies between The Wolves and Grand Manan, distant about 8 miles from East Quoddy Light, SE. ½ E. Marks: The Coxcomb showing to the eastward and just touching on the western edge of Green Island: bring the heads of Grand Manan to form The Armchair, and White Horse and Simpson Island into range. This is a small-boat ground of scarcely more than 6 acres, with depths of 18 to 30 fathoms on a bottom of rocks and mud. Species and seasons are as on The Wolves. Southeast from The Wolves from 2 to 20 miles lies a piece of muddy bottom where hake are usually abundant in summer. Campobello and vicinity. Fair quantities of haddock and cod are found between Grand Manan and the American shore in the North Channel (Grand Manan Channel) between West Quoddy Head and Grand Manan in depths of from 40 to 50 fathoms, over a bottom of rocks, mud, and sand in June, July, and August and up to September 15, while hake is the most abundant species present. No haddock or cod are on these grounds in winter. Halibut are taken in similar numbers in the North Channel in May, June, and July. Pollock are taken on the western side of Campobello Island, near the eastern side of Indian Island, and at the mouth of the channel between Campobello and Casco Bay Island. In all these places are strong tidal eddies. Some fish are taken by seining, but most are caught by hook and line in a small-boat fishery lasting from June 1 to September 1. All around Campobello and Deer Island and on the New Brunswick shore as far as St. John are located weirs, which furnish large quantities of herring to the factories at Eastport and Lubec. Passamaquoddy Bay. [11] Depths here are from 10 to 24 fathoms, even 30 fathoms where the St. Croix River passes out into the sea. In general the bottom is muddy, although there are rocky patches. In most years a school of cod "strikes" here in April, the early corners being mostly of small size, but the later arrivals may reach 30, 40, or even 60 pounds. Haddock sometimes make their appearance in the bay as early as May 1, remaining through August. Hake, also, are present from June to September, but this excellent fish is held of little account by local fishermen. A considerable flounder industry is developing in these waters, the fish being taken in specially devised traps as well as by the smaller otter trawls. Passamaquoddy Bay is also a spring netting ground for herring (food fish), and there are also many weirs in operation here each year whose catch goes to the factories of Eastport and Lubec for canning as sardines. Pollock are very abundant, and a great deal of fishing for them is carried on from June to October, both by seine and hand line. At times the pollock completely fill the many herring weirs, until, from their numbers, there is no market for them. Pollock are also abundant at the same season and are taken by the same methods in the St. Croix River, though perhaps they leave the river a month earlier in the fall. The Mud Hake Grounds. These grounds extend about N. and S. between Campobello and The Wolves and from about West Quoddy Head to Grand Manan. Their length is about 15 to 18 miles and their width 3½ miles. This is a summer ground much used by Canadian fishermen out of Campobello, Grand Manan, and Beaver Harbor. It is said to be the best hake grounds in this vicinity. Depths are from 45 to 60 fathoms, and fishing is done by trawls and hand lines. There is a stretch of muddy bottom from Point Lepreau and Beaver Harbor to Grand Manan, which furnishes good hake fishing. In general, the bottom on the western side of the Bay of Fundy is muddy. Off Beaver Harbor on a mud bottom with 30 fathoms of water cod are found the year around, although this fishery is mainly carried on in the winter in small craft from Beaver Harbor and Campobello, mostly by trawling, but some hand-lining is carried on. Beaver Harbor. There is a stretch of muddy bottom from Point Lepreau and Beaver Harbor to Grand Manan, which furnishes good hake fishing. In general, the bottom on the western side of the Bay of Fundy is muddy. Off Beaver Harbor on a mud bottom with 30 fathoms of water cod are found the year around, although this fishery is mainly carried on in the winter in small craft from Beaver Harbor and Campobello, mostly by trawling, but some hand-lining is carried on. Grand Manan Bank. This bank is at the entrance of the Bay of Fundy, SW. ½ S. from the southwest head of Grand Manan Island from which the northern part of the bank is 15 miles distant. From Mount Desert Rock, E. by S., it is 45 miles distant. The bank is 10 miles long and 5 miles wide, extending in a NE. and SW. direction. The bottom is mostly stones and gravel, the depths running from 24 to 45 fathoms. Soundings of 18 and 21 fathoms are found on the northeast part. Cod (especially abundant when the June school is on the ground) and pollock are the principal fish. Haddock are not usually abundant, although sometimes they are plentiful in the fall from late September to December; hake are fairly abundant on the mud between Grand Manan Bank and the Middle Ground (in The Gully). This is a good halibut bank, the fish being in 33 to 60 fathoms in June and July; the southwest soundings and the southeast soundings are most productive always. The best fishing season is from April to October, when the fish come to this bank to feed. In the spring the fish, other than halibut, are mostly on the southwest part, but later (July to October) the best fishing is had on the northern edge of the ground. The very best herring fishing for large herring (food fish) occurs on this bank in June and July. In general, this is a small-vessel ground fished by craft from Cutler, Eastport, Grand Manan, and, to a less extent, Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, with an occasional visit by craft from Portland and Rockland, chiefly trawlers of moderate size. Tides run NE. in flood and SW. on the ebb and are quite strong, the flood being the heaviest. Because of these powerful currents, fishing is somewhat difficult, it being necessary to make sets at the slack of the tides, getting the gear over and traveling with the finish of the current, to take it up and come back with the tide's return. Clarks Ground. This lies SSE. from White head 4½ miles (just inside the Bulkhead) and has depths from 6 to 14 fathoms over a rocky bottom. Here are very heavy rips on the ebb tide. This is a good summer ground for pollock, cod, and halibut, and it is a good herring-netting ground in the season. Southern Head Reef. The chain of reefs extending S from White Head Island is all good ground in summer for cod and for pollock, also, when the herring schools are on this ground. Currents are very heavy here. The ledges that make up this reef are more or less connected. Among these are Brazil Shoal, Tinker, Inner Diamond, Outer Diamond, Crawleys, Rans, Proprietor (Foul Ground), and the Old Proprietor. While virtually all this reef is pollock ground, Crawleys and Rans perhaps furnish the best fishing. Gravelly. Lying about 5 or 6 miles SE. by S. from White Head, this piece of bottom has about 25-fathom depths over a rocky bottom. This is a cod and pollock ground in their season. While an occasional halibut is taken here in summer. Heavy tide rips occur here also. The Soundings. Mentioned elsewhere as a herring ground, these lie outside the Bulkhead Rips 8 or 9 miles SE. from White Head. There are 30 or 40 fathoms of water here over a rock bottom, where pollock and cod are found in good number in July, August, and September, and a certain amount of halibut in summer. Bulkhead Rips, also called The Ripplings. This is a long rocky barrier rising sharply from the deep water about it to depths of from 12 to 20 fathoms. Here are found cod, haddock, hake, and pollock in abundance from June 1 to October 31. Apparently all are feeding on the small herring, so numerous in this vicinity at this season. Virtually no haddock are found on the grounds in the near neighborhood of Grand Manan in winter. The Ripplings were formerly one of the principal fishing grounds of the herring netters but of late years have been less productive. Cards Reef. The depths here are from 28 to 30 fathoms, over rocks, and the ground lies 3 miles S. by E. from the Old Proprietor and 9 miles from White Head. This is a cod and haddock ground from June to November. Gannet Rock. This lies east of the Murre Ledges. All about it is good ground in from 40 to 70 fathoms over a hard bottom. Cod are found here in good number from March to May, and halibut are taken here from March to May, inclusive. Southeast Ground and Gravel Bottom. These lie S. of Seal Island, forming an extensive piece of fairly level ground extensive piece of fairly level ground. The western part bears a little E. of S. and the eastern part about ESE. from the island. It is about 5 or 10 miles in diameter. While this is really but one piece of ground, the eastern part is called the Southeast Ground and the western part, from the nature of its bottom, the Gravel Bottom. The eastern portion is muddy and has 40 to 60 fathoms. The western has 35 to 40 fathoms. It is a good cod ground in winter and spring. Haddock are present from November to March, inclusive; hake in summer. Fishing is done mainly by trawling by sloops and vessels. Machias Seal Island. Nineteen miles E. by S. from Moosabec Light. This furnishes good ground in the water all about it, where depths are from 15 to 54 fathoms over a generally rocky and uneven bottom. In summer cod, haddock, and pollock are abundant here, the cod and haddock remaining all winter. The fishery is carried on mostly by the smaller vessels from Maine ports, principally those from Cutler, with an occasional visit by larger craft, usually from the Portland fleet. This ground is not much visited in winter. Fishing is done by trawling and hand-lining. Gannet Rock. This lies east of the Murre Ledges. All about it is good ground in from 40 to 70 fathoms over a hard bottom. Cod are found here in good number from March to May, and halibut are taken here from March to May, inclusive. [Table I--Fishing Grounds of the Bay of Fundy Area of the Gulf of Maine, showing the principal species taken upon them.] [Footnote 9: It (Fundy) was not clearly indicated by Verrazano (1524) nor in the report of Gomez (1525), who probably saw something of its entrance but fog or other unfavorable circumstances may have prevented him from observing it more accurately, but we find in the first old Spanish maps, in the latitude where it ought to be, names like these: Rio hondo or 'fondo' (a deep river) or Bahia Hondo (a deep bay), or Golfo (a gulf) once, also 'La Bahia de la ensenada', the bay of the deep inlet. Doctor Kohl, here quoted further says "On the maps of the seventeenth and early part of the eighteenth century, especially, it is written Bay of Funda. I believe that this name grew out from and is a revival of, the old Spanish name 'Bahia fondo'".] [Footnote 10: It is gratifying to announce that the winter of 1925-26 saw a large run of herring on this ground, where for a number of years past there has been virtually no fishing for this species.] [Footnote 11: "According to Porter C. Bliss, a thorough student of the Indian dialects, Acadie is a pure Micmac word meaning place. In Nova Scotia and Maine it is used by the Indians in composition with other words, as in Pestum-Acadie; and in Etchemin, Pascatum-Acadie, now Passamaquoddy, meaning 'the place of the pollocks'" (Doctor Kohl, _Dis. of Maine_, p. 234) "This derivation is doubtful. The Micmac word Quoddy, Kady, or Cadie means simply a place or region and is properly used in conjunction with some other noun; as, for example, Pestum-oquoddy (Passamaquoddy), the place of pollocks." (Dawson and Hand, in _Canadian Antiquarian and Numismatic Journal_) "La Cadie, or Arcadie: The word is said to be derived from the Indian Aquoddiaukie, or Aquoddie, supposed to mean the fish called a pollock. The Bay of Passamaquoddy, 'great pollock water,' if we may accept the same authority, derives its name from the same origin." (Potter, in _Historical Magazine_, I, 84)] INNER GROUNDS Under this heading are listed those grounds of the innermost chain of shoals, ledges, and "fishing spots", patches of rocky and gravelly bottom, the deeper water between them being over the muddy ground, which line the coast of the Gulf of Maine, making of it an almost continuous piece of fishing ground. In the Reports of the United States Bureau of Fisheries, on which all the statistics of the catch and value of the various species quoted in this report are based, these figures are grouped under the heading "Shore". The larger and more important of these grounds are outcroppings along the edge of the 50-fathom curve and lie at distances varying from 12 to 20 miles offshore; but there are many inside this line, and where the deep water of the Gulf of Maine extends so far inshore some are close in to the land. Thus, nearly all are within comparatively easy reach even for the smaller craft (where these all now have power) and so furnish productive fishing for a large fleet of gill netters and sloops (small craft of from 5 to 10 tons net) and to the myriad of "under-ton" boats (of less than 5 tons net), all these being enabled to run offshore, "make a set," and return the same day. With the uncertainties of the weather and the hazards of the winter fishing, very often the large vessels also follow this practice on those not too frequent "fish days" (when conditions permit fishing "outside ") that intervene between the storms; and with the scarcity of fish in the markets usual to the season and the consequent better price for the catch, with ordinary fishing luck they are well paid for doing so. The fish of these shore grounds, due perhaps to the greater abundance of food here, are thought to be distinctly superior in quality to those of the same species taken on the offshore banks. The cod and the haddock, especially, of the Gulf of Maine are particularly well conditioned fish and are noted for their excellence. The figures presented in Table 2 show only a fraction of the catch from the Inner Grounds, since they deal entirely with the fares of fishing vessels of 5 net tons and over. There are literally thousands of the so-called "licensed" or "under-tonned" boats, mainly gill-netters, that take millions of pounds from these waters annually, principally cod and haddock. On the Maine coast and across the line in New Brunswick there are more than 300 weirs which furnished to American smokers and canners during the year 1923 (whose figures have been chosen as representing an average season) 77,000,000 pounds of herring. On the coast of Massachusetts there are 50 or more weirs and fish traps, and from the Isle of Shoals to Pemaquid Point in Maine there are more than 50 floating traps in the various bays, on the points of offshore islands, or even in the open sea, and all these take a rich harvest from these waters. Then, too, there is the lobster fishery, more important in the Gulf of Maine than anywhere else in the United States. Of these various branches of the fisheries industries few statistics are available, yet we may say that the figures of the 1919 census showed that the "under-ton" boats mentioned landed 5,324,426 pounds of fish at the port of Boston, mostly of cod and haddock, and that the same type of craft in 1923 landed at Portland, Me., more than 3,000,000 pounds, principally of ground fish. We also know that every island, hamlet, village, town, and city along this nearly 4,000 'miles of coast line takes its toll from the sea. Lukes Rock. This rock lies S. by E. 3 miles from Moosabec Light, circular in shape, and about 1 mile in diameter. Depths are from 25 to 35 fathoms; the bottom is rocks, gravel, and mud. This is mainly a small-boat fishing ground, but there is some vessel fishing. Hake are taken here from June to September, inclusive; cod are present about the rocks the year around. Pollock are here in spring and fall, and haddock from December to February, inclusive. Fishing is by trawl and hand line. Newfound Ground. A small rocky spot about 1/4 mile across with an automatic buoy in the center for guidance into the Bay of Fundy. This is a small-boat ground having depths averaging 18 fathoms. It lies about 3 miles S. by W. from Moosabec Light. Species and seasons are as on Lukes Rock. Fishing is by trawl and hand line. Henrys Rock. Five miles SW. by S. from Moosabec Light. 1/4 mile in diameter, and 30 fathoms over a level bottom. Fishing is done by hand line and trawl. Cod are present the year around, a few haddock in the fall, hake in the summer but not in the fall, and pollock in spring and fall. Handspike Ground. Eight miles SW. by S. from Moosabec Light, nearly circular in form, and ¼ mile across. It has a bottom of rocks and depths of from 35 to 40 fathoms. Species and seasons are the same as on Lukes Rock, but mainly cod and pollock are taken here by trawl and hand line. Western Egg Rock. This is SW. from Moosabec Light, 8 miles distant, lying in a NE. and SW. direction, 3 miles long by 1 mile wide. The bottom is irregular, sharp, and rocky and has 25 to 30 fathoms. Fishing here is mostly by hand line, the ground being said to be too rough for trawling. This is a small-boat ground, and fishing is done mainly in the summer season. Cod and pollock are taken in the spring, summer, and fall; haddock are present in spring and fall; and cusk in 35 to 40 fathoms in spring and fall. This is not a hake ground. Old Egg Rock. This rock is WSW. from Moosabec Light, 6 miles distant, and running in a NE. and SW. direction. It is 3 miles long by 1 mile wide; has a rocky bottom and depths of 25 to 30 fathoms. This is also a small-boat ground, where fishing is done mainly by hand lines, but trawls also are employed. This ground is fished by the larger vessels in the fall months when the weather is too rough for fishing on the outside grounds. Cod, haddock, and a few pollock are taken in spring and fall; hake in fair number in the fall months. Middle Ridge This is W. by S. from Moosabec Light 3 miles. It lies in a NE. and SW. direction and is about 1 mile long by ½ mile wide. The depths are from 18 to 25 fathoms and the bottom is rough and rocky. It is a small-boat ground mostly and of little importance as a fishing ground. Cod are present the year around haddock in late spring and summer with a smaller number in the fall. Cusk are here the year around. A few pollock are here in the spring and fall. Broken Ground. This lies S by E from Moosabec light, 15 miles, whence the ground extends WSW to within 4 miles of Mount Desert Rock with an average width of 1 mile. The depths run from 15 to 100 fathoms. The shallows are sharp and rocky; the deeps, clay and gravel. There are places ½ mile long and others 3 miles long having depths of 70 fathoms. Several of these spots have special names: Crawley's Rocks, Puzzling Rock, The Ridges. The grounds mentioned here and those previously mentioned are known to the fishermen as the Moosabec Ridges. All these seem to be fishing spots cropping out upon the 50 fathom curve. On the Broken Ground the fishing season is from June 1 through September. Herring usually are abundant here from May to September. Cod are taken outside of the grounds in spring and fall. Pollock and small cod are taken on the shoals in summer and fall, and hake on the mud bottom in summer and fall and hake on the mud bottom in summer and fall. Tibbetts' Ledge. This lies east from Petit Manan 4 or 5 miles. The marks are Schoodic Island over Green Island of Petit Manan and the Ladle over Nash's Island. This ledge consists of two rocky shoals with depths of 3 to 3½ fathoms, about one acre apiece in extent and 1/4 mile apart lying NW and SE from each other. To the westward of these is broken ground nearly to Petit Manan. These are favorite small-boat grounds. The eastern ledge drops suddenly into the mud. In May large cod are caught over the muddy bottom just E of the ledge in 27 to 30 fathoms. Hake and haddock are taken in late spring (May) and fall. Fishing is by hand line and trawl. Ben's Ground. Lies ESE from Petit Manan 4 or 5 miles. The marks are Petit Manan Light to northward of Middle Hill of Mount Desert and Humpback Mountain on the west side of Trafton's Island or Pond Island Light to the eastward of Jordan's Delight. The ground is circular in shape, about 3/4 mile across, having 14 to 30 fathoms of water. The bottom is of rocks and mud. This ground is of little importance except as a small-boat ground in summer for cod and haddock. Hake are taken on the muddy bottom near it, It is a winter haddock ground in calm weather, these fish leaving it in the storms, the water being somewhat too shallow for them to "ride out a blow" in comfort, Such at least is the reason the fishermen give for the sudden cessation of their taking on shoal grounds after a period of heavy weather. Southeast Rock. This is a ledge, nearly uncovered at low tide on its shoalest spot, SSE from Petit Manan and 4½ miles distant, The shoal portions slope toward the NE a distance of 4 miles over an irregular bottom, Depths vary from 17 to 30 fathoms, The shoals are rocky, and the deeps are muddy, Cod and haddock are taken here in May and June, hake from July to September, It is a good lobster ground, also, Fishing here is by handline and trawl operated from vessels and small boats from near-by Maine ports. Broken Ridges aka Joe Roy Ground. This lies SSE from Petit Manan 7 miles to the center. It is 2 miles long NE and SW and one mile wide and from 27 to 33 fathoms, and the bottom of rocks and mud is very uneven, The shoalest portion is near the center. It is said to be a good cod and haddock ground, and is mainly a small boat ground, although some vessel fishing is carried on here in the spring. Black Ledges Ground. This ground lies between Jordan's Delight and the Halibut Ledges, or Black Ledges. It is a good haddock ground for a brief season in the spring and early summer when the fish are following the herring schools. In general it is a small-boat ground on which chiefly hand lines and trawls are operated, A few cod and cusk are taken here in the fall, and it is a good lobster ground. Bakers Island Ridge. This is a narrow ledge making out from Bakers Island E, by N. The eastern part bears S. by E. from Schoodic Island 3/4 mile distant The ridge is much broken, its average width being ½ mile, and it has depths of from 20 to 25 fathoms over a rocky and gravelly bottom. It is not much fished on the shoaler spots, but in 30 to 35 fathoms, on a muddy bottom, hake are abundant from July to October, inclusive. Cod and cusk are found here in the spring and fall; haddock from October to January, inclusive. Fishing here is done by small boats and small vessels mainly from Bass Harbor and Southwest Harbor by trawl and hand line. It is a very good lobster ground. Martins Ground; Hillards Reef. The center bears WSW. from Schoodic Point, distant 3 miles. It is a rocky patch of 4 or 5 acres and has depths of from 15 to 25 fathoms. It is not important except for its hand-lining for cod and haddock in the spring and fall months and for hake in the fall. It is a good lobster ground. Egg Rock Broken Ground. This is a rocky ridge making out S. by W. from Egg Rock Ledges and is about 2 miles long by 14 miles wide. It has an irregular bottom, with depths from 9 to 15 fathoms. This ridge, with Martins and Seaveys Grounds, divides the western or Bakers Island mud channel from Schoodic mud channel. Both these were formerly considered very good hake grounds but, while still good, are not as profitable for hake fishing as in past years. Haddock are taken on the ridge in the spring and in October, November, and December. A few cod are taken in the spring and fall. Fishing is by trawl and hand line. It is a good lobster ground. Inner Schoodic Ridge. This ridge bears SE. by S. from Bakers Island, the center distant 12 miles. This ground is nearly circular in form, about 4 miles in diameter, and has depths running from 18 to 60 fathoms. The bottom is of rocks, gravel, and mud; the shoaler portions are sharp and rocky. Vessels from Maine ports use this ground, fishing by hand line and trawl. Cod and haddock are abundant here in spring and fall, and hake fishing is good through the summer. It is a good lobster ground. Outer Schoodic Ridge. The northwest part of this ground bears SE. from Bakers Island, from which it is distant 22 miles. It lies 7 miles outside Inner Schoodic, has long been considered one of the best shore fishing grounds of the Maine coast, and still seems to deserve the reputation. The ridge is about 8 miles long in a NE. and SW. direction, lying nearly parallel with the adjacent coast. Its greatest breadth is 6 miles. The bottom is broken and irregular and has depths from 22 to 80 fathoms over rocks and gravel on the shoaler parts and mud on the deeps. Principally Maine vessels fish this ground, using hand line and trawl. Cod, pollock, haddock, cusk, and hake are present here from June to November, and a few large halibut, up to 300 pounds in weight, are taken here in June and July. Mount Desert Outer Ridge. This ridge lies SE. by E. from the Big Hill of Mount Desert Island. From Schoodic Island to the center of this ground is about 25 miles. Its length E. by N. and W. by S, is 2 miles; its breadth 3/4 mile. Depths are from 45 to 60 fathoms; the shoals are rocky, but on the sides sand and clay predominate. This is a comparatively small ground, but it furnishes good cod fishing in the spring (April to July) and fall. Cusk are taken in the spring and fall. Virtually no haddock are taken here. Hake are found in the deep water on the W. and SW. in spring, summer, and fall; trawl lines principally are used here. It is a good lobster ground but is too distant for present fishing methods. Flat Ground. This ground lies between Mount Desert and Swan Island, SW. from Long Island. In 50 fathoms, on a hard mud bottom, there is good fishing for hake in the summer. Fishing is by hand line and trawl. Enoch's Shoal. This shoal lies ENE. 3 miles from Great Duck Island. This is a small hummock on the outer parts of a ridge extending out to it from Great Duck island. It has a sharp, rocky bottom with depths of about 18 fathoms. Hand lining and trawling are the methods employed to take a few cod in early spring; haddock are here in small numbers in the summer as well as a small quantity of hake. It is a good lobster ground. Banks Ground. The center bears SE. by S. from Great Duck Island, distant about 5 miles. It is about 1½ miles long in a NE. and SW. direction by 1/4 mile wide and has a mud bottom with depths from 35 to 50 fathoms. It is mainly a small-boat ground, fished mostly in the summer, when hake are fairly abundant and there are a few haddock and cod. It is a lobster ground, also. Shell Ground. This lies SE. from Long island Head, from which the center of the ground is distant 6 miles. It is 2 miles long, in a NE. and SW. direction and about ½ mile wide. In the middle portion is a shoal of 25 fathoms, its bottom sharp rocks. On all sides of this shoal the bottom is quite irregular, consisting of pebbles and mud. The greatest depth, near the edge of the bank, is 50 fathoms. Cod and haddock, together with a few cusk and pollock, are taken here in June, July, and August and even into the late fall, but it is mainly a hake fishing ground for small boats and an occasional larger craft, all using hand line and trawl. It is a good lobster ground. Abner Ground. This ground is SSE. from Gott's Island, distant 8 miles. It extends 1½ miles in a NE. and SW. direction and is about 1/4 mile wide. The bottom is broken, rocks and mud, with depths of from 25 to 50 fathoms. This is principally a haddock ground, the best season being in July and August, and is resorted to mostly by small craft. Grumpy. Extends from SE. 4½ miles from Eastern Ear of Isle au Haute to SE. 1/4 E. from the western head of Isle au Haute, distant 7 miles. This ground is 2½ miles long by 3/4 mile wide and has a small shoal of 14 fathoms on the northeast part. Over the rest of the ground the average depths run from 35 to 40 fathoms over a gravelly bottom. Though not of great importance of late years, this was formerly considered one of the best inshore grounds for cod for the entire year and for haddock in winter. Hake usually are abundant just off the southeast edge in summer. This bank is mostly fished by craft from ports of eastern Maine--small boats as a rule--and the principal method is by trawling, although there is considerable hand-lining for cod in 25 fathoms in June and July. Marks: Big Camden Mountain over the Eastern Ear of Isle au Haute; Fog Island in Jericho Bay, touching on the eastern part of Big Spoon Island; Brimstone between Isle au Haute and the Western Ear. Hatchell Ground. This ground lies SE. by E 3/4 E. 9½ miles from the western head of Isle au Haute. Marks are eastern Mount Desert Hill in the Middle Saddle of Long island, and Little Spoon Island in the great or center Saddle of Isle au Haute. Blue Hill Ground. This ground lies approximately E: by S. ¾ S from the western head of Isle au Haute, distant 7 miles. The bottom consists of gravel and pebbles. Marks: Brimstone Island out by the western head of Isle au Haute and Blue Hill on the west side of Marshall Island. These marks lead to a depth of 25 fathoms on the northeast part of the ground, deepening southwest to 40 fathoms in 1 mile from the shoaler part, which is about ½ mile wide, part of the ground, deepening southwest to 40 fathoms in 1 mile from the shoaler part, which is about ½ mile wide. This is a good ground for cod in the spring and fall but is best for haddock during the entire winter. Hand lines and trawl are used. Inner Horse Reef. This reef lies SE. ¾ E 1½ miles from the eastern ear of isle au Haute. There is a shoal here of 25 fathoms about 1/8 mile in diameter. From this the water gradually deepens to NE. for ½ mile, where it drops off into the mud. Depths on this northeast portion are about 35 fathoms. The bottom is of pebbles and gravel. In spring and fall this is a good cod ground. Hake are found close to the edge in summer. Fishing is by small craft, generally, using trawl and handline. It is a good lobster ground. Marks: Bring Blue Hill Mountain in the saddle of White Horse; Brimstone showing between Western Ear and Isle au Haute. Outer Horse Reef. This is a short distance SW. from the Inner Reef, with only a narrow gully between. The small shoal falls off rapidly on all sides. It has a depths of 30 fathoms. Over a space 1/4 mile in diameter the bottom is gravelly. Seasons and species are as on Inner Horse Reef. Hake Ground. North of Monhegan island lies a patch called the Hake Ground or Mud Channel, the first name because of the abundance of hake taken here during June, July, and August. It extends from just outside White Head to abreast of Monhegan Island on the northern side. The depths vary from 20 to 45 fathoms, and the ground is still considered one of the best hake grounds alongshore. It is fished by small boats and vessels when the dogfish are on the outer grounds. This is a good haddock ground in December and January, as well as a good lobster ground. Southwest Ground. This lies 2 miles SW. from the western head of Isle au Haute. It is circular in form, ½ mile in diameter and has a gravelly bottom with depths varying from 35 to 40 fathoms. It is a cod ground from April to June and from September to November, inclusive. A few pollock and haddock are taken with the cod. Hake are abundant in summer close to Isle au Haute. Handlines and trawls are used in the fishing. It is also a good lobster ground. Barley Hill Ground. This ground lies NNE. from Seal Island and SSW from the western head of Isle au Haute directly in line between the two, about 3½ miles distant from each point. It is circular in form, has 28 to 30 fathoms of water, and the bottom is mixed mud and rocks. This is a ground much resorted to by sloops and larger vessels, and the fishing is by hand line and trawls. It is a good cod ground in spring and fall and a hake ground on the mud and rocks in summer. Occasionally a few halibut are taken here during June and July. It is also a lobster ground. Gilkey Ground. This bears S. from the western head of Isle au Haute. 4 miles distant. It extends ENE. and WSW about 1½ miles long by 1/3 mile wide. The bottom is rocky on the shoals where depths are about 23 fathoms sloping to 35 fathoms on the southwest part., where the bottom is gravelly and comparatively smooth. This is a cod ground in spring and fall, a haddock ground in winter, and hake are taken on the edges in summer. Vessels fishing here are mostly from Maine ports. It is also a good lobster ground. Rock Cod Ledge. This ledge lies NE. of Seal Island 1 mile. It has a depth of 3½ fathoms on the shoalest part, deepening gradually on all sides for a considerable distance. The bottom is of sharp rocks and is broken in places. Rock cod area present in fair numbers in spring and fall, and this is a mackerel and herring ground in their seasons. Haddock are abundant in the fall close in to the rocks of Seal Island in 6 to 15 fathoms. This is not a hake ground, although there are a few cusk to be had here on the deeper parts and an occasional small halibut is taken in the kelp on the shoal in June and July. It is a good lobster ground. Gravel Bottom and Southeast Ground. These lie S. of Seal Island. forming an extensive piece of fairly level ground extensive piece of fairly level ground. The western that bears a little E. of S. and the eastern part about ESE. from the island. It is about 5 or 10 miles in diameter. While this is really but one piece of ground, the eastern part is called the Southeast Ground and the western part, from the nature of its bottom. The Gravel Bottom. The eastern portion is muddy and has 40 to 60 fathoms. The western has 35 to 40 fathoms. It is a good cod ground in winter and spring. Haddock are present from November to March, inclusive; hake in summer. Fishing is done mainly by trawling by sloops and vessels. Laisdells Ground. This is a small, rocky spot outside the Brandy Ledges. It is about 1/4 acre in extent and has a sharp rocky bottom with 20 fathoms of water over it. It is the best cod and haddock ground in Isle au Haute Bay. This is chiefly a small boat ground and is also a lobster ground. Saddleback Reef. This reef lies S. from Saddle-back Ledge, 3/4 mile distant. It is about 2/3 mile long N and S by 1/4 mile wide. Depths are from 15 to 35 fathoms over a broken and rocky bottom. Cod are taken here by hand line in May and June; haddock and cod by trawling in fall and winter (November to January 1). It is a good lobster ground and chiefly a small-boat ground. Otter Island Reef; Snipper Shin; Western Reef. These are names applied to different sections of an irregular, broken piece of rocky ground about halfway between Vinalhaven and Seal Island. Otter Island Reef is the eastern section, lying 4 miles W. by S. by 1/4 S. from the western head of Isle au Haute. Depths here are from 10 to 25 fathoms over a rocky bottom. The trawl, formerly not much used here, is now in general use. This is a cod and haddock ground at seasons when these fish are in shoal water, but it is best for cod in winter and spring and for haddock in the fall, from November 1 to January 1. Old Ripper. This lies S. from the Western Ground (Western Reef) and 10 miles WSW. from Criehaven or Ragged Island. Apparently this is a part of the Western Ground. On the deep-water mud bottom between these (Ripper and Western Reef) is good hake fishing in summer, and cusk are abundant from May to the time when the dogfish strike the ground, usually about July 5 to 10. Crie Ridges. These lie 4 miles NW. from Matinicus Rock, 4 miles WSW. from Criehaven or Ragged Island, and run SE. from Western Ground toward Matinicus, distant 4½ to 5 miles. Cod, pollock, and cusk are here in the spring, and haddock are abundant in the fall. Bald Ridges. These begin just outside Wooden Ball Island and run off in a nearly direct line for Matinicus Rock. They are each from 1/4 to ½ mile wide, are quite close together, the distances between them being not over ½ mile, and they are almost parallel with each other. Soundings show from 15 to 30 fathoms upon them, with a broken, rocky bottom. The shoalest water is about 1 mile from Wooden Ball Island, the depth increasing toward the southern end. This is a good cod ground at all times when the fish are on the coast, the spring school being the largest. The shoal is a favorite place for rock cod. Haddock are present from January 1 to February 15. Hake are abundant in their season on the mud bottom inside the Bald Ridges 1½ miles WSW, in 50 fathoms. It is a good lobster ground. Henry Marshalls Ground. This ground lies S. by W. from Matinicus Rock about 3 miles; its area is about 2 acres. The shoaler portion has a depth of 35 fathoms and a gravelly bottom; on the edge the depth is 45 fathoms and the bottom is of rocks and mud. Cod are taken here in the spring, haddock in January and February, and hake in the summer months. It is a good lobster ground. The Bounties (The Bowdies). This ground bears SE. by S ½ S distant 6 miles from Wooden Ball Island. It is nearly circular in form, about 4 miles across, and has depths from 40 to 60 fathoms. The bottom, of gravel and rocks, is somewhat broken. It is a good cod and cusk ground in spring and fall and a haddock ground in winter and is fished by vessels and sloops, mainly by trawling but with a certain amount of hand lining, in May and June. A summer hake ground extends from 3 miles ESE. of Seal Island to 4 miles SSE of the Wooden Ball, thus it is about 7½ miles long by some 2½ miles wide. The depths here are from 35 to 60 fathoms. Summer Hake Ground. A summer hake ground extends from 8 miles SE. of the eastern Ear of Isle au Haute to 3 miles SE. of Long Island in 35 to 60 fathoms on a bottom of hard mud. This piece of ground is about 15 miles long by 4 miles wide. Minerva Hub. This bears SSE. from Matinicus Rock, distant 6 miles. This is a small, gravelly spot about 1/4 mile in diameter and with a depth of 35 fathoms, abounding with cod in spring and fall. It is a summer ground for hake and cusk. Hand lines and trawls are used. Haddock Nubble. This lies SE. ½ S. from Matinicus Rock, distant 16 miles, and has an average depth of 50 fathoms over a small, circular patch some 2,000 feet across. The bottom is of gravel and rocks, and "lemons" and marine growths of like nature are abundant. This is a June cod ground, usually furnishing good haddocking, also, from November to January, inclusive. Skate Bank. This bank bears SSE. from Matinicus Rock, distant 12 miles. It is about 2 miles in diameter and nearly circular in form. Depths are from 35 to 60 fathoms. The bottom is gravelly but quite uneven. The best season on this ground for cod and cusk is from April to July. Hake abound in July and August. Hand lines and trawls are used here, fished by sloops and vessels. Matinicus Sou'Sou'West Grounds. These grounds bear SSW. from Matinicus Rock, from which the inner edge of the grounds is distant 6 miles. They extend about 9 miles N. and S. and have about the same width, being nearly triangular in shape, broadest at the northern end. On the northern part there is a shoal of about 30 fathoms 2 miles long E. and W. and 1 mile wide. Sharp rocks cover this, but the ground is not broken and drops off gradually to depths of 50 to 55 fathoms or even to 60 fathoms on the southern part. Outside of the shoal the bottom is pebbly and gravelly. This is one of the best cod and haddock grounds in the vicinity. Cod are sometimes abundant here all winter; haddock are found here from December 1 to February and are more abundant than the cod. Hake are plentiful on this ground and in 60 fathoms on the mud off the edge SE. of this ground during the summer season. Marks: The high pinnacle on the eastern end of Wooden Ball, showing just out by Matinicus Rock, SW. by S. from the rock, 5 miles. Inner Breaker. This lies 2 miles W. of the southwest point of Matinicus Island. It is a rocky shoal about 1 acre in extent and having 7 fathoms of water. From this shoal the bottom slopes gradually to depths of 25 to 30 fathoms, and this slope furnishes good fishing for cod in May and June, while haddock are here in December and January. A good school of hake is found on the edge of the ground in summer. The bottom is rocky and broken and, while sharp, is fished with trawls as well as hand lines. It is mostly a small-boat ground. Towhead Grounds. These grounds hear N. by E. ½ E. from Matinicus Island, from which they are distant 2½ miles. Depths are from 12 to 30 fathoms. It is somewhat irregular in shape and has a very rocky, broken bottom. The ground is from 2½ to 3 miles long and ½ to 1½ miles wide. It extends E. by S. and W. by N. and is considered one of the best inside shoal grounds for cod and haddock in the bay. Hand lines and trawls are used here now, although in former times this and the preceding grounds were considered too sharp for the use of trawls. Both these are good lobster grounds and chiefly small-boat grounds. Green Island Ridge (or Western Ridge) and the Pigeon Ground. The northern portion of this ridge lies 6½ miles NW. by W. from Matinicus Rock, from which the ground extends about 7 miles in a SSW. direction. The greatest width is not over 1 mile. Depths are from 15 to 30 fathoms. The bottom is broken and rocky. It is a good cod ground in the spring and fall. Haddock are found here in June, November, and December. In summer this is a good hake ground. Halibut are found on the shoals (10 fathoms) and about the northern part of Western Green Island, on the sandy bottom during June and July. Matinic Bank. This is an extension of the shore soundings that make out to the southward and eastward of Matinic a distance of 2 or 3 miles, with depths (outside of 1½ miles) of 23 to 30 fathoms. The bottom is level, consisting of rocks, pebbles, and gravel, and the ground abounds in cod in the season from March to June. Just off the edge, in depths of from 40 to 50 fathoms, the bottom is soft mud, on which hake abound in summer. Very few haddock are taken on this bank. Halibut are sometimes abundant here in 10 to 15 fathoms during May and June. Matinic Ooze. This is a flat bottom, composed of ooze and shells, that makes off to the eastward of the Haddock Ledge and Shoal and bears about S. from Matinic. The Haddock Shoal and the Ooze are really parts of one ground, though they have been given different names by the fishermen. The Haddock Shoal (3 miles S. by B. from the Seal Ledge: breaks in rough weather) is thought to be poor ground and is but little fished, although it is a fall haddock ground. The Ooze falls off gradually, reaching a depth of 50 fathoms on the outer part. It is considered fair fishing ground for cod and haddock in the spring and for cod and hake in the summer and fall. Freemans Ground. This ground lies 6½ miles E. from Monhegan Island between Ornes Ground and Matinicus Western Ground. It is 3 miles long and 1 mile wide and runs in a NE. and SW. direction. There is a shoal on the southwest part having 20 fathoms over a sharp rocky bottom. The rest of the ground has depths of 25 to 40 fathoms, the bottom of rocks, gravel, and shells, in some places uneven and in others smooth. This is a good spring ground for cod and for cod, hake, and pollock in the fall. Haddock are not numerous on this ground, though a few are usually to be found here in December. Herring are here May to August. Middle Shoal, Pollock Rip, Allens Shoal, and Deckers Shoal. These are small rocky patches lying to eastward of Monhegan Island and northerly from the Outer Shoal. They have depths from 6 to 30 fathoms over a sharp, rocky, and broken bottom. Middle Shoal is 2 miles from the island. Pollock Rip 1½ miles. Allens Shoal 1 1/4 miles, having 5½ fathoms and breaking in rough weather; and Deckers Shoal 1 mile. Depths vary here from 6 to 30 fathoms over a bottom generally sharp and rocky. The principal fishing here is hand-lining for cod in the spring during the herring season and in the fall in "squid time". A few pollock are taken here also. A number of small patches lie westerly from the Outer Shoal and close to Monhegan Island. These are the Cusk Ground with a depth of 20 to 35 fathoms; Gull Rock Ledge (breaks in rough weather) 3½ fathoms; Lobster Point Ground, 15 to 30 fathoms; Inner Spring Ground, 15 to 30 fathoms; Outer Spring Ground 25 to 30 fathoms. All these are fished for cod nearly all the year, for haddock in December and January, and for pollock in early spring and late fall. The Spring Grounds are near the harbor and so are fished before the others. All are lobster grounds. Small boats and vessels operate here. Black Island Ground. This ground is ENE. 2 miles from Monhegan. 1 mile in diameter, has a shoal of 10 fathoms, and sharp rocky bottom in the center. The ground slopes gradually from this to the edges, where are 40 fathoms. Beyond the depths of 28 to 30 fathoms the bottom is gravelly and smoother. This is a cod ground in spring, and cod and hake are taken here on the edges in summer and fall. Pollock are found about the shoal in summer. It is a good lobster ground. Franklin Ground. This ground is NE. by N. midway between Monhegan and Burnt Island, distant 4 miles. Cod and haddock are found here from April to June and pollock in summer. In summer and fall hake are taken by night fishing with hand line about the rocks in 20 to 30 fathoms on the broken ground. Fishing here is by hand-lining in summer and trawling in fall and winter. It is a lobster ground. White Head Ground. Depths on the shoal (the White Hub: Bring Budd cottage out by White Head, Black Head. and Allens Island touching) are 7 fathoms, thence to 20 fathoms on the edges about it. This ground extends NE. and SW., 2 miles long by 1/4 mile wide. The bottom is chiefly broken, of rocks, and with spots of coarse gravel and sand. Fish and their seasons are as on Franklin Ground. Marks: Bring Black Head, White Head, and Gull Head in range on the east side of Monhegan Island. Burnt Island, Inner Ridge aka Andrews Shoal. This is NE. by E. from Monhegan, distant 5 miles. It is a broken ground with depths from 15 to 20 fathoms, the bottom rocky and gravelly, with occasional mud holes. It extends NE. about 4 miles, nearly to Roaring Bull Ledge, and is ½ mile wide. There are strong tidal currents here, the flood being NE., the ebb SW. It is a cod ground from April to June, and cod and hake are taken from September to November; haddock in December. It is a good lobster ground. Burnt Island, Outer Ridge. This ground is parallel with the Inner Ridge and at a distance of 3/4 mile. Depths are from 5 to 25 fathoms, the bottom being rather less broken than on the Inner Ridge. Fishing seasons and species are as on Inner Ridge. Hand-lining is done mostly because of strong tides. It is a good lobster ground. Ornes Ground. This ground bears E., distant 4½ miles from Monhegan Light to the center. It is 1 mile long. E. and W. and 1 mile wide. Depths are from 30 to 45 fathoms. On the shoal parts the bottom is of sharp rocks and broken. On other parts it is generally pebbly and quite level. The shoal lies toward the eastern part of the ground and is a good spring cod ground; also a pollock ground in the spring and fall. It is a night fishing ground for hake, by hand lining close to the rocks during September and October. Herring are abundant here usually in May and June. It is a good lobster ground. Fishing is done by hand lines and trawls. Outer Shoal. This ground is ESE from Monhegan Light about 2½ miles. It is circular in form and about 1½ miles across. Depths are from 10 to 38 fathoms. There is a small rocky shoal in the center of the ground; the remainder of this piece has a gravelly bottom. This is a cod ground from spring to fall and a good pollock ground in September. A few haddock are taken here about the edges in December. Hake are abundant on the edges on the mud in 45 to 50 fathoms during the spring, summer and fall. Monhegan Inner Sou'Southeast Ground. This ground is SSE from Monhegan Light. It is circular in form and 1/14 miles across. The center is 5 miles fro the light. Depths are from 30 to 50 fathoms, the shoalest water being on the eastern part, the shoal has a broken and rocky bottom, but the rest of the ground is gravelly and muddy. The principal fishes taken are cod and cusk in the spring, summer and fall. Very few haddock are found here. Pollock are numerous in the fall, when they are taken by hand lining. Hake are abundant in September and October. June is the best fishing month, except when the squid strike the ground in the fall. This is mainly a small boat ground, fished by trawls, hand lines and an increasing number of gill nets. Monhegan Outer Sou'Southeast. Three miles outside the Inner Ground on the same bearing and similar in size and form. The bottom is rocky and muddy or of hard clay. The depths are from 35 to 55 fathoms. The same species are found here as on Inner Sou'Southeast and at the same seasons, and in addition, hand lining is done for cod in August and September. Blue Ground. This is SE 1½ E from Monhegan, distant 14 miles; E 1½ S from Portland Lightship 45 miles, and SW from Matinicus Rock 9 miles to southern Edge. Fishermen usually take the Monhegan bearing [12] for their starting point. This ground has a small shoal in the center, having 28 to 30 fathoms, from which the bottom slopes off to 45 and 60 fathoms on the edges. The shoal is broken and rocky, bu the deep water is over a level gravelly bottom. This ground is circular in form and about 2 miles across. It is both a small-boat and vessel ground, larger craft operating here mainly in the fall. Hake are found here in large numbers in summer and fall; cusk are taken in the deep water the year around but are most abundant in January. Cod are here the year around, the largest school occurring in February and March. Monhegan Southeast Ground. This ground lies SE from Monhegan Island, the center distant 12 miles. This is nearly circular, 3 miles in diameter. The bottom is so broken that depths may vary much within a short distance, but depths are from 35 to 75 fathoms over a bottom of rocks, gravel and mud. Fishing is by trawl and handline. It is good cod ground from April to July; haddock are taken in December and hake in summer on the edges in 50 to 60 fathoms. Hill Ground. This ground is SSW 9 miles from Matinic: between 3 and 4 miles long NE and SW and some 2 miles wide. The shoalest part has 35 fathoms and a rocky bottom. From this it slopes gradually to a depth of 50 fathoms over a bottom of mixed gravel, rocks and mud. Its best fishing is for hake, using both hand lines and trawls. Monhegan Inner Sou'Sou'west Ground. this ground takes its name from its bearing, lying SSW from Monhegan light, distant 5 miles. Its width is 1½ miles, its length NNE and SSW is 1 1/4 miles. It has a sharp, broken, rocky bottom, including a small shoal of 20 fathoms and some hummocks of rather greater depths. The deepest water is in the neighborhood of 50 fathoms. Fishing here is from May until July for codfish and pollock: hake and cusk are in the deep water in the spring months and halibut on the shoal in July and September. This ground is principally fished by trawls, but there is considerable hand lining in September and October. Gillnetting, too, has become more common of later years. Harris Ground. From 15 miles S ½ W from Monhegan island to 6 miles SSW. It has 40 to 50 fathoms over a bottom of sharp rocks and mud--a "blistery" bottom. Cod, cusk and hake are found here the year around. Halibut are here in June, July and August. Fishing is by trawling and hand lining, with very little gillnetting. The 45 Fathom Bunch. Sixteen miles S 1½ E from Monhegan. This is a great ground for June hand lining for cod. Thence 1 mile ENE to 70 fathom depth, which leads to a piece of ground leading to the Inner Fall, on which, on a hard bottom and mud where there is an abundance of "lemons" and similar forms, are found cod cusk and pollock in June. The ground is about 6 miles long, WSW and ENE by 1 mile wide. Another Forty Five Fathom Bunch lies 22 miles S ½ E from Monhegan. This ground is 4 miles long by 1 mile wide, running ENE and WSW, and has depths from 45 to 75 fathoms. This is likewise a great cod hand lining ground in June. Another of the same name lies 26 miles S 1½ E from Monhegan. It has a 49 fathom shoal and the species and seasons are much the same as on the other grounds of the name. This is probably the ground known to other vessel captains as Toothaker Ridge. Monhegan Outer Sou'Sou'West. This ground is SSW from Monhegan Light. the center distant 9 miles It is 4 miles long, NNE and SSW and about 2 miles wide, and has 45 fathoms on the shoalest part but the depths generally are from 60 to 80 fathoms. The bottom generally is gravelly and quite level. The ground is fished by both boats and vessels using hand lines and trawls. This is a cod ground in spring and fall. In summer hake are abundant here, and halibut are quite plentiful in July on the shoalest part. Old Jeffrey. An exceedingly good ground. It is said that better fishing may be had here than on any other ground of its size in the vicinity. This piece of bottom bears SE from Pumpkin Rock, from which the center is distant about 6 miles. It is about 3 miles long NE and SW, and about 1 mile wide. The bottom is broken, of gravel and mud, with depths from 25 to 50 fathoms. Fishing here is by trawling and land-lining. In spring cod are most abundant, in late summer and fall hake, cod, and pollock are taken. Halibut are found on the shoaler parts in July. Little Jeffrey. A small piece of broken, rocky bottom, roughly circular in form. Depths average 35 fathoms. Species and seasons are as on Old Jeffrey, from which it lies about 4 miles NE by E. Monhegan Western Ground. This is a somewhat extensive ground lying about 4½ miles WSW from Monhegan Island. The depths range from 22 to 45 fathoms. Its length is 4 or 5 miles, and its greatest breadth is 2 miles on the eastern portion, gradually narrowing westward to about 1 mile. The ground runs SE and NW. Pollock are found here in September and October. It is fished by hand lines, trawls and gill nets. Marks: Bring houses on New Harbor over the white cliff on Pemaquid 6 miles from New Harbor. Broken Ground. The center bears nearly S. from Pumpkin Island (at entrance to Boothbay Harbor), distant 7 miles. It extends 4 miles in an ENE. and WSW direction and has an average width of 1¾ miles. Depths are from 35 to 50 fathoms on a bottom of rocks and mud. Cod are taken here the year around; hake from June to September. Cusk also are found here all the year in 40 fathoms depths. It is fair herring ground on spring nights. Great Ledge. Ten miles S. from Cape Newagen. It is about 4 miles long, SSW. and NNE and from 1 to 2 miles wide. There is said to be a shoal of 14 fathoms on the northern edge and another of 22 fathoms near the center. These are both broken and rocky, but the main part of the ground, having depths of 30 to 45 fathoms, is mostly composed of sand. is quite level, and slopes gradually toward the edge. It is a good ground for cod and haddock in winter and for cod in the spring. A few pollock are taken here, also. Halibut are found on the shoals in July. On these, also, are good lobster grounds. It is chiefly a small-boat and vessel ground, fishing being done by hand lines and trawls, with some gill netting. Marks: Show the sawtooth of Morse's Mountain coming out by Seguin on the western side; hold this until Pumpkin Island comes onto White Island. Barnum Head Grounds. These lie SSE. from Damariscove Island and are about 1 mile long by 400 yards wide. Depths are from 40 to 70 fathoms over broken ground of sharp rocks on the shoals, with mud on the deeper parts. This ground is fished by hand lines, gill nets, and trawls mainly by boats and small craft. Cod, haddock, and pollock are found here in the spring and fall months: hake in the muddy parts in summer. It is a summer hand-line ground for cod and pollock also. Marks: Bring the peak of Heron Island on Damariscove and the "Whistler" on Seguin, 7 miles from Damariscove Island (this gives 21-fathom soundings) or Big White Island's inner part just touching on Barnum Head; Morse Mountain (in Kennebec) touching on eastern part of Seguin to make a sawtooth. Peterson's Ground. Lies distant SW. from Monhegan 20 miles and SSE. from Seguin 16 miles. This is about 3 miles long in an ENE. and WSW. direction by about 1½ miles wide. The northern and western edges rise sharply from the 85 or 90 fathoms of the muddy bottom about it to 60 fathoms over a bottom of rocks and stones. Easterly and southerly the ground slopes away gradually over hard gravel to 90 fathoms. Cod and hake furnish the best fishing here--at its peak during October and November. Cusk Ridge. It lies S. ½ E. 12 miles from Pumpkin Island, 3½ to 4 miles long, NE. and SW., and 1/4 mile wide. This ground is somewhat difficult to find. It has a bottom of black gravel and rocks with 30 to 60 fathoms of water over it. A "blistery" bottom that is a cod ground the year around, the best of the fishing occurring in the spring months. Hake are abundant in the fall, and cusk fishing is exceptionally good in the deep water in June. Potato Patch. Three miles WNW. from Monhegan. A round nubble about 14 mile in diameter, of sharp, rocky bottom having about 40 fathoms over it. Cusk and cod are taken on the shoal and hake from the muddy edges about it. The Apron. Four and one-half miles from Monhegan. Marks are the tripod on Eastern Egg Rock over Franklin Island Light; Monhegan Light over the middle of Manana. Its length is 5 miles and its width 3 miles. It is a broken piece of ground with 10 to 45 fathoms. Cod are present the year around and haddock all the year except for a few weeks in summer. Cusk are here most of the year, but the season for pollock is September. Henry Gallant Ridges. The inner one lies 16½ miles S. by E. of Monhegan Island, extending in a NNE. and SSW. direction, about 1 mile long by 1/4 mile wide. The outer ridge lies about 1¼ miles farther from the island on the same bearing as the first and paralleling it and apparently is about the same size. The bottom on both shoals is of gravel and black rocks with depths averaging 45 fathoms but rising from the 80 and 90 fathoms of the surrounding muddy ground. Both these are year-around cod grounds, the spring months, however, having The largest school. Cusk also are abundant on both shoals in the spring. Mosers Ledge, also known as Middle Ground. This piece of shoal ground lies about midway between Monhegan Island and Pemaquid and has a 3-fathom shoal on the eastern part where the sea breaks in heavy weather. This shoal, called Mosers Ledge, is broken and rocky but slopes gradually to the SW., reaching 48 fathoms, with a bottom of gravel and mud on the deepest part. The ground is about 2 miles long NE. and SW. and about 1 mile wide. It is good ground for cod and haddock in the spring and for herring in June and other top-schooling fish In their season. Mackerel occur in late August and September. It is a lobster ground the year around. Johns Head Ground. About 4 miles SSE. from Pemaquid Point. Depths are from 25 to 15 fathoms over a sandy bottom, making a good cod ground in April and May. The ground is of circular form about 1 mile in diameter. Hand lines and trawls, together with some gill nets, are used on the sand shoal. White Island Ground. This is ESE from White Island, from which its inner edge is distant ¼ mile and the outer edge about 4 miles. Of triangular outline, it is widest at the outer end. It is very broken and uneven and has depths from 6 to 30 fathoms. In some places the bottom is gravelly, but on the shoal it is sharp, broken rocks. The small, rocky spots are known by other names, such as Browns Head Ground (a herring ground in June), where the fishermen catch a few rock cod. The sandy bottom furnishes good fares of haddock in May and June. "Bobber trawling" is the usual method used here in June. This ground is fished mainly by small boats and sloops using hand lines and trawls. Steamboat Ground. Seven miles WSW. from Monhegan Island; it is 3 miles long, NE. and SW, and ½ mile wide. Its bottom is broken with patches of rocks. Depths are from 25 to 50 fathoms, the shoalest 20 fathoms. This is fished by hand lines and trawls mainly by craft from New Harbor. Cod are found here the year around but are most abundant in the fall. Haddock are present all the spring and fall; hake through the summer months; pollock in the fall. Cusk are most abundant in the spring. A certain amount of lobster fishing is done here. Inner and Outer Boutens (Bootlegs). The inner ground lies 3 miles SW. from Monhegan Island. It is about 1 mile long. NE. and SW., by 1/4 mile wide. It has a sharp, rocky bottom, shoalest in the center, where are 25 fathoms, sloping gradually southwest and falling off suddenly on the northeast side to the mud in 60 fathoms on the edges. Cod, haddock, and cusk are here the year around. Hake occur in summer on the muddy edges. It is a fairly good lobster ground on the shoal. The Outer Bouten lies ½ mile SW. of the Inner, separated from it by a deep, muddy channel. It has a small shoal of 30 fathoms rising suddenly from the surrounding mud. Fish and seasons of their presence are as on Inner Bouten. Fishing on these grounds is mainly by hand line and trawl. Marks: The Tripod on Western Duck Island on the eastern side of the big eastern mountain of Camden: Black Head just out by White Head; White Head through the "Hole in the Wall." Hill Ground. This ground is SSW 9 miles from Matinic: between 3 and 4 miles long NE and SW and some 2 miles wide. The shoalest part has 35 fathoms and a rocky bottom. From this it slopes gradually to a depth of 50 fathoms over a bottom of mixed gravel, rocks and mud. Its best fishing is for hake, using both hand lines and trawls. Seguin Sou'Sou'West Ground. This ground lies SSW. from the western part of Seguin Island, the center distant 4 miles. It is a rocky shoal, ½ mile long by 200 yards wide, with a ½-acre shoal in the center. Depths are 7 to 14 fathoms. This is evidently a SSW continuation of the Hill Ground. It is fished by small boats for rock cod by hand-lining. Trawling is done in March for cod, and this is also a cod ground in April. It is both a small-boat and a vessel ground and is a lobster ground the year around. Marks: Elwells Rock touching the western side of Seguin, and Fullers Rock touching the southern part of Bald Head. Seguin Ridge. This ridge is SSW. from Seguin Island, distant 5 miles. Four miles long. ESE. and WSW by ½ mile wide. There are a number of small rocky spots--hummocks of 9 to 14 fathoms in depth. In general the ground has from 10 to 40 fathoms over it, except as mentioned. Cod and cusk are taken in the spring, haddock in May and June. and hake in summer. It is a good cod ground in the fall and also a lobster ground. A few pollock are seined here in the spring. Fishing is by hand lines, gill netting, and trawling. Marks: Pond Island Light on the eastern spur of Seguin; Wooded Mark Island on Bald Head (Small Point). Seguin Ground. This ground is SW. by S. from Seguin Island, distant about 7 miles to the center. About 4 miles long. NE. and SW., and a little more than 2 miles wide in the widest part. There is a small hummock called Bumpers Island Ground on the northern end with depths of 13 fathoms. The northern part is mostly rocky, but toward the south the bottom is gravelly and sloping, so that on the middle and southern portions there are depths of 35 to 45 fathoms. Cod, hake, and pollock are the principal fishes taken here and furnish some of the best fishing in this vicinity. Haddock are not common here but are abundant on the sandy bottom to the westward in April and May. Trawl fishing and gill netting are done in the spring for cod and hand lining for cod and pollock in October. It is a small-boat and vessel ground and a winter lobster ground. McIntire Reef. This reef is SSW. from Bald Head (Cape Small Point). The distance to the center is 4½ miles. This is 2 miles long. NE. and SW., by ½ mile wide. Marks are Yarmouth Island Hill over Mark Island and Pond Island Light on the northern part of Fullers Rock. This reef is very broken and hummocky and has a rocky bottom and depths from 14 to 20 fathoms. A shoal of 7 fathoms is on the northwest part, where there is good hand-lining for cod. It is a good lobster ground. Just east of this ground is a piece of bottom composed of hard mud and shells where hake usually are abundant in summer. Seguin Hub. This lies SSE. 5½ miles from Seguin Light. There is a collection of half a dozen small hummocks rising from the 65 or 70 fathoms of the surrounding muddy bottom to 30 or 35 fathoms of rocky bottom. These are hand-line spots. Species and seasons are as on Seguin Ground, except that a great proportion of hake are taken here on mud from 60 fathoms down. It is a cod ground in spring and summer. Marks: Hunnewell Point Woods on Seguin; Damariscotta Hill over Damariscove Island. Cow Ground. Nearly SW. from Bald Head, the center distant 6½ miles. This is nearly 4 miles long in a NE. and SW. direction and 1½ miles wide. The northeast portion is rough and rocky and has depths from 16 to 18 fathoms. On the southwest part gravel and stones predominate, and the bottom slopes off to 20 or 30 fathom depths. Trawling and hand-lining are the principal methods employed here, but there is an increasing amount of gill netting. Cod and pollock are the principal fishes taken here, mainly in the spring. This is a lobster ground from November to April. Murre Hub. This lies WSW. from Small Point, the center distant 10 3/4 miles and 3 miles SW. from Seguin. This ground is 3 miles long. N. and S., with an average width of 1½ miles. Depths are from 34 to 45 fathoms. The inner parts are shoalest, and the bottom there is sharp rocks and broken ground. From this the ground slopes gradually to the south, where the bottom is sand and gravel. Cod are here from spring to October; hake from June to October; and haddock are present during the winter season. Fishing is almost entirely by trawling. Mistaken Ground. This ground bears N. from the center of New Ledge. from which it is distant about 10 miles; from Portland Lightship SE. ½ S 21 miles to the edge and 22 miles to the shoal water. It is 8 miles long in an E. and W. direction and 5 miles wide. Depths are from 45 to 100 fathoms, both the shoalest and the deepest soundings being on the western part, where the bottom is mostly rocks and boulders. There is said to be a small shoal "peak" of 35 fathoms here. Over the greater part of the ground the bottom is of rocks and gravel. In proportion to its size this ground is nearly as important as New Ledge, being resorted to by the same species of fish at the same seasons and being visited by the same type of craft, with a larger number of the small crafts operating here and the larger vessels fishing here principally during the worst of the winter weather. The fishing is by hand line, trawl, and gill netting, with a lessening use of the hand line and an increase in the use of this ground by the gill-net fleet. Cod and cusk are taken here from May to July and through October and November, the cod predominating on the ridgy bottom in the deep water, on the western and northwestern side. Hake are also found here in the winter. Haddock are fairly abundant from December to March. There are usually many pollock on the shoal in fall and winter. Tag Ground. Between Broken Ground and Seguin Island, ESE. from Seguin, distant 5 miles. A narrow rocky ridge 2 miles long, in a NNE. and SSW. direction, with an uneven bottom and depths from 14 to 30 fathoms. Principally a summer small-boat ground fished by hand lines, trawls, and gill nets. Cod are found here the year around. Haddock are abundant in the winter, hake in the summer months, and the pollock are here also in the summer season when "top schooling." Cusk are found in the deep water all the year. Outer Kettle, also known as Kettle Bottom. The center of this ground bears S. from Seguin Island, from which the northern edge of the ground is distant 10 miles. Its length is 12 miles in a N. and S. direction, and its width 10 miles, thus being roughly circular in forum. It is an uneven piece of bottom consisting of rocks, gravel, and mud. The depths range from 25 to 75 fathoms. This is one of the best fishing grounds on this part of the coast. Cod are the most abundant fish and are taken the year around. Haddock are plentiful in the winter months and cusk are present all the year in the 50-fathom depths. Fishing here is by trawl, hand line, and gill nets operated by small boats, sloops, and, in the rougher weather of the winter, larger vessels, which visit it also, generally to make one "set" at a season when a "fish day" (one on which it is possible to fish) is the exception. Murray Hole. A small circular piece of ground about 1½ miles across and capable of taking about 40 or 50 lines of trawl: it lies between the two kettles and heads S. by E. from Seguin. Depths here are from 42 to 60 fathoms over a bottom of pebbles and gravel. It is a good cod and hake ground in June and July. Inner Kettle. This is S. by E. from Seguin and distant 8 miles. The depths here average 40 fathoms over a bottom of gravel and rocks. Species and season of abundance are as on the Outer Kettle. Marks are as follows: The Eastern Hawkwings (west side of the Kennebec River) on western side of Seguin; Damariscove Mountain just touching the east side of Damariscove Island. Bantam. This ground lies off Seguin 6 miles E. by N. It has a bottom of rocky broken ground. There is a buoy in the center over a reef that is said to break at low water. Elsewhere depths range from 14 to 20 fathoms. The shoal is about 2 miles long in a NE. and SW. direction and is about 1 mile wide. This is a cod and haddock ground in the spring, and bake are plentiful in summer on the edges of the ground. White Head Ground. Depths on the shoal (the White Hub: Bring Budd cottage out by White Head, Black Head. and Allens Island touching) are 7 fathoms, thence to 20 fathoms on the edges about it. This ground extends NE. and SW., 2 miles long by 1/4 mile wide. The bottom is chiefly broken, of rocks, and with spots of coarse gravel and sand. Fish and their seasons are as on Franklin Ground. Marks: Bring Black Head, White Head, and Gull Head in range on the east side of Monhegan Island. Green Ground. This is a hand-line spot for cod all the year, but the fishing is best in the spring and continues good until the last of the fishing for cod about the river mouths in June. There are two shoals, one of 14 and the other of 16 feet, both of which break in rough weather, but depths elsewhere on the ground about are from 13 to 20 fathoms. The bottom, both on the shoals and about them, is rocky and has many starfish upon it, except on the north-western part, where the bottom is of sand. Marks: The eastern end of Elmwood Rock on the little high woods of Small Point: the Outer Sister on Lower Five Island. Lambo. This lies B. by N. from Halfway Rock 5 miles. It has a buoy upon it, marking a 5 fathom shoal that breaks in heavy weather. Good fishing is to be had in all directions about it, with haddock in June on the sand outside it, hake inside in August, and cod on the hard bottom about it; but for these it is mostly a summer hand-line spot. Bull Ground. This is an irregularly shaped piece of bottom of indefinite area, being perhaps 3 miles long by 2 miles wide. It lies between Lambo Ledge and the White Bull and at about 2 miles distance from Ragged Island. The bottom here is of rocks and mud with depths from 20 to 30 fathoms. This ground furnishes hake fishing in June, July, and August. Cod are taken here in good numbers in the fall by gill nets, with a lesser amount also in the spring by the same method. In the winter the cod are taken here by "bobber trawl." Haddock are taken about the edges in August. mainly by hand line. This ground is visited principally by small boats, the greater part of the catch being taken by gill nets, although trawls and hand lines also are used here. The Garden. This is a broken piece of ground lying outside The Elbow and Eagle Island. It runs NNE. and SSW., is about 2 miles long by 1 mile wide, and has depths running from 35 to 60 fathoms. This is a fall ground for hand-line fishing for cod, while haddock, cod, and cusk are found here in the spring. Hake are taken in May and June on the mud about the edges. Marks: Halfway Rock Light on the big field of Chebeague Island; Eagle Island Woods on the woods in the Eastern Bay. Sand Shoal. It is ENE. from White Head Grounds 4 miles. This has depths of 18 to 20 fathoms and in species and seasons of their abundance agrees with White Head Ground. The Elbow. This lies NE. from the Sand Shoal 6 miles from the lightship; S. by E. 4 miles from Halfway Rock. Depths on the shoal parts are 26 fathoms, deepening to 40 fathoms on the edges. The bottom is of rocks and mud. The species and seasons are as on White Head Grounds. Old Orchard Ground, Wood Island Ground, Cape Porpoise Peaks. Extending over a piece of bottom made up of blue clay with numerous rocky patches, this ground has depths of from 20 to 50 fathoms. Bearing about NE. from Cape Porpoise and distant from 4 to 5 miles, it lies in a N. and S. direction and is about 5 miles long by 1½ miles wide. It is a good spring and summer cod ground, a summer hake ground, and haddock are here in April and May and in the fall and winter and cusk on the deeper parts the year around. This ground is much resorted to by small boats and in winter by some of the larger vessels of the vicinity. Fishing is by hand lines, trawls, and a certain amount by gill netting over the smoother parts. Marks: The eastern end of Wood Island on the bank at Old Orchard; to the center 6 miles SSE. from Wood Island Light. Drunken Ledge (Drunkers). Eight miles from Cape Elizabeth; 3 miles N. of Tanta 4 miles S. by E. from the whistling buoy off Cape Elizabeth. Depths are 18 to 40 fathoms on a bottom of sharp rocks. It is about 5 miles long N. and S. by 2 miles wide, extending SSW. and NNE. Cod and cusk are taken the year around; hake in the summer on the mud at edges; haddock from March to June. Fishing is by trawl, hand line, and gill net. Marks: Western Light of Cape Elizabeth on eastern part of woods on Cape until the lightship bears NE. Eagle Island Ground. This lies S. from Halfway Rock 2 miles. It has a rocky bottom with 20 to 25 fathoms. It is a good cod ground the year around, fished mainly by hand line; there is little trawling here and only a small amount of gill netting. Flat Ledge; Temple Ledge. Two miles SW. of Bald Head, Cape Small Point, rises a piece of rocky ground from the 20-fathom depths surrounding it. Over the shoal in the center are 5 fathoms, and from this the water deepens on all sides, there being 16 fathoms on the deepest part of the ledge and an average of 20 fathoms about it. The rocky bottom is about 1½ miles long, NE. and SW., by about 3/4 mile wide. The ledge and the hard bottom about it make good gill-netting grounds for cod in the spring months. On the ledge a considerable amount of hand-lining fur cod and pollock is carried on in late May and through June. In the normal seasons of the mackerel fishery this is a good ground on which to seine these fish in June. July, and August. It is also a good lobster ground and is a haddock ground in July and August. Marks: Wallace House in Bald Head Cove on the western edge of Bald Head; Flag Island and the eastern Brown Cow Into line. The Gully: Mark Island Gully. Bring Seguin over Fullers Rock, 6 miles from Mark Island. This gully lies inside The Elbow. The bottom is sandy on the shoal parts, where there are 50 fathoms; broken and rocky in the deep water in 70 fathoms; and muddy on the edges. It is a good lobster grounds. Haddock are taken here in the spring months by trawling; cod are taken on trawl and in gill nets during February and March and from Augusta to November. Hake are taken during June, July and August by the sane methods as are used in catching the other species. New Meadows Channel. West from The Gully; E. from Seguin. This is a spring gill-net ground. Mostly a cod ground. Pollock Hub. This ground lies SE. from the lightship 6 to 8 miles and 13½ miles S. from Cushings Island bell buoy. It is a rocky piece of bottom, having about 29 fathoms over it. It is about ½ mile across and is fished by hand line, trawl, and gill net, but is mostly a summer hand-line spot. It is a good cod ground in the spring and good for pollock in their season. Between this and Trinidad (SE. by S. from Pollock Hub 3 miles) is a fishing ground for haddock in January and February, on a broken bottom, in depths of from 40 to 60 fathoms. This is both a small-boat and a vessel ground fished by hand line, trawl, and gill nets. Trinidad. Six miles SE. by S. ½ S. from the lightship off Portland. It is about 2 miles long by 3/4 mile wide, lying in a NNE. and SSW. direction. In general, the bottom is muddy and depths are from 40 to 50 fathoms, except for a shoal about 14 mile across on the northeastern end of the ground, where there is a depth of 32 fathoms over a sharp, rocky bottom. Haddock are present here in good numbers in February and March. Cod are taken here in gill nets during the summer months, and hake are fairly abundant in the spring over the deeper parts; a few cusk are taken at the same season and in the same depths as the hake are found. Fire Ground. This ground is E. by S. from the lightship 10 miles. It is a ridge of rocky and gravelly bottom having depths of 35 to 50 fathoms. Its length is 2 miles and its width 1 mile. Cod and cusk are here the year around, the cod being most abundant in the spring. Haddock are here in February and March: hake are in the deep water on the edges in summer. Fishing here is by hand line, trawl, and gill nets operated by small boats and vessels, the larger craft visiting this ground mostly in the winter, when offshore grounds may not permit of the fishing because of weather conditions. Marks: Bradbury Mountain on Jaquish: Long Reach Mountain (in Quahog Bay) just to westward of Wooded Mark Island, "the length of an oar." Cod Ledges. These are a succession of rocky patches extending 4½ miles in an ENE. and WSW. direction, with a width of about ½ mile. The southwestern end bears SE. 3/4 S. from Portland Head Light. distant 4 3/4 miles. The northwestern extremity lies 6 or 7 miles ESE. from Portland Head light. The shoalest parts have from 14 to 18 feet of water (Bulwark Shoal: the eastern is Round Shoal). On other parts the depths vary from 5 to 22 fathoms. The bottom is irregular, of rocks and gravel. A favorite small-boat ground for fishermen from Portland and neighboring islands. This is a cod ground the year around and a winter haddock ground. In June and July a few halibut are taken in 14 to 18 fathoms on the sandy patches between the ledges. We are told "Very many large halibut are sometimes taken in some seasons in this small area. Sid Doughty. a local small-boat fisherman, had $300 worth from half his gear for one day's fishing here, being obliged to leave the rest of his gear until the next day from his weariness in handling the heavy fish alone." Hue and Cry Bottom. This ground lies W. ½ mile from the Portland Lightship. It is about 2½ miles long by 1½ miles wide and extends in a generally N. and S. direction. The bottom is mainly rocks, though there is a sandy area lying inside it. Depths are from 4 fathoms, where is a buoy and where it breaks in heavy weather, to some 35 fathoms over much of the rest of the ground. Cod and haddock are found here In the spring, and cod, haddock, and cusk in the fall months. The Pasture. It lies ESE. from the lightship 10 miles: south from The Cow (Small Point) 12 miles. This ground is 4 or 5 miles long by 2½ miles wide. It has depths of from 45 to 80 fathoms over a bottom of broken ground, rocks, and mud. It is a cod ground the year around but is best in spring. Cusk also are here the year around. Haddock usually are plentiful during January, February, and March. Inside the Pasture (about 10 miles S. from The Cow) lies the Fire Ground, mentioned elsewhere. The Klondike. This ground lies 15 miles S. by E. from Bald Head and is 3 miles long by 2 miles wide. The bottom consists of ridges of rocks--a "blistery" bottom (abundance of "sea pears", "sea squirts", and other marine growths of a similar nature). It is a cod and cusk ground all the year. Haddock are present from January to April and hake from September to December. Depths are from 75 to 80 fathoms over mud and rocks. Fishing on this ground is by hand line and trawl by small boats and sloops, with an occasional trip by larger vessels in winter. Sagadahoc. This ground is SE. by E. from Halfway Rock 22 miles and S. ½ W. from Seguin 17 miles. It has a broken bottom of rocks "blisters," and mud, and is 3½ miles long by 2½ miles wide, with depths from 50 to 80 fathoms. It is a cusk ground the year around as well as a year-around cod ground, also, but this fishing is at its best in the spring. It is a hake ground on the deeper soundings from September to December. Fishing here is carried on by trawling, hand-lining, and gill netting. Big Ridge, or Doggetts. These names are given to a piece of fishing ground about 8 miles long by 2 miles wide lying 18 miles SE. by S. ½ S. from the lightship at Portland or 14 miles SE. by E. from the same point, according to which part it is desired to fish upon. It has from 45 on the shoal in the center to 80 fathoms of water on the deeper parts over a bottom of rocks and gravel on the shallower portions and of mud about the edges and in the deeper soundings. Cod are abundant here in spring and fall on the shoaler parts of the bank and are present the year around on the muddy edges and in the deep water about it; the spring school, however, is the largest. Hake are found in spring and summer on the edges in deep water. A few haddock may be taken in the winter and spring, January to April, inclusive. Cusk can be taken the year around, the best fishing being in spring and winter. The February cusk school is the largest, and the best catches are made in the deep water about the edges of the ground. Fishing here is principally by trawling, but hand-lining and gill netting also are employed, the latter method in continually increasing volume. Lying off Cape Porpoise, between the bearings of SE. and SSE., and at distances varying from 6 to 8 miles, are a number of small, rocky, or pebbly bottoms having depths ranging from 18 to 25 fathoms. During certain seasons these abound in cod and haddock and are visited by the fishermen of the vicinity. Tanta. This ground is S. from Cape Elizabeth, the center being distant 12 miles. It is 2 to 3 miles in diameter and has depths of about 40 fathoms over a bottom of broken ground of rocks and gravel. This is a spring and summer fishing ground for cod. Haddock are present here in winter, the best fishing being in January, With a few in the spring. Trawls, hand lines, and gill nets are operated here. Outside of Tanta (S. 3 miles), in 80 and 90 fathoms on muddy and broken bottom (a "punkin" bottom), hake and cusk are abundant in February and March, the hake remaining into the summer. Herring and mackerel usually are present here in those years when their schools arc abundant in this locality. Winker Ground. The ground lies in a NE. and SW. direction, about 2 miles long by 1/4 mile wide. The bottom is broken, of mud, rocks, and sand, with depths from 35 to 40 fathoms. Outside of the 40-fathom depth the ground is mostly of mud. This is a cod ground in the early spring. haddock and hake being here from July 1 to September 1. Haddock are found here also from March 10 to April 20. This is a small-boat ground, fishing being done mainly by trawling and a certain amount of gill netting. Marks: Run 5 miles SW. from the whistling buoy off Cape Elizabeth. or until Ram Island Winker Light shows out by Cape Elizabeth. Long Hill Ground. This lies SSE. from Cape Elizabeth, 9 miles to the center. Marks: Bring the western light of Cape Elizabeth on the middle of Johnsons Woods on the high land of the cape, which with the course given before, will bring to the center. This lies in a SSE. and NNW. direction and is a rocky bottom, having 60 to 70 fathoms. Haddock are taken here from October to January 1 and from February 15 to April 1. Cod also occur at about the same season. Outer and Inner Bumbo. These are two small rocky ridges bearing SE. from The Nubble and extending toward Boon Island. They begin near the main shore and extend nearly to the island. Depths are from 8 to 20 fathoms over a broken piece of bottom, except for a mud gully about 3 miles from the main running NE. and SW. about 3 miles long. In general, this is a small-boat ground, where good catches of cod and haddock are made in spring and fall, especially in the latter season, with good hand-lining for cod in July and August in 8 and 10 fathom depths. These grounds are fished by trawl, hand line and gill nets. All the grounds between Cape Porpoise and Boon Island are good lobster grounds. Wells Bay. Beside a number of small, rocky patches of fishing ground of less importance, resorted to chiefly by small-boat fishermen and by gill netters from Portsmouth, Wood Island, and Cape Porpoise; this ground has a good cod shoal for spring and winter fishing, which also furnishes good haddocking from April to October. The depths on this are from 25 to 30 fathoms. These are fished by trawl, hand lines, and gill nets (perhaps mainly by the latter) operated by the smaller fishing vessels, chiefly from Portsmouth, Wood island, Cape Porpoise, and Portland. Lightons. This ground is SE. by E. 8 miles from Cape Porpoise, 3 miles long by 2 miles wide, with depths of 25 to 30 fathoms over a generally gravelly bottom. This is somewhat more productive as a haddock ground from January 1 to March, but cod and hake are numerous in the same season also. A small amount of cod may be taken here in the summer. This is a good lobster ground. Tracadie; The Acre. This bears NE. by E. from Boon island, distant 5 miles. It is 1 mile in diameter and has a depth of 50 fathoms over a bottom of rocks and gravel. It is a good haddock ground all the year; a cod ground in August, when these fish are "jigged"; a hake ground from April to October; and a cusk ground the year around. Old Southeast. Extends from the shore soundings at White Island (one of the isles of Shoals) 7 or 8 miles SE. nearly to Jeffreys in a long, rather narrow point. It is a piece of broken ground with a hard bottom, having depths running from 20 fathoms on the inner parts to 50 fathoms farther out and deepening suddenly on all sides to the mud about it. Fish and their seasons are as on Blue Clay, haddock being most abundant on the eastern edge from January through March. This is growing steadily in importance as a gill-netting ground. The Prairie. This name has been given to a flat ground of generally level bottom, lying E. by N. from Boon Island 7 miles. It has depths of from 41 to 50 fathoms over mud and gravel, rising out of 60 fathoms over the muddy ground about it. It extends in a generally ENE. by WSW. direction, 2 miles long by 1 mile wide. It is a "blistery" ground, the presence of these growths on a rocky or gravelly bottom usually meaning good fishing. This is principally a haddock ground, with the best season from mid March to the 1st of May. This is a small-boat and gill-netting ground. It is also visited to a considerable extent by the larger vessels of the Portland fleet in the severer weather of the winter and early spring because of its accessibility. Blue Clay Ground. also called Southeast Ground. This bears S. by E. from Boon Island. from which it is distant 8 miles. The form of the ground is roughly square and is from 4 to S miles across. Depths here range from 30 on the shoalest parts to 60 fathoms, the bottom being of tough blue clay. The water deepens suddenly on the muddy ground all about it. It is one of the best winter haddock grounds in this vicinity, particularly the eastern edge, which is much resorted to by haddock trawlers from January through March, when this species is most abundant here. It is a good winter cod ground, also. A long, narrow strip of hard bottom, separated from the Blue Clay by a narrow mud gully of somewhat greater depth, is called the Prong. Depths here run from 30 fathoms on the inner parts to 70 fathoms offshore. This piece furnishes a very suitable bottom for operating gill nets and is much visited by this type of craft. The Prong lies S. by E. from Cape Porpoise 17 miles. Marks: Bring Acre Hill in line, Notch of Agamenticus at the distance from Cape Porpoise just given. From the Isle of Shoals the Prong is distant 10 miles SE. by E. Duck Island Ridges. These are two narrow rocky ridges running from Duck Island (one of the Isles of Shoals) toward Boon Island. reaching within I mile of the latter. Depths are from 25 to 30 fathoms. These are good cusk and haddock grounds in the winter and spring, the cusk remaining on the ground also from April to October. This is a cod ground in winter and spring, the fish being taken on the "bobber trawl." which is a trawl of the ordinary type buoyed to "set" 1 fathom or so from the bottom. It is a hand-line ground in summer for cod and pollock. Both small boats and vessels, line trawlers, and gillnetters operate here. It is also a lobster ground. Boon Island Rock Ground. This ground begins ½ mile eastward of Boon Island Ledge and runs in an ESE. direction 2 or 3 miles from the ledge. It has a bottom of sharp rocks and clay and depths from 40 to 60 fathoms. It is an excellent fishing ground for cod, haddock, and cusk and is one of the best winter fishing grounds for haddock in this vicinity. It is fished mainly by line trawlers but is not much used as yet by gill-netters, being a somewhat difficult piece of bottom for them. Tower Ground. This is a winter haddock ground having depths averaging 50 fathoms over a ridgy and broken bottom. This is about 3 miles long by 2 miles wide and bears about SE. from Boon Island. Marks: Bring Boon Island Light on the Peak of Mount Agamenticus, running off until the top of the tower and the top of the mountain are level, perhaps 6 miles from Boon Island. Ten Acre or Nipper Ground. Extends S. ½ E. from Boon Island 6 miles and E. from Isles of Shoals 7 miles. This shoal is about 1/4 mile wide and has 18 to 20 fathoms over clay and mud, the ground sloping gradually to 50 or 60 fathoms near the edge. This is a good fishing ground for cod, haddock, cusk, and pollock in the spring, while on the muddy edges hake are abundant in September. Marks: White Hills over Boon Island on center (these cross bearings meet near the center of the ground); also, the Black Hill W. of Portsmouth over the Star Island of the Isles of Shoals leads to the small rocky shoal that is in the middle of the ground. Ipswich Bay. This extends from the north side of Cape Ann about to Portsmouth and is resorted to in winter by large schools of cod coming here to spawn. Shore soundings deepen here gradually from the land, reaching 35 to 40 fathoms at 6 or 7 miles out. Within this limit the bottom is mainly sandy, though rocky patches are numerous between Newburyport and Cape Ann. Beyond 40 fathoms the bottom is mainly mud. The principal cod-fishing grounds of Ipswich Bay lie off the northern shore, from Newburyport to the entrance of Portsmouth Harbor, 1½ to 5 miles off the land In 12 to 25 fathoms. Cod are taken abundantly off Boars Head, also. During 1923 and 1924 the cod fishing in these waters, especially off Boars Head, was the best for some years. Fishing is done by trawls and hand-lining, and of late years a large and increasing gill-netting fleet has operated in these waters, especially from March to June. The muddy ground outside these waters Is a hake ground much frequented by small boats and vessels from the Isles of Shoals and Cape Ann during the summer and fall. "Flounder dragging" Is a considerable industry in these waters, the craft employed being a small type of the otter trawler, mainly operating out of Newburyport on a piece of shallow mud bottom extending from NE. by E. to SE. of the Isles of Shoals and on another ESE. from Thacher Island. Depths are from 4 to 14 fathoms. Massachusetts Bay. The larger part of this ground, especially inside Stellwagens Bank, has a mud bottom, on which large quantities of fish are rarely taken. On the shore soundings between Boston Harbor and Plymouth to Sandwich are many rocky ledges, which are favorite feeding grounds for cod In winter and fall. Off Plymouth, in late March, there is generally a large school of codfish, from which the gill-netters take good fares. All over this ground in depths of from 10 to 40 fathoms. netters from Gloucester and Boston operate in a codfishery In the months of December, January, and February. There is a considerable hand-line fishery for pollock in the fall. The gill-netters also take large fares of this species on these shore grounds as well as about Gloucester, their fares for a single month often amounting to nearly 4,000,000 pounds. November and December usually show the largest catches. These vessels operate mostly between Boston and Gloucester, and their catch goes principally to "the splitters." since the abundance of the fish naturally operates to reduce its price. This pollock netting comes to an abrupt end with the closing days of January, when the fish move offshore. Herring appear about Cape Ann in September in large numbers in most years, the fishing lasting about two weeks, when the school moves slowly inward toward the head, and the last catches usually are taken off Minot Light, Boston. The mackerel, after leaving the coast of Maine in their autumnal migrations, pass by Cape Ann and enter Massachusetts Bay during October and November, where they are taken in great number by purse seiners, netters, and pound nets, of which latter there are many in Cape Cod Bay, and which take many mackerel and herring in their seasons. Near the center of Cape Cod Bay, on a line between Race Point and Cape Cod Canal, lies a rocky elevation on which cod are taken, known as Eagle Ledge or Bay Ledge, and by Provincetown fishermen as Red Bank. It has a depth of 13 fathoms. Cape Cod Bay has a considerable Industry in flounder dragging, the fish being taken by a small type of otter trawl. South and southeast of Thacher Island from 5 to 8 miles lies a stretch of muddy bottom with patches of sand scattered over it, where a considerable amount of this method of fishing is carried on during most of the year. Old Man's Pasture. This ground is due S. from Thacher Island, SE. from Eastern Point Light. Cape Ann, and distant 5 miles. It is about 3/4 mile long, NNE. and SSW. by 1/ mile wide. The bottom is rough and rocky, with about 24 fathoms average depths. It is a cod ground for the entire year, which fish are taken by gill-netters principally in November. Pollock are taken here, also by gill-netters, from October 1 to December. Apparently there are few haddock here in the fall, but there is good fishing for these from February to April 1. It is also a lobster ground. Harts Ground. This lies S. 1/4 E. from Eastern Point Light. distant 5½ miles. It is 3/4 mile long in an ENE. and WSW. direction by 1/4 mile wide, and is a small, rocky patch with a depth of 30 fathoms. It is a summer haddock ground, visited mainly by small boats. There is little or no gill netting here. Eagle Ridge, sometimes called Little Middle Bank. This ridge is 7 2/3 miles S. by W. from Eastern Point Light, Cape Ann. and 1 mile long, NE. and SW., by ½ mile wide. The average depths are 25 fathoms on a rocky and uneven bottom. Formerly, with Old Man's Pasture and Browns Ledge. this was considered the principal winter grounds of the cod, but not so many have been taken here at that season in recent years. Inside this area, at an average distance of 2½ miles from Eastern Point Light and between bearings S. ½ E. and SW.. are a number of small, rocky patches having depths of from 10 to 25 fathoms--Browns Ledge, Spot of Rocks, Saturday Night Ledge, and Burnhams Rocks; SW ½ W. from Saturday Night Ledge, 6 miles, lies Old Tillie. Farther in are two shoal spots bearing nearly west from Eastern Point. one at 3/4 mile and the other at 2 miles distance, each having 11 fathoms. The first is called Eleven Fathom Ground. the second, Kettle Island Ledge. This latter lies ½ mile SE. of Kettle Island. These are cod grounds in winter and haddock grounds in summer. Gill-netters operate from Kettle Island to Halfway Rock and Italian boats trawl at all seasons off The Graves. Western Point Ridge. This bears S. by E. ½ E. from Eastern Point Light, distant 9 1/4 miles. Its length NE. and SW. is 1½ miles and its width is ¾ mile. The depths average 29 fathoms over a broken and rocky bottom. Small vessels and boats fish here for cod and haddock in the summer. Netters take many pollock on all these shore grounds in the fall runs, October to January furnishing the largest fares. Apparently these are spawning fish that leave abruptly during January, working offshore again. The Dump. This lies inside the lightship at Boston, extending from this to and well into Nahant Bay. On these inner grounds soundings are from 12 to 15 fathoms over sand and gravel. This portion is a cod ground from March to May. The outer parts of the ground have from 15 to 20 fathoms of water over a gravelly and muddy bottom, which usually furnishes haddocking during the early spring. These are mainly gill-net grounds. Inner Bank. This lies SE. from Thacher Island 12 miles to the northern end, whence it extends in a generally southerly direction for about 10 miles, having an average width of 2½ miles. Depths here average about 40 fathoms on a hard, gravelly bottom, where haddock usually are taken in the spring, pollock in the fall, and cod in the winter months. This piece of ground is much fished by the gill-netting fleet out of Gloucester. A large area of muddy ground lying E. of this and between it and Middle Bank is much visited by the flounder draggers out of Boston and Gloucester. Depths here are from 40 to 55 fathoms over a comparatively smooth bottom. A ridge that lies just S. of the Limiter Bank, and which may be a continuation of it, extends from a point E. by N. from Scituate buoy to a point SE. by S. from the same about 10 or 11 miles and furnishes cod fishing in February, beginning at Brewers Spot, on the southern end of the ground, and working northward with the schools to Si's Spot, at the northern end of the ridge. The bottom over much of the ridge is of mussel beds, with from 25 to 30 fathoms of water, but at the northern end it is rocky and pebbly, with from 30 to 35 fathoms and on the southern end the bottom is composed of stones, gravel, and pebbles with 20 to 25 fathoms of water over it. This ridge is flanked E. and W. by a muddy bottom, which furnishes the flounder-dragging fleet with good fishing during most of the year. [Table 2--Inner Fishing Grounds, showing the principal species taken upon them.] [Footnote 12: Again, Captain Smith (1614): "At the Ile of Manahigan, in 43 1/2 of Northerly latitude . . . The remarkablest isle, and mountains for landmarks, a round high isle, with little Monas by its side, betwixt which is a small harbor, where our ships can lie at anchor." (Transcriber's note: "Ile" is as spelled in the footnote, despite the other spellings of it in the footnote as "isle.")] OUTER GROUNDS Grand Manan Bank. This bank is at the entrance of the Bay of Fundy, SW. ½ S. from the southwest head of Grand Manan Island from which the northern part of the bank is 15 miles distant. From Mount Desert Rock, E. by S., it is 45 miles distant. The bank is 10 miles long and 5 miles wide, extending in a NE. and SW. direction. The bottom is mostly stones and gravel, the depths running from 24 to 45 fathoms. Soundings of 18 and 21 fathoms are found on the northeast part. Cod (especially abundant when the June school is on the ground) and pollock are the principal fish. Haddock are not usually abundant, although sometimes they are plentiful in the fall from late September to December; hake are fairly abundant on the mud between Grand Manan Bank and the Middle Ground (In The Gully). This is a good halibut bank, the fish being in 33 to 60 fathoms in June and July; the southwest soundings and the southeast soundings are most productive always. The best fishing season is from April to October, when the fish come to this hank to feed. In the spring the fish, other than halibut, are mostly on the southwest part, but later (July to October) the best fishing is had on the northern edge of the ground. The very best herring fishing for large herring (food fish) occurs on this bank in June and July. In general, this is a small-vessel ground fished by craft from Cutler, Eastport, Grand Manan, and, to a less extent, Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, with an occasional visit by craft from Portland and Rockland, chiefly trawlers of moderate size. Tides run NE. in flood and SW. on the ebb and are quite strong, the flood being the heaviest. Because of these powerful currents, fishing is somewhat difficult, it being necessary to make sets at the slack of the tides, getting the gear over and traveling with the finish of the current, to take it up and come back with the tide's return. Middle Ground. This ground is between Grand Manan Bank and Marblehead Bank; its length from NW. to SE. is 1½ miles, and it is about ½ mile wide. Depths averaging 37 fathoms are found on the southern edge on a hard, rocky bottom, increasing to over 60 fathoms over much of the ground. The remainder of the bank has a bottom of sand and gravel. There is a shoal of 28 fathoms near the center with a bottom of rocks and stones. The species and seasons of their abundance are much as on Grand Manan Bank and German Bank, but the Middle Ground is rather better as a cod ground than as a ground for other species, June, perhaps, being the best month for the fishing. Marblehead Bank. Situated between Grand Manan and German Banks, the shoal water bearing SSE. from Moosabec Light, distant 32 miles. It is from 12 to 15 miles long and 7 or 8 miles wide, lying between 44° 00' and 44° 10' north latitude and 66° 58' and 67° 13' west longitude. There are from 35 to 70 fathoms of water over it; the bottom is mostly clay and gravel. The principal fishing is for cod, pollock, and haddock, but there are more or less hake and cusk to be had from this ground. The best fishing season is from early spring through the early part of the summer, and this ground is of little account after July. The same type of vessels operate here as on the neighboring banks, with an occasional larger vessel. The craft are mostly hand-liners from Cutler, Jonesport, and Rockland, with a few vessels from the trawl fleets of Portland and others from the Canadian Provinces. Haddock are found in the shoal water from May to October. Cusk are on the eastern portion in from 60 to 70 fathoms virtually the year around. Many large hake are present on the western edge in 80 to 90 fathoms in the summer. The June and July cod school is the best, but this species is present in smaller numbers all the year. Halibut are found all over the bank, being especially abundant in the eastern shoal water in spring and summer (April to October). It seems necessary to leave the halibut trawls down for a longer set here than on other grounds in order to make a good catch. German Bank. This is one of the most important banks in the Bay of Fundy. (We are here referring to the German Bank in the bay and not to the part of Seal Island ground, so marked on some charts.) It bears SE. from Bakers Island Light, Mount Desert, from which the northeast part is about 52 miles distant. Its length is about 15 miles, the width 9 or 10 miles. It lies between 43° 38' and 43° 53' north latitude and 64° 58' and 67° 15' west longitude. Depths are from 65 to 100 fathoms with soundings of 47 fathoms on the northern part. The bottom is mostly tough red clay with spots of mud, sand, gravel, and pebbles on some parts. The tides set in and out over this bank to and from the Bay of Fundy, the ebb SW. and the flood NE., but the currents are not so strong as might be expected. Cod, hake, and cusk are the principal species taken, with pollock and haddock in lesser amounts. It is a fairly good halibut ground also, wherever a bottom of black and white gravel is found, though formerly little regarded as such. The fish (except hake) are most abundant in the spring. This ground is not much fished of late years, but was formerly considered a good place for hake fishermen in summer. Probably it is equally as good now, but the demand for hake has diminished materially in recent years, and this fishery has suffered in consequence. Mostly Maine vessels fish this bank, from Cutler, Moosabec, and Rockland, with a few from Portland and perhaps an occasional visitor from the Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, fleet. Newfound. This ground is 45 miles SE. by S. from Mount Desert Rock and has depths of 90 to 100 fathoms over a gravelly bottom. It is about 12 to 15 miles long. ENE. and WSW., by 7 miles wide, lying in the track of the Yarmouth (Nova Scotia) to Boston steamers. Apparently, this title is given to some rediscovered old ground and with a new generation of fishermen displaces the old name. This is not a haddock ground, but cod, cusk, and hake (large fish) are abundant here in the spring. Perhaps this is an all-the-year fishing ground, but thus far no further information about it has been obtainable. It is about 12 to 15 miles long, ENE aned WSW, by 7 miles wide, lying in the track of the Yarmouth (Nova Scotia) to Boston steamers. Jones Ground. This is an important cod ground though of small size. The western part bears SE, from Bakers Island Light, distant 32 miles. The ground is 10 to 12 miles long, NE. and SW. and 5 miles wide. Depths range from 50 to 100 fathoms. The bottom, which is quite broken, consists of rocks, gravel, and mud. On the northeast parts, where depths vary from 50 to 70 fathoms, the bottom is rocky and rough. This part bears SE. by E. ½ E. from Bakers Island Light, distant 35 miles. (Green Mountain, of Mount Desert, bears NW.) It is a hake ground in 110 fathoms. The center of the ground furnishes good trawl fishing from May 1 to September. The principal catch is large cod, but a smaller amount of hake, cusk, and pollock are taken also. Bank Comfort. This is a comparatively little known fishing ground lying SE. by S. from Mount Desert Rock. distant 12 or 13 miles. It is said to be 5 miles long, SW. and NE., by 3 miles wide. Here are depths of from 75 to 80 fathoms over a hard gravelly bottom, the shoalest water being some 65 fathoms. This is an excellent ground but little fished because its small size makes it somewhat difficult to find. It is a very good cod ground in spring and summer, hand-liners catching large cod here from May to August. Hake and cusk are present here in summer also. It is scarcely fished at any other than the seasons mentioned. Clay Bank. This bank lies SW. by W. from Mount Desert Rock, the center distant 7 miles. It is 4 miles long, WSW. and ENE., by 2 miles wide. Depths are from 50 to 80 fathoms over a bottom of hard clay. Cod are the principal catch in spring, hake in summer. There is virtually no winter fishing. Newfound. This ground lies off of the northeast edge of Jeffreys Bank and is often considered a part of it, but there seems to lie deep water between. This is one of three grounds of the name in these waters. The present piece of bottom lies 20 miles SE. by S. from Matinicus block and S. ½ E. from Seal Island (in Penobscot Bay) and has a broken and irregular bottom with depths from 60 to 100 fathoms over blue mud and shells and considerable areas of gravelly ground. It is about 7 miles long, E. by N. and W. by S., and about 4 miles wide. Fishing here in the summer months is mostly by hand-lining because of the presence of schools of dogfish in these waters at that season. In the spring it is a good ground for cod, and in the fall months cod, hake, and cusk are taken, all by trawling. Perhaps March is the best month for cod fishing here, the cusk being most numerous at the same season, when they are especially abundant in depths of 80 fathoms or more and are then taken by trawling. In spring and early summer halibut are often found in depths of 35 to 60 fathoms on the gravelly parts of the ground. A small rocky eminence just off the northern edge of the ground rises sharply from the 94-fathom depths surrounding it to reach 48 fathoms. On this are taken market cod (2½ to 10 pounds weight) during the spring months and very large cod (fish reaching 50, 60, and 70 pounds or more) during June, July, and August. Its small area makes this spot somewhat difficult to find. Jeffreys Bank. This ground lies east of Cashes Bank and, despite its considerable size, is of comparatively little importance as a fishing ground. It is about 20 miles long. SW. and NE., and 10 miles wide. The northern and southern limits are 43° 30' and 43° 15' north latitude. The eastern edge is In 68° 25', the western in 68° 45'. west longitude. The bottom is somewhat broken--mud, sand, gravel, and pebbles, with a great number of small rocky ridges, upon which good fishing is generally to be had, although these spots are quite difficult to find and accommodate but little trawl gear. There is virtually no fishing upon much of the interior parts of the bank between these spots, where the bottom is mostly of mud. Depths over the bank vary from 35 to 70 fathoms. The Outer Fall and the Inner Fall. generally called Monhegan Fall, are the only parts of Jeffreys Bank thought to be of much importance as fishing grounds. Both these formerly furnished excellent fishing but are not now as much resorted to, although vessels from Portland and Rockland often fish here and bring in fair catches. Cod, haddock, and cusk are the most important species in the fares from this ground, with a lesser amount of pollock and a few halibut, these latter usually being taken on the small ridges above mentioned In the main, this bank is a winter ground; good also in the spring and early summer before the dogfish strike it. It is fished mostly by the smaller vessels--trawlers of from 15 to 70 tons. The Inner Fall lies SE. ½ S. from Monhegan Island, 21½ miles, west of Newfound 6 miles, and S. by W ½ W. from Matinicus Rock 17 miles. The Outer Fall lies S. ½ E. from Matinicus Rock 21 miles. These both have hard sharp bottoms, which are good cod and cusk grounds in the spring. The gravelly bottom, both on the Inner Fall and on the Outer Fall, often holds halibut in the spring and early summer (May 1 to July 15) in depths of from 35 to 60 fathoms. The fishing ground of the Inner Fall is somewhat difficult to find, the best portions lying in a narrow strip about 6 miles long by something less than 1 mile wide along the northwestern edge of the bank. Soundings ranging from 35 to 55 fathoms over the main body of the bank drop suddenly to 85 and even 94 on the edges. The average depth is about 45 fathoms over a rocky bottom, with good cod fishing in summer and cusk on the hard bottom of the deeper water. Haddock usually are abundant on this bank in winter. Along the northern edge of Jeffreys Bank, between the Inner Fall and the Outer Fall, in an average depth of 40 fathoms, cod and halibut are taken in spring and summer. The extreme southern part of the bank is also a fairly good cod ground, while halibut occur in fair numbers in summer. Depths here are from 38 to 45 fathoms over rocks and gravel. A small circular piece of ground rises about 2 miles W. of the bank, lying between it and Toothaker Ridge. This is about 2 miles across and has depths averaging 50 fathoms over a rocky bottom. This spot is a good summer cod ground. Toothaker Ridge. This bank is 26 miles S. ½ E. from Monhegan and lies in an ENE. and WSW. direction. There seem to be two ridges here, the larger being about 5 or 6 miles long by about 1½ miles wide. This inner ridge has a shoal of 35 fathoms on the western end, from which it deepens eastward to about 45 fathoms, which is the general depth elsewhere on this piece of ground. The outer ridge parallels the inner at about 1½ miles distance and there is a deep, narrow gully between. It apparently has about half the area of the other. This smaller ridge has a 45-fathom shoal of rocks on the western end, deepening the water, like the other, to the eastward to 75 and 80 fathoms over a broken rocky bottom and 90 fathoms on hard mud. This is an all-the-year cusk ground. A few cod are present all the year. but this species is most abundant here and on the other ridge in the spring and through June. Hake occur on the muddy ground in summer and fall. On both shoals are abundant growths of "lemons" and like species of fish food, and they are good "hand-line spots" over their rocky bottoms. Fishing on both is said to be at its best in the spring and in June, the species taken being cod, cusk, pollock, and hake. As before stated, these are year-around cod and cusk ground, pollock and hake being present in summer and fall, the latter species over the muddy ground. These grounds have been thought to lie too rough for trawling. But occasional good fares are taken on them by this method. Cashes Bank. Our older reports state that Cashes Bank was not then an important fishing ground except for a short time in the spring, although good fares were often taken there in the fall also. The writer has found it furnishing at least its quota in recent years and in apparently increasing volume. It bears E. 1/4 S. from Cape Ann (Thacher Island Light, from which point most skippers lay their course), from which its shoaler parts are distant 78 miles, and bears SE. 1/4 S. from Portland Lightship 69 miles to the buoy upon it, where is a depth of 17 fathoms; and 74 miles SE. ½ S. from Cape Elizabeth eastern light to the buoy. The bank is about 22 miles long, from 42° 49' to 43° 11' north latitude, and about 17 miles wide, from 68° 40' to 69° 03' west longitude. There are three small shoals upon its western part, of which the southern has a depth of 7 fathoms, the middle one has 4 fathoms, and the northern one has 11 fathoms. The middle shoal lies in 42° 56' north latitude and 68° 52' west longitude. From this the south shoal bears S. by E. and the north shoal NNE., each being 3 1/4 miles distant from it. The water breaks on these in rough weather and, though of small extent, they are dangerous to passing vessels bound from Cape Sable to Massachusetts ports, across whose course they lie directly. Except for these shoals, the water ranges from 15 to 60 fathoms. The ground is more or less broken, and the bottom is of sand, pebbles, and rocks. The principal fishing on these grounds is for cod, haddock, hake, and cusk; the cod and cusk are present the year around, the cod being most abundant in February, March. and April in an average depth of 60 fathoms. The hake are found on the muddy edges in summer, with a lesser number present all the year. Haddock are present in considerable numbers from November to February, and sometimes a good school occurs in 20-fathom depths in April. The arrival of the dogfish usually puts a temporary ending to the fishing here in the last days of June or early In July, to be resumed again when these pests have moved inshore. Formerly halibut were reported as seen rarely, but of late years they have been found among the kelp in 15 to 18 fathoms on the shoal nearly the year around, the fish ranging in size from 5 to 40 pounds, rarely larger. Halibut of larger size are taken occasionally in fairly good numbers in 30 to 50 fathoms in May and June. Perhaps this species is more abundant on this and neighboring grounds than is generally realized. At all events, certain Portland vessels have recently taken good fares of halibut when fishing for them here in the season named. Cusk are present in the deep water the year around. As is the case with most of the detached ridges in this gulf, the cusk is the most abundant of the fish present about the middle of March. continuing in good numbers through May. In herring years these fish usually occur in good numbers on this ground In late May, and a considerable number of these (food fish or large herring) are taken here by seiners at this season. Mackerel are generally abundant on these grounds In those years when these fish occur In normal quantities on this coast. Vessels operating on Cashes Bank range in size from 15 to 50 tons, principally from Maine ports, with a fair number of them from Gloucester and Boston, especially in winter. Of late years a few gill-netters have fished here, and these craft are using these grounds in steadily increasing numbers. A comparatively little known and apparently as yet unnamed ridge lies E. by S. 15 miles from the buoy on Cashes Ledge, which is reported to be good fishing ground, especially for cod and cusk. With both species present here the year around, the cod is said to be most abundant in April and May: and the cusk, as is the rule on these outlying ridges, appears in largest numbers in March and April. Haddock seem to be somewhat rare here. This ridge lies in a SE. and NW. direction, extending somewhat indefinitely but for at least 10 miles by about 3 miles in width. On the ridge the bottom is broken--a hard bottom of black gravel, which usually means a good fishing spot--the depths here being from 85 to 90 fathoms. There are numerous muddy spots between these harder pieces of ground where soundings run to 100 fathoms or slightly more. The surrounding bottom is mostly of mud, and the depths average from 100 to 125 fathoms. There are a number of pieces of gravelly hard ground in the vicinity, each of which probably would furnish equally good fishing for cod and cusk at the same seasons as on the ridge. Due E. from the buoy on Ammens Rock about 12 miles lies a ridge that rises from the 100 to 120 fathom depths about it to a depth of about 80 fathoms over a bottom of broken ground, mud, and shells. This shoaler piece is some 3 miles long. N. by E. and S. by NW., by 1 mile wide. It furnishes good fishing for cod, hake, and cusk in the spring, April being the best season. A ridge lying NW. of Cashes Bank and nearly parallel with the main bank, only separated by a narrow deep channel, is about 7 miles long by 1½ miles wide. The species and the seasons are the same here as on Cashes Bank. Big Ridge (near Cashes Bank). This is a broken and rocky piece of bottom running from the tip of the southeastern part of the ground, at about 10 miles S. from the buoy on Ammens Rock and about 82 miles SE. ½ S. from the lightship at Portland, to a point about 20 miles S. by E. from the buoy named. Its length is not to be stated definitely, and it is probably greater than here shown. The width averages about 1½ to 2 miles. Depths are from 65 to 80 fathoms and more, increasing gradually as it goes away from the main bank. The species and their seasons of abundance here are as on Cashes Bank. Perhaps this is more of a cod and cusk ground than is the main part of Cashes Bank, the cusk being particularly abundant during March and April. Halibut also are found here in May and June in from 50 to 60 fathoms of water. A considerable amount of the fish shown in the table of the catch from the area included in Cashes Bank may very well have come from this piece of ground. Another big ridge, paralleling the 100-fathom curve of Georges Bank at about 20 miles N. of it, lies SE by S from the buoy on Cashes Ledge, forty miles to its center; SE by S 110 miles from Portland Lightship; ESE 92 miles from Cape Ann to its western end, and E. by S. ½ S. from the ship at Boston 100 miles. This ridge also is of somewhat indefinite area, being perhaps 20 miles long in an ESE by WNW direction by 1½ to three miles wide. Apparently depths are fairly uniform from 85 to 95 fathoms, the bottom of the ridge being of coarse black sand and having blue mud in the deeper area around it. This is said to be a good cod and cusk ground the year round. John Dyers Ridge. This lies 14 miles S. by E. from Toothakers Ridge, 40 miles S. by E. from Monhegan Island, and 7 miles NE. from Cashes Bank. It is about 5 miles long by 2 miles wide, lying in an ENE. and WSW. direction. The water is shoalest on the western edge, where are from 45 to 50 fathoms over a sharp, pebbly bottom; thence the ground slopes to the NE. into 75 and 80 fathoms over a hard, gravelly, and muddy bottom, in all other directions falling off sharply to 90 and 100 fathom soundings over a muddy bottom. This is essentially a cod ground for the entire year, the species being most abundant from May 1 to November. It is a cusk ground all the year on the hard bottom of the deeper parts, March and April showing the largest schools. Hake also are abundant in 70 fathoms and deeper on the mud in summer and fall. Fifty-five Fathom Bunch. West of Cashes Bank is a rocky ridge extending ENE. and WSW. about 4 miles and having a width of about 1 mile. This is mainly a cod ground, the seasons for the species being as on Cashes Bank. Fippenies Bank. This consists of two shoals averaging 80 fathoms in depth with a channel of 90 fathoms between them. These run NE. and SW., the eastern shoal about 8 miles long by 1 mile wide, the western about half as large. Fippenies bears E. 1/4 S. from Thacher Island, distant 61 miles; from Portland Lightship, SE. by S. ½ S, 57 miles to the western point of the northern shoal in 35 fathoms. The bank is nearly 10 miles long NE. and SW. and averages 4½ miles wide. The bottom is of gravel, pebbles, and clay, having depths over much of the shoal of about 30 fathoms but also from 36 to 60 fathoms. It is fished by the shore fleet in the spring and early summer. The fish and seasons are as on Cashes Bank. Formerly twice as many haddock were taken here as on Cashes or on Platts Bank, but this has changed in recent years. Halibut are taken here in fair numbers in 45 to 55 fathom depths in June, July, and August on the "black gravel" of the southern and western edge. The "white gravel" on the north shoal is of little account as a fishing ground, since it is composed mostly of the shells of dead scallops. The Ridge (on the southern part of Fippenies). This is SSE. from the light-ship at Portland 75 miles and has a bottom of yellow mud and pebbles and depths of 75 to 95 fathoms. Cod are present here in December and January; cusk the year around, but most numerous in February and March; haddock in December and January; hake in September and October. The length of this bank is from 4 to 5 miles and the width somewhat less than 2 miles. It lies in an ENE. and WSW. direction. Maurice Lubee's Ground. This lies outside of New Ledge (Platts Bank) 47 miles SSE. from the lightship at Portland. Extending in an ENE. and WSW. direction, its boundaries are somewhat indefinite. It is perhaps 8 miles long by 3 miles wide and has depths from 95 to 110 fathoms over a bottom consisting mostly of mud. Cusk are plentiful here in the spring, with a few in the fall. Cod are taken all the year around, the Spring school being the largest. Hake are most numerous In the spring and fall months, and haddock are not common but are most numerous in winter. Apparently the abundance of cod on this ground is due to the great quantity of shrimps and soft-shelled crabs found on the muddy bottom and on the rocks that compose this ground. There seem to be many of these deep-water grounds between and about the shoaler grounds, as near Cashes, Fippenies, and Jeffreys, which apparently serve as fairways over which the schools of hake, cod, and cusk, move from Georges Bank into the Gulf of Maine in the spring of the year. Harvey Blacks Ridge. This is SE. ½ S. from the lightship off Portland, distant 42 miles, and SE. from New Ledge, distant 8 miles. From Glovers Rock, off Small Point, Me. this ridge lies SE. by S. ½ S. 41 miles. It extends in an ENE. and WSW. direction about 4 miles long by I mile wide. Depths average 70 to 100 fathoms over a bottom of yellow clay and gravel. Cod are taken here all the year. Haddock are found in the deep water in the spring: cusk all the year in deep water, together with hake in summer, also on the muddy bottom in deep water. Pollock and other surface-schooling fish are found here in their proper season. The Cod Ridge (formerly Outer Harris Ground). This lies NE. from the Northeast Peak of New Ledge, distant 7 miles. It extends in an ENE. and WSW. direction, the ground narrowing and the water deepening to the eastward, the shoal ground having 45 fathoms on a bottom of small pebbles and fine black gravel and sand, depths increasing in all other directions to 100 fathoms on the mud and sloping off somewhat steeply, especially on the southeast side, where the drop is very sharp. The length of the ground is about 5 miles, the width 1 mile. This is an all-the-year cod ground, the season of greatest abundance being from May 1 to November. The haddock are usually In their greatest numbers here from January 1 to April. Apparently no large number of cusk or hake are taken here on the ridge, perhaps because the water is not deep enough for the former, except for the small fish, which are of little value to the fishermen; and the ground is not muddy enough for the latter species. Both species, however, are found about the edges in the deep water, the cusk on the sharpest, hardest part of the bottom (perhaps most common in February and March), the hake, as usual, on the muddy parts about it. Three-Dory Ridge. Outside of New Ledge and about midway between it and Harvey Blacks Ridge is a small ridge about 3 miles long, running NE. and SW., and about ½ mile wide. This lies SE. by S. from the Portland Lightship. 38 miles to the shoal of 55 fathoms, which is near its center. From this the ground slopes away on all sides to 63 and 65 fathom depths over which area the bottom is made up of sand, gravel, mud, and rocks. At these lower depths are found "pipes" (clay cylinders), where the fishing ends abruptly. All about the ridge are depths of 80 to 100 fathoms on a bottom of mud. This is almost entirely a cod ground, good from May to August. Platt's Bank or New Ledge. This bears E. by N. ½ N. from Thacher Island, from which the shoal portion of the ledge is distant 53 miles. From Portland Lightship it is 30 miles SSE. to the center of the ground. The bank is about 12 miles long, NE. and SW.. and about 8 miles wide. The western shoal, which is of small extent and rocky and which has a considerable amount of dead shells upon it, is situated near the center, its depth being 29 fathoms. From this shoal to the Southwest Peak is about 11 miles SW. by S. Another shoal lies E. 3 miles, having about 30 fathoms over sand and gravel, which is a good fall ground for haddock. East-northeast from the western shoal 3 miles brings us to a rocky ridge, with spots of hard mud and pebbles between, in 65-fathom depth, which is a fine winter cusk ground, these fish remaining here until April. Over much of the bank the depths range from 30 to 35 fathoms with a bottom of rocks and gravel. From the edge of the shoaler area the bottom slopes gradually to 50 or 60 fathoms, beyond which it drops suddenly to 80 or 90 fathoms over a muddy bottom. This was considered one of the very best fishing grounds for cod and haddock in the Gulf of Maine, but the haddock catch here has fallen off recently. Hake also are very abundant during the summer months and often during October on the muddy bottom near the edge. Inside 100 fathoms, on a "punkin" bottom of rocks and gravel, near the mud, haddock are found from December to March. Cod, pollock, and cusk occur from May to October, the former on the rocky and gravelly portions, the latter on the deep soundings, with the Northeast Peak the best summer ground. This is also an especially good fall and winter ground for haddock. Halibut are often found in 35 fathoms (small fish) from September through November; also In spring and early summer. This ground is fished by vessels from Cape Cod, Mass., to Cutler, Me., mainly by trawling, some hand-lining, but no gill netting of importance as yet. Jeffreys Ledge. Jeffreys Ledge may be considered one of the best fishing grounds in the Gulf of Maine, although of comparatively small size. It appears to be an extension of the shoal ground that makes off in an easterly direction from Cape Ann, it is about 20 miles long in a NE. and SW. direction and about 4 miles wide. Its southern limits is 42° 54' and its northern limit 43° north latitude; its eastern and western boundaries may be placed at 69° 58' and 70° 18' west longitude. The bottom is rocky on the shoaler parts, with gravel and pebbles on the edges. Depths on the bank are from 27 to 35 fathoms, falling off to 40 or 50 on the edges. The shoalest water lies from 4 to 5 miles N. by E. from the buoy, where there is 22 fathoms. Ordinarily there is little or no tide, with an occasional current SW. There are, however, strong westerly currents with the heavy easterly winds, and often after a period of mild weather with no strong tides there will suddenly develop a heavy SW. flow, indicating the approach of a strong northwester. This seems a general rule in the Gulf of Maine and is, perhaps, prevalent over much of our North Atlantic coast. Jeffreys Ledge bears S. ½ W. from the lightship off Portland, 19 miles to the northern edge and 22 miles S. from the buoy on the Hue and Cry to the edge of the shoal. A small cove makes for a short distance into the western side of Jeffreys Ledge at about 20 miles from Boon Island in a SE. by S. ½ S. direction. The bottom in the cove is broken and muddy, with depths of about 60 fathoms. Thence, the ground slopes away to the mouth, where the edges about the entrance are rocky and have 70 and 75 fathom depths. These rocky areas are cusk grounds in January, February, and March, during which months the cove itself usually furnishes good haddock fishing. Outside these depths the water deepens westward over a muddy bottom, where are from 80 to 90 and even 100 fathoms of water. Fishing here is mainly by trawl and gill nets. Lying about SE. by S. ½ 5. from the Isle of Shoals 20 miles, 13 miles S. by W. from the whistling buoy on Jeffreys, and 43 miles S. by W. from Cape Elizabeth is a broken piece of bottom having from 75 to 85 fathoms of water over it, which is a haddock ground from January to April and a cusk and hake ground all the year. A small shoal in the western part of the Cove of Jeffreys, having 50 fathoms over a bottom of blue clay and rocks and rising from the 60 and 70 fathom soundings about it, is about 1½ miles long by about 3/4 mile wide. This shoal is SSE. from Boon Island 15 miles. It is a winter ground for cod and haddock. Clay Ridge. At various points about the edges of Jeffreys Ledge are small detached ridges, which in their season are good fishing grounds. The present piece of ground lies 26 miles S. by W. from the lightship at Portland, which course and distance bring us to the northern edge. There is a 50-fathom shoal of small size upon it, but elsewhere soundings average from 65 to 70 fathoms over a bottom of hard clay. The length of the ground is about 4 miles NNE. and SSW., and the breadth about 1 mile. This furnishes good haddocking in January, February. and March. the latter month showing the best fishing. Jerry Yorks Ridge. This lies just inside and paralleling Jeffreys Ledge WNW. from its shoal water and about 5 miles distant from the ledge and about 18 miles SE. by S. ½ S. from Cape Porpoise. This ground has from 45 to 48 fathoms of water on a rocky broken bottom. It is about 5 miles long, NNE. and SSW., and averages 1½ miles wide. This is a good cod and haddock ground In the fall and up to January, these fish returning here in the spring months. Howard Nunans Ridge. Of similar nature to the last, this rises 4 miles inside of and parallel to it, lying 14 miles from Cape Porpoise on the same bearings (SE. by S. ½ S.). This appears to be made up of two shoals, the northern rising to 50 fathoms of water over a rocky, broken bottom about 3 miles long by 1 mile wide, deepening southwesterly to a narrow, muddy gully, where are 80 fathoms, and rising again to 60 fathoms over rocks and broken ground. The whole ground is about 8 miles long with average widths of from 1 to 1½ miles. This ground furnishes good cod fishing and haddocking in the fall and early winter and again in the spring months. Southeast Jeffreys. Off the southeast edge of Jeffreys, about 24 miles SE. from Boon Island, lies a piece of fishing ground having a hard bottom of sand, gravel, and rocks, where depths slope away gradually from the 50-fathom soundings near the main body of the bank to the 90-fathom mark farther out. This area is a good ground for cod and haddock in the winter and spring and a hake ground in March. This fishing spot is about 3 or 4 miles square and is bounded on all but the western side by muddy bottom, which is of little value as a fishing ground. Usually there is good haddocking in March on the outside of Jeffreys, on its southeastern edge and in the cove between it and Tillies in 60 and 70 fathom depths on a broken and muddy bottom. This spot lies SE ½ from the Isle of Shoals, 27 miles to the center. Eastern Shoal Water of Cape Ann. This is generally considered a part of Jeffreys and is often spoken of as West Jeffreys by the fishermen. It extends In an ENE. direction from Cape Ann for a distance of from 15 to 18 miles. It is, in fact, a southwest continuation of Jeffreys Ledge, the two forming a nearly continuous ridge running NE. from Cape Ann a distance of about 42 miles. Depths on the so-called Eastern Shoal Water vary from 20 to 45 fathoms, the bottom being of rocks, pebbles, and coarse gravel over most of its extent. Sand and mud occur on the edges. The eastern part of the ground is resorted to by the haddock fleet during the fall and early winter, and other parts are visited more or less during the entire year for cod, haddock, and pollock by vessels and boats from Cape Ann and by craft of various types from Boston and Portland-line trawlers, gill-netters, and a few of the new type of small otter trawlers, this latter fleet of craft constantly growing in number. On the ledge cod, haddock, and cusk are taken in the full winter and spring, winter, perhaps, furnishing the best fishing. There are also more or less pollock, and hake constitute an important part of the catch. In those seasons when herring make their appearance in these waters the seiners make good catches here, mostly of food fish, as the large herring are termed by the trade. The mackerel, also, appear on these grounds and on the smaller grounds nearer to shore to northward and westward in good-sized schools, usually from July 1 through September. For many years the haddock catch from this bank has been of considerable importance, and this statement remains true for recent years as well. Formerly this fishery was almost entirely carried on by trawlers and hand-liners, but the gill-net fishery on these grounds is of great and steadily growing importance. Of late the larger part of the haddock catch has been taken by the "otter-trawl" method, this gear being operated by steamers of considerable size and upon the more distant grounds, such as Georges Bank, the South Channel, and the Western Bank. The same change to fishing grounds farther offshore has to a great extent taken place in the fleet of larger sailing vessels, thus leaving Jeffreys and other inshore banks to the smaller craft; except that, with the high prices of haddock and cod in the winter months, it is often profitable for these larger vessels to run off to near-by banks for one set and return to port the same day. On the inner parts of this ground, particularly, the gill-net fleet operates extensively, mainly in the full and spring, on northwest Jeffreys 8 to 12 miles E. and SE. from Thacher Island, where the bottom is sand and rocks. Other gill-netting grounds are 8 to 15 miles NE. by E. from Thacher Island in 22 fathoms on a hard bottom of mud and mixed material of sand and gravel. The Cove of Jeffreys, NE. by E. 12 to 15 miles from Thacher Island, is a favorite haddock ground in the spring (April 20 to May 15) in 45 to 70 or even 80 fathoms, although gill nets are not often fished in more than 50 fathoms because of the, weight of the nets in the deeper water. In the spring (in April and May), the haddock come in on Scantum, 10 miles NNE. from Thacher Island between Jeffreys Ledge and the Isle of Shoals, on a broken bottom of rocks and blue clay in 55 to 70 fathoms. Off Newburyport and N. and SW. of the Isle of Shoals are gill-netting grounds that are much used. Trawling and netting are carried on, beginning in 40 fathoms in February and March and working off to 70 fathoms off Salisbury Bench in May. Cod are on this ground about two weeks in October and in February and March are found in abundance off Boars Head. Hake are present here all the fall and are found all along the southeast side of these grounds in depths of 45 to 60 fathoms. A certain amount of halibut may be taken in most years at various points on a bottom of hard gravel in spring and early summer in 35 to 65 fathoms. In most years a large amount of mackerel is taken on Jeffreys, notably so in 1925. Herring, also, are usually abundant here in "herring years". The Shoal Ground, stretching easterly from Thacher Island, has depths from 20 to 30 fathoms over a bottom of sand and gravel. This area is about 15 miles long by 5 miles wide and is an important pollock ground in their spawning time as well as a good fall cod-fishing ground. It is about 12 miles E. by N. from Thacher Island to its center and 21 miles SE. by S. from the Isle of Shoals. Flounder draggers also operate here on the shoal ground and all around Thacher Island but mostly to eastward & southeastward. Tillies Bank. [13] This bears E & S from Eastern Point Light just dropping Thacher Island Light, then 3 miles farther for best fishing: and E. by S. ½ S. from Thacher Island, Cape Ann, from which the shoal on the center of the ground is distant 18 miles. This is a small rocky spot with depths of from 25 to 28 fathoms, outside of which the water deepens to 40 fathoms over a considerable area. The length of the entire ground is about 10 miles in an E. and W. direction and the width about 5 miles. At the edge it falls off rapidly to depths of 50 to 60 fathoms before reaching the mud at still greater depths but an area of shoal water connects this ground with West Jeffreys. The bottom is rocky and rough over the greater part of the bank. Tillies was formerly regarded as one of the best fishing grounds off Cape Ann and is still resorted to for cod and haddock in the spring and fall; for hake in the spring, summer, and fall, and for pollock in the spring and fall. The fishing is mainly by trawling, with the gillnetters operating on the shoal grounds in less than 50 fathoms. Stellwagen Bank also called Middle Bank. This separates Massachusetts Bay from the open water of the Gulf of Maine and extends from near Cape Ann nearly to Cape Cod. The center of this ground bears S by E ½ E from Thacher Island and N by W ½ W from Highland Light, Cape Cod. The Southern Part of the Bank is distant 5½ miles from Race Point Cape Cod, and its northwest prong reaches to within 12 or 15 miles of Eastern Point Cape Cod. The shoaler portion, with depths from 9½ to 19 fathoms, is 17½ miles long in a N by W and S by E direction and has a width of 4 miles. This part is sandy but the eastern slope, in depths of from 25 to 55 fathoms, consists of coarse sand gravel and pebbles. On this gravelly slope cod and haddock have been taken plentifully over a long term of years, the cod in the fall and spring and the haddock in the winter months. On the southern end of the bank and between this and Race Point cod abound in fall and winter. The whole bank is also a mackerel ground when the fish are in these waters, the best in the season averaging to be from July 15 through September. This bank is now mainly an Italian boat ground and is used by small craft from Boston and Gloucester. Gill-netting here is especially extensive in November and December, mostly for pollock. Netters operate about 22 miles SSE. from Eastern Point in 22 to 25 fathoms on a hard bottom. Good pollock catches are made in 25 to 40 fathoms on the eastern and southeastern slopes in the latter part of November and early December. Haddock are here from November 1 to March 1 and from April 20 to May 15. Cod are present all the year, the largest school occurring during August, September and October. It is a cusk ground from November to March in the deeper water. What seems a somewhat unusual occurrence in these later years was the appearance of a considerable school of halibut on the northern slope of Stellwagen during the last half of April 1926, several small craft getting from 2,000 to 3,000 pounds in their fares. Wild Cat Ridge. Very heavy tides sweep over this ground, making it difficult to haul gear in fishing upon it, whence, it is said, comes the name. It lies NNE from Highland Light, Cape Cod, 18 miles to its southern edge; SE ½ S from Thacher Island 31 miles; and is about 7½ miles long in a north and south direction by about 3½ miles wide. The bottom is hard, of broken shells and sand, and depths are from 45 to 60 fathoms. There are 100 fathom depths inside of the ground and from 100 to 110 fathoms outside of it. Apparently, this is an all the year ground for cod, cusk, and haddock, although but little fished at any time other than the winter seasons. [Table 3--Outer Fishing Grounds, showing the principle species taken upon them.] [Footnote 13: There has been some speculation as to the origin of the somewhat unusual name of this bank. The writer would note that there was an Edward Tillie in the Company of Captain John Smith when he explored this region in 1614 and a Tilly (perhaps the same person) who operated a fishing station at Cape Ann during the years 1624 and 1625.] GEORGES AREA East side of Cape Cod. The sea bottom off the east side of Cape Cod is mainly sandy and slopes off gradually from the beach, reaching depths of 30 to 40 fathoms at 5 to 7 miles from land. Below Chatham the slope is even more gradual. Within these limits good catches of cod are taken occasionally, and to a less extent the same is true of haddock. Farther from the shore, in from 40 to 80 fathoms and from a point 8 or 10 miles off the Highlands of Cape Cod to another point lying 20 miles or more SSE. from Chatham Lights, is a continuous stretch of excellent haddock grounds for winter fishing. The deep water off Chatham furnishes excellent hake fishing in summer and fall. This shore furnishes excellent mackerel fishing during most of the season when these fish are in northern waters. Virtually no gill-netters operate here, the distance to market being great and the chance of rough weather and the lack of safe harbor making it dangerous for small craft. From this stretch of shore (mostly from off Chatham) there were landed at Boston in the year 1923, 66 fares with a total of 1,797,826 pounds valued at $76,875. Tobins. A name given to a piece of ground about 20 miles square lying S. by E. from the Highland Light. It runs from about 40 miles to about 60 miles offshore, the depths gradually increasing as the bottom slopes away evenly from the shore from 75 to 95 fathoms over a bottom of clay, sand, and pebbles. Cod are taken here in the spring, summer, and fall, and haddock in February, March, and April. A few hake are taken here in summer, but, as compared with the grounds off Chatham, this is not to be considered a hake ground. Morris Ledge. This lies eastward of Chatham and is a favorite ground for certain cod fishermen during spring and early summer. Schooners and small craft operate here. Outer Crab Ledge. The center lies about 14 miles ESE from Chatham Lights. It extends about 5 or 6 miles in a N. and S. direction and is about 1 mile wide. Depths run from 19 to 23 fathoms; the bottom is rocky. The fishing is principally for cod in the fall, winter and spring. Vessel fishing here is principally in the spring. Nantucket Shoals. This stretch of bars and deeper waters between, roughly triangular in form with its apex at the north, lies along the western edge of the South Channel, extending S. and SE. from the southern end of Cape Cod and Nantucket Island. From Monomoy Point to Rogers Fishing Ground, on the eastern edge of Phelps Bank, it is SSE. 80 miles. Its width from Southeast Rips to the western edge of New South Shoal is 40 miles. The area includes a number of "fishing spots" and shoals, among which the following are the most important: Pollock Rip Ground, Rose and Crown Shoal, Great Rip, Davis Bank, Fishing Rip, Old and New South Shoal, and Phelps Bank. On and about all these shoals the sail fleet makes good catches, mainly consisting of cod but with a fair proportion of pollock, also, and in the deeper water close to them, in spring and summer, a considerable amount of haddock. An occasional large halibut is taken, and even good catches have been reported. There were noted in the daily report of the Boston Fish Bureau between May 15 and August 15, 1920, 10 trips made by the smaller vessels of the halibut fleet that landed fares of from 2,000 to 10,000 pounds of this species from this area. Perhaps more would be taken if the halibut fishery were to be followed here as in other areas. "Rip fishing," as conducted here, is done "at a drift," moving over the shoals and, as they move off from them, sailing back to repeat the process. The fish are taken by hand-lining with "cockle" bait or by "jigging" the fish with a shiny piece of metal representing a herring or similar fish, below which are set twin hooks, the fish being struck when it is felt investigating the lure. This fishery generally is carried on during May, June, July, and August. In the mackerel and herring seasons these grounds usually furnish good fishing for these species, the fish usually striking here from May 15 to July 15. Pollock Rip Grounds. These lie between Pollock Rip Lightship and Shovelful Lightship and extend northward to Pollock Rip Shoal. These grounds are 3 miles long, E. and W., by 2 miles N. and S. The depths range from 4 to 12 fathoms. These are fished from Monomoy and in stormy weather from Chatham instead of going to the Crab Ledge. Late in the spring and early in the fall the cod move inshore. In winter the cod leave Pollock Rip for the deeper water. Rose and Crown Shoal. This is a small piece of ground 7 miles ESE. from Sankaty Head. The fishing area lies between the Round Shoal and Rose and Crown buoys, making a stretch perhaps 6 miles long by 1½ miles wide. Sometimes good fishing may be had from 6 to 12 mile, from Great Round Shoal buoy. As elsewhere on and about these shoals, the cod is the principal species caught, pollock being next in importance, and a few haddock. Nantucket Shoals, Madisons Spot. SSE. 13 miles front Round Shoal buoy, has 9 fathoms over a smooth hard bottom of sand. It is about 3 miles long, from SE. to NW. by 1½ miles wide. This is a flounder ground for the greater part of the year and a good cod ground in October and November. As is the rule elsewhere in this neighborhood, tides are heavy over this ground. Nantucket Shoal--Great Rip. Lies 13 miles E. by S. ½ S. from Sankaty Head Light. Nantucket. It is 5 miles long from N, to S. and 3 miles broad. Over this area the depths are from 9 to 18 feet, but the fishing is done mainly around the edges in 6 to 12 fathoms where the bottom is gravel and shells covered with sponges and kelp. Here, as on all these shoals, the greater part of the fishing is done by that method known as "rip fishing." Cod are taken chiefly by hand-lining in May. June, July, and August. Nantucket Shoals; Davis Bank; Crab Bank. This is an irregular piece of bottom lying in a generally ENE. and WSW direction at about 20 miles distance ESE from Sankaty Head. It is perhaps 14 miles long by 5 miles wide at its broadest. Depths upon it are from 4 to 9 fathoms, with soundings of 12 to 18 about it, over a bottom of sand and broken shells. Nantucket Shoals Fishing Rip is an elongate bank lying 29 miles SE. from Sankaty Head Light. It is 10 miles long in a NE and SW direction and Southeast Rip (Nantucket Shoals) lies SE. from Sankaty Head 35 miles. It has depths from 8 to 10 fathoms over an area about 10 miles long by 2 miles wide, with from 22 to 30 fathoms over the sandy bottom around it. Phelps Bank. This bank lies 38 miles SE, ½ S. from Sankaty Head Light and agrees more or less in size, shape, trend, and character of the bottom with Fishing Rip. Depths are from 10 to 17 fathoms. On the southeast edge of this lies Rogers Fishing Ground, with 24 to 40 fathoms over fine gray sand. It is perhaps mainly a haddock ground. Nantucket Shoals (South Shoal). This name is applied to the fishing ground about Nantucket Lightship, which marks the Old South Shoal and the New South Shoal, the two making a continuous reef of irregular form some 10 to 12 miles in length and from 1 to 3 miles wide. The northern end of this lies about 12 miles S. by E. from Sankaty Head (the Old South Shoal), and the southern extremity of the New South Shoal reaches to about 20 miles S. ½ E. from the same point. The fishing ground lies mostly to the S. of these shoals and about the lightship, where otter trawling is carried on in all directions from the ship except from N. to NE., where lie the vessels sunk by the German submarine in the late war. This fishery is also carried on WNW. from the ship for a distance of 40 miles, even into 7 fathom depths near Muskeget Inlet. Elsewhere depths average from 13 to 18 fathoms on the inner parts of the grounds, whence they slope away gradually from the shore soundings into 50, 80, or even more on the outer edge, where the ground falls away rapidly into the deeps. For the most part this area has a bottom of sand, but there are small stretches of coarse gravel, broken shells, pebbles, and a few muddy spots. Within comparatively recent years this ground has been much used by the otter trawlers, which type of craft has developed a productive fishery here, which is being operated in steadily increasing volume and takes a catch that is predominantly of haddock. The proportion of cod taken here by these vessels is very small, even smaller than that from other grounds fished by the otter-trawl method. Pollock and hake, too, make a small item in the fares from the neighborhood of the South Shoal. In the average otter-trawl fare haddock makes up the greater part of the catch because, as a rule, this type of gear is operated mostly on the smooth, sandy bottom which this species prefers. The otter-trawl fishery here is at its best from early May through June, July, and the first halt of August. Few trips are reported from this ground at other seasons. Perhaps the haddock leaves the shoal grounds here earlier than when it moves out of the same depths in The Channel. The early fishing for the swordfish generally takes place in this vicinity, and in normal seasons mackerel are found here in abundance from May 15 to August, and, as is the custom with this uncertain fish, it may appear here again in the late fall. The Channel. [14] The Channel marks the western edge of Georges Bank. Its boundaries are somewhat indefinite, but the old Eldridge chart states that for the fishermen the 30 fathom curve running southerly from Race Point. Cape Cod, limits its western edge. This ground is much visited by the Boston fleet, both sail and steam, line trawlers and otter trawlers, the fleet of Gloucester, and the otter-trawl fleet that has developed in New York in recent years. This area is all good fishing ground in the proper season, but perhaps the most important is that part lying 25 miles E. ½ S. from Sankaty Head, Nantucket. Here is a level, sandy bottom, where, during May, June, July, and August, the otter trawlers operate successfully in 18 to 30 fathoms of water, making a catch that consists principally of haddock, with a considerable proportion of cod, especially in June and July, and with a fair amount also of pollock, cusk, and hake. Small halibut are fairly abundant here, also, these fish being of from 5 to R pounds, rarely larger. Flounders are abundant, with a good number of "lemon soles" and "gray soles," which are very popular with the trade. The sail fleet operates here also, but, as a rule, more of these vessels are found on the ground lying some 10 miles farther eastward, on the edge of Georges in somewhat deeper water (30 to 50 fathoms) on a rougher and rockier bottom, where there is a greater proportion of cod in the catch than on the western area. The Sankaty Head ground is about 20 miles long by about 8 miles wide, stretching from 55 miles SE. from Highland Light to 78 miles SE. by S ½ S. from the same point (the bottom of the Channel), and is bounded on all sides by pieces of bottom less favorable to the operation of the otter trawl because of the presence of rocks, sponges, or other obstacles, which interfere with the free passage of the net over the bottom but offer less trouble to the line-trawl fishermen. A good spring haddock ground lies ESE. 65 miles from the Highlands in 70 fathoms. best in March and April. As the cold weather advances the fish move away in great part from these grounds, going into the deeper water, the catches of the fall and winter months being taken mainly In depths of from 60 to 100 fathoms. At this season and in these depths the vicinity of the Corner of the Channel, Clarks Side. and the area N and W of the Cultivator usually have a good winter school of haddock. This has been particularly large during the past three year. (1923 to 1925). Thus, it may be seen that the Channel is an important ground during most of the year. The figures of the catch from Clarks Bank have been shown together with those of Georges Bank. of which, in fact, this area is a part. The larger part of the sail fleet is found fishing on the grounds of the eastern side of the Channel and of the western edge of Georges Bank, in part to escape the damage that the otter trawlers cause to them in dragging away their gear. It is often impossible for these steamers to avoid some damage of this kind: especially is this the case in the thick weather so prevalent oil Georges. In the summer months of the "mackerel years" a large catch of this species is taken from the waters of the Channel. St. Georges Bank, more generally known as Georges Bank. [15] This is by far the largest and most important fishing ground near the coast of the United States and is second to none in the western Atlantic except the Grand Bank of Newfoundland. It lies eastward of Cape Cod and Nantucket Shoals and is apparently an extension of the latter, since the water is no deeper between the southern part of the shoals and the western part of the bank than in many places upon it. Its southern limit, as shown on the chart, is 40° 40' north latitude, though the 50-fathom line extends 7 miles farther south. The southern limit, therefore, may be considered to be about 40° 30' and the northern as 42° 08' north latitude. The eastern part is in about 66° and the western in about 69° west longitude. The greatest length from the northeastern to the southwestern extremity is about 150 miles; the greatest width, N. and S., about 98 miles, according to the charts of the Coast Survey. Depths range from 2 to 50 fathoms. On the western part, between the parallels of 41° 10' and 41° 53' north latitude and the meridians of 87° 20' and 68° 37' west longitude are a number of shoals, known as the East Shoal, North Shoal, Southwest Shoal. Cultivator, etc. The Southwest Shoal is the largest, being 15 miles long SSW and NNE., with an average width of 2½ miles. The position of the center of this shoal is 41° 39' north latitude and 67° 48' west longitude. There are from 2 to 15 fathoms of water on the shoals and between them are depths of from 12 to 30 fathoms. The tide sweeps over these with great force, causing strong rips, and during rough weather the sea breaks heavily on them, rendering approach to their vicinity extremely hazardous. Over most of the bank the bottom is sand, although patches of rough ground (gravel, pebbles, and rocks) of greater or less extent are found in some localities. Its position between the Bay of Fundy and the Gulf Stream cause the tide to run swifter than on other banks and to swirl around instead of passing directly over, back and forth. The writer has seen two men have difficulty in holding an empty dory against the current. The Report on the Fishery Industry of the United States, in 1887, says that the first attempt at fishing here (of which there is any record) was made in 1821 by three Gloucester vessels. The cod and halibut industry, according to the same authority, began in 1830, although not fully established as a permanent industry until 1835. The area of the whole bank is approximately 8,050 square miles, all of which, except for the shoals, is available in summer for the taking of cod, haddock, cusk, halibut, and hake, with a considerable amount of mackereling and swordfishing, as well as the taking of other species. During February, March, and April large schools of cod make their appearance on the bank. At this season these are found most abundantly on the "Winter Fishing Ground"; a part of Georges lying eastward and southeastward of the North Shoal between the parallels of 41° 30' and 42° 00' north latitude and 66° 38' and 67° 30' west longitude. The area of this Winter Fishing Ground is about 1,100 square miles. This part of the bank seems entirely given over to the codfish, since it is too broken, sharp, and rocky to please the haddock. Depths here are from 30 to 40 fathoms, deepening away from the North Shoal. This area is essentially a spawning ground for the cod, which appear to come on the hank from the SE., as they almost invariably, after reaching the ground, move slowly to the N. and W. as spring approaches. This is in the direction of the shoals. As soon as the spawning season is over the schools of cod break up, but more or less fish are caught on different parts of the ground at all times of the year, though rarely are they found so plentiful as when the winter school is on the ground. Cod are found along the Northern Edge virtually the year around, though many of the winter school move on to the inner waters of the gulf and others go over to Browns Bank, where the early comers seem to appear in the first days of April. In its production Georges Bank itself is rather evenly divided between haddock and cod, the cod showing a slightly larger proportion. The South Channel, on the western edge of Georges, shows predominantly as a haddock ground, and the haddock from The Channel is considered a better fish than that from Georges. Georges Bank itself is also an important haddock ground in the spring and early summer, when this species abounds about the Cultivator Shoal (SE. by S. 88 miles from Highland Light. Cape Cod) in depths from 18 to 30 fathoms; and at the same season along the Northern Edge (140 to 200 miles E. by S. ½ S. from Boston Lightship in about 41° to 42° N. lat. and 66° to 88° W. long.) in 45 to 80 fathoms in summer, the fish moving off into the deeper water (90 to 100 fathoms) in the neighborhood of the Corner of the Channel as the winter comes on. Many are found in March, when they return from the deep water, when fishing is carried on 65 miles SE. from Highland in 70 fathoms; then they come into the 40-fathom depths from the North Shoal westward to the Corner of The Channel along the Northern Edge. In April the Cultivator Cove is good ground even into 20-fathom depths. The Southwest Part. (120 miles SSE. from Highland Light, Cape Cod, with 45 to 80 fathom depths) is a good ground for haddock from the beginning of the fall up to about Christmas, after which the best winter fishing for this species is found on the Southeast Part (reached by steaming 145 miles ESE. from Boston Lightship in order to clear the shoals, then SSE. 40 to 50 miles, depending upon what part of the ground it is desired to fish). January is perhaps the best fishing month upon this portion of Georges. While not considered a halibut ground, as compared with some of the other offshore banks, Georges can show a very considerable catch of this species. Because of its nearness to the markets it is more intensely fished than any other ground of equal area and by a far greater variety of crafts, most of which take a greater or less amount of halibut. The otter-trawl fleet, both here and in The Channel, takes a large amount of this species when its total catch is considered; and these fish are mainly small, of from 4 to 10 pounds in weight, with only rarely a larger one. The salt fishers, also, and the rest of the market fleet combine to make an imposing total of the poundage of halibut from Georges and its vicinity. The Georges halibut is esteemed by the trade above the halibut from other grounds. Perhaps its flesh may be superior, though for what reason it is difficult to say, unless because, since the trips to this ground average fewer days in length, the fish are received in the markets in a fresher condition than are those from more distant banks. The principal halibut grounds on Georges for the spring and summer months (April to July) lie between the Cultivator Shoal and the North Shoal in depths from 10 to 18 fathoms, and E., S., and SW. from the North Shoal in the same soundings. This area is sometimes called Little Georges. There are also a number of mussel grounds on the southwest part of Georges, having depths averaging 20 fathoms, all of which furnish good feeding grounds and a substantial catch of halibut in the seasons when these fish are in the shoal water. During July and August the halibut are found along the Northern Edge, over a stretch of ground about 65 miles long in 60 to 100 fathoms; and from this time until the hard weather of the winter begins the fishing goes on about the Northeast Peak (about 42° 00' N. and 66° 00' W.) over the narrow area on the edge of the suddenly deepening water, beginning in from 60 to 70 fathoms, then out to 200 and even 300 fathoms. The winter fishing on Georges is very difficult and somewhat hazardous, so that the halibut fishery in these waters is rarely carried on or, at best, by very few vessels after November or before March. Mackerel are usually quite abundant on Georges in their season, generally being large or medium fish. Herring also are found there in good number but are somewhat distant from market as fresh fish. [Table 4--Fishing grounds of the Georges Area, showing the principal species taken upon them.] By far the largest percentage of the swordfish catch landed in the ports of Boston, Gloucester, and Portland comes from Georges Bank. A considerable portion of the fish listed from this ground under the heading "Miscellaneous" is made up of this species. The swordfish arrive on Georges on the Southwest Part and on the Southern Edge about June 5, and the traveling schools pass over the bank, northward bound, up to August 10. In fact, all through the season when they are present in northern waters, even up to November, they may be found on Georges. Probably the best area of the bank for this species is on the parallel of 41° N., where the shoal rises steeply out of "blue water." [Footnote 14: Capt. John Smith wrote of this region: "Toward the South and Southwest of this Cape (Cape Cod) is found a long and dangerous shoal of sands and rocks. But so far as I incircled it, I found thirtie fadom water aboard the shore, and a strong current; which makes mee thinke there is a Channell about the shoales; where is the best and greatest fish to be had, Winter and Summer in all that Countree. But the Savages say there is no Channell; but that the shoales begin from the main at Pawmet, to the Ile of Nausit; and so extends beyond their knowledge into the sea." That the captain's reputation for far-visioned wisdom may not be held too lightly, let these figures speak, taken as they are from the bureau's records of the landings at the three ports of Boston, Gloucester. and Portland for the year 1927, when the fares from his "Channell" numbered 2,036, with a poundage of 121,688,693 and a value of $3,607,358.] [Footnote 15. "The earliest record of this name (Saint Georges Shoal) that the writer has found appears upon a map discovered in the library of Simancas, in Spain, where a chart said to have been made by a surveyor sent out to Virginia by James I of England, in 1610, was found in 1885 or 1888, after having long before disappeared from England. This chart is thought to embody, besides the work of Champlain and other foreigners, the information contained in the English charts of White, Gosnold, Pring, and probably of Waymouth's Perfect Geographical Map. It is thought to have been drawn by Robert Tyndall or Captain Powell." _Genesis of the United States_. Alexander Brown.] OFFSHORE BANKS Browns Bank. This bank lies in a northeastern direction from Georges and is separated from it by a gully 15 miles wide, in which the depths range from 100 to 450 fathoms. Its area is about 2,275 square miles. The greatest length, from SE to NW, is 63 miles and the greatest width is 43 miles. It is situated between 64° 52" and 68° 29" west longitude, and 41° 50" and 43° 02" north latitude. There is a small rocky shoal on the northern part, on which, it is said, there is not 9 to 15 fathoms. The bank slopes away from the shoal, S. and E. to depths of 55 to 75 fathoms, but at a distance of 12 or 15 miles off, it again rises to 30 to 50 fathoms. This area of shoal water, within the 50 fathom limit, is 50 miles long and has an average width of 15 miles. North of the shoal the water deepens suddenly to 70 and 80 fathoms. The bottom is largely coarse sand, gravel, pebbles, and rocks and is rich in animal life. The area of the bank is approximately 1,370 square geographical miles. Tides here are quite as strong as on the eastern side of Georges Bank, the ebb having an average strength of 1 1/3 miles an hour and the flood is somewhat stronger. The greatest strength of the flood tide sets W. the ebb in nearly an opposite direction. Haddock, cod, cusk, halibut, pollock and hake are the principal food fishes procured from this bank, ranking in volume in the order named. In value, however, halibut takes third place in the list. Cod are plentiful here in winter, though fewer vessels fish here than on Georges Bank, at that season. At other seasons the codfishery on Browns Bank compares favorably with that of other banks in the vicinity. Cod are present the year around, in May and June feeding in depths of about 40 fathoms, going into 80 fathoms in August, and into depths of about 100 fathoms in cold weather. Haddock, also, are present all the year, the period of greatest abundance being usually January and February. In March and April they are most abundant in 27 to 30 fathoms; at other seasons they are in 50 fathoms and deeper, especially in winter, when generally they can be found in 80 to 100 fathoms. Cusk are present in the deep water all the year. Older reports say (1880-81): "Halibut were formerly found here in abundance, but at present the fishery is limited to an occasional trip off the southern and western edge." It will be noted that a fair amount of halibut was taken here during 1923, when this bank ranked third in volume of halibut taken, which seems a good showing when the comparatively small size of the ground is considered. Fairly good catches have been made SW from the Northwest Peak of Browns, about 66° 50' west longitude and 42° 40' north latitude, along the 100-fathom curve and following eastward to the southward of La Have and beyond, perhaps to 63° west longitude. The Southeast Peak is perhaps the most productive of the halibut grounds here, "setting" off from the shoaler parts into the narrow deep-water channel between this and Georges perhaps 20 miles distant. A considerable part of the fish listed under the heading "Miscellaneous" are swordfish, which come upon this bank during their summer wanderings. It will be noted that the number of otter-trawl fares from this ground is small. It is only in recent years that this method of fishing has been employed here, the bottom having been thought to be too rough for the successful operation of gear of this type upon it. Seal Island Ground. This is called also on the charts in its northwest part, the German Bank and lies off the western part of Nova Scotia. Very few charts show it, as it is somewhat difficult to define its exact limits. It is a direct continuation of the shore soundings, which slope gradually from the land to the S. and W. and continue in a northerly direction beyond what might be considered the bounds of the grounds. To the S. it extends nearly to Browns Bank, from which it is separated by a narrow gully 70 to 80 fathoms deep. To the N. it reaches 38 miles beyond Seal Island and to the NW. about 35 miles from the same island. The southern limit of the ground is in 43° and the northern 43° 45' north latitude, while the western boundary may be placed at 66° 40' west longitude. The entire ground outside the 3 mile limit covers an area of 1,250 miles. There is a small shoal called Pollock Rip, with a depth of 7 fathoms, bearing SW from Seal Island, distant 9½ miles; but otherwise the ground slopes quite gradually, the depths being from 15 to 70 fathoms. The bottom is mainly coarse gravel and pebbles with occasional rocky spots of greater or less extent. The tides sweep over this ground with considerable force out from and in toward the Bay of Fundy. the flood running strongest. In general, the species of fish found here and the seasons of their greatest abundance are much as on Browns Bank. The principal fishes taken are haddock, cod, cusk, halibut, and hake, and a very small amount of pollock. Except for the haddocking, the best fishing season is from March to October. Halibut are said to have been very plenty here in the past but are said to have been comparatively rare in recent years, although occasional good fares are brought from these grounds, perhaps more commonly in the spring and early summer and a few at other seasons. In April they are found most commonly in 80 fathom depths; in May in 30 to 40 fathoms, in June the best halibuting is had in 25-fathom depths or even in shoaler water. (The halibut catch shown for the year chosen (1927) is unusually small, most years yielding a fair amount of this species from this ground. Apparently no member of the American halibut fleet visited this ground for the year.) Cod are present here the year around, perhaps the best fishing taking place in May and June, when the fish are found in about 40 fathoms They go into deeper water, about 60 fathoms, in August and into 100 fathoms as the cold weather advances. This Seal Island ground may be considered essentially as a feeding ground for the cod, which seem to appear here after the spawning season is over, to fatten upon the crabs and mollusks living on the bottom and on the herring and other small fish that swim back and forth In the tide rips. Haddock are also present all the year, the schools being most abundant and the number greatest in January and February, when the fish are in about 50 to 60 fathoms. Apparently they come into depths of from 27 to 30 fathoms in March and April for spawning. Cusk are present here during most of the year in 80 fathoms on the hard bottom. Pollock are few on this ground at any time of the year. This species, together with herring and mackerel, are abundant on the "shore soundings" of Seal Island Ground, whence, following the abundant food furnished by the smaller fish, they range a short distance in to the Bay of Fundy. Many mackerel are taken in the traps in the vicinity of Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, which seems to mark the limit of their penetration in any considerable schools on the western shore of Nova Scotia. What is apparently a gradually deepening extension of Seal Island Ground is found about 65 miles SSE. from Mount Desert Rock and 60 miles W. from Seal Island. There seems to be no distinguishing name for this area. The depths here are from 70 to 100 fathoms over a broken bottom of mud, gravel, and in places fine sand. The ground falls off rapidly on all sides except toward Seal Island and the Nova Scotia coast, leaving an area at its end of somewhat indeterminate length, perhaps 18 or 20, miles, and having a distance across of about 8 miles at its widest part. Apparently there is no reason why this should not be an all-the-year fishing ground, but it seems not to be visited much in the winter. It furnishes, however, a very good summer handline fishery for cod at dogfish time, and in the spring months it abounds in cod, cusk, and hake, all fish of large size. Roseway Bank. This bank lies N. of the western part of La Have and SE. of Shelbourne Light, Nova Scotia: 31 miles SSE. from the whistling buoy off Lockport, Nova Scotia, to the southeastern edge. It is oblong in shape and of small extent--about 270 square geographical miles. Its greatest length is 21 miles and its greatest breadth 15 miles. It extends from 43° 12' to 43° 33' north latitude, and from 64° 25' to 64° 52' west longitude and at the northwest corner is connected with the shore limit of 60 fathoms by a narrow neck. Depths are from 33 to 48 fathoms. The bottom is of sand, gravel, and rocks; on the Northeast Peak the bottom is of yellow mud and gravel. Currents in this region are not nearly so strong as about Cape Sable and Browns Bank, their general direction being WSW. and ENE the westerly much the stronger, though the force and direction of both are much influenced by the winds. The principal fish taken here are cod, haddock, and cusk, but hake, pollock and halibut occur, the best fishing months being from May to October, when the bank is resorted to by craft from western Nova Scotia. A few New England craft also fish here. La Have Bank. Situated eastward of Browns Bank and S. and E. of Roseway Bank. It extends from 42° 34' to 43° 26' north latitude a distance of 52 miles, and from 63° 50' to 65° 07' west longitude a distance of about 54 miles. The bank is nearly divided into two portions, of which the eastern (La Have Bank proper) extends N and S. 39 miles and the western portion nearly E. and W. about 35 miles. The total area of the bank is about 1,200 miles. The bottom is largely coarse gravel, pebbles, and rock, with smaller areas of sand distributed here and there. Depths run from 40 to 50 fathoms. The general set of the currents is to the westward, but this is much influenced by the force and direction of the wind and is generally quite strong during easterly blows. The principal fishing upon this bank in the past has been for cod and haddock: and while former reports, (1881) speak of this as having once been a favorite fishing ground for halibut and state that it was not at time of much importance in that fishery, the figures for this ground for the year 1923 show the halibut catch to have been third in volume and first in value of the species taken there. In fact, the catch of halibut here makes quite an imposing figure when the comparatively small size of the ground is considered. Little La Have and the La Have Ridges are simply continuations of this back toward the Western Bank for a distance of about 45 miles. This places the eastern limit in about 62° 50' west longitude, the northern and southern boundaries being about as those of La Have Bank. The area of the ridges is about 1,575 miles. The bottom here is a succession of ridges of pebbles and gravel with occasional patches of rocks. Depths are from 53 to 80 fathoms. The current, occasionally strong, is weaker here than farther W. on the bank and, except during easterly winds, is but little noticed. The general set is westerly. "The Ridges" says the report before mentioned, "were for a number of years one of the favorite resorts for halibut catchers in winter, and many good catches of cod were taken here at that season. At present but few halibut are caught except in the deep water along the southern edge of the ground, where they sometimes have been found quite plentiful during nearly the entire year." Apparently there has not been much change in these conditions since the writer's time; fish seem to be present here In about the same quantities as in former years. One piece of bottom, having depths of 25 to 50 fathoms over red clay, lying approximately in 43° 08' to 43° 10' north latitude and about 81° to 83° west longitude, seems a good spring and early summer ground. Apparently red-clay bottom indicates a good halibut ground, as this species is usually present where such a bottom is found. Hake are found in good numbers in the deep water about the edges of the ground and even on the Ridges. These waters are quite heavily fished from Canadian ports, and a fair number of American vessels visit them each year, most of them hailing from Boston or Gloucester. Scandinavian Bank. Eighteen miles SSW. from Shelbourne Light. Nova Scotia. It is about 3 miles long in an E. and W. direction by about ½ mile wide. In general, the bottom is level, with depths from 50 to 70 fathoms; the shoal parts are sharp and rocky, the bottom over the deeper portions being composed mostly of small black and yellow pebbles. This is a summer halibut ground (July and August) in depths from 45 to 60 fathoms, and halibut occur in October in the deeper waters about it. It is also a fair summer cod ground, and cusk are present in the deep water about the edges during most of the year. In general, species and seasons are much as on Roseway. Western Bank. This is one of the most important fishing grounds of the western Atlantic, whether as regards size or the abundance of its product. It lies S. of Cape Breton Island and the eastern part of Nova Scotia between the parallels of 42° 55' and 44° 46' north latitude and the meridians of 59°04' and 62° 35' west longitude. It has a length of 156 miles and a width, including the Middle Ground, of 76 miles. It is about 420 miles E. ½ S. from Boston to the southwestern edge, which means about 48 hours' steaming for the otter-trawl fleet. The general contour of the bank within the 65-fathom line, as laid down on the Admiralty chart, approaches somewhat a very elongated ellipse, the longer axis running NE. by E. and SW. by W.; but over a broad area to eastward of the center of the bank, soundings of less than 50 fathoms connect it directly with the Middle Ground, which we have here included in the some bank. The total extent of the bank thus defined is about 7,000 square geographical miles. Off its eastern end lies Banquereau (the Quereau of the fishermen) with The Gully between, and a short distance of the western edge are the La Have Ridges. The depths off the southern edge of the bank increase rapidly from 80 to 700, 1,200, and even 1,400 fathoms. At the eastern end is Sable Island, [16] "graveyard of ships", a long, narrow, crescent-shaped elevation seemingly lessening in area each year, formed entirely of sand that has been blown Into innumerable hummocks and dunes. Off both ends of the island are long and dangerous sand bars. The length of the island is 20 miles; its greatest width is about 1½ miles. It is said that the Northwest Light has been moved three times due to the fact that the western end of the island has been literally blown away. It lies in an E. and W. direction, and the depth of water over the bars for a distance of 7 to 10 miles out does not exceed 2 fathoms, and even 10 miles farther out the depths do not exceed 10 to 11 fathoms. Within recent years fishermen have reported the appearance of a sand shoal about 5 or 6 miles SE. from the Northeast Light. This is said to appear at low water. In general, the bank slopes S. and W. from the island, depths ranging from 18 to 60 fathoms. The bottom is mostly sandy with patches of gravel and pebbles. Currents are sometimes very strong about Sable Island and are somewhat irregular; apparently they are much influenced by the winds. On the other parts of the bank usually there is but little current, whatever there is usually tending toward the west. Formerly the cod and halibut were the food fishes most taken here, but with the changed methods in the fishery (as the growth of the otter-trawl fleet) and a changed taste in our public the haddock catch has become the second most important in the receipts of fish from these waters. The halibut fishery stands third in the list. Other bottom feeders occur in less numbers, the pollock and the cusk perhaps being next in order of importance, with hake and a considerable amount of the various flatfishes in the otter trawls. These latter are marketed as sole. Noting the small amount of haddock in the fares taken from these waters in former years, the writer asked a number of old-time fishermen as to its abundance in the old days. The reply was usually "Oh, yes, there were always haddock there; sometimes they bothered us a lot." Then, noting my surprise at so putting it, "You know, the haddock isn't much as a salt fish." It will be noted that in 1923 the haddock catch here was a very good second to the cod catch in poundage, though not so valuable proportionately. In the otter-trawl catch from this ground it will be noted that the positions of the two species are reversed. As a rule, these steamers certainly take more than 2 pounds of haddock to 1 of cod on other offshore grounds--perhaps the result of operating in the shoaler waters and on the smoother bottom because of the difficulty of dragging over the rocky and kelp-covered ground, which the cod seems to prefer. But the bottom on the Western Bank is of such nature as to offer little obstruction to the passage of the net, so that virtually all parts of it may be fished by this method; and this, added to the known movements of the cod schools makes it possible at certain seasons of the year to catch a larger proportion of this species if it is so desired. Haddock are found about the bars at both ends of the island in March and from that time to about June 1 in from 15 to 22 fathoms. They are also abundant 18 miles W. from the Northwest Light at the same seasons and at the same depths. During April, May, and June they come in close to the island in from 10 to 17 fathoms--even to 1 fathom. Through the rest of the year (except for the colder months, when they have moved off into deeper water) they may be found all over the bank on sandy bottom in 28 to 30 fathoms, where most of the beam trawl fishing is carried on. There is a good cod school each year on the comparatively level bottom along the western and southwestern edges of the ground in 70 fathoms and more from February 1 to May 1, and in most years a certain amount of this species is taken on this area. In May this school seems to have moved on to a piece of bottom about 20 miles long lying SW. from the Northwest Light and having depths averaging 27 fathoms. With fair fishing for cod on the Western Bank during most of the year, they seem to be most abundant from the first of March to June. The winter school here appears to be smaller than that on Georges, but apparently this species visits this ground in considerable numbers during the spawning season. In winter the cod are mainly found upon the western part of the bank, moving into the shoaler waters toward Sable Island as the spring advances (during March and April), the "Bend" of the island and the neighborhood of the bars in 2 to 4 fathoms, where they can be seen taking the hook or can be "jigged." being favorite grounds. The ground lying W. from the Northwest Light, on and about the Northwest Bar (18 miles W, from the light), is a favorite cod ground in May and June. The shoal water over the rocky bottom WNW from the Northwest Light furnishes good cod fishing from June 10 to July 1. This piece begins just outside the 3-mile stretch of breakers running out from the land and extends offshore in a generally westerly direction to 24 fathoms. Much hand-lining is done here. In the shoal water, in April and May, the fish seem to be feeding on the "lant," (Ammodytes americanus). It is said that the fish taken on the bottom close to the island are smaller than those found farther west. The shoal water of the northern shore of the island is said to have good cod grounds and favorite spots for "dory hand-lining." The cod schools seem to arrive on the Northern Peak (SE. from the Northeast Light 40 miles to SE ½ S. from same point 28 miles) in late March and the first of April, moving N. and W. to the island. The cod of Sable Island are said to be fine, firm fish, perhaps due to the abundance of the "red clams" (bank clams) on these grounds. The cod and haddock fishery is carried on by American and Canadian sailing vessels and otter trawlers, an increasing number of English and French vessels of the latter class engaging in the fishery of this ground each year. Halibut are found on the Western Bank virtually all the year at depths varying with the seasons. As a halibut bank, this, with The Gully and Quereau--in fact, all one piece of ground--ranks second only to the Grand Bank Itself. The best fishing here for halibut is found from January to October. There are numerous places on and about the bank that the halibut seems to prefer, as the Peak of Pike, 85 miles W. by S. from the Northwest Light of Sable Island; S. and SW. of Sable Island from 12 to 38 miles; SW. 20 miles in 60 fathoms in May; thence out into 100 and 150 fathoms in June; in fact, following the 100--fathom curve along the edge of this bank, past the Northeast Peak (40 miles SE. from the Northeast Light), into the Gully and around the Southern Prong of Quereau to the Middle Prong. Apparently they leave this piece of bottom in July. Often the fish are close to the island in the spring, where the water is so shoal that they can be seen taking the bait or playing with the hook before taking. In April, May, and June a good halibut ground is in 18 fathoms 24 miles WNW. from Sable Island. The Western Bank seems to be a good feeding ground for both cod and halibut as it abounds in shellfish and crustaceans, and at certain periods there are many smaller species of fish upon it, such as the lant and herring, on which these species and the haddock, also, especially prey. A considerable amount of swordfish is taken here in August and September, mainly by American vessels. Banquereau. Separated from the Western Bank by The Gully, this has a very irregular form--the main bank roughly rectangular, with a narrow westerly extension of comparatively regular form. Its length, E. and W., is about 120 miles, its greatest width about 47 miles, and its total area about 2,800 miles. The main portion of the bank lies between 44° 04' and 45° 01' north latitude and 67° 10' and 59° 00' west longitude, and the western prolongation lies between 44° 24' and 44° 42' north latitude and 69° 00' and 80° 05' west longitude. North of Banquereau lies Artimon, distant 3 miles, and Misaine, distant from 2 to 15 miles according to the places from which measurements are taken. The currents here are of varying force, much influenced by the wind, so that several days of strong tides may be followed by intervals when there is little if any current. On the eastern part of Quereau is an area of shoal ground called the Rocky Bottom, having a depth of about 18 fathoms; elsewhere depths run from 18 to 50 fathoms. For the most part the bottom is rocky, but there are scattered patches of sand and gravel. Cod and halibut are the principal food fishes taken, hake, haddock, and cusk being taken in small numbers. The Rocky Bottom, a shoal ground of 20 to 25 fathom depths on the eastern part, was much resorted to by dory handliners in summer. The cod are most plentiful on the eastern part of the bank, though occasional good fares are taken toward the west. The best cod fishing on this bank is from May until September, when the schools gather to feed upon the lant, squid, crustaceans, and shellfish, then very abundant. Halibut are found here all the year off the edges in 100 to 400 fathoms. Apparently these are feeding and breeding grounds for this species, and it is not unusual for a school to remain for weeks and even months in one locality, though some of these may be fish in migration northward. The principal halibut grounds are along the southern and eastern borders of the bank--the Southwest Prong and the Southwest Cove (in about 44° N. lat. and between 58° 30' and 58° 55' W. long), the Middle Prong (44° 14' N. lat. and 58° W. long.), and the Eastern Slope (44° 28' to 45° 00' N. lat.)--in depths of 150 to 400 fathoms. These deep-water areas are rocky and support a very rich growth of gorgonians, corals, sea anemones, etc. The Eastern Slope has an abundance of bank clams in depths of 25 fathoms. These beds are good hand-line grounds for cod. The halibut, too, feeds to a considerable extent upon these red clams. The Stone Fence off the eastern slope of Quereau is a very rocky piece of ground full of "trees" (corals) in 250 fathoms. This is a good halibut ground although it is almost impossible to haul the gear by hand and the use of the "gurdy" (a roller turned by a crank and fastened to the dory's bow for winding up the trawl) becomes necessary. Occasional fares of halibut are taken on and about the Rocky Bottom in 20 to 25 fathoms from July 1 to August 1. The Gully. This is the deep waterway between Banquereau and Sable Island or Western Bank. It extends in an WNW. and an ESE. direction north of Sable Island, turning somewhat abruptly S. at its eastern end and continuing down between the eastern end of Western Bank and the Southwest Prong of Banquereau. The entire length is about 80 miles, the greatest width about 20 miles. Depths range from 68 to 145 fathoms over a bottom of rocks, gravel, sand, and mud. The rocky and gravelly portions form several ridges separated by areas of finer materials, except in the eastern section, where the intervals between are mostly covered by pebbles and sharp rocks. Ocean currents are generally westerly, of varying strength, much affected by the easterly winds. The Gully is a very important halibut ground. The halibut are not found in great numbers all over the ground, perhaps the best of the fishing being on the rocky and gravelly ridges and slopes included between the meridians of 69° and 80° west longitude. This rocky bottom is rich in food, and the lant and herring are usually plentiful here in their season. In the spring the halibut seem to be especially numerous in the northern and northwestern parts of the bank, later, in June and July, moving farther out. Some, are found here in winter. While the cod is sometimes found in The Gully in 60 to 90 fathoms, it does not seem to be of regular occurrence; and apparently there are almost no haddock here, probably because of the depth of the water and the nature of the bottom. Artimon Bank. Has an area of some 120 square miles with a bottom of gravel and rocks and depths of 38 to 50 fathoms. It is but little known because of the tendency of the fishermen to use the larger grounds close at hand. Cod are known to be present here, however. The bank lies N. of the eastern part of Quereau, separated from it by a narrow, deep-water channel. Misaine Bank. Lies N. of the western two-thirds of Quereau, at one place very near, but in general the banks are separated by some 20 miles of deep water. Its greatest length is 80 miles and its greatest width 40 miles. Depths are from 40 to 60 fathoms over a bottom broken and rocky. It is not of much importance as a fishing ground, although a few halibut trips are landed from it in most years. Canso Bank. A long, narrow extension of Misaine Bank, lying in an E, and W. direction; its length is 45 miles and its greatest width 13 miles, its area being about 425 square miles. Depths range from 30 to 65 fathoms over a bottom of sand, with spots of gravel and pebbles. It is not of much importance as a fishing ground, especially as judged by the use of it by the American fleet, though more fished by vessels from Nova Scotia; perhaps it is overshadowed by the presence of its larger neighbors, Western and Quereau Banks, with which grounds it forms virtually one piece of bottom, only narrow, deep-water channels separating them. These larger grounds are heavily fished both by American vessels and by those from Nova Scotia ports as well as by French and English otter trawlers. The statistics given here and elsewhere in this report are taken from the published bulletins of the United States Bureau of Fisheries, and include only the landings of vessels of 5 tons net, or over, at the ports of Boston and Glouscester, Mass., and Portland, Me. [Table 5--Fishing grounds of the offshore North Atlantic, showing the principal species taken upon them] [Footnote 16: "Pedro Reinel, a Portuguese pilot of much fame" (Herrera) made a map in 1505 showing Sable Island, feared and dreaded by all fishermen even in those days, where he called it "Santa Cruz." Jacamo Gastaldi, an Italian cartographer, in 1548 shows it "Isolla de Arena." Sir Humphrey Gilbert or his historian, says that the Portuguese had made an interesting settlement here for shipwrecked mariners. This, "Upon intelligence we had of a Portugal who was himself present when the Portugals, above thirty years past (thus before 1551) did put upon the island neat and swine to breed, which were since exceedingly multiplied."] TABLES OF CATCH [Table 6--Distance from Boston or Gloucester, Mass., to the center of certain of the more important offshore banks] [Table 7--Distance from Portland, Me., to the center of certain of the more important offshore banks] [Table 8--Landings by fishing vessels at Boston and Gloucester, Mass., and Portland, Me., from inner or shore grounds, 1927] [Table 9--Landings by fishing vessels at Boston and Gloucester, Mass., and Portland, Me., from the outer grounds of the Gulf of Maine, 1927] [Table 10--Landings by fishing vessels at Boston and Gloucester, Mass., and Portland, Me., from the fishing grounds of the Georges Bank area, 1927] [Table 11--Landings by the otter-trawl fleet at Boston and Gloucester, Mass., and Portland, Me., from the fishing grounds of the Georges Bank area, 1927] [Table 12--Landings by fishing vessels at Boston and Gloucester, Mass., and Portland, Me., from the offshore grounds adjacent to the Gulf of Maine, 1927] [Table 13--Landings by fishing vessels at Boston and Gloucester, Mass., and Portland, Me., from all grounds, 1927] [Table 14--Landings by fishing vessels from the various fishing grounds at Boston and Gloucester, Mass., and Portland, Me., 1927] [Table 15--Landings by fishing vessels from all grounds at Boston and Gloucester, Mass., and Portland, Me., 1916 to 1927] MAPS [Map--Coastal Banks and Inshore Grounds of the Gulf of Maine: Bay of Fundy] [Map--Coastal Banks and Inshore Grounds of the Gulf of Maine: Monhegan to Petit Manan] [Map--Coastal Banks and Inshore Grounds of the Gulf of Maine: Monhegan to Cape Cod] [Map--Coastal Banks and Inshore Grounds of the Gulf of Maine: Petit Manan to Seal Island] [Map--Fishing Grounds of the Gulf of Maine: The Georges Area] INDEX TO GROUNDS Abner Ground Acre, The Allens Shoal Andrews Shoal Apron The Artimon Bank Baker's Island Ridge Bald Ridges Bank Comfort Banks Ground Banquereau Bantam Barley Hill Ground Barnum Head Ground Bay of Fundy Beaver Harbor Ben's Ground Big Ridge Doggetts Big Ridge (Cashes) Black Island Ground Black Ledges Ground Blue Clay Blue Ground Blue Hill Ground Boar Head Ground Boon Island Rock Ground Bounties, The Boutens, Inner and Outer Brewers Spot Broken Ground Broken Ground Broken Ridges Browns Bank Bulkhead Rips Bumbo, Outer and Inner Burnt Island Inner Ridge Burnt Island Outer Ridge Bull Ground Campobello Canso Cape Porpoise Peaks Cards Reef Cashes Bank Cashes Ridge, East Cashes NW Ridge Cashes Big Ridge Channel Clarks Ground Clay Bank Clay Ridge Coast Nova Scotia Cod Ledges Cod Ridge Cove (S.E. Jeffreys) Cove (W. Jeffreys) Cow Ground Crab Bank Crie Ridges Cusk Ridge Davis Bank Deckers Shoal Doggetts Ridge Drunken Ledge (Drunkers) Duck Island Ridges Dump, The Eagle Island Ground Eagle Ridge Eastern Shoal Water, Cape Ann East Side Cape Cod Egg Rock Broken Ground Elbow, The Enochs Shoal Fifty-five Fathom Fippenies Fire Ground Fishing Rip Flat Ground Flat Ledge Forty-five Fathom Franklin Ground Freemans Ground Gannet Rock Garden, The Georges Bank German Bank Gilkey Ground Grand Manan Grand Manan Bank Gravel Bottom Gravelley Great Ledge Great Rip Green Ground Green Island Ridge Grumpy Gully, The Haddock Nubble Hake Ground Handspike Ground Harris Ground Harts Ground Harvey Blacks Ridge Hatchell Ground Head and Horns Henry Gallants Ridge Henry Marshalls Henrys Rock Hill Ground Howard Nunans Ridge Hue and Cry Ingalls Shoal Inner Bank Inner and Outer Boutens Inner Breaker Inner and Outer Bumbo Inner Fall Inner Grounds Inner Horse Reef Inner Kettle Inner Sandy Cove Inner Schoodic Ridge Ipswich Bay Isle au Haute (Ca) Jeffreys Bank Jeffreys Ledge Jerry Yorks Ridge Joe Ray Ground John Dyers Ridge Johns Head Ground Jones Ground Kettle Bottom, Outer Kettle Bottom, Inner Klondike Laisdells Ground Lambo La Have La Have Ridges Lightons Little Hill Ground Little Georges Little Jeffrey Little La Have Long Hill Ground Lukes Rock Lurcher Shoal Machias Seal Island Madisons Spot Marblehead Bank Martins Ground Massachusetts Bay Matinic Bank Matinic Ooze Matinicus SSW Maurice Lubees Ridge McIntire Reef Middle Bank Middle Ground Middle Ridge Middle Shoal Minerva Hub Misaine Bank Mistaken Ground Monhegan Inner SSE Monhegan Outer SSE Monhegan Southeast Monhegan Inner SSW Monhegan Outer SSW Monhegan Western Ground Morris Ledge Mosers Ledge Mount Desert Inner Ridge Mount Desert Outer Ridge Mud Hake Grounds Murray Hole Murre Hub Mussel Shoal Nantucket Shoals Newfound Ground (Fundy) Newfound Ground (MDI) New Ledge New Meadows Channel Nipper Ground North Shore of Nova Scotia Northwest Ledge Old Egg Rock Old Jeffrey Old Mans Pasture Old Orchard Ground Old Ripper Old Southeast Ornes Ground Otter Island Reef Outer Bumbo Outer Boutens Outer Crab Ledge Outer Ground Outer Horse Reef Outer Kettle Outer Schoodic Ridge Outer Shoal Passamaquoddy Bay Pasture Peters Bank Petersons Ground Phelps Bank Pigeon Ground Platts Bank Pollock Hub Pollock Rip Potato Patch Prairie Quaco Ledges Quereau Ridge, The Big Ridge, East Cashes Ridge, North Georges Ridge, Northwest Cashes Ridge, South Fippenies Ridge, Three-dory Ripplings Rock Cod Ledge Rose and Crown Roseway Saddleback Reef Sagadahoc Salmon Netting Ground Sand Shoal Sandy Cove Scandinavian Bank Scantum Seal Island Ground Seguin Ground Seguin Hub Seguin Ridge Seguin SSW Shoal Ground Shell Ground Si's Spot Skate Bank Snipper Shin Soundings Southeast Southeast Ground Southeast Jeffreys Southeast Ledge Southeast Rip Southeast Rock Southern Head Reef South Shoal Southwest Ground Southwest Rock Southwest Ledges Spencer Island Steamboat Ground Stellwagen Bank Stone Fence Summer Hake Ground Tag Ground Tanta Temple Ledge Ten Acre Three-dory Ridge Tibbett's Ledge Tillies Bank Tobins Bank Toothaker Ridge Tower Ground Towhead Ground Tracadie Trinidad Trinity Shoal Wells Bay Western Bank Western Egg Rock Western Point Ridge Western Reef Western Ridge White Head Grounds White Island Ground Wildcat Ridge WNW Rips Wolves Wolves Bank Wood Island Ground Winker Ground GEOGRAPHIC LIST OF GULF OF MAINE FISHING GROUNDS BAY OF FUNDY AREA Description of Fundy Area North Shore and Nova Scotia coast Lurcher Shoal Trinity Shoal Northwest Ledges West-Northwest Rips & the Flat Ground Boars Head Ground Outer Ground Head and Horns Sandy Cove Grounds Inner Sandy Cove Grounds Spencer Island Grounds Isle au Haute Ground Quaco Ledges Salmon Netting Ground Ingalls Shoal Mussel Shoal Ground The Wolves The Wolves Bank Campobello Passamaquoddy Bay Mud Hake Ground Beaver Harbor Grand Manan Clarks Bank Southern Head Reef Gravelly Soundings Bulkhead, Ripplings Cards Reef Gannet Rock Southeast Ground Machias Seal Island INNER GULF OF MAINE AREA Lukes Rock Newfound Ground Henrys Rock Handspike Ground Western Egg Rock Old Egg Rock Middle Ridge Broken Ground Tibbetts Ledge Bens Ground Southeast Rock Broken Ridges. Black Ledges Ground Bakers Island Ridge Martins Ground; Hillards Reef Egg Rock Broken Ground Inner Schoodic Ridge Outer Schoodic Ridge Mount Desert Inner Ridge Mount Desert Outer Ridge Flat Ground Enochs Shoal Banks Ground Shell Ground Abner Ground Grumpy Hatchell Ground Blue Hill Ground Hake Ground (Inner and Outer) Horse Reef Southwest Ground Barley Hill Ground Gilkey Ground Rock Cod Ledge Southeast Gravel Bottom Laisdells Ground Saddleback Reef Otter Island Reef Old Ripper Crie Ridges Bald Ridges Henry Marshalls Ground The Bounties Summer Hake Ground Minerva Hub Haddock Nubble Skate Bank Matinicus Sou'Sou'West Inner Breaker Towhead Grounds Western or Green Island Ridge & Pigeon Ground Matinic Bank Matinic Ooze Freemans Ground Middle Shoal, Allens Shoal, Black Island Ground Franklin Ground White Head Grounds Burnt Island, Inner Ground Burnt Island, Outer Ground Ornes Ground Outer Shoal Monhegan Inner Sou'Southeast Monhegan Outer Sou'Southeast Blue Ground Monhegan Southeast Ground Hill Ground Monhegan Inner Sou'Sou'West Old Jeffrey Little Jeffrey Monhegan Western Ground Broken Ground Great Ledge Barnum Head Ground Peterson's Ground Cusk Ridge Potato Patch The Apron Henry Gallants Ridge Middle Ground; Mosers Johns Head Ground White Island Ground Steamboat Ground Inner and Outer Boutens Hill Ground Seguin Sou' Sou' West Seguin Ridge Seguin Ground McIntire Reef Seguin Hub Cow Ground Murre Hub Mistaken Ground Tag Ground Kettle Bottom, Outer Murray Hole Inner Kettle Bantam White Head Ground Green Ground Lambo The Bull Ground The Garden Sand Shoal The Elbow Old Orchard; Wood Island Ground Drunken Ledge OUTER GULF OF MAINE AREA Grand Manan Bank Middle Ground Marblehead Bank Newfound Jones Ground Bank Comfort Clay Bank Newfound Jeffreys Bank Inner Fall Toothaker Ridge Cashes Bank Ridge east of Cashes Ridge northwest of Cashes Big Ridge Ridge north of Georges John Dyers Ridge Fifty-five Fathom Bunch Fippenies Bank Ridge south of Fippenie Maurice Luhees Ground Harvey Blacks Ridge Cod Ridge Three-Dory Ridge Platts Bank Jeffreys Ledge Cove of Jeffreys Clay Ridge Jerry Yorks Ridge Howard Howard Nunans Ridge Southeast Jeffreys Southeast Cove Eastern Shoal Water of Cape Ann Tillies Bank Stellwagen or Middle Bank Wild Cat Ridge GEORGES BANK AREA East Side of Cape Cod Tobins Bank Morris Ledge Outer Crab Ledge Nantucket Shoals South Shoal Pollock Rip Grounds Rose & Crown Nantucket Shoals--Madisons Spot Nantucket Shoals--Great Rip Nantucket Shoals--Davis Bank; Crab Bank Nantucket Shoals--Fishing Rip Nantucket Shoals--Southeast Rip Phelps Bank The Channel Sankaty Head Georges Bank OFFSHORE BANKS Browns Bank Seal Island Ground Roseway Bank La Have Bank Little La Have & the La Have Ridges Scandinavian Bank Western Bank Banquereau Stone Fence The Gully Artimon Bank Misaine Bank Canso Bank 
26632	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 26632-h.htm or 26632-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/6/3/26632/26632-h/26632-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/6/3/26632/26632-h.zip) Transcriber's note: Research indicates that the copyright on this book was not renewed. THE BOUNTY OF THE CHESAPEAKE Fishing in Colonial Virginia by JAMES WHARTON * * * * * JAMESTOWN 350TH ANNIVERSARY HISTORICAL BOOKLETS _Editor_--E. G. SWEM, Librarian Emeritus, College of William and Mary COMMITTEE ON PUBLICATIONS: JOHN M. JENNINGS, Director of the Virginia Historical Society, Richmond, Virginia, _Chairman_. FRANCIS L. BERKELEY, JR., Archivist, Alderman Library, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Virginia. LYMAN H. BUTTERFIELD, Editor-in-Chief of the Adams Papers, Boston, Mass. EDWARD M. RILEY, Director of Research, Colonial Williamsburg, Inc., Williamsburg, Virginia. E. G. SWEM, Librarian Emeritus, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Virginia. WILLIAM J. VAN SCHREEVEN, Chief, Division of Archives, Virginia State Library, Richmond, Virginia. 1. _A Selected Bibliography of Virginia, 1607-1699._ By E. G. Swem, John M. Jennings and James A. Servies. 2. _A Virginia Chronology, 1585-1783._ By William W. Abbot. 3. _John Smith's Map of Virginia, with a Brief Account of its History._ By Ben C. McCary. 4. _The Three Charters of the Virginia Company of London, with Seven Related Documents; 1606-1621._ Introduction by Samuel M. Bemiss. 5. _The Virginia Company of London, 1606-1624._ By Wesley Frank Craven. 6. _The First Seventeen Years, Virginia, 1607-1624._ By Charles E. Hatch, Jr. 7. _Virginia under Charles I and Cromwell, 1625-1660._ By Wilcomb E. Washburn. 8. _Bacon's Rebellion, 1676._ By Thomas J. Wertenbaker. 9. _Struggle Against Tyranny and the Beginning of a New Era, Virginia, 1677-1699._ By Richard L. Morton. 10. _Religious Life of Virginia in the Seventeenth Century._ By George MacLaren Brydon. 11. _Virginia Architecture in the Seventeenth Century._ By Henry Chandlee Forman. 12. _Mother Earth--Land Grants in Virginia, 1607-1699._ By W. Stitt Robinson, Jr. 13. _The Bounty of the Chesapeake; Fishing in Colonial Virginia._ By James Wharton. 14. _Agriculture in Virginia, 1607-1699._ By Lyman Carrier. 15. _Reading, Writing and Arithmetic in Virginia, 1607-1699._ By Susie M. Ames. 16. _The Government of Virginia in the Seventeenth Century._ By Thomas J. Wertenbaker. 17. _Domestic Life in Virginia in the Seventeenth Century._ By Annie Lash Jester. 18. _Indians in Seventeenth-Century Virginia._ By Ben C. McCary. 19. _How Justice Grew. Virginia Counties._ By Martha W. Hiden. 20. _Tobacco in Colonial Virginia; "The Sovereign Remedy."_ By Melvin Herndon. 21. _Medicine in Virginia, 1607-1699._ By Thomas P. Hughes. 22. _Some Notes on Shipping and Ship-building in Colonial Virginia._ By Cerinda W. Evans. 23. _A Pictorial Booklet on Early Jamestown Commodities and Industries._ By J. Paul Hudson. Price 50¢ Each Printed in the United States of America * * * * * THE BOUNTY OF THE CHESAPEAKE Fishing in Colonial Virginia by JAMES WHARTON The University Press of Virginia Charlottesville Copyright© 1957 by Virginia 350th Anniversary Celebration Corporation, Williamsburg, Virginia Second printing 1973 Jamestown 350th Anniversary Historical Booklet Number 13 FOREWORD Just as a series of personal letters may constitute an autobiography, so the extracts from Colonial writings that follow tell the unique story of the fisheries of Virginia's great Tidewater. In them it is possible to trace the measured growth of a vital industry. The interspersed comments of the compiler are to be understood as mere annotations. This is the testimony, then, of those who from the beginning participated in one of the foremost natural resources of this country. I gratefully acknowledge guidance in research to Mr. John C. Pearson of the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, who masterfully surveyed the field and first brought the early fishery reports to public notice. JAMES WHARTON Weems, Virginia THE BOUNTY OF THE CHESAPEAKE The Bounty of The Chesapeake The voyage to America in 1607 was like a journey to a star. Veteran rovers though the English were, none of them had any clear idea of what to expect in the new land of Virginia. Only one thing was certain: they would have nothing there but what they took with them or wrought from the raw materials of the country. What raw materials? They had reliable information that the climate was mild. Therefore, crops could be raised. They learned of inexhaustible timber: so ships and dwellings and industrial works could be built. They hoped for gold and dreamed of access to uncharted lands of adventure. But putting first things first, how would they eat in the meantime? When Sir Walter Raleigh established the first English colony in "Virginia"--on what is now Roanoke island, North Carolina--two good reporters, one a writer, the other an illustrator, were commissioned to describe what they saw. This was twenty-two years before Jamestown and naturally all the material consisted of Indian life and customs. Thomas Hariot wrote: For four months of the year, February, March, April and May, there are plenty of sturgeon; and also in the same months of herrings, some of the ordinary bigness as ours in England, but the most part far greater, of eighteen, twenty inches, and some two feet in length and better; both these kinds of fish in these months are most plentiful and in best season which we found to be most delicate and pleasant meat. There are also trouts, porpoises, rays, oldwives, mullets, plaice, and very many other sorts of excellent good fish, which we have taken and eaten, whose names I know not but in the country language we have of twelve sorts more the pictures as they were drawn in the country with their names. The inhabitants use to take them two manner of ways, the one is by a kind of weir made of reeds which in that country are very strong. The other way which is more strange, is with poles made sharp at one end, by shooting them into the fish after the manner as Irishmen cast darts; either as they are rowing in their boats or else as they are wading in the shallows for the purpose. There are also in many places plenty of these kinds which follow: Sea crabs, such as we have in England. Oysters, some very great, and some small; some round and some of a long shape. They are found both in salt water and brackish, and those that we had out of salt water are far better than the other as in our own country. Also mussels, scallops, periwinkles and crevises. _Seekanauk_, a kind of crusty shellfish which is good meat about a foot in breadth, having a crusty tail, many legs like a crab, and her eyes in her back. They are found in shallows of salty waters; and sometimes on the shore. There are many tortoises both of land and sea kind, their backs and bellies are shelled very thick; their head, feet and tail, which are in appearance, seem ugly as though they were members of a serpent or venomous; but notwithstanding they are very good meat, as also their eggs. Some have been found of a yard in breadth and better. In a charming drawing of a group of Indian maidens John White, the artist associate, commented: "They delight ... in seeing fish taken in the rivers." Over and over the first visitors to the Chesapeake bay painted rosy pictures of its marine life, stressing the abundance, variety and tastiness of the fish and shellfish. Exploration and communication were chiefly by water: it was natural that emphasis be laid on water resources. Though it is proverbial that fish stories partake of fiction, in the case of John Smith and his successors, it is doubtful whether they were greatly exaggerated. This was a world where nature, especially in the waters, was immeasurably prolific. On the other hand, the conclusions drawn by many of those reading the reports were probably unjustified. The infinite plenty was one thing. Making constant and profitable use of it was another. Thus, although Smith cited an impressive roster of edible fish in the vicinity of Jamestown, it was not to follow that the settlers were always able to turn them to advantage. There were several good reasons. Long before Jamestown the fisheries off the coast of Northern America and Canada were known to be richly productive, with promise of an organized and dependable industry. But farther south conditions were found to be quite different. The fishing in the Chesapeake bay had frustrating ways. Sometimes there were hordes of fish. Again they stayed away in large numbers. They were usually present during warm weather when spoilage was worst. The first colonists had no ice at all and very little salt. Frequent spells of damp weather made sun-drying impractical. If more fish were caught than could be eaten at once, the excess was very likely wasted. Fishing gear was consistently inadequate. But from the very first, fishing and its development had been kept in mind by the promoters of the colony. Fishing rights were defined in 1606 in letters patent to Sir Thomas Gates, Sir George Somers and others, as recorded in the Charter granted in 1606: They shall have all ... fishings ... from the said first seat of their plantation and habitation by the space of fifty miles of English statute measure, all along the said coast of Virginia and America, towards the west and southwest, as the coast lies ... and also all ... fishings for the space of fifty English miles ... all along the said coast of Virginia and America, towards the east and northeast ... and also ... fishings ... from the same, fifty miles every way on the sea coast, directly into the mainland by the space of one hundred like English miles. In the new fishing territory around Jamestown the Indians were the professionals and their methods were of great interest to the English novices. A description is furnished by William Strachey, secretary of state of the colony and author of _The Historie of Travaile into Virginia Britannia_: Their fishing is much in boats. These they call quintans, as the West Indians call their canoas. They make them with one tree, by burning and scraping away the coals with stones and shells till they have made them in the form of a trough. Some of them are an ell deep and forty or fifty foot in length and some will transport forty men, but the most ordinary are smaller and will ferry ten or twenty, with some luggage, over their broadest rivers. Instead of oars, they use paddles and sticks, with which they will row faster than we in our barges. They have nets for fishing, for the quantity as formerly braided and meshed as ours and these are made of bark of certain trees, deer sinews, or a kind of grass, which they call pemmenaw, of which their women between their hands and thighs, spin a thread very even and readily, and this thread serves for many uses, as about their housing, their mantles of feathers and their [?] and they also with it make lines for angles. Their angles are long small rods at the end whereof they have a cleft to which the line is fastened, and at the line they hang a hook, made either of a bone grated (as they nock their arrows) in the form of a crooked pin or fishhook, or of the splinter of a bone, and with a thread of the line they tie on the bait. They use also long arrows tied on a line, wherewith they shoot at fish in the rivers. Those of Accowmack use staves, like unto javelins, headed with bone; with these they dart fish, swimming in the water.... By their houses they have sometimes a scaena or high stage, raised like a scaffold, or small spelts, reeds, or dried osiers covered with mats which gives a shadow and is a shelter ... where on a loft of hurdles they lay forth their corn and fish to dry.... They are inconstant in everything but what fear constrain them to keep; crafty, timorous, quick of apprehension, ingenious enough in their own works, as may testify their weirs in which they take their fish, which are certain enclosures made of reeds and framed in the fashion of a labyrinth or maze set a fathom deep in the water with divers chambers or beds out of which the entangled fish cannot return or get out, being once in. Well may a great one by chance break the reeds and so escape, otherwise he remains a prey to the fishermen the next low water which they fish with a net at the end of a pole.... The earliest observers reveal how intimately food from the waters was linked with the colonists' experiences. George Percy wrote in 1607: We came to a place [Cape Henry] where they [natives] had made a great fire and had been newly roasting oysters. When they perceived our coming, they fled away to the mountains and left many of the oysters in the fire. We ate some of the oysters which were very large and delicate in taste. This was April 27 of that year. Oyster roasts have been a Virginia institution ever since. He continued: Upon this plot of ground [Lynnhaven Bay] we got good store of mussels and oysters, which lay on the ground as thick as stones. We opened some and found in many of them pearls. The pearls would probably not have been worth mentioning, except as a novelty, if they had come from oysters alone. The Virginia oyster pearl lacks luster. But the mussel, particularly the one found in the James river, yields an iridescent pearl of some little value. A month later more oysters, in a form unknown in Virginia today, were obtained from Indians by Captain Christopher Newport in return for ornaments, according to Gabriel Archer in 1607: He notwithstanding with two women and another fellow of his own consort followed us some six miles with baskets full of dried oysters and met us at a point, where calling to us, we went ashore and bartered with them for most of their victuals. A letter from the Council in Virginia to the Council in England in 1607 stated: We are set down eighty miles within a river, for breadth, sweetness of water, length navigable up into the country, deep and bold channel, so stored with sturgeon and other sweet fish as no man's fortune has ever possessed the like. And, as we think, if more may be wished in a river it will be found. After various vicissitudes John Smith confessed: Though there be fish in the sea, fowls in the air, and beasts in the woods, their bounds are so large, they so wild, and we so weak and ignorant, we cannot much trouble them. George Percy introduced a happier note: It pleased God, after a while, to send those people which were our mortal enemies [Indians] to relieve us with victuals, as bread, corn, fish, and flesh in great plenty, which was the setting up of our feeble men, otherwise we had all perished. John Smith tells about another crisis: Our victuals being within eighteen days spent and the Indians' trade decreasing, I was sent to the mouth of the river, to Kecoughtan [Hampton], an Indian town, to trade for corn and try the river for fish, but our fishing we could not effect by reason of the stormy weather.... Only of sturgeon we had great store, whereon our men would so greedily surfeit, as it cost many their lives. And still another: From May to September, those that escaped lived upon sturgeon and sea crabs. And this: So it happened that neither we nor they had anything to eat but what the country afforded naturally. Yet of eighty who lived upon oysters in June or July, with a pint of corn a week for a man lying under trees, and one hundred twenty for the most part living upon sturgeon, which are dried till we pounded it to powder for meal, yet in ten weeks but seven died. For once he paints a brighter picture: The next night, being lodged at Kecoughtan, six or seven days the extreme wind, rain, frost, and snow caused us to keep Christmas among the savages, where we were never more merry, nor fed on more plenty of good oysters, fish, flesh, wild fowl, and good bread. He describes further ups and downs: Now we so quietly followed our business that in three months, we ... provided nets and weirs for fishing. Sixty or eighty with Ensign Laxon were sent down the river to live upon oysters, and twenty with Lieutenant Percy to try fishing at Point Comfort. But in six weeks, they would not agree once to cast out their net. We had more sturgeon than could be devoured by dog or man, of which the industrious by drying and pounding, mingled with caviar, sorrel, and other wholesome herbs, would make bread and good meat. Despite the privations much food is available, Smith avers: In summer no place affords more plenty of sturgeon, nor in winter more abundance of fowl, especially in time of frost. There was once taken fifty-two sturgeon at a draught, at another draught sixty-eight. From the latter end of May till the end of June are taken few but young sturgeon of two foot or a yard long. From thence till the midst of September them of two or three yards long and a few others. And in four or five hours with one net were ordinarily taken seven or eight; often more, seldom less. In the small rivers all the year there is a good plenty of small fish, so that with hooks those that would take pains had sufficient.... Of fish we were best acquainted with sturgeon, grampus, porpoise, seals, stingrays whose tails are very dangerous, brits, mullets, white salmon, trouts, soles, plaice, herring, conyfish, rockfish, eels, lampreys, catfish, shad, perch of three sorts, crabs, shrimps, crevises, oysters, cockles, and mussels. But the most strange fish is a small one so like the picture of St. George's dragon as possibly can be, except his legs and wings; and the toadfish which will swell till it be like to burst when it comes into the air. When Smith spoke of sturgeon he was most probably referring to the James river, the best waters for sturgeon in Virginia to this day. The "small rivers" were the fresh-water tributaries of the large salty ones. The small fish to be found there which would take the hook in winter were probably the non-migratory species like perch, catfish and suckers. If some of the names Smith gives seem puzzling today, it should be remembered that often the same fish name has applied throughout history to different fish at different times or in different areas. Contrariwise, different names, in regional usage, may apply to the same fish. Thus it is virtually impossible to say whether all the fish named by Colonial reporters are to be found in Virginia waters today. For example, though no "white salmon" are known in Virginia, it is possible that Smith referred to a fish that merely resembled a salmon without belonging to that family. On the other hand, it is conceivable that Virginia boats caught "white salmon" in the Atlantic Ocean. "Conyfish" can mean several different fishes, so that it is not possible to be sure what Smith had in mind; so with "brit." "Crevise" is an older name for crawfish. Seals still make rare appearances in the bay. As for the stingrays, he spoke from experience; he was spiked by one. Almost all of his list are still being caught off Jamestown. The "St. George's dragon" or sea horse, is among them. There are many more varieties of fish caught by Virginia fishermen today than were ever mentioned in Colonial records. This is due to superior gear and the more intensive use of it. Captain Christopher Newport was among the earliest observers confirming Smith. He wrote in 1607: The main river [James] abounds with sturgeon, very large and excellent good, having also at the mouth of every brook and in every creek both store and exceedingly good fish of divers kinds. In the large sounds near the sea are multitudes of fish, banks of oysters, and many great crabs rather better, in fact, than ours and able to suffice four men. And within sight of land into the sea we expect at time of year to have a good fishing for cod, as both at our entering we might perceive by palpable conjectures, seeing the cod follow the ship ... as also out of my own experience not far off to the northward the fishing I found in my first voyage to Virginia.... The commodities of the country, what they are in else, is not much to be regarded, the inhabitants having no concern with any nation, no respect of profit.... Yet this for the present, by the consent of all our seamen, merely fishing for sturgeon cannot be worth less than £1,000 a year, leaving herring and cod as possibilities.... We have a good fishing for mussels which resemble mother-of-pearl, and if the pearl we have seen in the king's ears and about their necks come from these shells we know the banks. The crab "able to suffice four men" could scarcely have been other than the horseshoe. It has never been considered a delicacy. It is usually by contraries that the truth is determined. Even in the midst of the apparent plenty of fish, fishing crews sometimes came home empty-handed after continued effort. Often storms interfered. From personal experience John Smith was able to sound the warning about Chesapeake weather: Our mast and sail blew overboard and such mighty waves overraked us in that small barge that with great danger we kept her from sinking by freeing out the water. The winds are variable, but the like thunder and lightning to purify the air I have seldom either seen or heard in Europe. As if struck by the helplessness of the settlers, a compassionate chief extended aid to them in 1608. A letter from Francis Perkins tells the story: So excessive are the frosts that one night the river froze over almost from bank to bank in front of our harbour, although it was there as wide as that of London. There died from the frost some fish in the river, which when taken out after the frost was over, were very good and so fat that they could be fried in their own fat without adding any butter or such thing.... Their own great emperor or the wuarravance, which is the name of their kings, has sent some of his people that they may teach us how to sow the grain of this country and to make certain traps with which they are going to fish. A letter from the Council in Virginia to the Virginia Company in London in 1610 shows that such favors were returned: Whilst we were fishing divers Indians came down from the woods unto us and ... I gave unto them such fish as we took ... for indeed at this time of the year [July] they live poor, their corn being but newly put into the ground and their own store spent. Oysters and crabs and such fish as they take in their weirs is their best relief. Oysters occurred in vast banks and shoals within sight of the Jamestown fort. During the 1609-10 "starving time" a minimum force was retained at the settlement while everyone else was turned out to forage as best he could. Most sought the oyster grounds where they ate oysters nine weeks, a diet varied only by a pitifully negligible allowance of corn meal. In the words of one of the foragers, "this kind of feeding caused all our skin to peel off from head to foot as if we had been dead." The arrival of supplies ended the ordeal. But soon hunger descended again and the oyster beds would have been the natural recourse if it had not been winter and the water too cold to wade in. So the oysters were no help. That conscientious reporter, William Strachey, wrote in 1610: In this desolation and misery our Governor found the condition and state of the Colony. Nor was there at the fort, as they whom we found related unto us, any means to take fish; neither sufficient seine, nor other convenient net, and yet of their need, there was not one eye of sturgeon yet come into the river. The river which was wont before this time of the year to be plentiful of sturgeon had not now a fish to be seen in it, and albeit we laboured and hauled our net twenty times day and night, yet we took not so much as would content half the fishermen. Our Governor therefore, sent away his long boat to coast the river downward as far as Point Comfort, and from thence to Cape Henry and Cape Charles, and all within the bay, which after a seven nights trial and travail, returned without any fruits of their labours, scarce getting so much fish as served their own company. And, likewise, because at the Lord Governor and Captain General's first coming, there was found in our own river no store of fish after many trials, the Lord Governor and Captain General dispatched in the _Virginia_, with instructions, the seventeenth of June, 1610, Robert Tyndall, master of the _De la Warre_, to fish unto, all along, and between Cape Henry and Cape Charles within the bay.... Nor was the Lord Governor and Captain General in the meanwhile idle at the fort, but every day and night he caused the nets to be hauled, sometimes a dozen times one after another. But it pleased not God so to bless our labours that we did at any time take one quarter so much as would give unto our people one pound at a meal apiece, by which we might have better husbanded our peas and oatmeal, notwithstanding the great store we now saw daily in our river. But let the blame of this lie where it is, both upon our nets and the unskilfulness of our men to lay them. The matter of sturgeon was of prime importance not only for subsistence but for export, particularly of the roe. Caviar was in great demand in England. But with uncertainty as to when the sturgeon would appear in the river, plus hot weather, plus feeble facilities, the growth of the industry was impeded. When tobacco, first commercially grown by John Rolfe, appeared on the scene in 1612 and proved to be a sure money maker, the export of sturgeon products came to a standstill. It was having hard going anyway. Complaints from England regarding quality were familiar enough. According to Lord De La Warr in 1610, on the subject, "Virginia Commodities": Sturgeon which was last sent came ill-conditioned, not being well boiled. If it were cut in small pieces and powdered, put up in cask, the heads pickled by themselves, and sent here, it would do far better. Roes of the said sturgeon make caviar according to instructions formerly given. Sounds of the said sturgeon will make isinglass according to the same instructions. Isinglass is worth here 13s. 4d. per 100 pounds, and caviar well conditioned is worth £40 per 100. Other instances stressed the undependable fishing. Lord De La Warr wrote to the Earl of Salisbury in England in 1610: "I sent fishermen out to provide fish for our men, to save other provision, but they had ill success." Captain Samuel Argall was specially commissioned by the authorities in England to deep-sea fish for the benefit of the Colony. After ranging over a wide area between Bermuda and Canada, he reported in 1610: ... The weather continuing very foggy, thick, and rainy, about five of the clock it began to cease and then we began to fish and so continued until seven of the clock in between thirty and forty fathoms, and then we could fish no longer. So having gotten between twenty and thirty cods we left for that night, and at five of the clock, the 26th, in the morning we began to fish again and so continued until ten of the clock, and then it would fish no longer, in which time we had taken near one hundred cods and a couple of halibuts.... Then I tried whether there were any fish there or not [off Maine coast], and I found reasonable good store there. So I stayed there fishing till the 12th of August, [1610] and then finding that the fishing did fail, I thought good to return to the island [Jamestown].... Captain Argall also offered his opinion of the usefulness of the islands off Virginia's seacoast peninsula, later known as the Eastern Shore: Salt might easily be made there, if there were any ponds digged, for that I found salt kernel where the water had overflowed in certain places. Here also is great store of fish, both shellfish and others. The root of the trouble, so far as local fishing conditions were concerned, was the lack of adequate equipment together with ignorance of its proper use. Perhaps the ease with which fish were caught at certain times had spoiled the hardy settlers. A low opinion of their attitude in this vital pursuit came from Sir Thomas Gates in 1610: A colony is therefore denominated because they should be coloni, the tillers of the earth and stewards of fertility. Our mutinous loiterers would not sow with providence and therefore they reaped the fruits of far too dear bought repentance. An incredible example of their idleness is the report of Sir Thomas Gates who affirms that after his first coming thither he had seen some of them eat their fish raw rather than they would go a stone's cast to fetch wood and dress it. Joined unto these another evil: There is great store of fish in the river, especially of sturgeon, but our men provided no more of them than present necessity, not barreling up any store against the season [when] the sturgeon returned to the sea. And not to dissemble their folly, they suffered fourteen nets, which was all they had, to rot and spoil, which by orderly drying and mending might have been preserved but being lost, all help of fishing perished. Very few of them had come equipped for fishing. Their seines were as old-fashioned as those used by the Apostles in the New Testament, the simple kind you lowered from a boat and dragged ashore. The Indians had taught them how to spear large fish and erect weirs out of stakes and brushwood to entrap migrating schools. Such methods worked well enough during the season. But in cold weather, when provisions ran low, scarcely any fish were present in the bay proper. It was different in New England and Canada. There the fishing was good the year round. The sea bottom was dragged by efficient trawl-nets, and fished with gang-lines of baited hooks, as it still is today. The cool temperatures over many months of the year made the catches much less perishable. Conditions favored an organized fish-salting industry. Though the Jamestown people had easy access to some 3,000 square miles of inland tidal water and were only a little way from the open sea, they never developed their marine riches. One good reason was that their original aims were in other directions. When the first intentions to colonize New England came to the King's notice, he asked the leaders what drew them there. The one-word answer: "Fishing." If the Virginians had been similarly queried they would have given various replies, but certainly not that one. In describing the fisheries of New England, John Smith had enthused: Let not the meanness of the word fish distaste you, for it will afford us good gold as the mines of Guiana or Tumbata, with less hazard and charge, and more certainty and facility. The need for fishermen in Virginia was officially recognized to only a slight degree. A 1610 memorandum from the Virginia Council to the authorities in London asked that an effort be made to include among the next immigrants 20 fishermen and 6 net makers. Select them with care was the word sent out in England by means of a broadside issued by the Council of Virginia, December, 1610: Whereas the good ship called the _Hercules_ is now preparing and almost in a readiness with necessary provisions to make a supply to the Lord Governor and the Colony in Virginia, it is thought meet, for the avoiding of such vagrant and unnecessary persons as do commonly proffer themselves being altogether unserviceable, that none but honest sufficient artificers, as carpenters, smiths, coopers, fishermen, brickmen, and such like, shall be entertained into this voyage. Of whom so many as will in due time repair to the house of Sir Thomas Smith in Philpot Lane, with sufficient testimony to their skill and good behavior, they shall receive entertainment accordingly. It was only a question of time before the Virginia colonists would, though surrounded all the while by their own huge marine resources, subsist on salt fish from the North. Sir Thomas Dale, governor from 1611 to 1616, perceived the trend. One of his first moves was to ask the President of the Virginia Company to provide men trained enough to build a coastal trade in furs, corn and fish: Let me intreat that we may have both an admiral and hired mariners, to be all times resident here. The benefit will quickly make good the charge as well by a trade of furs to be obtained with the savages in the northern rivers to be returned home as also to furnish us here with corn and fish. The waste of such men all this time whom we might trust with our pinnaces leaves us destitute this season of so great a quantity of fish as not far from our own bay would sufficiently satisfy the whole Colony for a whole year. There were no boats available even for simple oystering. During the term of the stringent Governor Dale some disaffected colonists tried to escape in a shallop and a barge, which were "all the boats that were then in the Colony." Ironically punctuating the sagas of hardship were the marveling descriptions publicized in England. Corroborating the mouth-watering tales of Smith, William Strachey wrote in 1612: To the natural commodities which the country has of fruit, beasts, and fowl, we may also add the no mean commodity of fish, of which, in March and April, are great shoals of herrings, sturgeon, great store commonly in May if the year be forward. I have been at the taking of some before Algernoone fort and in Southampton river in the middle of March, and they remain with us June, July, and August and in that plenty as before expressed. Shad, great store, of a yard long and for sweetness and fatness a reasonable food fish; he is only full of small bones, like our barbels in England. There is the garfish, some of which are a yard long, small and round like an eel and as big as a mare's leg, having a long snout full of sharp teeth. Oysters there be in whole banks and beds, and those of the best. I have seen some thirteen inches long. The savages use to boil oysters and mussels together and with the broth they make a good spoon meat, thickened with the flour of their wheat and it is a great thrift and husbandry with them to hang the oysters upon strings ... and dried in the smoke, thereby to preserve them all the year. There be two sorts of sea crabs. One our people call a king crab and they are taken in shoal waters from off the shore a dozen at a time hanging one upon another's tail; they are of a foot in length and half a foot in breadth, having legs and a long tail. The Indians seldom eat of this kind. There is a shellfish of the proportion of a cockle but far greater [conch]. It has a smooth shell, not ragged as our cockles; 'tis good meat though somewhat tough. And, according to Alexander Whitaker in 1613: The rivers abound with fish both small and great. The sea-fish come into our rivers in March and continue the end of September. Great schools of herrings come in first; shads of a great bigness and the rockfish follow them. Trout, bass, flounders, and other dainty fish come in before the others be gone. Then come multitudes of great sturgeons, whereof we catch many and should do more, but that we want good nets answerable to the breadth and depth of our rivers. Besides our channels are so foul in the bottom with great logs and trees that we often break our nets upon them. I cannot reckon nor give proper names to the divers kinds of fresh fish in our rivers. I have caught with mine angle, carp, pike, eel, perches of six several kinds, crayfish and the torope or little turtle, besides many small kinds. When Whitaker penned the word "torope," he was giving the English-speaking world a new term, new because the animal it defined was unknown in Europe. Later spelled "terrapin," it meant the diamond-back, the esoteric little creature that spread the fame of the Chesapeake bay around the world and became an indispensable course on menus designed for the entertainment of royalty and the discriminating elect. The colonists probably ate it prepared Indian fashion, that is, roasted whole in live coals and opened at table where the savory meat was extracted by appreciative fingers. Over generations of terrapin-fanciers it evolved into one of the stars of the gastronomic firmament. It is a wholly American dish and it was born at Jamestown. Contemporary Historian Ralph Hamor added his testimony in 1614: For fish, the rivers are plentifully stored with sturgeon, porpoise, bass, rockfish, carp, shad, herring, eel, catfish, perch, flat-fish, trout, sheepshead, drummers, jewfish, crevises, crabs, oysters, and divers other kinds. Of all which myself has seen great quantity taken, especially the last summer at Smith's Island at one haul a frigate's lading of sturgeon, bass, and other great fish in Captain Argall's seine, and even at the very place which is not above fifteen miles from Point Comfort. If we had been furnished with salt to have saved it, we might have taken as much fish as would have served us that whole year. The mention of carp will interest those who believe carp to have been introduced into Virginia much later. The jewfish is common in more southern waters but there may well have been some strays in the Chesapeake. Although croakers, one of the bay's most abundant fish in modern times, are not mentioned, it would not be unreasonable to assume that they were included under "drummers." So with spot, a member of the drum family bearing a superficial resemblance to a bass or perch. The term "spot," as applied to a Virginia fish does not seem to have become current till the late 19th century. An event of special interest to statisticians occurred in 1612. The first attempt made in the New World to require certain fish catches to be reported was among the regulations propounded by Governor Thomas Dale. The penalty for violation would shock today's delinquent record keepers: All fishermen, dressers of sturgeon, or such like appointed to fish or to cure the said sturgeon for the use of the Colony, shall give a just and true account of all such fish as they shall take by day or night, of whatsoever kind, the same to bring unto the Governor. As also all such kegs of sturgeon or caviar as they shall prepare and cure upon peril for the first time offending herein of losing his ears, and for the second time to be condemned a year to the galleys, and for the third time offending to be condemned to the galleys for three years. The years of trial and error fishing had brought their return in increased knowledge, according to John Rolfe in 1616: About two years since, Sir Thomas Dale ... found out two seasons in the year to catch fish, namely, the spring and the fall. He himself took no small pains in the trial and at one haul with a seine caught five thousand three hundred of them, as big as cod. The least of the residue or kind of salmon trout, two foot long, yet he durst not adventure on the main school for breaking his net. Likewise, two men with axes and such like weapons have taken and killed near the shore and brought home forty [fish] as great as cod in two or three hours space.... There was a hint that the Virginia Company was interfering with free ocean fishing by claiming all the land to Newfoundland,--not that it was getting much out of it. One complaint as published in London sometime before February 22, 1615, in the anonymous tract, _The Trades Increase_, read: The Virginia Company pretend almost all that main twixt it and Newfoundland to be their fee-simple, whereby many honest and able minds, disposed to adventure, are hindered and stopped from repairing to those places that they either know or would discover, even for fishing. As a matter of fact, there was continuous wrangling in London over the fishing rights off the entire coast administered by the Virginia Company. The proposed settlers of the Northern Colony in New England had fishing uppermost in their minds and would have been glad to exclude fishermen coming from the Southern Colony. Minutes of meetings of the Company reveal how earnest was the struggle: December 1, 1619. The last great general court being read, Mr. Treasurer acquainted them that Mr. John Delbridge, purposing to settle a particular colony in Virginia, desired of the Company that for defraying some part of his charge he might be admitted to fish at Cape Cod. Which request was opposed by Sir Ferdinando Gorges, alleging that he always favored Mr. Delbridge but in this he thought himself something touched that he should sue to this Company and not rather to him as the matter properly belonged to the Northern Colony to give liberty for fishing in that place, it lying within their latitude. This was answered by Mr. Treasurer that the Companies of the South and North Plantations are free of one another and that the patent is clear that each may fish within the territory of the other, the sea being free for both. If the Northern Company abridged them of this, they would take away their means and encouragement for sending out men. To which Sir Ferdinando Gorges replied that if he was not mistaken both the Companies were limited by the patents unto which he would submit. For the deciding whereof it is referred to the Council, who are of both Companies, to examine the patents tomorrow afternoon at the Lord Southampton's and accordingly to determine the dispute. Two weeks later the Council gave its decision: Either Colony could fish within the bounds of the other. But this was by no means an end to the matter. The Northern Colony requested a new patent to resolve the disputes. With suggestions and counter-suggestions, the debate dragged on through the spring, summer and fall. About the time the Northern Colony had arranged to exclude the Southern Colony from free fishing, the King stepped in, declaring that "if anything were passed in the New England patent that might be prejudicial to the Southern Colony it was done without his knowledge and that he has been abused thereby by those that pretended otherwise to him." Finally, after a year-and-a-half of cross-purposes, agreement was reached: June 18, 1621. There was a petition exhibited unto His Majesty in the name of the patentees and adventurers in the plantation of New England concerning some difference between the Southern and Northern Colonies, the said petition was by His Majesty referred to the consideration of the Lords. Their Lordships, upon the hearing and debating of the matter at large and by the consent of both Colonies, did establish and confirm two former orders, the one bearing date of the 16th of March 1620, agreed upon by the Duke of Lenox and the Earl of Arundell; the other of the 21st of July 1620 ordered by the Board whereby it was thought fit that the said colonies should fish at sea within the limits and bounds of each other reciprocally, with this limitation that it be only for the sustentation of the people of the Colonies there and for the transportation of people into either Colony. Further it was ordered at this time by their Lordships that they should have freedom of the shore for drying of their nets and taking and saving of their fish and to have wood for their necessary uses, by the assignment of the Governors at reasonable rates. Lastly the patent of the Northern Colony shall be renewed according to the premises, and those of the Southern plantation to have a sight thereof before it be engrossed and the former patent to be delivered into the hand of the patentees. In an effort to encourage Virginians to salt their own fish, an order from London recommended the reopening of the old sea-water-evaporators on Smith's island, off Cape Charles, where salt had been produced in the first days. The Virginia Company advised the Governor and Council in 1620: The last commodity, but not of least importance for health, is SALT: the works whereof having been lately suffered to decay; we now intending to restore in so great plenty, as not only to serve the Colony for the present, but as is hoped, in short time, the great fishings on those coasts, a matter of inestimable advancement to the Colony, do upon mature deliberation ordain as followeth: First, that you the Governor and Council, do chose out of the tenants for the Company, 20 fit persons to be employed in salt works, which are to be renewed in Smith's Island, where they were before; as also in taking of fish there, for the use of the Colony, as in former times was also done. These 20 shall be furnished out at the first, at the charges of the Company, with all implements and instruments necessary for those works. They shall have also assigned to each of them for their occupation or use, 50 acres of land within the island, to be land of the Company. The one moiety of salt, fish, and profits of the land shall be for the tenants, the other for us the Company, to be delivered into our store: and this contract shall be continued for five years. The reply of Secretary of the Colony, John Pory, was something less than complacent: The last commodity spoken of in your charter is salt; the works whereof, we do much marvel, you would have restored to their former use; whereas I will undertake in one day to make as much salt by the heat of the sun, after the manner used in France, Spain, and Italy, as can be made in a year by that toilsome and erroneous way of boiling sea water into salt in kettles as our people at Smith's Island hitherto accustomed. And therefore when you enter into this work, you must send men skillful in salt ponds, such as you may easily procure from Rochell, and if you can have none there, yet some will be found in Lymington, and in many other places in England. And this indeed in a short time might prove a real work of great sustenance to the Colony at home, as of gain abroad, here being such schools of excellent fish, as ought rather to be admired of such as have not seen the same, than credited. Whereas the Company do give their tenants fifty acres upon Smith's Island some there are that smile at it here, saying there is no ground in all the whole island worth the manuring. Following this exchange, attempts at salt making, especially on the Eastern Shore where the waters were saltiest, were renewed. John Rolfe reported in 1621: At Dale's Gift, being upon the sea near unto Cape Charles, about thirty miles from Kecoughtan, are seventeen inhabitants under command of Lieutenant Cradock. All these are fed and maintained by the Colony. Their labor is to make salt and catch fish.... Secretary Pory soon expressed his disagreement with the project in more than words and succeeded in effecting the removal of the salt works to a more convenient location. That this hardly fulfilled expectations is evidenced by a letter written in 1628 to the King by the Governor and Council: Great likeliness of the certainty of bay salt, the benefit that will thereby accrue to the Colony will be great, and they shall willingly assist Mr. Capps in making his experiment, which, brought to perfection, will draw a certain trade to them. And they hope that the fishing upon their coasts will be very near as good as Canada. Mr. Capps, a citizen of Accomack, had proposed that if the Colony would subsidize him he would undertake to supply it with salt from evaporated sea water. His offer was accepted and the enterprise set up. After waiting patiently and seeing little salt the Council took him to task. His plea was the familiar one of most operations that fail: lack of capital. He had worked hard, he said; he had all the firewood he needed, workmen were available, and the sun shone bright. The bottle-neck was too few evaporating pans. But apparently he had not won the Council's confidence. The Capps salt company was dissolved. Another one sprang up about 30 years later under the sponsorship of Colonel Edmund Scarborough of Northampton County. Such was the public interest aroused by this influential man, who, among other distinctions, had been a Burgess between 1642 and 1659, that the importation of salt into the county was prohibited to encourage him. Finally, in 1666, this project was abandoned for reasons that remain obscure. Most probably the quality of the product was inferior. The salt shortage continued despite other random attempts to alleviate it. For example, in 1660 one Daniel Dawen of Accomack was exempted from taxes and granted public funds for his "experiments of salt." The trouble that attended obtaining salt in needed quantity and of satisfactory quality accompanied the development of Virginia right up to George Washington's time. Despite all attempts to the contrary, reliance on salt fish from the North kept gaining. The General Assembly that had met in 1619 censured a Captain Warde for establishing a plantation in Virginia without asking anybody's permission. But when it was brought out that he had conveyed quantities of salt fish to the Colony from Canada on his ship he was forgiven. This captain was an important link between the Colony and the North. John Rolfe wrote to Sir Edwin Sandys in 1619: Captain Warde in his ship went to Monhegan [island, Maine] in the Northern Colony in May and returned the latter end of July with fish which he caught there. He brought but a small quantity by reason he had but little salt. There were some Plymouth ships where he harbored, who made great store of fish which is far larger than Newland [Newfoundland] fish. The Maine waters were far busier than those of Virginia. For more than a century vessels from half-a-dozen European nations had thronged there, even to Greenland, attracted by the fishing, and the furs available on the mainland. When some of the early experiments at colonization failed, fishing became all the more emphasized. There was usually excellent demand for the catches whether landed in Plymouth (England) or Plymouth (Massachusetts), Portugal, Holland, the West Indies or Virginia. These bold adventurers made use of the land in the New World only for drying, salting and barreling their fish. If conditions permitted, they transported them fresh, in a cargo commonly known as "corfish." Oil made from whale and cod was a profitable commodity. Fishermen were the pioneers and explorers of America's first days just as the miners, trappers and traders were those of a later period. The importance of fish was thus underlined. In addition, conceding the value to the untrained whites of Indians as fishermen, the 1619 Assembly agreed to a proposal that Indians to the limit of six be permitted to live in white settlements if they engaged in fishing for the benefit of the settlement. Indian methods were first described by Hariot of the Roanoke island colony: They have likewise a notable way to catch fish in their rivers, for whereas they lack both iron and steel, they fasten unto their reeds, or long rods, the hollow tail of a certain fish like to a sea crab instead of a point, wherewith by night or day they strike fishes, and take them up into their boats. They also know how to use the prickles, and pricks of other fishes. They also make weirs, with setting up reeds or twigs in the water, which they so plant one with another, that they grow still narrower, and narrower. There was never seen among us so cunning a way to take fish withal, whereof sundry sorts as they found in their rivers unlike ours, which are also of a very good taste. Doubtless it is a pleasant sight to see the people, sometimes wading, and going sometimes sailing in those rivers, which are shallow and not deep, free from all care of heaping up riches for their posterity, content with their state, and living friendly together of those things which God of His bounty hath given unto them, yet without giving Him any thanks according to His deserts. The most vivid and comprehensive description of Indian fishing was given by historian Robert Beverley. Though his work was not published until 1705, he dealt with an earlier period: Before the arrival of the English there, the Indians had fish in such vast plenty that the boys and girls would take a pointed stick and strike the lesser sort as they swam upon the flats. The larger fish that kept in deeper water, they were put to a little more difficulty to take. But for these they made weirs, that is, a hedge of small rived sticks or reeds of the thickness of a man's finger. These they wove together in a row with straps of green oak or other tough wood, so close that the small fish could not pass through. Upon high water mark they pitched one end of this hedge and the other they extended into the river to the depth of eight or ten foot, fastening it with stakes, making cods out from the hedge on one side, almost at the end, and leaving a gap for the fish to go into them. These were contrived so that the fish could easily find their passage into those cods when they were at the gap, but not see their way out again when they were in. Thus if they offered to pass through, they were taken. Sometimes they made such a hedge as this quite across a creek at high water and at low would go into the run, so contracted into a narrow stream, and take out what fish they pleased. At the falls of the rivers where the water is shallow and the current strong, the Indians use another kind of weir thus made. They make a dam of loose stone, whereof there is plenty at hand, quite across the river, leaving one, two, or more spaces or trunnels for the water to pass through. At the mouth they set a pot of reeds, wove in form of a cone, whose base is about three foot [wide] and ten [foot] perpendicular, into which the swiftness of the current carries the fish and wedges them so fast that they cannot possibly return. The Indian way of catching sturgeon, when they came into the narrow part of the rivers, was by a man's clapping a noose over their tails and by keeping fast his hold. Thus a fish, finding itself entangled, would flounce and often pull him under water. Then that man was counted a cockarouse, or brave fellow, that would not let go till with swimming, wading and diving, he had tired the sturgeon and brought it ashore. These sturgeon would also leap into their canoes in crossing the river, as many of them do still every year into the boats of the English. They have also another way of fishing like those on the Euxine Sea, by the help of a blazing fire by night. They make a hearth in the middle of their canoe, raising it within two inches of the edge. Upon this they lay their burning lightwood, split into small shivers, each splinter whereof will blaze and burn end for end like a candle. 'Tis one man's work to tend this fire and keep it flaming. At each end of the canoe stands an Indian with a gig or point spear, setting the canoe forward with the butt end of the spear as gently as he can, by that means stealing upon the fish without any noise or disturbing of the water. Then they with great dexterity dart these spears into the fish and so take them. Now there is a double convenience in the blaze of this fire, for it not only dazzles the eyes of the fish, which will lie still glaring upon it, but likewise discovers the bottom of the river clearly to the fisherman, which the daylight does not. Under Governor George Yeardley in 1616, there were 400 people at Jamestown and one old frigate, one old shallop and one boat belonging to the community. There were two boats privately owned. The boats best suited to local fishing, and the most easily available, were the Indian dugout canoes. Such was the size of the trees that it was possible to make them comparatively roomy, as Strachey noted. Every passing year brought home to the steadily growing Colony the need of improving its fishing practices. Most nets had to be bought in England. Here is a London item from a 1623 _List of Subscribers and Subscriptions for Relief of the Colony_: "Richard Tatem will adventure [speculate] in cheese and fishing nets the sum of £30 sterling." Jamestown had by 1624 begun to spawn little Jamestowns throughout the countryside. A census was ordered of all settlements. In January, 1625, there were 1209 white persons, and 23 negroes. This first American census listed, among general provisions, the stocks of salt fish. On hand at thirteen settlements was 58,380 pounds. James City had the largest supply, 24,880 pounds. Elizabeth City was next with 10,550 pounds. A community listed only as "Neck of Land" adjacent to Jamestown, consisting of perhaps ten dwellings and plantations, had 4,050 pounds. The smallest store, 450 pounds, was credited to another "Neck of Land" in Charles City. From the accumulated evidences of disorganized home fishing, coupled with the deficiency of salt, it is to be concluded that most of this supply had come from the Northern fishing grounds. There were 40 boats of various sizes and uses listed in this census. For example, at Jamestown a "barque of 40 tons, a shallop of 4 tons and one skiff" were among the ten there. A token of the stress resulting from inadequate fisheries even after 16 years of active colonization is this letter preserved in the records of the Virginia Company. A Virginia citizen named Arundle in 1623 wrote to his friend, Mr. Caning, in London: The most evident hope from altogether starving is oysters, and for the easier getting of them I have agreed for a canoe which will cost me 6 livres sterling. Emigrants had been advised not to leave for Virginia without some fishing equipment. In his _Travels_, John Smith had included the warning: "A particular of such necessaries as either private families or single persons shall have cause to provide to go to Virginia ... nets, hooks and lines must be added." Records of the Virginia Company in London throw light on the extensiveness of the fish trade. Robert Bennett wrote from Virginia to Edward Bennett in London in 1623: My last letter I wrote you was in the _Adam_ from Newfoundland, which I hope you shall receive before this. God send her back in safety and this from Canada. I hope the fish will come to a good reckoning for victuals is very scarce in the country. Your Newfoundland fish is worth 30s. per hundred, your dry Canada [fish] £3, 10s. and the wet £5, 10s. per hundred. I do not know nor hear of any that is coming hither with fish but only the _Tiger_ which went in company with the _Adam_ from this place and I know the country will carry away all this forthwith. And again from the records of the Company, this extract from _An Account of Sums Subscribed and Supplies Sent Since April_, dated July 23, 1623: ... We have received advice that from Canada there departed this last month a ship called Furtherance with above forty thousand of that fish which is little inferior to ling for the supply of the Colony in Virginia and that fish is worth not less than £600. [Illustration: _The broyling of their fish over the flame of fire._ Library of Congress Photo The first settlers did not have to learn from the Indians how to cook fish, but this method was perhaps as appetizing as any they knew.] [Illustration: _The manner of their fishing._ Library of Congress Photo The first colonists saw the Indians engaged in fishing practices that included spearing, luring with firelight, and entrapping in staked-off enclosures.] [Illustration: The sheepshead was one of the favorite seafoods of Tidewater Virginians from the beginning. It was fairly abundant, according to their records, and remained so until the twentieth century, when it became almost extinct in Chesapeake waters. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Photos] [Illustration: The ugly-looking but delicious-tasting sturgeon was the fish that principally engaged the attention of the first colonists. They were impressed by its abundance and were busy for a time in shipping its roe to England for [1]caviar. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Photos] [1] (we cannot be certain that much actual caviar was produced at Jamestown. The chances are that the roe was merely salted down and that the final processing took place in England) [Illustration: Haul-seining or dragging fish ashore by enclosing them in a long net, is a form of fishing that has thrived almost unchanged through the ages. Its practice at Jamestown was limited by the lack of nets.] [Illustration: The toothsome Chesapeake Bay hard crab was, and is still to a great extent today, taken by baits spaced along lines sunk to the bottom and then raised and the tenacious crabs removed.] [Illustration: Vast quantities of river herring were taken in haul-seines in the spring throughout Tidewater Virginia. A crew dragged the fish ashore to a force of women cutters waiting to prepare them for salting down.] [Illustration: Great living oyster mounds, built up by nature through the ages, impeded ships in the lower James river. At high tide they were hidden so that unwary pilots struck them; at low they could be picked over by hand. They remained a threat to navigation until they disappeared under three centuries of harvesting. Original drawing by Esther Derieux] [Illustration: Fishing implements excavated at Jamestown. The large fish-hook was for ocean cod fishing or possibly for snagging sturgeon in the river. The spear, attached to a wooden handle, was for stalking big fish in shallow water, or for capturing those that could be attracted to a light in a boat at night. The lead weights were suitable for (right) a handline, (left) a net. National Park Service] [Illustration: Early salt-evaporating houses were located close by the sea, from which the water was channeled in by slow stages to take advantage of natural evaporation before wood fires finished the job. When the crystals formed they were shoveled into conical baskets and drained.] [Illustration: Courtesy Mariners Museum An 18th century plan of a solar-evaporating works. Sea water is channeled into the primary reservoir (DD), from which it is conducted to (FFF) and (KKK) by progressive stages to the final basins where it crystallizes.] The kernel of the situation was reflected by the Dutch traveler, David De Vries, who made voyages to America from 1632 to 1644: In going down to Jamestown on board of a sloop, a sturgeon sprang out of the river, into the sloop. We killed it, and it was eight feet long. This river is full of sturgeon, as also are the two rivers of New Netherland. When the English first began to plant their Colony here, there came an English ship from England for the purpose of fishing for sturgeon; but they found that this fishery would not answer, because it is so hot in summer, which is the best time for fishing, that the salt or pickle would not keep them as in Muscovy whence the English obtain many sturgeon and where the climate is colder than in the Virginias. The effects of the Virginians' favoring tobacco-growing above fishing were also noted by De Vries on a visit to Canada: Besides my vessel [at Newfoundland] there was a small boat of fifty or sixty lasts [110 tons], with six guns, which had come out of the Virginias with tobacco, in order to exchange the tobacco for fish. A rather aggrieved reaction to the tales of abundant natural resources in Virginia is contained in this letter from one Tho. Niccolls to Sir Jo. Worstenholme in London in 1623: If the Company would allow to each man a pound of butter and a portion of cheese weekly, they would find more comfort therein then by all the deer, fish, and fowl [that] is so talked of in England, of which, I can assure you, your poor servants have not had so much as the scent since their coming into the country. To prevent profiteering in Canadian fish the Virginia authorities had set the selling prices: January 3, 1625-6: Proclamation by the Governor and Council of Virginia renewing a former proclamation of August 31, 1623, restraining the excessive rates of commodities--commanding that no person in Virginia, either adventurer or planter, shall vend, utter, barter, or sell any of the commodities following above the prices hereafter mentioned, viz: New Foundland fish, the hundred ... 10 pounds of tobacco; Canada dry fish, the hundred ... 24 pounds of tobacco; Canada wet fish, the hundred.... 30 pounds of tobacco. In one proposed deal of fish for tobacco the owner of the fish got scared off, as recorded in the Minutes of the Council and General Court, 1622-29: Luke Edan, sworn and examined, says that there were sixteen thousand fish offered him by one Corbin at Canada which afterward the said Corbin refused to sell him for it was told him his tobacco was not good, and as the examiner heard, it was Henry Hewat that told him so. A case of special concession for the sale of fish was shown in a ruling of the Virginia Council in 1626: It is ordered that whereas Mr. Weston came up to James City, he shall sell 3,000 of his fish there, which he has promised to sell at reasonable rates. Therefore, in regard the proclamations are not published for the choosing of merchants and factors, it is permitted that such as are desirous to buy any of the said fish he may have leave to deal with Mr. Weston, notwithstanding orders to the contrary. Another dissuading factor in the unsubstantial fishing in Virginia was the threat of Indian attack. The Assembly in 1626 ruled: It is ordered, according to the act of the late General Assembly, that no man go or send abroad either upon fowling, fishing, or otherwise whatsoever without a sufficient plenty of men, well armed and provided of munition, upon penalty of undergoing severe censure of punishment by the Governor and Council. It was characteristic of Virginia's fisheries that the pessimists occupied the stage for a while, then the optimists. An example of the whipping-up of enthusiasm is this discourse of Edward Williams writing on Virginia at mid-century. China was a fabulous country, therefore he compared Virginia with it. Ideas ran riot as he contemplated the resources crying to be developed: ... What multitudes of fish to satisfy the most voluptuous of wishes, can China glory in which Virginia may not in justice boast of?... Let her publish a precedent so worthy of admiration (and which will not admit belief in those bosoms where the eye cannot be witness of the action) of five thousand fish taken at one draught near Cape Charles, at the entry into Chesapeake bay, and which swells the wonder greater, not one fish under the measure of two feet in length. What fleets come yearly upon the coasts of Newfoundland and New England for fish, with an incredible return? Yet it is a most assured truth that if they would make experiment upon the south of Cape Cod, and from thence to the coast of this happy country, they would find fish of greater delicacy, and as full handed plenty, which though foreigners know not, yet if our own planters would make use of it, would yield them a revenue which cannot admit of any diminution while there are ebbs and floods, rivers feed and receive the ocean, or nature fails in (the elemental original of all things) waters. There wants nothing but industrious spirits and encouragement to make a rich staple of this commodity; and would the Virginians but make salt pits, in which they have a greater convenience of tides (that part of the universe by reason of a full influence of the moon upon the almost limitless Atlantic causing the most spacious fluxes and refluxes, that any shore of the other divisions in the world is sensible of) to leave their pits full of salt-water, and more friendly and warm sunbeams to concoct it into salt, than Rochel, or any parts of Europe. Yet notwithstanding these advantages which prefer Virginia before Rochel, the French king raises a large proportion of his revenues out of that staple yearly, with which he supplies a great part of Christendom. Nor would it be such a long interval (salt being first made) betwixt the undertaking of this fishing, and the bringing it to perfection, for if every servant were enjoined to practice rowing, to be taught to handle sails, and trim a vessel, a work easily practised, and suddenly learned, the pleasantness of weather in fishing season, the delicacy of the fish, of which they usually feed themselves with the best, the encouragement of some share in the profit, and their understanding what their own benefit may be when their freedom gives them an equality, will make them willing and able fishermen and seamen. To add further to this, if we consider the abundance, largeness, and peculiar excellency of the sturgeon in that country, it will not fall into the least of scruples, but that one species will be of an invaluable profit to the buyer, or if we repeat to our thoughts the singular plenty of herrings and mackerel, in goodness and greatness much exceeding whatever of that kind these our seas produce, a very ordinary understanding may at the first inspection perceive that it will be no great difficulty to out-labor and out-vie the Hollander in that his almost only staple. This flowery author goes on to make ingenious suggestions about raising fish in captivity, like domesticated animals, by inclosing a creek against their egress but keeping it sluiced to permit the action of tides. He even guesses that a nutritious and medicinal oil could be produced from fish livers. It is worth noting that both these suggestions have been proved practical but they had to wait until modern times to be carried out. In the anonymous _A Perfect Description of Virginia_, published in 1649, the population is given as 15,000 English and 300 negroes. The count of boats, remembering the shortage of 40 years before, is impressive: "They have in their Colony pinnaces, barks, great and small boats many hundreds, for most of their plantations stand upon the river sides or up little creeks, and but a small way into the land so that for transportation and fishing they use many boats." The enmity of the Indians had been a constant irritation, and worse, ever since the first days. As soon as it became possible to do so, effort was made to cut them off from the resources of the tidal waters. It was reasoned, and as it turned out, rightly, that with them unable to supplement their food supplies with fish and shellfish, especially oysters, they would be weakened in body and more easily subdued. The word early went out: Keep the Indians away from the water. This strategy worked so successfully that by 1662 it was deemed safe to ease the pressure. Thus another milestone was reached: the first oyster licensing law, as recorded in Hening's _Statutes_: Be it further enacted that for the better relief of the poor Indians whom the seating of the English had forced from their wonted convenience of oystering, fishing ... that the said Indians upon address made to two of the justices of that county they desire to oyster ... they, the said justices, shall grant a license to the said Indians to oyster ... provided the said justices limit the time the Indians are to stay, and the Indians bring not with them any guns, or ammunition or any other offensive weapon but only such tools or implements as serve for the end of their coming. If any Englishman shall presume to take from the Indians so coming in any of their goods, or shall kill, wound, maim any Indian, he shall suffer as he had done the same to an Englishman and be fined for his contempt. This was followed, according to Hening, in 1676 by another cavalier gesture to the oppressed: ... It is hereby intended that our neighbor Indian friends be not debarred from fishing and hunting within their own limits and bounds, using bows and arrows only. Provided also that such neighbor Indian friends who have occasion for corn to relieve their lives and it shall and may be lawful for any English to employ in fishing or deal with fish, canoes, bowls, mats, or baskets, and to pay the said Indians for the same in Indian corn, but no other commodities.... Thomas Glover, author of _An Account of Virginia_, addressed to the Royal Society in London, published in 1676, sides with the optimists. His catalogue has a familiar sound but it is valuable as substantiating many of the earlier reports. One impression to be gained from it is that after more than 60 years of occupancy of the new territory, the settlers had in no way depleted their fishery resources, had not, in fact, even scratched the surface: In the rivers are great plenty and variety of delicate fish. One kind whereof is by the English called a sheepshead from the resemblance the eye of it bears with the eye of a sheep. This fish is generally about fifteen or sixteen inches long and about half a foot broad. It is a wholesome and pleasant fish and of easy digestion. A planter does often times take a dozen or fourteen in an hour's time with hook and line. There is another sort which the English call a drum, many of which are two foot and a half or three foot long. This is likewise a very good fish, and there is plenty of them. In the head of this fish there is a jelly, which being taken and dried in the sun, then beaten to powder and given in broth, procures speedy delivery to women in labour. At the heads of the rivers there are sturgeon and in the creeks are great store of small fish, as perch, croakers, taylors, eels, and divers others whose name I know not. Here are such plenty of oysters as they may load ships with them. At the mouth of Elizabeth River, when it is low water, they appear in rocks a foot above water. There are also in some places great store of mussels and cockles. There is also a fish called a stingray, which resembles a skate, only on one side of his tail grows out a sharp bone like a bodkin about four or five inches long, with which he sticks and wounds other fish and then preys upon them. The same author went farther than any other reporter up to that time in telling a real fish story: And now it comes into my mind, I shall here insert an account of a very strange fish or rather a monster, which I happened to see in Rappahannock River about a year before I came out of the country; the manner of it was thus: As I was coming down the forementioned river in a sloop bound for the bay, it happened to prove calm, at which time we were three leagues short of the river's mouth; the tide of ebb being then done, the sloop-man dropped his grapline, and he and his boy took a little boat belonging to the sloop, in which they went ashore for water, leaving me aboard alone, in which time I took a small book out of my pocket and sat down at the stern of the vessel to read; but I had not read long before I heard a great rushing and flashing of the water, which caused me suddenly to look up, and about half a stone's cast from me appeared a prodigious creature, much resembling a man, only somewhat larger, standing right up in the water with his head, neck, shoulders, breast and waist, to the cubits of his arms, above water; his skin was tawny, much like that of an Indian; the figure of his head was pyramidal, and slick, without hair; his eyes large and black, and so were his eyebrows; his mouth very wide, with a broad streak on the upper lip, which turned upward at each end like mustachioes; his countenance was grim and terrible; his neck, shoulders, arms, breast and waist were like unto the neck, arms, shoulders, breast and waist of a man; his hands if he had any, were under water; he seemed to stand with his eyes fixed on me for some time, and afterward dived down, and a little after riseth at somewhat a farther distance, and turned his head towards me again, and then immediately falleth a little under water, and swimmeth away so near the top of the water, that I could discern him throw out his arms, and gather them in as a man doth when he swimmeth. At last he shoots with his head downwards, by which means he cast his tail above the water, which exactly resembled the tail of a fish with a broad fane at the end of it. Judging from the few piddling regulations and restrictions referred to in extracts already cited, the Virginia lawmakers could see no need for intensive or even active supervision of the Tidewater fisheries. A rather epoch-making law was enacted in 1678 by the county court of Middlesex County, which is about 50 miles from James City, at the juncture of the Rappahannock river and Chesapeake bay: Whereas, by the 15th act of Assembly made in the year 1662, liberty is given to each respective county to make by-laws for themselves; which laws, by virtue of the said act are to be binding upon them as any other general law; and whereas several of the inhabitants of this county have complained against the excessive and immoderate striking and destroying of fish, by some fire, of the inhabitants of this county by striking them by a light in the night time with fish gigs, wherby they not only affright the fish from coming into the rivers and creeks, but also wound four times that quantity that they take, so that if a timely remedy be not applied, by that means the fishing with hooks and lines will be thereby spoiled to the great hurt and grievance of most of the inhabitants of this county. It is therefore by this court ordered that from and after the 20th day of March next ensuing, it shall not be lawful for any of the inhabitants of this county to take, strike, or destroy any sort of fish in the night time with fish gigs, harping irons, or any other instrument of that nature, sort or kind, within any river, creek or bay which are accounted belonging to or within the bounds or precincts of this county. And it is further ordered that if any person or persons being a freeman, shall offend against this order, he or they so offending shall for the first offence be fined five hundred pounds of good tobacco to be paid to the informer, and for every other offence committed against this order after the first, by any person, the said fine to be doubled and if any servants be permitted or encouraged by their masters to keep or have in their possession any fish gig, harping iron or any other instrument of that kind or nature and shall therewith offend against this order, that in such case the master of such servant or servants shall be liable to pay the several fines above mentioned, and if any servant or servants shall, contrary to and against their master's will and knowledge, offend against this order, that for every offence they receive such corporal punishment as by this court shall be thought meet. As population became more dense it was inevitable that rights previously of little significance began to be asserted. This case of 1679 taken from Hening's _Statutes_, was a forerunner of countless others like it which continue to this day: Robert Liny, having complained to this Grand Assembly that whereas he had cleared a fishing place in the river against his own land to his great cost and charge supposing the right thereof in himself by virtue of his patents, yet nevertheless several persons have frequently obstructed him in his just privilege of fishing there, and despite of him came upon his land and hauled their seines on shore to his great prejudice, alleging that the water was the King Majesty's and not by him granted away in any patent and therefore equally free to all His Majesty's subjects to fish in and haul their seines on shore, and praying for relief therein by a declaratory order of this Grand Assembly; it is ordered and declared by this Grand Assembly that every man's right by virtue of his patent extends into the rivers or creeks so far as low water mark and it is a privilege granted to him in and by his patent, and that therefore no person ought to come and fish there above low water mark or haul seines on shore without leave first obtained, under the hazard of comitting a trespass for which he is sueable by law. In most cases this decision somewhat limited a landowner's claim. But on the seaside of Virginia's Eastern Shore conditions have always been so that at low tide thousands of acres of land are laid bare, with the result that "low water mark" is in many cases difficult of interpretation as a boundary between waterfront properties and the public domain. Toward the close of the century fishing methods had shaped up advantageously compared to the crudities and hit-or-miss practices of the first settlers. Robert Beverley described them in 1705: The Indian invention of weirs in fishing is mightily improved by the English, besides which, they make use of seines, trolls, casting nets, setting nets, hand fishing and angling and in each find abundance of diversion. I have sat in the shade at the heads of the rivers angling and spent as much time in taking the fish off the hook as in waiting for their taking it. Like those of the Euxine Sea, they also fish with spilyards which is a long line staked out in the river and hung with a great many hooks on short strings, fastened to the main line, about four foot asunder. The only difference is that our line is supported by stakes and theirs is buoyed up with gourds. The abundance of the fisheries never ceased impressing visitors. A French tourist added to the chorus in 1687: Fish too is wonderfully plentiful. There are so many shell oysters that almost every Saturday my host craved them. He had only to send one of his servants in one of the small boats and two hours after ebb tide he brought it back full. These boats, made of a single tree hollowed in the middle, can hold as many as fourteen people and twenty-five hundredweight of merchandise. As if to crown the final emergence of recognition of the home fisheries William Byrd I instructed his agent in Boston in 1689 to send him a variety of commodities in return for a bill of exchange but _no salt fish_: By the advice of my friend, Captain Peter Perry, I made bold to give you the trouble of a letter of the 1st instant with two small bills of exchange which I desired you to receive and return the effects to me in the upper part of James River, either in rum, sugar, Madeira wine, turnery, earthenware, or anything else you may judge convenient to this country (fish excepted).... Evidently at least some good salt was now at hand to preserve the roe herring that choked the rivers and creeks in the spring. The salt-herring breakfast was on its way to becoming a Virginia institution, and the salt-fish monopolies of New England and Canada were cracking after three-quarters of a century. The score of "firsts" in the Virginia fishery world have been noted as they occurred. Among them were the first fishery statistics, the first licensing law, the first price control, the first diamond-back terrapin, the first conservation measures. And now in 1698 there was the first agitation against polluted waters: We, the Council and Burgesses of the present General Assembly, being sensible to the great mischiefs and inconveniences that accrue to the inhabitants of this, his Majesty's Colony and Dominion of Virginia, by killing of whales within the capes thereof, in all humility take leave to represent the same unto Your Excellency and withal to acquaint you that by the means thereof great quantities of fish are poisoned and destroyed and the rivers also made noisome and offensive. For prevention of which evils in regard the restraint of the killing of whales is a branch of His Majesty's royal prerogative. We humbly pray that Your Excellency [the Governor, Francis Nicholson] will be pleased to issue out a proclamation forbidding all persons whatsoever to strike or kill any whales within the bay of Chesapeake in the limits of Virginia which we hope will prove an effectual means to prevent the many evils that arise therefrom. As Jamestown reached the end of its span, the fisheries came of age. Inequities were being ironed out, methods were being perfected, and planners were at work on ways of employing more and more of the fast-growing population in searching out and making available the bounty of the fair Chesapeake. At the start of the 18th century, however, there was little evidence of an organized industry in any phase. Everywhere were unlimited opportunities for exploitation. The abundance of oysters still impressed travelers. In the extract to follow, Francis Louis Michel of Switzerland speaks of the method of tonging oysters in 1701, but note that he says, "They usually pull from six to ten times." This could be taken to mean that each individual procured his own oysters from the lavish supply virtually at his doorstep, and stopped as soon as he had a "mess" to enjoy over the week-end: The water is no less prolific, because an indescribably large number of big and little fish are found in the many creeks, as well as in the large rivers. The abundance is so great and they are so easily caught that I was much surprised. Many fish are dried, especially those that are fat. Those who have a line can catch as many as they please. Most of them are caught with the hook or the spear, as I know from personal experience, for when I went out several times with the line, I was surprised that I could pull out one fish after another, and, through the clear water I could see a large number of all kinds, whose names are unknown to me. They cannot be compared with our fish, except the herring, which is caught and dried in large numbers. Thus the so-called catfish is not unlike the large turbot. A very good fish and one easily caught is the eel, also like those here [in Switzerland]. There is also a kind like a pike. They have a long and pointed mouth, with which they like to bite into the hook. They are not wild, but it happens rarely that one can keep them on the line, for they cut it in two with their sharp teeth. We always had our harpoons and guns with us when we went out fishing, and when the fish came near we shot at them or harpooned them. A good fish, which is common and found in large numbers is the porpoise. They are so large that by their unusual leaps, especially when the weather changes, they make a great noise and often cause anxiety for the small boats or canoes. Especially do they endanger those that bathe. Once I cooled and amused myself in the water with swimming, not knowing that there was any danger, but my host informed me that there was.... The waters and especially the tributaries are filled with turtles. They show themselves in large numbers when it is warm. Then they come to the land or climb up on pieces of wood or trees lying in the water. When one travels in a ship their heads can be seen everywhere coming out of the water. The abundance of oysters is incredible. There are whole banks of them so that the ships must avoid them. A sloop, which was to land us at Kingscreek, struck an oyster bed, where we had to wait about two hours for the tide. They surpass those in England by far in size, indeed, they are four times as large. I often cut them in two, before I could put them into my mouth. The inhabitants usually catch them on Saturday. It is not troublesome. A pair of wooden tongs is needed. Below they are wide, tipped with iron. At the time of the ebb they row to the beds and with the long tongs they reach down to the bottom. They pinch them together tightly and then pull or tear up that which has been seized. They usually pull from six to ten times. In summer they are not very good, but unhealthy and can cause fever. The most comprehensive list of fish thus far given by the early historians was offered by Robert Beverley in 1705. Again as with John Smith, there are names that do not fit in today. But these are very few: "greenfish," "maid," "wife," and "frogfish" perhaps, all of which, however, are well-known in England. The recurring mention of carp in the early authorities quoted is interesting, since it has long been believed that carp were introduced into the Chesapeake region in 1877 by the U.S. Fish Commission. No doubt that was carp of another species. The esteemed sheepshead is today very rare: As for fish, both of fresh and salt water, of shellfish, and others, no country can boast of more variety, greater plenty, or of better in their several kinds. In the spring of the year, herrings come up in such abundance into their brooks and fords to spawn that it is almost impossible to ride through without treading on them. Thus do those poor creatures expose their own lives to some hazard out of their care to find a more convenient reception for their young, which are not yet alive. Thence it is that at this time of the year, the freshes of the rivers, like that of the Broadruck, stink of fish. Besides these herrings, there come up likewise into the freshes from the sea multitudes of shad, rock, sturgeon, and some few lampreys, which fasten themselves to the shad, as the remora of Imperatus is said to do to the shark of Tiburon. They continue their stay there about three months. The shad at their first coming up are fat and fleshy, but they waste so extremely in milting and spawning that at their going down they are poor and seem fuller of bones, only because they have less flesh. As these are in the freshes, so the salts afford at certain times of the year many other kinds of fish in infinite shoals, such as the oldwife, a fish not much unlike a herring, and the sheepshead, a sort of fish which they esteem in the number of their best. There is likewise great plenty of other fish all the summer long and almost in every part of the rivers and brooks there are found of different kinds. Wherefore I shall not pretend to give a detail of them, but venture to mention the names only of such as I have eaten and seen myself and so leave the rest to those that are better skilled in natural history. However, I may add that besides all those that I have met with myself, I have heard of a great many very good sorts, both in the salts and freshes, and such people too, as have not always spent their time in that country, have commended them to me, beyond any they had ever eaten before. Those which I know myself, I remember by the names of herring, rock, sturgeon, shad, oldwife, sheepshead, black and red drums, trout, taylor, greenfish, sunfish, bass, chub, plaice, flounder, whiting, fatback, maid, wife, small turtle, crab, oyster, mussel, cockle, shrimp, needlefish, bream, carp, pike, jack, mullet, eel, conger eel, perch, and catfish. Those which I remember to have seen there of the kinds that are not eaten are the whale, porpoise, shark, dogfish, gar, stingray, thornback, sawfish, toadfish, frogfish, land crabs, fiddlers, and periwinkle. Francis Makemie, often called the father of American Presbyterianism, was concerned, in his _A Plain and Friendly Perswasive to the Inhabitants of Virginia and Maryland for Promoting Towns and Cohabitations_, about the dearth of markets for fishery products. It was a condition brought about largely by a general lack of money in circulation. It was easily possible for entire families to subsist the year around on the fruits of land and water plus unexacting manual labor. Wealth was concentrated in the hands of the more important planters whose estates were usually self-sufficient and concentrating on trade with England. The natural bounty of the Tidewater region thus actually deterred the development of Virginia along the lines of New England with its urban centers: Cohabitation would not only employ thousands of people ... others would be employed in hunting, fishing, and fowling, and the more diligently if assured of a public market.... So also our fishing would be advanced and improved highly by encouraging many poor men to follow that calling, and sundry sorts which are now slighted would be fit for a town market, as sturgeon, thornback, and catfish. Our vast plenty of oysters would make a beneficial trade, both with the town and foreign traders, believing we have the best oysters for pickling and transportation if carefully and skillfully managed. By 1705 the seat of government had been transferred to nearby Williamsburg. The need of establishing towns as foci for the developing countryside had been felt and now the legislators turned their attention to promoting the fish markets therein, followed by some essential protection of the rights of fishermen and others. Hening's _Statutes_ gives the details: October, 1705. For the encouragement and bettering of the markets in the said town, Be it enacted, That no dead provision, either of flesh or fish shall be sold within five miles of any of the ports or towns appointed by this act, on the same side the great river the town shall stand upon, but within the limits of the town, on pain of forfeiture and loss of all such provision by the purchases, and the purchase money of such provision sold by the vendor, cognizable by any justice of the county.... Be it further enacted and declared, That if any person or persons shall at any time hereafter shoot, hunt or range upon the lands and tenements, or fish or fowl in any creeks or waters included within the lands of any other person or persons without license for the same, first obtained of the owner and proprietor thereof, every such person so shooting, hunting, fishing, fowling, or ranging, shall forfeit and pay for every such offence, the sum of five hundred pounds of tobacco.... Be it further enacted, That if any person shall set, or cause to be set, a weir in any river or creek, such person shall cause the stayes thereof to be taken up again, as soon as the weir becomes useless; and if any person shall fail of performing his duty herein, he shall forfeit and pay fifteen shillings current money, to the informer: To be recovered, with costs, before a justice of the peace. The essentials of any stable industry are: control of supply and means of distribution. The fisheries of Virginia were blessed with neither of these advantages. Any progress had to be made in spite of uncertain harvests and lack of packing and handling facilities. Distribution of fresh seafoods was impossible without rapid transportation and adequate refrigeration. Neither was available for two centuries. Virginia's huge supply of oysters was a case in point. Consumption of oysters was limited to those who lived on the spot, and though they figured importantly in the Tidewater diet, as a palpable resource they were untouched until the 19th century. The principal means of preserving them before then was by pickling. In that form they were quite popular during the Colonial period. Fish were salted when there was a surplus and in certain seasons, especially the spawning time of the anadromous river-herring, they were available in phenomenal quantities. They remain today among Virginia's most plentiful fish but the salting industry has now become a mere token of its former magnitude. The Chesapeake bay blue crab which today constitutes a resource worth about $5,000,000 a year to Virginia crabbers and packers, had to wait even longer than fish and oysters did for development. Salting and pickling were unsuitable to this delicate food and expeditious handling methods did not exist. In an exhaustive catalogue of the marine life of Virginia William Byrd II, of Westover said: Herring are not as large as the European ones, but better and more delicious. After being salted they become red. If one prepares them with vinegar and olive oil, they then taste like anchovies or sardines, since they are far better in salt than the English or European herring. When they spawn, all streams and waters are completely filled with them, and one might believe, when he sees such terrible amounts of them, that there was as great a supply of herring as there is water. In a word, it is unbelievable, indeed, indescribable, as also incomprehensible, what quantity is found there. One must behold oneself. At the time he wrote Virginians were beginning to compete with Canadians and New Englanders in exporting salt fish, particularly to the West Indies, where a large proportion of them were exchanged for the rum so freely used on the plantations as slave rations. There were no dams barring access to the highest reaches of the rivers and no cities and factories to discharge pollution, so that the river-herring and shad made their way far inland even to the Blue Ridge mountains. There the pioneers awaited them eagerly each spring and salted down a supply to tide them over till the next run. Small wonder, then, that the love of salt herring--always with corn bread--became ingrained in so many Old Virginians! They had an illustrious exemplar. Once, in 1782, when George Washington was due to visit Robert Howe the honored host wrote to a friend: "General Washington dines with me tomorrow. He is exceedingly fond of salt fish." Despite obstacles a healthy experimentation in the various phases of fishing was now and then manifest. For example, in 1710 one adventurous fisherman wished to extend the home fisheries to whaling and applied to the Virginia Council for a license. Whales, though not common in Chesapeake bay or the ocean area near it, had been noted from time to time ever since the birth of the Colony. Most often they were washed ashore dead. John Custis, of Northampton County, succeeded in making 30 barrels of oil from one such in 1747. The year before that a live one was spotted in the James river by some Scottish sailors who were able to comer it in shallow water. After killing it, they found it to measure 54 feet! The _Virginia Gazette_, published in Williamsburg, carried this item in 1751: Some principal gentlemen of the Colony, having by voluntary subscription agreed to fit out vessels to be employed in the whale fishery on our coast, a small sloop called the _Experiment_ was some time ago sent on a cruise, and we have the pleasure to acquaint the public that she is now returned with a valuable whale. Though she is the first vessel sent from Virginia in this employ, yet her success, we hope, will give encouragement to the further prosecution of the design which, we doubt not, will tend very much to the advantage of the Colony as well as excite us to other profitable undertakings hitherto too much neglected. Commented John Blair in his _Diary_ on the incident: "Heard our first whale brought in and three more struck but lost." The _Experiment_ continued its whaling career successfully for three years. When it retired, no similar enterprise replaced it. Yet in a list of exports from Virginia for the year ending September 30, 1791, 1263 gallons of whale oil appears. Even today whales are occasionally represented in Virginia fishery products, as when one is washed up on a beach and removed by the Coast Guard to a processing plant to be turned into meal and oil. The overall value of Virginia's fisheries as an industrial resource was glacially slow in reaching public consciousness. Here and there, like dim lights along an uncertain voyage, bits of legislation or isolated conservation procedures appeared. In due course it became evident that natural fishways--to choose one example--were being obstructed to the disadvantage of both the fish and navigation. Hening records the law enacted to keep the rivers open: 1745. And whereas the making and raising of mill dams, and stone-stops, or hedges for catching of fish, is a great obstruction to the navigation of the said rivers [James and Appomattox]: Be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, That all mill dams, stone-stops, and hedges, already made across either of the said rivers, where they are navigable, shall be thrown down and destroyed by the person or persons who made the same.... Like most hastily framed and passed laws this one proved unsatisfactory and a second one, with more detailed provisions was passed. Hening records it: 1762. Whereas the act of assembly made in the first year of his present Majesty's reign [1761], entitled, an act to oblige the owners of mills, hedges, or stone-stops, on sundry rivers therein mentioned, to make openings or slopes therein for the passage of fish, has been found defective, and not to answer the purposes for which it was intended, and it is therefore necessary that the same should be amended: Be it therefore enacted by the Lieutenant Governor, Council and Burgesses, of this present General Assembly, and it is hereby enacted by the authority of the same, That the owner or proprietor of all and every mill, hedge, or stone-stop, on either of the rivers Nottoway and Meherrin, shall in the space of nine months from and after the passing of this act, make an opening or slope in their respective mill-dams, hedges, or stops, in that part of the same where there shall happen to be the deepest water, which shall be in width at least ten feet in the clear, in length at least three times the height of the dam, and that the bottoms and sides thereof shall be planked, and that the sides shall be at least fourteen inches deep, so as to admit a current of water through the same twelve inches deep, which shall be kept open from the tenth day of February to the last day of May in every year.... And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, That if any such owner or proprietor shall neglect or refuse so to do, within the time aforesaid, the person so offending shall forfeit and pay the sum of five pounds of tobacco for every day he or they shall so neglect or refuse.... Still the fundamental problem was not solved; fish were not by-passing the remaining obstructions in sufficient quantity to maintain the expected harvest. After various amendments and additions this explicit definition of a fishway or slope was enacted into law in 1771: That a gap be cut in the top of the dam contiguous to the deepest part of the water below the dam, in which shall be set a slope ten feet wide, and so deep that the water may run through it 18 inches before it will through the waste, or over the dam, that the direction of the said slope be so, as with a perpendicular to be dropped from the top of the dam, will form an angle of at least 75 degrees, and to continue in that direction to the bottom of the river, below the dam, to be planked up the sides 2 feet high; that there be pits or basins built in the bottom, at 8 feet distance, the width of the said slope, and to be 12 inches deep, and that the whole be tight and strong; which said slope shall be kept open from the 10th day of February to the last day of May, annually, and any owner not complying to forfeit 5 pounds of tobacco a day. The effort was of little avail. Before many dams could be so laboriously modified the Revolutionary War arrived to obscure placid matters like fish conservation. The diaries of the 18th Century Virginia planters abound with references to seafoods. Most of them lived either on or within easy distance of Tidewater. Most of them had nets and other fishing implements of their own and crews among the slaves to work them. Whenever their needs required, an expedition was made. Perhaps there was a season of bountiful entertaining in prospect. The seine would be taken to a likely spot and hauled ashore. Or a boat would go out and load up with oysters. The fish had to be eaten right away or salted down. But oysters stored in a dark cellar, especially in cool weather, would keep for weeks if moistened from time to time. One diarist, James Gordon, lived near the Rappahannock river in a section affording a variety of seafoods. Note these typical entries: Sept. 20, 1759. Fine weather. Went in the afternoon and drew the seine. Had very agreeable diversion and got great plenty of fine fish.... Sept. 26. Went with my wife in the evening to draw the seine. Got about sixty greenfish and a few other sorts. Sept. 28. Sent in the morning to have the seine drawn. They made several hauls and got good fish, viz: three drum, one of them large, trouts, greenfish, etc.... Oct. 6. Went with my wife to see the seine drawn. We dined very agreeably on a point on fish and oysters.... Jan. 22,--Bought about 70 gallons of rum. Got fine oysters there. Feb. 12. Went on board the New England man and bought some pots, axes and mackerel. Feb. 22. Drew the seine and got 125 fine rock and some shad. July 14. Drew the seine today and got some fine rock. Feb. 9, 1760. Went with my wife and Mr. Criswell to draw the seine. We met in Eyck's Creek a school of rock--brought up 260. Some very large; the finest haul I ever saw. Sent many of them to our neighbors. The term "greenfish" is unknown among Virginia Tidewater fishermen. Here again we have a British name brought into Virginia by a colonist not long removed from that country. There "greenfish" is applied to the bluefish, of which there were and are at times plenty in the Rappahannock river. Another diarist, who lived only a few miles away from Gordon, also on the Rappahannock river, was Landon Carter, son of the famed Robert, or "King," Carter of Corotoman in Lancaster County. There is no doubt about it: he was an oyster lover. He not only knew a way to hold oysters over an extended period--one wishes one knew what it was--but he had the courage and originality to eat them in July, contrary to a widely respected superstition: Jan. 14, 1770. My annual entertainment began on Monday, the 8th, and held till Wednesday night, when, except one individual or two that retired sooner, things pleased me much, and therefore, I will conclude they gave the same satisfaction to others. The oysters lasted till the third day of the feast, which to be sure, proves that the methods of keeping them is good, although much disputed by others. July, 1776. Last night my cart came up from John E. Beale for iron pots to make salt out of the bay water, which cart brought me eight bushels oysters. I ordered them for family and immediate use. As we are obliged to wash the salt we had of Col. Tayloe, I have ordered that washing be carried into the vault and every oyster dipped into it over all and then laid down on the floor again.... Out of the eight bushels oysters I had six pickled and two bushels for dressing. But I was asked why Beale sent oysters up in July. I answered it was my orders. Who would eat oysters in July said the mighty man; and the very day showed he not only could eat them but did it in every shape, raw, stewed, caked in fritters and pickled. George Washington, too, was an oyster fancier as this note to his New York friend George Taylor shows: Mt. Vernon, 1786. Sir: ... Mrs. Washington joins me in thanking you also for your kind present of pickled oysters which were very fine. This mark of your politeness is flattering and we beg you to accept every good wish of ours in return. When in 1770 a notice appeared in the _Virginia Gazette_ about the proposed academy in New Kent County an added attraction was featured: "Among other things the fine fishery at the place will admit of an agreeable and salutary exercise and amusement all the year." It was the Chickahominy river, a tributary of the James, that was referred to. Fishing is still "agreeable" there. Citizens of Richmond, recreation-bent, throng to it along with the residents of its banks, many of whom make their living out of it. This is one of the sections where the water, though tidal, is fresh. Anadromous herring, shad, rock and sturgeon are caught. Unlike the salty bay, fish can be caught here the year round. Among them are catfish, carp, perch and bass. One of the most accurate and vivid reporters of Colonial Virginia plantation life was Philip Vickers Fithian, tutor to the family of Councillor Robert Carter of Nominy Hall on the lower Potomac river. In his _Journals_ are appetizing references to seafood: 1774, March: With Mr. Randolph, I went a-fishing, but we had only the luck to catch one apiece. April. We had an elegant dinner; beef and greens, roast pig, fine boiled rockfish. July. We dined today on the fish called the sheepshead, with crabs. Twice every week we have fine fish. On the edges of these shoals in Nominy River or in holes between the rocks is plenty of fish. Well, Ben, you and Mr. Fithian are invited by Mr. Turberville, to a fish feast tomorrow, said Mr. Carter when we entered the Hall to dinner. As we were rowing up Nominy we saw fishermen in great numbers in canoes and almost constantly taking in fish,--bass and perch. This is a fine sheepshead, Mr. Stadly [the music master], shall I help you? Or would you prefer a bass or a perch? Or perhaps you will rather help yourself to some picked crab. It is all extremely fine, sir, I'll help myself. August. Each Wednesday and Saturday, we dine on fish all the summer, always plenty of rock, perch, and crabs, and often sheepshead and trout. September. We dined on fish and crabs, which were provided for our company, tomorrow being fish day. September. Dined on fish,--rock, perch, fine crabs, and a large fresh mackerel. I was invited this morning by Captain Tibbs to a barbecue. This differs but little from the fish feasts, instead of fish the dinner is roasted pig, with the proper appendages, but the diversion and exercise are the very same at both. An English traveler in 1759, Andrew Burnaby, registered his wonder at the way fish were taken in the reaches of the Chesapeake: Sturgeon and shad are in such prodigious numbers [in Chesapeake Bay] that one day within the space of two miles only, some gentlemen in canoes caught above six hundred of the former with hooks, which they let down to the bottom and drew up at a venture when they perceived them to rub against a fish; and of the latter above five thousand have been caught at one single haul of the seine. The "gentlemen" concerned were obviously not slaves serving the needs of a plantation, but, judging from the amount caught, expert commercial fishermen. The sturgeon, after the roe was removed, were stacked in carts and peddled in nearby towns. The shad, after as many as possible were sold fresh, were salted down. The snagging of big sturgeon as recounted by the French traveler François J. de Chastellux in 1781 remained in common practice into the 20th Century, when the big ones became much scarcer: As I was walking by the river side [James near Westover], I saw two negroes carrying an immense sturgeon, and on asking them how they had taken it, they told me that at this season they were so common as to be taken easily in a seine and that fifteen or twenty were found sometimes in the net; but that there was a much more simple method of taking them, which they had just been using. This species of monster, which are so active in the evening as to be perpetually leaping to a great height above the surface of the water, usually sleep profoundly at mid-day. Two or three negroes then proceed in a little boat, furnished with a long cord at the end of which is a sharp iron crook, which they hold suspended like a log line. As soon as they find this line stopped by some obstacle, they draw it forcibly towards them so as to strike the hook into the sturgeon, which they either drag out of the water, or which, after some struggling and losing all his blood, floats at length upon the surface and is easily taken. The frequently met-with term, "fishery," in Colonial writings took on a special meaning as the industry developed. It was used in the sense of what the present Virginia lawbook calls a "regularly hauled fishing landing." This is usually a shore privately owned where the fronting waters have been cleared of obstructions. The owner, or some one permitted by him, operates a long seine at that place by carrying it offshore in boats and hauling it to land. So long as he thus uses the spot "regularly" the law protects him, now as in the past, by making it illegal for any other person to fish with nets within a quarter-mile of "any part of the shore of the owner of any such fishery." The rights to such a property were, and are, in many cases extremely profitable. George Washington was among the Virginia planters zealously caring for their "fisheries." Often the privilege of using these was advertised in the newspapers or otherwise for rent for a long or short term. Some owners who did not themselves wish to fish counted on their shores to yield rental. One of these, George William Fairfax, must have expressed himself to Washington on the subject, for the latter wrote him in June, 1774: ... As to your fishery at the Raccoon Branch, I think you will be disappointed there likewise as there is no landing on this side of river that rents for more than one half of what you expect for that, and that on the other side opposite to you (equally good they say) to be had at £15 Maryland currency.... But growing along with this practice was sentiment favoring fishing places open to the general public. When an attempt was made about 1770 to take over certain lands near Cape Henry for private operation, a vigorous protest ensued: The petition of the subscribers, inhabitants of the county of Princess Anne in behalf of themselves and the other inhabitants of this colony, humbly shows: That the point of land called Cape Henry bounded eastward by the Atlantic Ocean, northwardly by Chesapeake Bay, westwardly and southwardly by part of Lynnhaven River and by a creek called Long Creek and the branches thereof, is chiefly desert banks of sand and unfit for tillage or cultivation and contains several thousand acres. And that for many years past a common fishery has been carried on by many of the inhabitants of said county and others on the shore of the ocean and bay aforesaid, as far as the western mouth of Lynnhaven River. And that during the fishing season the fishermen usually encamp amongst the said sand hills and get wood for fuel and stages from the desert, and that very considerable quantities of fish are annually taken by such fishery which greatly contributes to the support and maintenance of your petitioners and their families. Your petitioners further show that they have been informed that several gentlemen have petitioned your Honour to have the land aforesaid granted to them by patent and that one Keeling has lately surveyed a part thereof situated near the mouth of Long Creek aforesaid, and that if a patent should be granted for the same, it would greatly prejudice the said fishery. Your petitioners therefore humbly pray that no patent may be granted to any person or persons for the same lands or any part thereof; and that the same may remain a common for the benefit of the inhabitants of this Colony in general for carrying on a fishery and for such public uses as the same premises shall be found convenient. Even when the new United States Government erected a lighthouse at Cape Henry a careful stipulation was made in the act ceding the property in 1790 that the public were not to be denied fishing privileges there: Deed of cession of two acres of land at Cape Henry, in Princess Anne County, Virginia, for the purpose of erecting a lighthouse thereon ... provided that nothing contained in this act shall affect the right of this State to any materials heretofore placed at or near Cape Henry for the purpose of erecting a lighthouse, nor shall the citizens be debarred, in consequence of this cession, from the privileges they now enjoy of hauling their seines and fishing on the shores of the said land so ceded to the United States. When George Washington had come, a newlywed, to be master of Mt. Vernon in 1759 he found the prospects for fishing very satisfying. One of his letters at this time boasted: A river [the Potomac] well-stocked with various kinds of fish at all seasons of the year, and in the spring with shad, herrings, bass, carp, perch, sturgeon, etc., in great abundance. The borders of the estate are washed by more than ten miles of tidewater, the whole shore, in fact, is one entire fishery. Washington generously ordered his overseer to admit "the honest poor" to fishing privileges at one of his shores, a concession that may have been customary among many landowners. He was a man who believed in keeping records, and so complete a file of them has now been reassembled at Mt. Vernon that it is possible to follow his career in any phase: officer, business speculator, host, farmer, legislative adviser, and friend. He gave to fishing the painstaking personal attention he gave to all else. As a "fisherman" he directed the manufacture as well as the repair of his nets, and the curing, shipping and marketing of his fish. It seems obvious that suitable nets were not being manufactured in the desired quantity or variety in America, otherwise he would hardly have bought his in England. He dealt with Robert Cary and Co., London, in 1771. Here is a typical order: One seine, seventy-five fathoms long when rigged for hauling; to be ten feet deep in the middle and eight at the ends with meshes fit for the herring fishery. The corks to be two and a half feet asunder; the leads five feet apart; to be made of the best three-strand (small) twine and tanned. 400 fathom of white inch rope for hauling the above seine. 150 fathom of deep sea line. To get ready for spring fishing he had to prepare as far ahead as July. Even then he was not always sure delivery would be on time: ... The goods you will please to forward by the first vessel for Potomac (which possibly may be Captain Jordan the bearer of this) as there are some articles that will be a good deal wanted, especially the seine, which will be altogether useless to me if I do not get them early in the spring, or in other words I shall sustain a considerable disappointment and loss, if they do not get to hand in time. He wrote to Bradshaw and Davidson in London in 1772: That I may have my seine net exactly agreeable to directions this year I give you the trouble of receiving this letter from me to desire that three may be made. One of them eighty fathom long, another seventy, and the third sixty-five fathom, all of them to be twelve feet deep in the middle and to decrease to seven at the ends when rigged and fit for use; to be so close-meshed in the middle as not to suffer the herrings (for which kind of fishery they are intended) to hang in them because, when this is the case it gives us a good deal of trouble at the busy hurrying season to disengage the seine, and often is the means of tearing it. But the meshes may widen as they approach the ends: the corks to be no more than two feet and a half asunder and fixed on flatways that they may swim and bear the seine up better with a float right in the middle to show the approach of the seine with greater certainty in case the corks should sink; the leads to be five feet apart. The seine I had from you last year had two faults, one of which is that of having the meshes too open in the middle; the other of being too strait rigged; to avoid which I wish you to loose at least one-third of the length in hanging these seines; that is, to let your 80 fathom seine be 120 in the strait measure (before it is hung in the lead and cork lines) and the other two to bear the same proportion, I could wish to have these seines tanned but it is thought the one I had from you last year was injured in the vat, for which reason I leave it to you to have these tanned or not, as you shall judge most expedient ... I would not wish to have them made of thick heavy twine as they are more liable to heat and require great force to work them.... A detailed reply came from James Davidson, a partner in the net company: London, Sept. 29, 1772. Sir: I had the honour of receiving your letter with instructions concerning your seines. I shall always pay due attention to the contents. I persuade myself you'll say I have fulfilled your instructions given me in these three seines which I heartily hope will be in time for the intended fishery. Am not afraid but they will meet with your approbation and if you should see any alteration wanting if you'll be so obliging as to send a line in the same channel, it shall be attended to with great care. Your order is for the corks to be put on flat ways. I have only put them on the 65 fathom seine for these reasons. We have tried that method before with every other invention for the satisfaction of our fishermen here but they have assured us they really do not bear the net up so well. They are obliged to be tied on so tight that the twine cuts them and are much apter to break and after all in dragging the net they will swim sideways. Now, Sir, you'll readily see the above inconveniences. I have also put six floats in the middle, two together to show the center of the net. Likewise the length of the netting, 120 fathoms for the 80 fathoms, the other two in proportion. I now enter upon tanning. This, you may assure yourself, they are pretty well wore if you have them tanned for we are obliged to haul them in and out to take the tan and after that hauling them about to get them thoroughly dry before we can possibly pack them or else they would soon rot. Among the hundreds of seines I sent abroad last year or this, I only tanned one besides yours. Therefore have not tanned any of these. I think the three-quarters inch mesh that I have put in the middle of the nets this year will be a cure for the malady you mention of the herrings hanging in the mesh, for last year I only put in inch mesh which upon examination you'll soon perceive. Therefore, sir, I entreat the honour of a line whether or not the two above three-quarters mesh seines answer the purpose. I have tapered them away at the ends to [an] inch and a half. These nets were designed for hauling ashore by hand. It was not till much later that other nets, of the styles so familiar today, gill nets and pound nets in particular, came into general use. Much longer seines than Washington needed were used as fish became scarcer. There are tales of them four and five miles long, actually able to block off the entire river, being used in the neighborhood of Mt. Vernon before control laws were enacted and enforced. The catches were enormous. Barges were heaped high with all sorts of fish and towed into Washington City where they were sold before they spoiled, for what they would bring. Today the pollution for which Washington and Alexandria are responsible has destroyed most fish life within several miles of Mt. Vernon. Like his fishing predecessors ever since Jamestown, Washington had his troubles with salt. One of his business letters ordering a supply complained: "Liverpool salt is inadequate to the saving of fish.... Lisbon is the proper kind." He was only briefly touching on a subject that had vexed the Colonists since the beginning. Through the years the cry for more and better salt had gone up. The fishermen of Virginia needed salt for their fish as badly as the Hebrews in Egypt needed straw for their bricks. Although trading with foreign countries increased steadily, the question of a salt supply for Virginia remained unsolved. As the 18th century had progressed, matters grew even worse. In 1763 the Virginia Committee of Correspondence had written urgently to its agent in London to apply to Parliament for an act to allow to this Colony the same liberty to import salt from Lisbon or any other European ports, which they have long enjoyed in the Colonies and provinces of New England, New York and Pennsylvania. This is a point that hath been more than once unsuccessfully labored; but we think it is so reasonable, that when it is set in a proper light, we shall hope for success. The reason upon which the opposition hath been supported, is this general one that it is contrary to the interest of Great Britain to permit her plantations to be supplied with any commodity, especially any manufacture from a foreign country, which she herself can supply them with. This we allow to be of force; provided the Mother Country can and does supply her plantations with as much as they want; but the fact being otherwise, we have been allowed to supply ourselves with large quantities from Cercera, Isle of May, Sal Tortuga and so forth. The course of this trade being hazardous, in time of war, this useful and necessary article hath been brought to us at a high price of late. The reason or pretence of granting this indulgence to the Northern Colonies, in exclusion of the Southern, we presume to be to enable them to carry on their fishery to greater advantage, the salt from the Continent of Europe being fitter for that purpose than the salt from Great Britain or that from any of the islands we have mentioned. But surely this reason is but weakly founded with respect to Pennsylvania, whose rivers scarcely supply them with fish sufficient for their own use; whereas the Bay of Chesapeake abounds with great plenty and variety of fish fit for foreign markets, as well as for ourselves, if we could but get the proper kind of salt to cure it. Herrings and shads might be exported to the West Indies to great advantage; and we could supply the British markets with finer sturgeon than they have yet tasted from the Baltic. And it is an allowed principle that every extension of the trade of the Colonies, which does not interfere with that of the Mother Country is an advantage to the latter; since all our profits ultimately center with her. It was pointed out that the English merchants were not above sharp practices in filling orders for salt; they would reduce the amount shipped to individuals and provide the captain with all he could carry extra to be sold at high prices to needy buyers. The plaint was just another of the rumblings of discontent contributing to the grand explosion of thirteen years later. The intricacies were entered into in detail by the Committee: We have twelve different Colonies on the Continent of North America. Four of them, viz., Pennsylvania, New York, New England, and Newfoundland, have liberty to import salt from any part of Europe directly. The other eight, viz., Virginia, Maryland, East and West Jersey, North and South Carolina, Georgia and Nova Scotia, as well as all the West India Islands, are deprived of it. At present those Colonies on whose behalf the petition is given, are supplied with salt from the Isle of Mays in Africa, Sal Tortuga, and Turks Island in America, also a little from England; but are deprived of the only salt that answers best for the principal use, viz., to preserve fish and other provisions, twelve months, or a longer time. What they have from Great Britain is made from salt water by fire, which is preferred for all domestic uses. The African or American salt is made from salt water by the sun; which is used for curing and preserving provisions. The first, made by fire, is found, by long experience, in warm climates, to be too weak; the provisions cured with it turn rusty, and in six or eight months become unfit for use. The second kind, by the quantity of alum, or some other vicious quality in it, is so corrosive, that in less than twelve months, the meat cured with it is entirely deprived of all the fat, and the lean hardened, or so much consumed, as to be of little service. The same ill qualities are found in these salts with regard to fish: wherefore the arguments used, that they ought to have English salt only, are as much as to say, they should be allowed to catch fish, or salt any provisions, but let their cattle and hogs die without reaping the advantage nature has given them. In all countries where a benefit can arise by fish or provisions, salt must be cheap; and as its value where made is from ten to twenty shillings the ton, so the carriage of it to America is often more than the real value: It is in order to save part of the expense of carriage, this application is made; for although some gentlemen do not seem to know it, yet we have liberty, by the present laws in force, to carry any kind of European salt to America, the ship first coming to an English port, in order to make an entry. We have also liberty to bring it from any salt island in Africa or America; but by the Act of 15 Car. II. Chap. 7, salt is supposed to be included under the word commodity; whereby it is, with all European goods, prevented from being carried to America, unless first landed in England: the consequence whereof is, that English ships, which (I shall suppose) are hired to sail from London to Lisbon with corn, and thence proceed to America, have not the liberty to carry salt in place of ballast, and therefore under a necessity to pay above £10 sterling at Lisbon for ballast (that is to say, for sand), which they carry to America, or else return to England in order to get a clearance for the salt, which would be more expense than its value. Now, had they liberty to carry salt directly to America, they would not only save the money paid for the sand, but also gain by the freight of salt perhaps £60 or £80 more. Thus on an average every ship that goes now empty from these ports to America, might clear £70 and there are above a hundred sail to that voyage every year. This is an annual loss of £7,000 at least; and besides, as the ship loses no time in this case (salt being as soon taken in as sand), they could afford to sell the best salt as cheap in America as is now paid for the worst; for as a ship must make a long voyage on purpose to get, and make it in the salt islands, so the expense thereof is more than the value of the salt at Lisbon, St. Ibbes, and so forth. The proponents of the petition made out a strong case. They went into the grading of the kinds of salt obtained from the West Indies, Africa and Europe and asserted that, inferior though some of them were, they nevertheless had been found to be "preferable to England salt for curing and preserving their fish": To know the qualities of the different kinds of salt used in America may be an amusement to a speculative man; but seems entirely out of the question in this case; for whatever may be said on that head, long experience and the universal agreement of all from America, as well as former Acts of Parliament, show that the common white salt will not answer the uses it is chiefly wanted for there. As to what is called Loundes's brine salt, that, and his many other projects, seemed to be formed on the same plan with Subtle's in _The Alchemist_, his scheme looking as if he only wanted the money, and left it to others to make the salt. Salt can, without doubt, be made of any desired quality, but the price, the place of delivery, and the quantity to be had of so useful a commodity must also be regarded. We can get salt at Sal Tortuga for the raking and putting it into our ships; but the expense of a voyage on purpose for it is greater than to buy it at a place from whence the freight may be all saved, and to have the best salt on the cheapest terms, is, no doubt the intention of this application, as it certainly was of the other Colonies that have obtained this privilege. All the Virginians were asking, in effect, was the liberty to import from Europe what salt they wished! As the moment of Independence neared, the stress grew greater. George Washington's Mt. Vernon overseer during the crucial years, his distant relative Lund Washington, addressed a letter to him in 1775: The people are running mad about salt. You would hardly think it possible there could be such a scarcity. Five and six shillings per bushel. Conway's sloop came to Alexandria Monday last with a load. A couple of months later the crisis was reached: I have had 300 bushels more of salt put into fish barrels, which I intend to move into Muddy Hole barn, for if it should be destroyed by the enemy we shall not be able to get more. There is still fifty or sixty more bushels, perhaps a hundred in the house. I was unwilling to sell it, knowing we could not get more and our people must have fish. Therefore I told the people I had none. Two more years of adversity went by. Lund wrote in 1778: I was told a day or two past that Congress had ordered a quantity of shad to be cured on this river. I expect as everything sells high, shad will also. I should be fond of curing about 100 barrels of them, they finding salt. We have been unfortunate in our crops, therefore I could wish to make something by fish. He proposed that he cure fish "for the Continent" and make "upwards of 200 pounds": I have very little salt, of which we must make the most. I mean to make a brine and after cutting off the head and bellies, dipping them in the brine for but a short time, then hang them up and cure them by smoke, or dry them in the sun; for our people being so long accustomed to have fish whenever they wanted, would think it very bad to have none at all. All ended well for that season. Lund wrote: I have cured a sufficient quantity of fish for our people, together with about 160 or 170 barrels of shad for the Continent. One of the most interesting diarists of Revolutionary days was young Nicholas Cresswell, an Englishman of 24 when he arrived in America for a three-years visit. He was in Leesburg, Virginia, in December 1776 when he recorded this occurrence: A Dutch mob of about forty horsemen went through the town today on their way to Alexandria to search for salt. If they find any they will take it by force.... This article is exceedingly scarce; if none comes the people will revolt. They cannot possibly subsist without a considerable quantity of this article. The raiders were pacified by an allotment of three pints of salt per man. A vivid picture of what the lack of salt entailed was given by Cresswell in April 1777: Saw a seine drawn for herrings and caught upwards of 40,000 with about 300 shad fish. The shads they use but the herrings are left upon the shore useless for want of salt. Such immense quantities of this fish is left upon the shore to rot, I am surprised it does not bring some epidemic disorder to the inhabitants by the nauseous stench arising from such a mass of putrefaction. A fishery by-product of importance to early Virginians, lime, was of interest to Washington. It was extensively obtained by burning oyster shells. Early Virginia masonry shows that such lime was mixed in mortar and it was usually of poor quality, perhaps because of crude facilities for burning. Today's shell lime is much in demand in agriculture and its price is higher than mined lime. George Washington found that for the purpose of building it left much to be desired. He wrote to Henry Knox from Mt. Vernon in 1785: I use a great deal of lime every year, made of the oyster shells, which, before they are burnt, cost me twenty-five to thirty shillings per hundred bushels; but it is of mean quality, which makes me desirous of trying stone lime. He was paying about seven cents a bushel for shells, which seems high for those days of abundant oysters and cheap labor. Until recently the Virginia market price was very little more. Washington's probing, weighing mind slighted no phase of his fishery. About to fertilize crops with fish experimentally, he wrote to his overseer: "If you tried both fresh and salt fish as a manure the different aspects of them should be attended to." A few weeks later, after watching results, he wrote: "The corn that is manured with fish, though it does not appear to promise much at first, may nevertheless be fine.... It is not only possible but highly probable." This opinion was abundantly confirmed years later when vast quantities of menhaden were converted into guano for crops by Atlantic coast factories, a practice changed only when livestock-nutrition studies showed that menhaden scrap was too valuable a protein source to be spread on land. The fish referred to by Washington were in all probability river-herring, or alewives, used as fertilizer at such times as they were caught in greater abundance than the food market could absorb. The probable yield of his fish trade was always carefully calculated, even when the pressure of national affairs required his absence from home. From Philadelphia we find him writing to his manager about a fish merchant's offer: "Ten shillings per hundred for shad is very low. I am at this moment paying six shillings apiece for every shad I buy." He usually tried to get at least twelve shillings a hundred for his shad, which were salted prior to marketing, although there were instances when he let them go for as little as one pence apiece. The extraordinary price of six shillings for one shad cited by him in Philadelphia is hard to explain. It probably referred to a fresh one caught early in the season and prepared especially for his table. Though records of the average weight of shad in those days are lacking, seven pounds is a fair estimate, and it may have been greater. The weights now seldom exceed three or four pounds, because in the more recent years of intensive fishing, shad have been widely caught up as they returned from the ocean to spawn for the first time. Shad, along with other anadromous, or "up-running," fish are born near the head-waters of rivers, and seek the ocean for feeding and growth. Unlike salmon they do not perish after one spawning and the oftener they return, the larger they are. What conservationists call "escapement," or the freedom to get back to the ocean from the rivers, is considered vital to their survival in quantity. All through the two-score years of fishing at Mount Vernon, Washington suffered, judging by his unceasing preoccupation with minor details, from the lack of a fishing foreman to whom he could entrust the operation with any confidence. Letters toward the close of his life bearing on this subject are still replete with reminders concerning trifles which would have been routine for any competent boss. The fish runs start about March; therefore, in January he finds it necessary to write; "It would be well to have the seines overhauled immediately, that is, if new ones are wanting, or the old ones requiring much repair, they may be set about without loss of time." He must even look beyond his own help for the skill necessary to put his nets in order. "I would have you immediately upon the receipt of this letter send for the man who usually does this work for me.... Let him choose his twine (if it is to be had in Alexandria) and set about them immediately." Abundance of fish created a bottleneck: In the height of the fishery they are not prepared to cure or otherwise dispose of them as fast as they could be caught; of course the seines slacken in their work, or the fish lie and spoil when that is the only time I can make anything by the seine, for small hauls will hardly pay the wear and tear of the seine and the hire of the hands. However, then as now, fishing was a gamble: Unless the weather grows warmer your fishing this season will, I fear, prove unproductive; for it has always been observed that in cold and windy weather the fish keep in deep water and are never caught in numbers, especially at shallow landings. And in 1794, he states, with the rather weary voice of experience, I am of opinion that selling the fish all to one man is best ... if Mr. Smith will give five shillings per thousand for herrings and twelve shillings a hundred for shad, and will oblige himself to take all you have to spare, you had better strike and enter into a written agreement with him.... I never choose to sell to wagoners; their horses have always been found troublesome, and themselves indeed not less so, being much addicted to the pulling down and burning the fences. If you do not sell to Smith the next best thing is to sell to the watermen.... I again repeat that when the schools of fish run you must draw night and day; and whether Smith is prepared to take them or not, they must be caught and charged to him; for it is then and then only I have a return for my expenses; and then it is the want of several purchasers is felt; for unless one person is extremely well prepared he cannot dispose of the fish as fast as they can be drawn at those times and if the seine or seines do no more than keep pace with his convenience my harvest is lost and of course my profit; for the herrings will not wait to be caught as they are wanted to be cured. Thus did Washington become one of the first to encounter the besetting plague of American mass production: the problem of distribution. That fishing was a vital prop in plantation economy is evidenced by a letter of April 24, 1796, to his manager: As your prospect for gain is discouraging, it may, in a degree, be made up in a good fishing season for herrings; that for shad must, I presume, be almost, if not quite, over. Salt herrings were a staple in the feeding of the "black people," and were issued to those at Mount Vernon at the rate of twenty a month per head. But he warned about waiting for the annually expected herring "glut" to occur before the slaves were provided for. If it should fail to materialize--as had been known--what then? Save a "sufficiency of fish" from the first runs, he wisely ordered. In 1781 he suggested that salt fish be contracted for the troops, and possibly it was tried for a while, but the year following, army leaders voted to exclude fish from the rations. Accounting records for 1774, presumably an average fishing year, show receipts of £170 for the catch at the Posey's ferry fishery, with £26 debited to operating cost. At the Johnson's ferry fishery £114 was taken in and £28 paid out. The catch here represented consisted of 9,862 shad and 1,591,500 river herring, but other large hauls were also made on the estate. Profits would seem to be adequate, although costs of nets and boats were not figured in. Fishing boats were usually small maneuverable craft that never had to put out very far from shore, and cost about £5 to build. Occasionally Washington was approached by speculators offering to rent the season's privileges at one of his fisheries for a flat sum. About one such proposal in 1796 he expressed the opinion to his manager that "under all chances fishing yourself will be more profitable than hiring out the landing for £60." Nevertheless, the headaches had for years made the transference of fishing to someone for cash on the barrelhead a temptation. In February, 1770, he had entered into an agreement as to sales while retaining the responsibility of catching: Mr. Robert Adams is obliged to take all I catch at Posey's landing provided the quantity does not exceed 500 barrels and will take more than this quantity if he can get casks to put them in. He is to take them as fast as they are catched, without giving any interruption to my people, and is to have the use of the fish house for his salt, fish, etc., taking care to have the house clear at least before the next fishing season; is to pay £10 for the use of the house and 3 shillings 4 pence, Maryland currency, per hundred for white fish. But in 1787 he wrote: "A good rent would induce me to let the fishery that I have no trouble or perplexity about it." The _Diary_ shows a good deal more interest during the early years in how the fish ran than it does later. In April, 1760, he writes: Apprehending the herring were come, hauled the seine but catched only a few of them, though a good many of other sorts.... Hauled the seine again, catched two or three white fish, more herring than yesterday and a great number of cats. August, 1768: Hauling the seine upon the bar of Cedar Point for sheepshead but catched none. April, 1769: The white fish ran plentifully at my seine landing, having catched about 300 at one haul.... The term "white fish" is not now generally applied to any species caught in the Potomac, but a good guess is that, with Washington, it was an alternate for shad. The Revolution was fought, but even before the surrender the minds of America's statesmen were actively considering peace terms. Both Richard Henry Lee and Thomas Jefferson suggested that the valuable fisheries off Newfoundland be freely open to American ships. This time it was not a question of the Northern Colony keeping the Southern Colony out as it had been 150 years before. Thomas Jefferson, writing in 1778, wanted the United Colonies to exclude England: If they [Britain] really are coming to their senses at last, and it should be proposed to treat of peace, will not Newfoundland fisheries be worthy particular attention to exclude them and all others from them except our _très grand_ and _chers amis_ and allies? Their great value to whatever nation possesses them is as a nursery for seamen. In the present very prosperous situation of our affairs, I have thought it would be wise to endeavor to gain a regular and acknowledged access in every court in Europe but most the Southern. The countries bordering on the Mediterranean I think will merit our earliest attention. They will be the important markets for our great commodities of fish, wheat, tobacco, and rice. Lee saw how fishing in Northern waters had started America on its way to being a maritime power. In a series of letters to George Mason and others he expresses his opinions forcibly: Our news here is most excellent; both from Williamsburg and from Richmond it comes that our countrymen have given the enemy in the South a complete overthrow.... Heaven grant it may be so. I shall then with infinite pleasure congratulate my friend on the recovery of his property, and our common country on so great a step towards really putting a period to the war. I think that in this case we may insist on our full share of the fishery, and the free navigation of the Mississippi. These are things of very great and lasting importance to America, the yielding of which will not procure the Congress thanks either from the present age or posterity. I rejoice greatly at the news from South Carolina. God grant it may be true. If this should force the enemy to reason and to peace, would you give up the navigation of the Mississippi and our domestic fishery on the Banks of Newfoundland? The former almost infinitely depreciating our back country and the latter totally destroying us as a maritime power. That is taking the name of independence without the means of supporting it. I rejoice exceedingly at our successes both in the North and in the South. If we continue to do thus, it will not be in the power of the execrable junto to prevent us from having a safe and honorable peace next winter. In this idea I shall ever include the fisheries and the navigation of the Mississippi. These, Sir, are the strong legs on which North America can alone walk securely in independence. If you do not get a wise and very firm friend to negotiate the fishery, it is my clear opinion that it will be lost, and upon this principle that it is the interest of every European power to weaken us and strengthen themselves. I heartily wish you success in your negotiations and that when you secure one valuable point for us (the fishery) that you will not less exert yourself for another very important object,--the free navigation of the Mississippi, provided guilty Britain should remain in possession of the Floridas. Fishing as a matter of states' rights resulted in the pioneering Potomac River Compact of 1785, when representatives of Maryland and Virginia met under George Washington's sponsorship at Mt. Vernon to deal with fishing and tolls. Maryland owned the river to the Virginia shore line, and agreed to allow Virginians to fish in it in return for free entry of Maryland ships through the Virginia capes. The compact, in force to this day, was the first step taken in behalf of interstate commerce. With its example to follow, other states eased the barriers to their commercial interests, with immeasurable benefit to the Union. Commercial fishing in Virginia was, as the century closed, on the verge of the stability it had sorely lacked. Its reliance on Indians for knowledge and skill, as in the first of the 17th century, was as dead as its reliance on England for manufactures in the last of the 18th. Just around the corner were railroads and steamboats with their comparatively swift transportation. Teeming cities needed to be fed, and after nearly two centuries of education in the ways of the Chesapeake Bay and its marine life, Virginia fishermen knew how to keep the markets stocked. In 1794 a French visitor, Moreau de Saint Méry, wrote: Fish is the commodity that sells for a ridiculously low price in Norfolk. One can purchase weakfish weighing more than twenty pounds for 4 or 5 francs and sometimes one that weighs three times more for a gourde, 5 francs, 10 sous. Drum is also very cheap. Sturgeon, weighing up to 60 pounds, can be bought for 6 French sous a pound, about the same price paid for little codfish that are brought in alive and are delicious to eat. Shad is also plentiful there. In addition, one can get perch, porpoise, eels, leatherjackets, summer flounder, turbot, mullet, trout, blackfish, herring, sole, garfish, etc. In short, fish is so abundant in Norfolk that sometimes the police find it necessary to throw back into the water those that are not bought. Herring fishing began to be abandoned by the planters, many of whom were up to their necks in a variety of enterprises, in favor of business men intending to specialize. Letters from a Virginia speculator, John F. Mercer, to Richard Sprigg, sketch the situation: April 19, 1779. To cure fish properly requires two days in the brine before packing and they can only lie packed with safety in dry weather. These circumstances joined with the heading and drawing almost all the fish (a very tedious operation) will show that no time was lost--only 9 days elapsed from his arrival here to his completing his load of 15,000 herrings, a time beyond which many wagons have waited on these shores for 4,000 uncured fish and many have been obliged to return without one, after coming 40 and 50 miles and offering 2 and 5 dollars a thousand. Several indeed from my own shore and six who want 36,000 herring will, I believe, quit this night without a fish, after waiting all this storm on the shore five days. Mr. Clarke has had his fish completed two days.... He has been delayed by the almost continual storm that has prevailed since his arrival and which has ruined us fishermen. My fishery has been miserably conducted from the beginning as might be expected from my entire ignorance and the penury of my partner who was poorer than myself.... Still I have expectations that it may turn out an immense thing from the trial we have made. The shores being opposite to Maryland Point, the reach above and below with the mouths of the two creeks on this side form a sweep, both tides upon them, that must collect for fish; and they are kept in by a kind of pound on the Virginia shore's trend. There apparent advantages accord with the experiment for, with a desperate patched-up seine that always breaks with a good haul, we have contrived to land 20,000 a day, every day we can haul. We are nearer to the Fredericksburg and Falmouth Virginia markets than any shore that is or can be opened on the river by 10 miles notwithstanding every discouragement and particularly the activity and lies practiced against us by the Little Creek fisheries on each side, who must fail with our success. April 10, 1795. Herrings they tell me are 10 shillings per thousand at all the shores. If I had your lease I could make a fortune. I have a great mind to send Pollard and George up for your small boat and seine.... If Peyton comes down with his seine to haul at my shore, I will seine salted herrings enough for us both. That acidulous but always colorful roving reporter from the mid-west, Anne Royall, offers the best picture, for accuracy and detail, of hauling a seine ever presented by anyone not a technician. Though written almost 50 years after the Revolution, it describes the kind of fishing on which Virginians had principally depended since Christopher Newport began the Colonial era and George Washington ended it: The market of Alexandria is abundant and cheap; though much inferior to any in any part of the western country, except beef and fish, which are by far superior to that of the western markets.... Their exquisite fish, oysters, crabs, and foreign fruits upon the whole bring them upon a value with us. Their fish differ from ours, even some species. Their catfish is the only sort in which we excel; they have none that answer to our blue cat, either in size or flavor, and nothing like our mud-cat. Their catfish is from ten to fifteen inches in length, with a wide mouth, like the mud-cat of the Western waters; but their cat differ from both ours in substance and color; they are soft, pied black and white. They are principally used to make soup, which is much esteemed by the inhabitants. All their fish are small compared with ours. Besides the catfish which they take in the latter part of the winter, they have the rock, winter shad, mackerel, and perch, shad and herring. The winter shad is very fine indeed. They are like our perch, but infinitely smaller. These fish are sold very low; a large string, enough for a dozen persons, may be purchased for a few cents. No fish, however, that I have tasted, equal our trout. The Potomac at Alexandria, is rather over a mile in width; it is celebrated for its beauty. It is certainly a great blessing to this country in supplying its inhabitants with food in the article of fish. Fish is abundant (at Washington), and cheap at all seasons, shad is three dollars per hundred; herrings, one dollar per thousand. Great quantities of herring and shad are taken in these waters during the fishing season, which commences in March, and lasts about ten weeks. As many as 160,000 are said to be caught at one haul. When the season commences no time is to be lost, not even Sunday. Although I am not one of those that make no scruple of breaking the Sabbath, yet, Sunday, as it was, I was anxious to see a process which I had never witnessed--I mean that of taking fish with a seine--there being no such thing in the Western country. It is very natural for one to form an opinion of some sort respecting things they have never seen, but the idea I had formed of the method of fishing with a seine was far from a correct one. In the first place, about fifteen or twenty men, and very often an hundred, repair to the place where the fish are to be taken, with a seine and a skiff. This skiff, however, must be large enough to contain the net and three men--two to row, and one to let out the net. These nets, or seines, are of different sizes, say from two to three hundred fathom in length, and from three to four fathom wide. On one edge are fastened pieces of cork-wood as large as a man's fist, about two feet asunder, and on the opposite edge are fastened pieces of lead, about the same distance--the lead is intended to keep the lower end of the seine close to the bottom of the river. The width of the seine is adapted to the depth of the river, so that the corks just appear on its surface, otherwise the lead would draw the top of the seine under water, and the fish would escape over the top. All this being understood and the seine and rowers in the boat, they give one end of the seine to a party of men on the shore, who are to hold it fast. Those in the boat then row off from the shore, letting out the seine as they go; they advance in a straight line towards the opposite shore, until they gain the middle of the river, when they proceed down the stream, until the net is all out of the boat except just sufficient to reach the shore from whence they set out, to which they immediately proceed. Here an equal number of men take hold of the net with those at the other end, and both parties commence drawing it towards the shore. As they draw, they advance towards each other, until they finally meet, and now comes the most pleasing part of the business. It is amusing enough to see what a spattering the fish make when they find themselves completely foiled: they raise the water in a perfect shower, and wet every one that stands within their reach. I ought to have mentioned, that when the fish begin to draw near the shore, one or two men step into the water, on each side of the net, and hold it close to the bottom of the channel, otherwise the fish would escape underneath. All this being accomplished, the fishermen proceed to take out the fish in greater or less numbers, as they are more or less fortunate. These fishermen make a wretched appearance, they certainly bring up the rear of the human race. They were scarcely covered with clothes, were mostly drunk, and had the looks of the veriest sots on earth. A Virginian born in 1792, Col. T. J. Randolph of Edgehill near Charlottesville, was asked to search his earliest memories in order to record 18th century fishing conditions. He wrote a letter in 1875 to the newly-constituted Virginia fish commissioners describing an era well-nigh incredible to today's Tidewater fishermen: Shad were abundant in the Rivanna at my earliest recollection, say prior to 1800. They penetrated into the mountains to breed. I have heard the old people, when I was young, speak of their descending the rivers in continuous streams in the fall, as large as a man's hand. The old ones so weak, that if they were forced by the current against a rock they got off with difficulty. Six miles north of Charlottesville three hundred were caught in one night with a bush seine. A negro told me he had caught seventeen in a trap at one time. I recollect the negroes bringing them to my mother continually. An entry of land near Charlottesville about 1735 crossed the Rivanna for two or three acres as a fishing shore. The dams absolutely stopped them, but they had greatly declined before their erection. In 1810 every sluice in the falls at Richmond was plied day and night by float seines. I never heard of rockfish above the falls, and supposed they were confined to Tidewater.... Rockfish were hunted on the Eastern Shore on horseback with spears. The large fish coming to feed on the creek shores, overflowed by the tide, showed themselves in the shallow water by a ripple before them. They were ridden on behind and forced into water too shallow for them to swim well, and were speared. I inferred from this fact that they confined themselves to the Tidewater. When young, I have heard the old people speak of an abundance of other fish. The supposition was that the clearing of the country, and consequent muddying of the streams, had destroyed them. By sluicing the dams, and prohibiting fishing in sluices, or trapping, or anything that should bar their progress, I do not see why the shad should not return. The shad have never returned to the up-country. But they still visit the vast inland waters below the Fall line, sometimes so abundantly that the price declines, as it did so recently as 1956, to where the fishermen can scarcely make a profit. Other fish referred to by the first Virginians continue to return, and will do so as long as our outreaching civilization does not deprive them of the natural conditions they need for survival. The years closely following the Revolution brought profound readjustment in American commerce. Observations on whaling, a minor but vital home industry, filled many pages of a 1788 communication of Thomas Jefferson to John Jay, one of his confreres in the shaping of national policy. After sketching the uses of whale oil, its economic position and its history, he took up the particular problem facing the people of Nantucket, perhaps the foremost whalers in America. As long as they had been subjects of the British Empire they had been able to sell their oil duty-free in England. Now as aliens they must pay the same tariff charged other foreign traders. This meant the difference between a profitable and unprofitable enterprise. A few Nantucket seamen had even transferred to Nova Scotia in order to become British citizens again and thus receive exemption from whale-oil import duty. This trend alarmed the French in particular, who could visualize thousands of the United States' best sailors going over to their enemies the English. The remedy was suggested: make France the most attractive market for U.S. whale oil. At the same time, English whaling had been government subsidized and could undercut competition. The international chess game went briskly on, to the concern of Jefferson and the well-wishers of the infant Union. Before the Revolution England had fewer than 100 vessels whaling, while America had more than 300. But by 1788 England had 314 and America 80. Such was the result of the conflict, aided by the bounty paid by Britain to its own whalers. Jefferson hoped that the United States producers could develop a market in France, in part, by bartering oil for the essential work clothes which hitherto had been bought for cash in England. But he warned that without some kind of subsidy American whalers could neither compete with foreign countries nor make a living commensurate with other pursuits. The growing nation's sea-faring men would decrease to the point where the country's sea power would be in question. As Secretary of State in 1791, Jefferson reported to Congress on the two principal American fisheries of the day, both oceanic. "The cod and whale fisheries," he began, "carried on by different persons, from different ports, in different vessels, in different seas, and seeking different markets, agree in one circumstance, as being as unprofitable to the adventurer as important to the public." Once prosperous, he said, they were now in embarrassing decline. He traced the history of the cod fisheries back to 1517, in which year as many as 50 European ships were reported fishing off the Newfoundland banks at one time. In 1577 there were 150 French vessels, 100 Spanish and 50 Portuguese. The British limped far behind with 15. The French gradually took over as they claimed more and more territory in the region. Other nations dropped out, except England, whose cod fleet at the beginning of the seventeenth century had increased to about 150 vessels. These in due course were largely supplanted by the New England colonists. When France lost Newfoundland to England in 1713 the English and Colonial fisheries spurted ahead. By 1755 their fleets and catches equaled those of the French, and in 1768 passed them. Jefferson's statistics present an impressive picture of the fishing activity of that time and place, especially when compared with the unorganized Chesapeake fisheries just then coming of age. In 1791 he said there were 259 French vessels totaling 24,422 tons and employing 9,722 seamen. Their catch: 20 million pounds that year. There were 665 American vessels with 25,650 tonnage, 4,405 seamen and a catch of around 40 million pounds. England's ships, tonnage and men were not given. However, her estimated catch nearly equaled that of France and America combined. Thus the Northern fishing grounds in their palmy days accounted for well over 100 million pounds of cod a year. It is worth remarking that the size of today's New England cod fishery is not radically different from the pre-Revolutionary one described by Jefferson. Boats, men and catch remain about the same on the average. Turning to the whaling industry, Jefferson noted that Americans did not enter it until 1715, although he credited the Biscayans and Basques of Southern Europe with prosecuting it in the 15th century and leading the way to the fishing grounds off Newfoundland. Whales were sought in both the North and South Atlantic. The figures for the American Colonies in 1771 as given by Jefferson were 304 vessels engaged, totaling 27,800 tons, navigated by 4,059 men. They were in for a difficult time in 1791. The Revolution halted their activities and deprived them of their markets. Re-establishing this fishery was a prime concern of Jefferson. It is significant that in his painstaking consideration of the nation's fisheries he, a Virginian, apparently found no cause to deal with those of his own Chesapeake bay. They were one day nevertheless to outstrip many times over both the volume and value of American cod and whale fisheries together. The evidence is that Jefferson was more interested in fish at Monticello than anywhere else. But there the interest was personal, not national. In his so-called _Farm Book_, or plantation record, he often mentions fish. A note on slave labor reads: "A barrel of fish costing $7. goes as far with the laborers as 200 ponds of pork costing $14." This was in all probability Virginia salt-herring, which had finally reached the status of a staple during the latter half of the 18th century. An 1806 memorandum to his overseer runs: "Fish is always to be got in Richmond ... and to be dealt out to the hirelings, laborers, workmen, and house servants of all sorts as has been usual." In 1812 a bill for fish, which he terms "indeed very high and discouraging, but the necessity of it is still stronger," lists the species no doubt in chief demand: "Twelve barrels herrings, $75. and one barrel of shads, $6.50." These were salted and shipped in from Tidewater fisheries like George Washington's at Mt. Vernon. For fresh fish Jefferson and his neighbors could look to their adjacent rivers. In fact, so greatly did they rely on them that it was with feelings akin to consternation that he wrote his friend William D. Meriwether in 1809 that a neighbor, Mr. Ashlin, proposed to erect a dam which was sure to inconvenience the watermen of the vicinity. Furthermore, "to this then add the removal of our resort for fresh fish ... and the deprivation of all the intermediate inhabitants who now catch them at their door." He was not on too firm ground in objecting, however. He had a dam of his own across the Rivanna river which had been there since 1757. He decided to build a fish pond in his garden. As he described it in 1808 it was little larger than an aquarium, 40 cubic yards contents, probably for water lilies and goldfish. It was the first of several fish ponds, constructed, no doubt, with both beauty and utility in mind. A note in his _Weather Memorandum Book_ under date April 1812 tells us: "The two fish ponds on the Colle branch were 40 days work to grub, clean and make the dams." A series of letters in 1812 to friends who he thought might supply him with live fish, particularly carp, for stocking, all run very much on the order of this one to Captain Mathew Wills: I return you many thanks for the fish you have been so kind as to send me, and still more for your aid in procuring the carp, and you will further oblige me by presenting my thanks to Capt. Holman & Mr. Ashlin. I have found too late, on enquiry that the cask sent was an old and foul one, and I have no doubt that must have been the cause of the death of the fish. The carp, altho it cannot live the shortest time out of water, yet is understood to bear transportation in water the best of any fish whatever. The obtaining breeders for my pond being too interesting to be abandoned, I have had a proper smack made, such as is regularly used for transporting fish, to be towed after the boat, and have dispatched the bearer with it without delay, as the season is passing away. I have therefor again to solicit your patronage, as well as Captain Holman's in obtaining a supply of carp. I think a dozen would be enough and would therefore wish him to come away as soon as he can get that number. From that time on his ponds came in for periodic mention, as when one was broken up by flood waters in 1814. But despite setbacks he kept faith in them as good food-producing adjuncts of a farm, thus anticipating the U.S. Department of Agriculture's modern food-fish pond-development program by more than a century. As is likely to be the case with experimenters, Jefferson's efforts at fish propagation do not appear to have been overwhelmingly successful. At any rate, there is much more frequent reference in his records to putting fish in his ponds than taking them out. So far as he was concerned, it may be said that results were less important than example. Like all great leaders he was an originator and investigator, confining himself to the basic things that insure man's sustenance and contribute to his happiness, not the least of which is fishing. BIBLIOGRAPHY Archer, Gabriel. _A Relation of the Discovery of Our River From James Forte into the Maine, Made by Captain Christopher Newport._ Worcester, 1860. Beverley, Robert. _The History and Present State of Virginia._ London, 1705. Brown, Alexander. _The Genesis of the United States._ Boston, 1890. 2 vols. Burnaby, Andrew. _Travels Through the Middle Settlements in North America in the Years 1759-1760._ London, 1798. Byrd, William. _Natural History of Virginia._ Ed. and tr. by R. C. Beatty and W. J. Mulloy. Richmond, 1940. Chastellux, François J. _Travels in North America in the Years 1780, 1781, and 1782._ London, 1787. Cresswell, Nicholas. _The Journal, 1774-77._ Ed. by Lincoln McVeagh. New York, 1924. De Vries, David P. _Voyages From Holland to America, 1632-1644._ New York, 1857. Durand, --. _A Huguenot exile in Virginia._ Ed. by Gilbert Chinard. New York, 1934. Fithian, Philip V. _Journal and Letters, 1773-1774._ Ed. by Hunter D. Farish. Williamsburg, 1943. Force, Peter. _Tracts and Other Papers._ Washington, 1836-46. 4 vols. Glover, Thomas. _An Account of Virginia._ London, 1676. Hamilton, Stanislaus M., ed. _Letters to Washington and Accompanying Papers._ Boston, 1898-1901. 5 vols. Hamor, Ralph. _Notes of Virginian affaires of the Government of Sir Thomas Gates and of Sir Thomas Dale till 1614._ Glasgow, 1906. ---- _A True Discourse of the Present State of Virginia._ London, 1614. Hariot, Thomas. _Narrative of the First English Plantation of Virginia._ London, 1893. Hart, Albert B. _American History Told by Contemporaries._ New York, 1908. 4 vols. Hening, William W. _The Statutes at Large of Virginia._ 1809-1823. 13 vols. Jefferson, Thomas. _The Complete Jefferson._ Ed. by Saul K. Padover. New York, 1943. ---- _Thomas Jefferson's Farm Book._ Ed. by Edwin M. Betts. Princeton. 1953. ---- _Thomas Jefferson's Garden Book, 1766-1824._ Ed. by Edwin M. Betts. Philadelphia, 1944. Lee, Richard Henry. _Letters of Richard Henry Lee._ Ed. by James C. Ballagh. New York, 1914. 2 vols. Middleton, Arthur P. _Tobacco Coast._ Ed. by George C. Mason. Newport News, 1953. Neill, Edward. _Virginia Vetusta._ Albany, 1885. Newport, Christopher. _A Description of the Now-discovered River and Country of Virginia, 1607._ Worcester, 1860. Pearson, John C. _The Fish and Fisheries of Colonial Virginia._ In William and Mary College Quarterly, 1942-3. Williamsburg. Purchas, Samuel. _His Pilgrimes._ Glasgow, 1906. 20 vols. Royall, Anne. _Sketches of History, Life and Manners in the United States._ New Haven, 1826. Smith, John. _Travels and Works of Captain John Smith._ Ed. by Edward Arber. Edinburgh, 1910. 2 vols. Strachey, William. _The Historie of Travaile Into Virginia Britannia._ London, 1849. Swem, E. G. _Virginia Historical Index._ Roanoke, 1934-6. 2 vols. Virginia. _Calendar of Virginia State Papers._ Richmond, 1875-1893. 11 vols. Virginia Fish Commissioners. _Annual Report for the Year 1875._ Richmond, 1875. Virginia Company. _The Records._ Ed. by S. M. Kingsbury. Washington, 1906-1935. 4 vols. Washington, George. _The Writings of George Washington._ Ed. by J. C. Fitzpatrick. Washington. 39 vols. Whitelaw, Ralph T. _Virginia's Eastern Shore._ Ed. by George C. Mason. Richmond, 1951. 2 vols. Manuscripts _Mercer Papers_, Virginia Historical Society, Richmond. Washington, Lund. _Letters._ Unpublished, at Mt. Vernon. 
26560	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 26560-h.htm or 26560-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/5/6/26560/26560-h/26560-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/5/6/26560/26560-h.zip) Transcriber's note: Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. JIM SPURLING, FISHERMAN or Making Good by ALBERT W. TOLMAN Illustrated [Illustration: [See page 279 HE PLUNGED INTO THE SEA AND DRAGGED HIMSELF TOWARD THE ROCK TO WHICH HIS FATHER WAS FASTENED] [Illustration] Harper & Brothers Publishers New York and London JIM SPURLING, FISHERMAN Copyright, 1918, by Harper & Brothers Printed in the United States of America TO MY BOYS ALBERT AND EDWARD CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. SMASHED UP 1 II. A FRESH START 18 III. TARPAULIN ISLAND 29 IV. MIDNIGHT MARAUDERS 41 V. GETTING READY 53 VI. TRAWLING FOR HAKE 66 VII. SHORTS AND COUNTERS 78 VIII. SALT-WATER GIPSIES 90 IX. FISTS AND FIREWORKS 102 X. REBELLION IN CAMP 114 XI. TURN OF THE TIDE 128 XII. PULLING TOGETHER 138 XIII. FOG-BOUND 150 XIV. SWORDFISHING 162 XV. MIDSUMMER DAYS 174 XVI. A LOST ALUMNUS 186 XVII. BLOWN OFF 198 XVIII. BUOY OR BREAKER 208 XIX. ON THE WHISTLER 221 XX. SQUARING AN ACCOUNT 233 XXI. OLD FRIENDS 243 XXII. PERCY SCORES 255 XXIII. WHITTINGTON GRIT 269 XXIV. CROSSING THE TAPE 283 ILLUSTRATIONS HE PLUNGED INTO THE SEA AND DRAGGED HIMSELF TOWARD THE ROCK TO WHICH HIS FATHER WAS FASTENED _Frontispiece_ THE CAMP AT SPROWL'S COVE _Facing p._ 56 LEANING AGAINST THE MAST-HOOP THAT ENCIRCLED HIS WAIST, HE LIFTED THE LONG LANCE AND POISED IT FOR THE BLOW " 166 KNEES BRACED TIGHTLY AGAINST THE SIDES OF THE STERN, HANDS LOCKED ROUND THE STOUT BUTT OF THE LANCE, HE FOILED RUSH AFTER RUSH OF THE BLACK-FINNED, WHITE-BELLIED PIRATES " 172 THEY STOOD CLOSE TOGETHER ON THE CIRCULAR TOP, HOLDING ON TO THE CROSSED BAILS, WAIST-HIGH " 222 "WE NEED THAT SLOOP AND WE'RE GOING TO HAVE HER!" " 252 JIM SPURLING, FISHERMAN JIM SPURLING FISHERMAN I SMASHED UP "Here comes J. P. Whittington, Junior, Esquire, in his new Norman! Some speed--what?" The three Graffam Academy seniors, Jim Spurling, Roger Lane, and Winthrop Stevens, who were sitting on the low, wooden fence before the campus, earnestly discussing the one thing that had engrossed their minds for the past two weeks, stopped talking and leaned forward. On the broad, elm-lined street beyond the Mall suddenly appeared a cloud of dust, out of which shot a gray automobile. Its high speed soon brought it to the academy grounds, and it came to an abrupt stop before the fence. "Pile in, fellows!" shouted the driver, a bareheaded youth in white flannels, "and I'll take you on a little spin." He was a slim, sallow lad of seventeen, with a straw-colored pompadour crowning his freckled forehead. The sleeves of his outing shirt were rolled up above his elbows, revealing his bony, sunburnt arms. He wore a gay red tie, and a tennis blazer, striped black and white, lay on the seat beside him. "No, thanks, Percy," replied Lane. "Sorry we can't go; but we're too busy." Spurling and Stevens nodded as Whittington's light-blue eyes traveled inquiringly from one to the other. "Ah, come on!" he invited. "Be sports! Let's celebrate the end of the course. Just to show how good I feel, I'm going to scorch a three-mile hole through the atmosphere between here and Mount Barlow faster than it was ever done before. Tumble aboard and help hold this barouche down on the pike while I burn the top off it for the last time." Pulling out a book of tissue wrappers and a sack of tobacco, he began to roll a cigarette with twitching, yellowed fingers. "Anybody got a match? No? Then I'll have to dig one up myself." He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a lucifer. Soon he was inhaling the smoke and talking rapidly. "I'm so glad this is my last week here I feel like kicking my head off. Once I shake the dust of this dump off my tires, you can bet you'll never catch me here again. Say, do you know what this Main Street reminds me of? An avenue in Metairie Cemetery in New Orleans, with a row of white tombs on each side. I saw it last Christmas. They bury 'em aboveground there, too. The Rubes in this burg are just as dead, only they don't know it." Drawing a final, long, luxurious whiff, he tossed the half-smoked cigarette away. "Well, so long! My dad's coming on the five-ten to see his only son graduate _cum laude_. And me loaded down with conditions a truck-horse couldn't haul! Wouldn't that jar you? Guess I'll have to do my road-burning before he gets here. Hold a watch on me, will you? I'm out for the record." "Careful, or you'll get pinched for over-speeding," cautioned Stevens. Whittington spat contemptuously. "Pinch your grandmother!" he jeered. "I've been pinched too many times to mind a little thing like that." Off darted the gray car. The three gazed after it in silence. Then Spurling spoke. "Must seem rather pleasant to have a bank-account you can't touch the bottom of, mustn't it? They say his father's all sorts of a millionaire. Hope he doesn't get smashed up or run over somebody." "He's a good-natured fool," commented Lane. "But you can't help liking him, after all. Now let's get back to business." It was Commencement week in mid-June at the old country academy nestled among the New England hills. The lawns before the substantial white houses were emerald with the fresh, unrivaled green of spring. Fragrant lilacs sweetened the soft air. The walks under the thick-leafed elms were thronged with talking, laughing groups. Bright-colored dresses dotted the campus before the dingy brick buildings. Tennis-courts and ball-field were alive with active figures. A few days more and students and strangers would be gone, and the old town would sink into the drowsy quiet of the long summer vacation. Lounging on the notched, whittled fence, Lane, Spurling, and Stevens fell once more into earnest conversation. Spurling came from a Maine coast town. He was nineteen, tall, broad-shouldered, dark-complexioned, deliberate in speech and movements. Physically very strong, he had caught on the academy ball team and played guard in football. Mentally he was a trifle slow; but in the whole school there was no squarer, more solid fellow. So far as finances went, he was dependent on his own resources; whatever education he got he must earn himself. Lane afforded in many respects a decided contrast to Spurling. Reared on a New Hampshire farm in the shadow of the White Mountains, he was of medium build, wiry and active, a practical joker, full of life and spirit. He had red hair and the quick temper that goes with it. Though not much of a student, he had at eighteen a keen, clear business head. Like Spurling, he had been obliged to make his own way; and, like Spurling, he was abundantly able to make it. Winthrop Stevens, or "Throppy," as his friends nicknamed him, claimed a small Massachusetts city as his home. He was the best scholar of the three, dark, quiet, studious, with a decided trend toward mechanics and electricity. Though not obliged to work for his schooling, he had always chummed with the other two, and with them had been a waiter at a shore hotel the previous season. The trio were endeavoring to decide what they should do the coming summer. "Well," said Lane, "what shall it be? Juggling food again at the Beachmont?" "Not for me," answered Spurling, decidedly. "I'm sick of hanging round a table, pretending to do as many unnecessary things as you can, wondering whether the man you've waited on is going to give up a half-dollar or a nickel, knowing that the more uncomfortable you can make him feel the bigger fee you'll pull down. No more tipping for me! I'd rather earn my money, even if I don't get so much." "Hits me, Jim," assented Stevens. "What do you say, Budge?" "Same here," agreed Roger. The long-drawn shriek of a locomotive rose from the valley-bottom. "There's the five-ten!" ejaculated Lane. "I pity Whittington when his dad finds how things have gone." "Percy isn't the only one who needs sympathy," said Spurling, soberly. "What about his father?" "I'm sorry for 'em both," was Lane's comment. "But the Whittington family'll have to handle its own troubles. Now, fellow-members, to the question before the house! Unless I raise at least two hundred dollars in the next three months, it's no college for me in September." A short silence followed. Spurling took out his knife and deliberately slithered a long, splintery shaving off the fence-top. "I've an idea," he said, slowly. "Give me till evening and I'll tell you about it. What d'you say to a last game of tennis?" The others agreed and slipped off the fence. Lane glanced up the road. "Here comes Whittington, scorching like a blue streak! And there's Bill Sanders's old auto crawling up May Street hill from the railroad station! If Percy should hit him--good-night!" The gray machine rapidly grew larger. The people on the sidewalks stood still and watched. May Street crossed Main at right angles, and a high cedar hedge before the corner house made it impossible for the two drivers to see each other until they were close together. On sped the gray car. "Isn't he humming!" Suddenly Whittington thrust out his left arm. "He's going to turn down May Street!" shouted Lane. "Bound to the station after his father. He'll hit Sanders, sure as fate! Hi! Hi there, Percy!" Heedless of the warning, Whittington whirled round into May Street and plunged full tilt into the hotel bus, striking it a glancing blow back of its front wheel. There was a tremendous crash. "Come on, fellows!" cried Lane. They ran at top speed toward the wreck. Through the clearing dust three figures were visible, extricating themselves from the ruins. Sanders, the hotel chauffeur, was groaning and rubbing his ankle. His only passenger, a bald, thick-set man, with smooth face and bulldog jaw, had a bleeding scratch down his right cheek and a badly torn coat. Whittington, apparently unharmed, was chalky and stuttering from fright. Spurling, for all his slowness, was the first to reach the wreck. He helped the stout stranger to his feet, and the man turned angrily toward Whittington. An exclamation of surprise burst from both. "Dad!" "Percy!" Understanding struggled with indignation on the older man's face. "Well," he growled, "so you've done it again!" For a moment the lad stood in shamefaced alarm, shaking from head to foot. "Are you much hurt, Dad?" he stammered. "Only a scratch," returned Whittington, senior. "But it's no thanks to you that I wasn't killed." He turned to Sanders, who was still chafing his ankle. "Anything broken?" "No, sir; only a sprain." "I'm glad it's no worse. Have this mess cleared away and I'll fix up with you later at the hotel; and get my suit-case over to my room, will you?" To his son he said: "We'll go to your dormitory." He limped grimly ahead; Percy followed. As he passed the three seniors he pulled a face of mock repentance. The boys resumed their way to the tennis-court. "Pretty poor stick, isn't he?" commented Lane, disgustedly. "Almost kills his father, and then laughs at it. Throws away in a few seconds more than enough to put the three of us half-way through our freshman year in college. No, I've no use for Whittington." "If he'd had to earn his own money," remarked Spurling, "he'd look on things differently. He's got a good streak in him." "Maybe so; but it'll take mighty hard work to bring it out. Well, here's the court. How'll we play?" In Whittington's room father and son silently removed the traces of the disaster. Then the father pointed to a chair. "Sit there! I've something to say to you." Percy took the indicated seat. Whittington, senior's, jaw stiffened. "Well!" he snapped. "Seems to me excuses are in order. You've smashed a thousand-dollar machine, ruined a five-hundred-dollar one, and just missed killing yourself and me in the bargain. Pretty afternoon's work, isn't it?" Percy looked injured, almost defiant. "You must know I'm mighty sorry to have dragged you into this scrape. I was half frightened to death when I thought you were hurt. But what odds does it make about the cars?" A twinkle appeared in his eye. "You've got the cash, Dad. Who'll spend it, if I don't?" Taking out his book, he began rolling a cigarette. "Stop that!" exclaimed his father, angrily, "and listen to me. It isn't the money I mind so much as it is the fool style in which you've thrown it away. Where's the thing going to end? That's what I want to know. If you'd only get mad when I talk to you, there'd be some hope for you. But you haven't backbone enough left to get mad. You've smoked it all away." "Oh, come now, Dad!" "You ask who'll spend the money. I know mighty well who won't, unless he strikes a new gait. There's plenty of colleges and hospitals to endow, and enough other ways of putting all I've got where it'll do some good. I've worked too hard and too long for my fortune to have a fool scatter it to the winds. You can come down to the hotel with me for supper. After that I'll foot the bills for your little excursion, and then go over alone to see Principal Blodgett. And let me say right now that it'll be a pretty important interview for you." Lane, Spurling, and Stevens, their tennis over, were starting for their boarding-house. Crossing the campus, they met Percy and his father. The former nodded soberly. Whittington, senior, a cross of court-plaster on his right cheek, passed them without a glance. "Percy doesn't look very happy," remarked Stevens, when they were at a safe distance. "Just a passing cloud," grinned Lane. "It takes more than a little thing like junking a thousand-dollar auto to bother Percy. He'll forget all about it before to-morrow." "See that dreadnought jaw on his father? If I was Percy I'd be kind of scary of that jaw. John P. Whittington isn't a man to stand much monkeying, or I miss my guess." "Well, we've got troubles of our own, and no dad with a fat bank-account to foot the bills. Why so still, Jim? Something on your mind, eh?" Jim's forehead was wrinkled. "Wait!" was all he deigned. Back in his room, after supper, he unbosomed himself: "A week ago I had a letter from Uncle Tom Sprowl. He lives in Stonington, on Deer Isle, east of Penobscot Bay; but most of the time he fishes and lobsters from Tarpaulin Island, ten miles south of Isle au Haut. Last month, just after he had started the season in good shape, he was taken down with rheumatism, and the doctor has ordered him to keep off the water for three months. Now that island is one of the best stands for fish and lobsters on the Maine coast. Somebody's going to use it this summer. Why shouldn't we? If we have reasonably good luck, we can clear up two hundred and fifty dollars apiece for the season's work. I've talked the thing over with Mr. Blodgett, and he thinks it's all right. Of course we'd be in for a lot of good hard work; but it's healthy, and we're all in first-class trim. We'd soon get hardened to it. Now, boys, it's up to you." Lane hesitated. "Do you think that two such farmers as Throppy and I could make much of a fist at fishing?" "Sure thing! I can show you how. I've fished since I was ten years old." "Where did you say the island is?" asked Stevens. "Right out in the Atlantic Ocean, a good twenty-five miles from the mainland. It's about a half-mile long and a quarter broad, partly covered with scrub evergreen, and has fifty acres of pasture. Uncle Tom's got some sheep there, too. He's afraid they'll be stolen; so he wants somebody there the earliest minute possible. He'll furnish all the gear and go halves with us on the season's catch. What do you say, Budge?" "I'm with you, if Throppy is." "It's a go," was Stevens's verdict. Somebody knocked on the door. "Come in!" called Spurling. To their great surprise, in came Mr. Whittington. Removing his Panama, he took the chair Spurling offered him. An unlighted cigar was gripped between his short, stubby fingers. There were dark circles under his steel-gray eyes, and his jaw had, if possible, more of a bulldog set than ever. His square, sturdy build, without fat or softness, suggested a freight locomotive with a driving power to go through anything. He was not a handsome man, but he was undeniably a strong one. He plunged at once into the purpose of his visit. "I guess you know I'm Whittington's father. I've just been over to Principal Blodgett's, having a talk about Percy. I don't need to tell you how he's spent his year here, so I'll come right to the point." He leaned forward and fastened his keen eyes on Spurling. "The principal says you plan to spend the summer fishing from an island on the Maine coast. I want Percy to go with you." The three exchanged glances of amazement. Lane swallowed a grin. Nobody spoke for a half-minute; then Spurling broke the silence. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Mr. Whittington, but, honestly, the thing isn't possible. That island is ten miles from the nearest other land. We're not out for a pleasure junket, but for three months of the hardest kind of hard work. There'll be no automobiling, no pool or cards or moving pictures. It means being up at midnight, and not getting to bed until the fish have been taken care of. It means sore fingers and lame backs and aching joints. It means standing wind and cold and fog and rain until you're tired and wet and chilled to the bone. It's a dead-earnest business out there, one hundred days of it, and every day has got to count. A college year for the three of us hangs on this summer, and we can't risk having it spoiled. You'll have to think up some other place for Percy." Mr. Whittington's chin set a trifle more firmly. He pulled out his cigar-case and proffered it to each of the boys in turn. "Have a perfecto? No? Guess it's as well for you not to, after all. Wish Percy was taken that way. Excuse me if I light up. I can talk better." Soon he was smoking hard. "I want to have a little talk with you about my boy. Come, now, just between ourselves, what kind of a fellow is he? You probably know him better than I do. I've had my business; and he's been under tutors and away at school so long that I haven't seen much of him since his mother died, eight years ago." The boys glanced at one another and hesitated. Young Whittington was a hard topic to discuss before his father. The millionaire misunderstood their silence. His face grew gloomy. "Oh, well, if he's as bad as all that, no matter! I hoped he might have _some_ good points." "Don't misunderstand us, Mr. Whittington," said Spurling, quietly. "Percy isn't a bad fellow. He isn't dishonest. He doesn't cheat or crib. He's flunked honestly, and that counts for something. He's a good sprinter, and plays a rattling game of tennis, and he'd be a very fair baseball-player if he'd only let cigarettes alone. But he's soft and he's lazy. He's had too much money and taken things too easy. He's probably never earned a single cent or done a stroke of real work in his life. He's been in the habit of letting his pocketbook take the place of his brain and muscles; and he's got the idea that a check, if it's only large enough, can buy anything on earth. That's why he wouldn't be any good to himself or anybody else out on Tarpaulin Island. He'd simply be underfoot. It'd be cruel to take him there. Excuse me if I hurt your feelings. You've asked a straight question, and I've tried to give you a straight answer." The man chewed the butt of his cigar for a few seconds. Then he removed it from his mouth and blew a smoke-ring. "I don't believe," he said, reflectively, "that either of you three had any tougher time than I had when I was a boy. No school after fourteen. No college. Just work, work, work, and then some more work. But it hardened me up, made a man of me; perhaps it hardened me too much. Guess some of the men I've done business with have thought so. After I made my first million--" He broke off abruptly. "But let's get back to Percy. I've done everything in the world for that boy, and now I'm at the end of my rope. Tutors, private schools, summer camps, trainers, travel, automobiles--and what have they all amounted to?" He talked rapidly and nervously, emphasizing with his cigar. "It's no use to offer him any prize; he's had everything already. I found he was hitting too rapid a pace in the bigger schools, so I sent him down here. Thought he might do better in a quiet place. But his reports didn't show it, and the talk I've just had with the principal has pretty near discouraged me. I've bucked up against a good many tough propositions, but I'm free to say that he's the toughest. I don't see where he ever got that cigarette habit. I never smoked one in my life." Again he began puffing furiously. "He ought to have the stuff in him somewhere; and I believe a summer with you fellows'd bring it out. If it didn't, I don't know what would. Come, boys! Strain a point to oblige me! I'll pay you anything in reason. How large a check shall I write?" He reached for his inside pocket. Spurling flushed and held up his hand. "No, Mr. Whittington," said he, decidedly, "we can't do business that way. We're not running any reform school and we're not asking anybody to give us a cent. We're going out there to earn money for our first year in college, and we're going to take it out of the sea, every last copper! I don't say it to boast, but since I was ten I've had to shift for myself. I know where every cent in my pocket and every ounce of muscle on my body has come from. If Percy should go with us he'd have to take his medicine with the rest of us and pay his own way by working. Give us a little time alone to talk the matter over, and we'll soon tell you whether he can go or not." Whittington heaved his square bulk erect and crushed on his hat. "I'll be back in ten minutes." Almost to the second he was at the door again. Stepping inside, he awaited their verdict, not trying to conceal his anxiety. A great relief overspread his face at Spurling's first words. "All right, Mr. Whittington! Percy can come--on trial. He can stop with us a month. Then if we don't hitch together he'll have to leave. But if he likes it, and we like him, he can stay the rest of the summer. If the bunch earns anything over and above what it would have gotten if he hadn't been with us, he'll get it. If it doesn't, he won't." Five minutes later the millionaire entered Percy's room. The latter was smoking a cigarette and playing solitaire. He glanced up expectantly, a couple of cards in his hand. As he sat down opposite his son, John Whittington had never looked grimmer. The vein swelled blue on his flushed temples, and the lines on his face were deeply drawn. "Now, Percy, you and I are going to talk business. Put down those cards and chuck that coffin-nail into the stove. Why can't you use a man's smoke if you're going to smoke at all? I've been talking with Mr. Blodgett, and I find it's the same old story. You've wound up your preparatory course with a worse smash than you had this afternoon. You haven't made good. I'm beginning to doubt if you _can_ make good. You've done worse every year. You're nothing now, and if you keep on like this you'll soon be worse than nothing. You can put down one thing good and solid--I won't stand for your going the pace like Chauncey Pike or George Brimmer's son. I'd give half my money--yes, the whole of it, if you had the stuff in you that young Spurling has. I mean it." He stopped, then began again: "I'm going to give you one chance more, and only one. It's quicksilver, kill or cure, and a stiff dose at that. I've just been talking with Spurling and his two friends. They're to spend the summer fishing from an island off the Maine coast, to earn money to start their college course. And you're going with them!" "What! Me! I rather guess not! Nailed to the mast three months out on a rock like that? Not for a minute! Besides, I'm booked for Bar Harbor day after to-morrow. Got my ticket already." "Let's look at it!" Percy pulled out the slip of pasteboard and passed it over. His father thrust it into his pocket. "I can get the money on it. The agent'll take it back." "But I don't want him to take it back." "_I_ do." The bulldog jaws clamped together. "Oh, I say, Dad! Come, now! That isn't using me right!" "Isn't using you right? Why not? Don't be a fool, Percy! Whose money bought that ticket?" "Mi-- Why--er--yours, of course!" "Well, will you go to the island?" "No, I will not." "Then you don't get a cent more from me. You've overdrawn your bank-account already." "How do you know? You haven't been down to the bank." "You don't suppose I'd have a monthly check deposited to your account without arranging to know something about it, do you? Mighty poor business man if I did! Now, Percy, use what little brain you have! You've no money, and you can't earn any. Nobody would be fool enough to hire you. There's nothing on earth you can do. I'm going to give you one last chance to make a man of yourself. You've three months to make good in and I expect you to do it. You've got to make up those conditions and earn your salt to show there's some excuse for your being alive. Your whole life hangs on the way you spend the next hundred days. I start for the West Coast to-morrow, and won't be back till fall. I want you to write me--if you feel like it. Will you go?" The strains of a violin came floating in through the open window. The academy bell struck ten long, lingering strokes. "Well, what do you say? I'm waiting." Percy swallowed hard. "I'll go." II A FRESH START Two mornings later Percy Whittington was awakened in his room at the Thorndike in Rockland by a bell-boy hammering on his door. "What's the matter?" he inquired, stupidly. "Five o'clock! Five o'clock! Your call!" "Is that all?" exclaimed Percy, relieved. "I didn't know but the hotel might be on fire." He rolled over for another nap. Half an hour later he was roused by a lively tattoo beaten on the panels by two sets of vigorous knuckles. "Inside there, Whittington!" exhorted Lane's voice. "Wake up! This isn't any rest-cure. The Stonington boat starts in twenty minutes. You've lost your breakfast, and unless you hustle you'll make us miss the steamer. Better let us in to help you pack!" Percy bounded out of bed and admitted Lane and Spurling. While he dressed hastily they jammed his scattered belongings into two suit-cases. Stevens joined them in the hotel office and they made a lively spurt for Tillson's Wharf, reaching the _Governor Bodwell_ just before her plank was pulled aboard. The party had arrived in Rockland on the late train the night before, and were to start for Stonington early that morning. Percy's drowsiness had almost thwarted their plans. "You'll have to revise your sleeping schedule, Whittington, when we get to Tarpaulin," said Spurling. Percy was too much interested in the view opening before him to take offense at this remark. It was a calm, beautiful June morning. A gentle breeze barely rippled the smooth, blue water as the _Governor Bodwell_ headed eastward out of the harbor. Behind lay the city, fringed with lazily smoking lime-kilns, each contributing its quota to the dim haze that obscured the shore-line. Leaving on their left the little light on the tip of the long granite breakwater, and presently on their right the white tower on the hummock of Owl's Head, marking the entrance of rocky Muscle Ridge Channel, they were soon plowing across the blue floor of West Penobscot Bay. Due north, Rockport Harbor opened between wooded shores, while beyond it rose the Camden Hills, monarchs of the rolling line of mountains stretching up toward Belfast. A five-mile sail, and they were threading their way through narrow, winding Fox Island Thoroughfare, to the wharf at North Haven. Thence across East Penobscot Bay, by Deer Island Thoroughfare, to the granite wharf at Stonington, the rockiest town in the United States. Here they disembarked, and a short walk up a side-street brought them to the house of Spurling's uncle, Mr. Thomas Sprowl. Uncle Tom was at home, confined by his rheumatism and the doctor's orders. He greeted the boys gladly. "Got your letter last night, Jim," said he, "and I can tell you it took a weight off my mind. Since I've been sick I've nigh fretted myself to death about Tarpaulin." He groaned, and shifted himself painfully in his chair. "Those twinges take me unexpected," he explained. "You see," returning to his subject, "all my gear's on the island, besides those fifty sheep. Quite a risk for a man with so little as I've got. You don't know how pleased I am that you fellows are going to be on deck there this summer. You're a good, husky lot--at least most of ye." He scanned Percy a trifle dubiously. "You'll have a fine time the next three months, and you'll make some money. Wish I could go down with ye!" He winced and stifled another groan. "When do you plan to start?" "Just as soon as we can arrange for our boats and stores," replied Jim. "Good enough! You can be there to-night, slick as a whistle. Remember the _Barracouta_, that old power-sloop we've taken so many trips in? I've had her overhauled this spring and a new seven-and-a-half-horse engine put in her; her jibs and mainsail are in first-class shape. You'll find her at my mooring near the steamboat wharf. My Bucksport dory has just been pulled up on the ledges and painted. You'll need another boat besides, so I've arranged with Sammy Stinson to let you have his pea-pod. She'll do to lobster in. Now as to gear. You'll find over a hundred lobster-traps piled up on the sea-wall near my cabin, and there's six tubs of trawl in the fish-shed. Keep an account of whatever stuff you have to buy for repairs, and we can settle at the end of the season." "What's the best way of handling our catch?" "The fish you can split and salt and take over to Matinicus once a week. Your lobsters will sell easy to some smackman. Captain Ben Higgins comes east from Portland every week in the _Calista_; he's been in the habit of making Tarpaulin his next port of call after York Island. You'll find him square as a brick. Better buy your supplies at Matinicus; it's a strong twelve miles off, but that isn't a bad run in decent weather." The boys rose to go. "Well, Uncle Tom," said Jim, "the next time we see each other, I hope you'll be feeling fit as a fiddle." "You can't wish that any harder than I do, my boy. Oh, by the way, I nearly forgot one thing. Here, Nemo!" A fox-terrier, lying on a rug, sprang up alertly. He was white, except for two brown ears and a diamond of the same color on the top of his head. "Better take this dog along. The mate of a St. John coaster gave him to me last fall. I call him Captain Nemo. He's death on rats; and there's some on the island this year. Must have come ashore from a schooner wrecked there in the winter. Another thing! Got any gun?" "No." "Then there's my ten-gauge." He indicated a double-barreled shot-gun standing in the corner. "You'll find a couple of boxes of loaded shells in that table drawer. You may want to kill some ducks in the fall. Only don't shoot Oso!" "Oso?" "Yes. My tame crow. I had a Spanish fellow with me a few weeks last summer, and he found the bird in a nest. Clipped one wing, so he couldn't get away from the island. Named him 'Oso'; said it meant 'The Bear.' He'll pester ye to death round the fish-house, after he gets acquainted." Putting Nemo on a leash and taking the gun, the boys filed out. Uncle Tom called Jim back. "I almost forgot to tell you to go to Parker's for your outfit. He'll use you right. Who's that pale-faced fellow with the tow head?" Spurling told him briefly about Percy. Uncle Tom grunted. "Needs salting, doesn't he? Well, he'll get it out there." Down in Parker's general store on the main street the boys purchased their supplies. They laid in a generous stock of provisions of all sorts, and under Jim's expert direction reinforced the weak spots in their wardrobes to adapt them to the demands of the next three months. Oil-clothes, heavy under-clothing, hip boots of red rubber, white, doughnut-shaped woolen "nippers" for pulling trawls, and various other articles for convenience and comfort were added to their outfits. Percy regarded it all in the light of a huge lark. Dressing himself in oilskins and rubber boots, he paraded up and down the store, much to the proprietor's disgust. "Pretty fresh, isn't he?" remarked Parker to Jim. "After he's been out in two or three storms he'll find those clothes aren't so much of a joke." The party's purchases were sent down to the steamboat wharf, to be added to the baggage already there. The boys followed, Percy swaggering superciliously along after the others, with his eternal cigarette. Captain Nemo, towing behind Spurling on his leash, got in Percy's way, and the boy stepped on his foot. Nemo yelped, then growled and bristled. "Get out, you cur!" exclaimed Percy, launching a kick at the beast. "Easy, Whittington!" warned Spurling. "A dog doesn't forget. You don't want to make an enemy of him at the start." "Enemy?" sneered Percy. "What do I care for that mangy cur! It'll teach him to keep out of my way." Jim bit his lip, but said nothing. In a few minutes they were on the wharf. A wiry, dark-complexioned lad of perhaps fifteen stood near the steamboat slip. He wore a faded suit of blue serge, a gray-flannel shirt with red necker-chief, and a soft black hat. His olive face and black eyes bespoke the Italian. Spurling and the others glanced at him casually; their interest was centered on assembling and loading their flotilla. "There's the _Barracouta!_" said Jim, pointing to a sloop moored a hundred yards away. "And there's Stinson's pea-pod tied to her stern. That yellow dory up on the ledge must be Uncle Tom's. He said we'd find her oars and fittings at Haskell's boatshop." Soon pea-pod and dory were being loaded beside the wharf. The young Italian had come to the string-piece, and was watching the embarkation. Jim saw that tears were trickling down his cheeks. "What's the matter?" he asked. The boy turned away, his breast heaving. Jim tossed the painter to Lane. "Look out for the boat a minute, Budge! I want to find what the trouble is with that young fellow." The lad had stepped across the wharf and was gazing sadly down into the water. Jim touched his shoulder. "Don't you feel well, son?" The kindly words had a surprising effect--the lad burst into tears. Jim tried to soothe him. "There, there! It can't be so bad as all that! Tell me about it." Little by little the boy's story came out. He was a Sicilian from a little village (_un villaggio_) not far from Messina. His name was Filippo Canamelli. His father was a mason (_un muratore_). Filippo and his older brother Frank had decided to seek their fortunes in America. Frank had gone over the year before, promising to send money back to pay for Filippo's passage. He had done so that winter, in _Febbrajo_. Filippo had sailed from Naples the next month, and had landed in New York in April. There he chanced upon a friend with whom his brother had left word for him to come to a certain address in Boston. But in that city he had lost all track of Frank. Searching aimlessly for him, he had drifted down to Stonington and had gone to work in the granite quarries. But he found the labor too hard and he was desperately homesick. He had given up his job the day before. What he should do and where he should go next he did not know. He talked rapidly between his sobs, while Jim listened. When he had finished, Spurling stepped across the wharf to his waiting friends. Very briefly he rehearsed the Italian's story. "Boys," he concluded, "what do you say to asking him to come down with us to Tarpaulin? I believe he's a clean, straight little fellow, and he can more than make up for his board by cooking and doing odd jobs. We can afford to pay him something to boot." Before either Budge or Throppy had a chance to express an opinion Percy spoke out decidedly: "Take that little Dago with us? I say no. You can't trust his kind. I know 'em. They're a thieving, treacherous lot, smooth to your face, but ready to stab you the minute your back's turned. I'll bet you a five-dollar bill he's got a knife hid somewhere about him. He might take a notion some night to cut all our throats." "Whittington," said Spurling, bluntly, "under the circumstances it might be better taste for you not to speak until you've heard from the rest of us. My throat's worth just as much to me as yours is to you, and I don't feel I'd be running any great risk by inviting that boy to come along with us." Lane and Stevens agreed. "It's three against one, Whittington," said Jim. He walked over to the Italian and said a few words to him. The lad's face lighted up with gratitude. Impulsively he bent and kissed Spurling's hand. Jim flushed with embarrassment as he and the stranger came back to the others. "He'll be glad to go with us, fellows. Now let's get a move on and hustle this stuff aboard. We want to be settled at Tarpaulin before dark." Soon all their goods were on the sloop. The dory was made fast to her stern and the pea-pod's painter tied to the dory. The expedition was ready to start. On board the _Barracouta_ Lane and Stevens, standing side by side, faced Jim and brought their palms to their foreheads. "Attention!" ordered Lane. "Spurling & Company! Salute!" Jim returned the compliment with a sweep of his hand. He threw on the switch and rocked the wheel; the engine started--click-click-click.... Gathering headway, the _Barracouta_ nosed south, dory and pea-pod trailing behind her. Before them lay an archipelago of granite islands. "This is an old stamping-ground of mine," said Jim. "I've fished and lobstered round here so much that I know every rock and shoal for miles. That's Crotch Island on our west, with the derricks and quarries; they've taken no end of granite off it." He held up his hand. "Breezing up from the southwest. That'd be dead ahead if we went west of Isle au Haut as I'd planned. Guess we'll go east of it; then we can use our canvas to help us along. Steer for me, Budge, while I get sail on her!" Soon outer jib, jumbo and mainsail were set and trimmed close, and Spurling again took the helm. The _Barracouta_ ran southeast through Merchant's Row, a procession of rugged islets slipping by on either side; then south past Fog and York islands, with the long, high ridge of Isle au Haut walling the western horizon; down between Great Spoon and Little Spoon, past White Horse and Black Horse, toward the heaving blue of the open ocean. A grum, melancholy note came floating over the long sea swells--Oo-oo-oo-ooh! And again, Oo-oo-oo-ooh! "What's that!" exclaimed Percy. "Whistling buoy south of Roaring Bull Ledge. One of our nearest neighbors. We'll hear that voice pretty often, when the wind's from the north." They passed two miles east of the whistler, and gradually its warning blast grew fainter and fainter. On the horizon straight ahead a little black mound was slowly rising above the breaking waves. Jim swung his hand toward it. "There's Tarpaulin! Our home for the next three months! Looks kind of small and lonesome when you're running offshore for it; but it's pretty good to make after an all-day fishing-trip. What's the matter, Whittington?" Percy's face was somewhat white; for the last half-hour he had been strangely subdued. "I don't feel very good," said he. Spurling eyed him critically, then scanned the faces of the others. The _Barracouta_ was rising and falling on the long swells in a manner decidedly disconcerting to weak stomachs. Stevens and the young Italian did not look much happier than Percy. Jim could not help smiling a little. "Good seasick weather!" he observed, judicially. "Excuse me for laughing, boys! It's a mean thing to do, but I can't help it. I've been there myself--years ago. You'll be worse before you're better." They were, considerably, all three, Percy in particular. For the next hour conversation dragged; but all the while Tarpaulin loomed larger and larger. To Jim it wore the aspect of an old friend, and he dilated on its features for the benefit of the others. "You see that western end is fifty acres of pasture, sloping north; those gray dots are sheep grazing. The eastern half is just scrub evergreen. That little cove on the northeast corner's the Sly Hole; you mightn't think it, but a good-sized schooner can ride there at low tide. Pretty rocky all round. Always a surf breaking on one side or the other. Our landing-place is on the south." Before long the _Barracouta_ and her tow were skirting the eastern ledges. Under the island it was comparatively calm, and the seasick three felt better. Then, as they rounded a wooded promontory and turned west, it grew rough again, but only for a few minutes. Spurling steered the sloop into calm water behind the protecting elbow of another point, off which lay the half-submerged hulk of a wrecked vessel. "Sprawl's Cove!" exclaimed Jim. "How do you like the looks of your hotel, Whittington?" III TARPAULIN ISLAND Curiosity dispelled the last vestiges of Percy's seasickness. For a little while he gazed without speaking. A cove four hundred feet wide opened toward the south between two rocky points. At its head a pebbly beach sloped up to a sea-wall, behind which a growth of cattails bespoke a stagnant lagoon. Still farther back a steep bank of dirt rose to the overhanging sod of the pasture. From the western point a spur extended into the cove, forming a little haven amply large enough for a modest fleet of fishing-boats. Near by on the sea-wall stood two structures, one low, oblong, flat-roofed, with a rusty iron stovepipe projecting from its farther end; the other a small, paintless shed with a large door. Percy gave them only a casual glance. "You said we were going to live in a camp. Where is it?" Jim pointed to the first structure. "There! It's the cabin of an old vessel that came ashore here in a southerly gale years ago. Uncle Tom jacked it up a foot, put in a good floor, and made it into a first-rate camp. It's got bunks for half a dozen, and at a pinch could hold more. The roof's a bit leaky, but we'll soon fix that. There's a good stove, and always plenty of driftwood on the beach. It's a mighty snug place on a stormy day." Percy turned up his nose at this list of good points. "What's that pile of chicken-coops near it?" "Lobster-traps." "And that big box with its top just above water?" "A lobster-car. All that we catch in the traps we put in there until the smack comes." The mooring-buoy was now alongside. Making the _Barracouta_ fast, the boys went ashore in the dory and pea-pod. Percy became conscious that he was thirsty. "Where can I get a drink?" "There's the spring at the foot of that bank." Opening a trap-door in a rude wooden cover, Percy looked down into a shallow well. The only cup at hand was an empty tin can. Rather disdainfully he dipped it full and tasted, then spat with a wry face. "It's brackish!" he called out, indignantly. "I can't drink that." Spurling and the others were hard at work unloading the boats. Percy repeated his complaint: "I can't drink that stuff." Jim was staggering up the beach, a heavy box of groceries in his arms. "Sorry!" he replied, indifferently. "That's what all the rest of us'll have to drink. It isn't Poland water, but I've tasted worse." Percy slammed down the cover and tossed away the can in a huff. Lane was passing boxes and bundles ashore from the dory to Stevens and Filippo. "Catch hold here, Whittington, and help tote some of this stuff up to the cabin," exhorted Budge. Percy complied ungraciously; but he was careful not to tackle anything very heavy. "I didn't come out here to make a pack-mule of myself," was his mental remark. Jim unfastened the rusty padlock on the cabin door and stepped inside. Percy followed him, eager to get a glimpse of his new home. The camp had not been opened for some weeks; it smelled close and stuffy. As Percy crossed its threshold his nostrils were greeted by a mingled odor of salt, tarred rope, and decaying wood, flavored with a faint suggestion of fish. Mastering his repugnance, he looked about. He saw a single, low room, nine by fifteen, dimly lighted by three small windows, one in the farther end directly opposite the door, the remaining two facing each other in the middle of the long sides. Along the right wall on each side of the central window was built a tier of two bunks. On Percy's left, over a wooden sink in the corner near the door, was a rough cupboard. Next came a small, rusty stove with an oven for baking; then, under the window, an unpainted table; and on the wall beyond, a series of hooks from which were suspended various articles of clothing and coils of rope. Empty soap-boxes supplied the place of chairs. With nose uplifted and a growing disgust on his features, Percy surveyed the cramped, dingy room. "How do you like it?" asked Spurling. "You don't mean to say that five of us have got to live in this hole?" "Nowhere else, unless you want to stay out on the beach or in the fish-house." "But where do we sleep?" "There!" Jim gestured toward the wooden framework on the right wall. Percy thrust his hand into one of the bunks. "Why, there's no mattress or spring here! It's only a bare box!" "That's just what it is, Whittington! You've hit the nail on the head this time. You'll have to spread your blanket on the soft side of a pine board. If you want something real luxurious you can go into the woods and cut an armful of spruce boughs to strew under you." Percy disregarded this badinage. From his view-point the situation was too serious for jesting. It was outrageous that he, the son of John P. Whittington, should be expected to shift for himself like an ordinary fisherman. "I'm not used to living in a pigpen!" he snapped. "This cabin's too dark to be healthy; besides, it isn't clean." A spark of temper flashed in Spurling's eyes. "Stop right there, Whittington! This is my uncle Tom's cabin. Any place that's been shut up for weeks seems stuffy when it's first opened. You'll find that there are things a good deal worse than salt and tar and fish and a few cobwebs. I want to tell you a story I read some time ago. Once in the winter a party of Highlanders were out on a foray. Night overtook them beside a river in the mountains, and they prepared to camp in the open. Each drenched his plaid in the stream, rolled it round his body, and lay down to rest in the snow, knowing that the outside layers of cloth would soon freeze hard and form a sleeping-bag. In the party were an old chieftain and his grandson of eighteen. The boy wet his plaid like the others, but before he lay down he rolled up a snowball for a pillow. The old chief kicked it out from under the lad's head. He didn't propose to have his grandson be so effeminate as to indulge himself in the luxury of a pillow when everybody else was lying flat on the ground." Whittington grunted. "I don't see how that applies to me." "In this way. You've lived too soft. You need something to wake you up to the real hardships that men have to go through. Then you won't be so fussy over little things. Perhaps I've talked plainer to you than I should; but I believe in going after a fellow with a club before his face rather than a knife behind his back. Now let's open those windows so the fresh air can blow through, build a fire in the stove to dry out the damp, and get everything shipshape. After supper we'll go up on top of the island and take a look about." It was nearly seven when the sloop was finally unloaded and everything stowed under cover. Filippo had collected plenty of driftwood, and a fire crackling merrily in the rusty stove soon made the cabin dry and warm. Jim, in his shirt-sleeves, superintended the preparation of supper. The wall cupboard yielded a supply of ordinary dishes, cups, and saucers. There were old-fashioned iron knives and forks, iron spoons of different sizes, and thick, yellow, earthenware mugs. Despite Percy's slur, everything was clean. "Make us a pan of biscuit, Budge; and I'll fry some potatoes and broil the steak," volunteered Jim. "After to-night we'll have to break in somebody else to do the cooking. You and I'll be too busy outside." Percy heard and registered a silent vow that the cook should not be himself. Pricked by Spurling's earlier remarks, he had taken an active part in unloading the boats, and he had been glad to throw himself into one of the despised bunks to rest. At last supper was ready. The steak, potatoes, and hot biscuit diffused a pleasant aroma through the cabin. "Pull up your soap-boxes, all hands!" invited Spurling. "Don't be afraid of that steak! There's plenty of it for everybody. It's liable to be the last meat we'll have for some time. The butcher doesn't go by here very often." The boys made a hearty meal. Even Percy's fastidiousness did not prevent him from eating his full share. But he took no part in the jokes flying round the table. Jim's sermon had left him rather glum. Lane noticed it. "Why so distant, Whittington?" he inquired. Before Percy could open his mouth to reply a black body shot with a squawk through the open door and alighted on the corner of the table close to Percy's elbow. "Hullo! This must be Oso!" exclaimed Jim. The crow croaked hoarsely. On Percy's plate lay a single morsel of steak, the choicest of his helping, reserved till the last. Seeing the bird's beady black eyes fasten upon it he made a quick movement to impale it with his fork. But Oso was quicker still. Down darted his sharp beak and snatched the titbit from under the very points of the tines. A single gulp and the meat was gone. [Illustration] A roar of laughter went round the table. Starting up furiously, Percy aimed a blow at the crow. But the bird eluded him and scaled out of the door with a triumphant screech. Budge proffered mock consolation. "Percy," said he, "that was the best piece in the whole steak. I saw you saving it until the last. Too bad, old man! Now you'll have to eat crow to get it." "I'll wring that thief's neck if I can catch him," vowed the angry Whittington. "Guess we can trust Oso not to leave his neck lying round where you can get hold of it," observed Lane. "Come on! Let's you and I wash the dishes!" "Dishes nothing!" snarled Percy. Stalking out, he gathered a handful of convenient pebbles and lay in wait for the culprit. But the crow had disappeared. "I'll get even with him later," muttered Whittington. He remained sulkily outside, taking no part in clearing away the supper-table. At half past seven the others joined him. "Feeling better, old man?" queried Lane, solicitously. "Fall in, Whittington," said Jim. "We're going on a tour of inspection." "Wait a minute," remarked Lane. "We've had our house-warming. The next thing is to christen the place." Dragging out a soap-box, he mounted it, produced from his pocket a piece of red chalk, and traced in large letters over the door, "CAMP SPURLING." "Now we're off!" said he. "Welcome to our city! Watch us grow!" "Come on!" urged Jim. "We want to look the island over before dark." The party walked west along the sea-wall and proceeded in single file up a steep path to the highest part of the promontory. "Brimstone Point," said Jim. "Best view on the island from here." He began pointing out its different features. "That little nubble almost west, sticking up so black against the sunset's Seal Island. Matinicus is right behind it. Up there on the horizon, just a trifle west of north, are the Camden Hills; you look exactly over Vinalhaven to see them. North across the pasture is Isle au Haut that we came by this afternoon. Beyond is Stonington. About time the lights were lit--Yes, there's Saddleback! See it twinkling west of Isle au Haut. Now look sharp a little south of west and you'll see Matinicus Rock glimmering; two lights, but they seem like one from here. Wouldn't think they were almost a hundred feet above water, would you? They look pretty good to a man when he's running in from outside on a dark night." It was a magnificent evening, the air clear as crystal, the sky without a cloud. Gulls were wheeling and screaming about the promontory, their cries mingling with the rote of surf at its base. Sheep bleated from the pasture. A hawk sailed slowly in from the ocean and disappeared in the woods behind the eastern point. From under the boys' feet rose the fragrance of sweet grass and pennyroyal. Tall mullein stalks reared their spires on the hillside; and here and there were little plats white with thick strawberry blossoms. The boys gazed their fill. Gradually the red sky darkened and the stars began to come out. Saddleback and Matinicus Rock gleamed more brightly. A cool breeze from the south sprang up. Jim roused himself. "Guess we won't have time to look about any more to-night. Never mind! There are evenings enough ahead of us before September. One thing out here--no matter how hot the day may be, it's always cool after dark. Let's be getting back to camp!" Two small kerosene-lamps from the cupboard made the cabin seem actually cheerful. Percy dug into one of his suit-cases and produced a pack of cards. "Let's have a game, fellows! What shall it be?" "Might as well put those up, Whittington," said Spurling. "We're going to turn in as soon as we get things arranged. We've a busy to-morrow before us." Somewhat disappointed, Percy put the cards back. Taking four wooden toothpicks, Jim broke them into uneven lengths. He grasped them in his right hand so that the tops formed a straight line. "Now we'll draw lots for bunks! Filippo's going to sleep in the hammock across that corner beyond the table, so he won't be in this. Longest stick is lower bunk next the door; second longest, lower bunk back; third, upper bunk near door; shortest, other upper. Draw, Throppy!" Stevens drew; then Budge and Percy followed him. They matched sticks. Percy got the lower near the door, with Budge over him; while Spurling drew the back lower, and Stevens the one above that. "Percy and I are the lucky ones," said Jim. "We can try this a month, then have a shake-up to give you top men a chance nearer the floor." Percy pulled out his wrappers and tobacco. Spurling nipped his preparations in the bud. "No cigarettes in here!" "Can't I smoke just one?" "Not inside this cabin. It's too close. We might as well make that a permanent rule." "All right! You're the doctor! But I thought it might help kill this smell of tarred rope." "I like the tarred rope better than I do the cigarettes." Percy went outside and burned his coffin-nail unsociably. When he came back the cabin was shipshape for the night. Jim was setting the alarm-clock. Percy, watching him, thought he detected a mistake. "You've got the V on the wrong side of the I," he said. "IV doesn't stand for six." "But I didn't mean six," retorted Spurling. "I meant four. Now you see why we haven't any time for card-playing. And as soon as we're really at work we'll be getting up a good deal earlier than that. Turn in, fellows!" He extinguished one of the small lamps. "You can put out the other one, when you're ready," said he as he crept into his bunk. Following the example of his associates, Percy draped his clothing over his soap-box and the lower end of his bunk, then blew out the lamp and turned in, barking his shins as he did so. He found his couch anything but comfortable. A single blanket between one's body and a board does not make the board much softer. Neither is a tightly rolled sweater an exact equivalent for a feather pillow. Further, the comforter over him was none too warm, as two windows, opened for ventilation, allowed the cool ocean breeze to circulate freely through the cabin. They also admitted numerous mosquitoes, which sung and stung industriously. The hours of darkness dragged on miserably. Percy dozed and woke, only to doze and wake again. An occasional creaking board or muttered exclamation told that, like himself, his mates were not finding their first night one of unalloyed comfort. Bare feet struck the floor. A match scraped, and Percy saw Jim gazing at the alarm-clock. "What time is it?" groaned Budge from above. "Only ten minutes to twelve." "Gee! I wish it was morning." "Me too!" complained Stevens from the darkness aloft. Percy echoed the wish, silently but fervently. And then in an instant all their discomfort was forgotten. Bursting through the open window, a sudden sound shattered the midnight stillness. _Spang!_ IV MIDNIGHT MARAUDERS There was no mistaking that sharp, whip-like report. It was the crack of a revolver! Breaking the silence at a time when they had felt certain that the nearest human being was miles away, the sound had a startling effect on the five boys. Not one but felt a thrill of apprehension, almost of dread. Who besides themselves was astir at so late an hour on that lonely island? Why? The weapon that produced the report must have been aimed at something. What? For a moment they remained silent, breathless. _Spang!_ A second shot, distant but distinct, rang out from beyond the brow of the bank behind the cabin. Spurling sprang from his bunk. "Boys!" he shouted. "Somebody's after those sheep! Turn out!" Hurriedly he began dressing. The other four followed his example, fumbling with clumsy fingers in the darkness. Nemo gave a short, sharp bark. "Quiet, boy!" ordered Jim; and the dog subsided, growling. Percy experienced a peculiar shakiness; but he dressed with the others. Out here were no policemen or other officers to enforce the laws. Whatever was done they must do themselves. Jim, his first excitement over, was cool as usual. "All dressed, fellows?" he inquired, as calmly as if the pursuit of midnight thieves was a common incident. Everybody was ready. "Going to take the dog?" asked Throppy. "No! Leave him here! He might bark when we didn't want him to." "Here's the gun!" volunteered Lane. "Don't want it! If we had it with us, we might lose our heads and shoot somebody. Whoever they are, they haven't the least idea there's any one on the island besides themselves. They've probably landed at the Sly Hole from some vessel that's approached the north shore since it came dark. Hungry for a little lamb or mutton! But those sheep have stood Uncle Tom a good many dollars and he can't afford to lose any of 'em. Where's that flash-light?" "Here 'tis!" said Budge, passing him the electric lantern. Jim snapped it quickly on and off again. "Righto!" was his verdict. "All ready? Then come on! But first tie that dog to the stove-leg, so he won't bolt out the second we open the door." Throppy fastened Nemo. "Quiet now!" cautioned Jim. He opened the door carefully, and the five filed out into damp, cool, midnight air. Stars filled the sky. A gentle wind was blowing from the southwest. Nothing broke the stillness save the low murmur of the sea on the ledges. Without hesitation Jim led his party at a dog-trot eastward along the beach. When he reached the rocks he halted. "We'll go straight across to the Sly Hole," he said. "I know a short cut through the woods. Either they've killed a sheep already and are carrying it down to their boat or they've frightened the animals so that it'll take some time to get near enough to 'em again to shoot. What sticks me is why they don't use a shot-gun instead of a revolver. Now, boys! Right up over the rocks!" It was a rough climb, but soon they were on the top of the bluff. Unerringly Jim led them to the entrance of a narrow trail penetrating the scrubby growth. "Look out for your eyes! Don't follow too close!" The pliant, whipping branches emphasized his caution. By the time the party gained the north shore their hands and faces were badly scratched. The little basin of the Sly Hole lay below. Looking down, they could make out a dark object at the water's edge. "There's their boat!" whispered Jim. "They're still on the island." _Spang!_ Another report from the pasture beyond the evergreens echoed emphatic confirmation to his statement. Jim took two steps toward the sound, then stopped. "Not yet! I know a better way. Stay here and keep watch." He scrambled down to the beach. There was a slight grating of gravel, and presently the boat was afloat. Noiselessly, under Spurling's skilful sculling, it slipped out of the cove and vanished behind the ledges to the east. Before long Jim was back with his companions. "I've made their dory fast in a little gulch among the rockweed," said he. "They'd have a hard time to find it unless somebody told 'em where it is. They can't get away without having a reckoning with us." _Spang-spang-spang!_ Three reports in quick succession. Jim laughed. "Wasting a lot of cartridges! Must want that mutton pretty bad! Either they're awful poor shots or they've made the sheep so wild they can't get anywhere near 'em. There's their vessel!" The boys' eyes followed his pointing finger. Not far offshore were the vague outlines of a schooner. "All black!" said Jim. "Not a light of any sort! That looks bad. Besides being against the law, it shows there's some reason why they don't want to be recognized. I don't know what kind of scalawags we're up against, but we've got to be mighty careful." Percy felt a strange sinking at the pit of his stomach. To be plunged into an encounter with a gang of unknown ruffians on his first night offshore was more than he had bargained for. For a minute Jim stood thinking. "I'm almost sorry we didn't take that shot-gun!" he muttered. "No, I'm not, either! We might be tempted to use it, and that'd be worse than losing every sheep on the island. Hold on! I've got an idea." The boys gathered closely round him. "Listen!" he whispered. "Budge and I will go ahead through the woods to the pasture. You three follow close behind. If there's any shooting, throw yourselves flat. No use taking chances with such fellows as those!" Crouching low, sometimes actually creeping, the party, Jim and Lane in the lead, made their way under the close boughs toward the open. Suddenly Jim sank to the ground. Warned by his whisper, the others did the same. Footsteps were approaching. Then voices in heated argument reached their ears. "Aw, come on, Cap!" expostulated one unseen speaker. "What's the use chasin' round over this pasture all night? Here we've wasted an hour already. I've fired away all my cartridges, and we haven't nailed a single bleater. We've got 'em so wild we can't sneak up within half a mile of 'em. Let's quit it for a bad job, go aboard, and turn in!" "Cut it out, Dolph!" impatiently retorted another voice. "You've got a backbone like a rope! Guess if you were footing the grub bill aboard the _Silicon_ you wouldn't be so fussy about being broken of your beauty sleep. I've paid out all the good dollars for stores that I intend to on this trip. You know we've plenty of ice aboard, and a couple of these sheep'll furnish enough fresh meat to last us to the Bay of Fundy and back. That ought to hit you in a tender spot. You're always the first man down at the table and the last to leave it." "You needn't twit me on my appetite, Bart Brittler!" exclaimed the other, angrily. "If you weren't so stingy with the grub on board your old catamaran I wouldn't be hungry all the time. A man who makes as much money as you do, runnin' in--" "Stop right there! You know there's some things that were never to be mentioned." "What's the harm? There's nobody within miles!" "That may be. But we can't be too careful in our business. Now what about the sheep?" "I'll stop here half an hour longer. Then I'm goin' aboard." "Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. You hide in the edge of the woods, and I'll make a circuit and drive 'em down to you. Here, take these cartridges and my revolver! That'll give you two to work with. You'll have to shoot quick when they come." There was a sound of breaking branches. The boys flattened themselves on the carpet of needles as a man's body crashed toward them through the underbrush. "All right!" announced Dolph. "I've found a good place, close to a sheep-path. Now drive down your mutton, and I'll butcher it as it goes by. Will two be enough?" "Sure! And that's two more than I'm afraid you'll get, unless you shoot straighter than we've done so far to-night. It may be twenty minutes before they come, for I'm going to make a wide circle to the west, so as to get behind 'em." The captain's footsteps died hollowly away on the turf and Dolph settled himself comfortably in his chosen ambush, almost within reach of Jim's hand. Five minutes of silence passed. Jim was debating what he should do. Budge lay close to him, and not far back were Throppy, Percy, and Filippo, hardly daring to breathe. Circumstances had placed one of the marauders so nearly within their grasp that a sudden, well-planned attack could hardly fail to make him their prisoner. But there must be no bungling. A man with two loaded revolvers, and desperate from panic, would be a dangerous customer unless he were overpowered at once. It would not do to let too much time go by. Brittler would soon be returning, driving the sheep ahead of him; then they would have two lawless men to contend with, instead of one, unless they chose to be quiet and tamely allow the spoilers to make off with their booty. Jim came to his decision like the snapping of the jaws of a steel trap. Reaching back, he pressed Budge's hand, as a signal for him to be ready. Budge returned the pressure. Dolph stirred and drew a long breath. There was a moment of suspense. Overhead, a crow cawed harshly. Noiselessly Jim rose to his hands and knees and crept forward. The small twigs and needles, crackling under his weight, sounded in his ears like exploding fireworks. He stopped; went on again; stopped; went on again. How could Dolph fail to hear him coming? The distance was less than two yards, but to the crawling lad it seemed far longer. Now he was close behind the unconscious bandit. He straightened up, setting his right foot squarely on the ground. As he did so a little branch snapped. Dolph, startled, turned his head. Before he could lift a finger Jim was upon him like a panther. There was an indistinct cry of alarm. _Spang!_ Off went a revolver, discharged at random, and the two were struggling in a confused heap under the low boughs. It was a short fight. A third figure launched itself into the mêlée. Though not nearly so strong as Jim, Budge alone would have been a good match for any average man, and the two of them together speedily vanquished Dolph. A firm hand was pressed over his mouth and he was relieved of his automatics. Finding that his captors were not disposed to injure him, he soon ceased his struggles. Silence again. One of the would-be plunderers and the weapons of both were in the boys' hands. What should they do next? "Hi! Hi! Scat, you brutes! Get a move on!" Brittler's voice shattered the midnight stillness as he came, driving the sheep before him. From their covert the boys could look across the pasture and see the black, leaping shapes fast drawing nearer. It was high time to prepare to meet their second foe. "Throppy, Whittington, Filippo! Come here! Quick!" They came, Percy in the rear, his knees shaking. "Budge, can the four of you handle this man if I let go?" "Easy!" "Keep his mouth shut till I tell you he can open it!" "All right!" Lane's hand replaced Jim's over Dolph's lips. The other three grasped him wherever they could find a chance. It would not have taken much to shake off Percy's trembling grip, but the prisoner was content to remain quiet. There was a patter of hoofs; the sheep were coming. Soon they were flitting by the ambush, shying off as their keen senses warned them of possible danger. Again they scattered toward the northwest end of the island. After them danced Brittler, roaring with anger. "What are you waiting for, you numskull?" he cried. "Why didn't you shoot? I heard you fire once some minutes ago, and thought you might have been aiming at a stray one. I had almost the whole flock bunched right before me. You couldn't get a better chance if you waited a week. Now I've got to waste another half-hour chasing 'em round again. What's the matter with you, anyway? Why don't you speak?" He was within five yards of the silent group under the spruces when Spurling's voice rang sharply out: "Halt there!" At the same instant he flashed the ray from his electric lantern straight into the captain's face. Brittler stopped short, as if struck by lightning. His jaw dropped, and a ludicrous look of alarm and bewilderment overspread his features. "Take your hand off his mouth, Budge," ordered Jim, "and let him tell the captain what's happened." Thus adjured, Dolph spoke: "I've been taken prisoner, Captain. They jumped on me in the dark and I had a chance to fire only one shot. I think there's at least half a dozen of 'em, and they've got both our revolvers, so we haven't a chance. That's all there is to it." Brittler had recovered from his first panic. He bristled up with pretended indignation. "What do you mean, whoever you are, by jumping on us this way? And take that light off my face! I don't like it." Spurting did not remove the steady ray from the features of the irate captain. He waited a moment before replying. "Captain Brittler," he said, "you and Dolph came to steal sheep, and it isn't your fault that you haven't been able to do it. You thought there was nobody on this island and that you could kill and take to suit yourselves. You've been caught red-handed. By good rights you ought to be turned over to the sheriff. We'll let you go this time, but if we catch you here on such an errand again you'll have a chance to tell your story before a jury." "How'd you come to know my name?" blustered the captain. "I s'pose you've been pumping that mealy-mouthed landlubber of a Dolph." "Dolph hasn't said a word till he spoke to you just now. He couldn't. I guess we understand each other, so you and he had better start for the _Silicon_. You'll find your dory in the rockweed about fifty feet east of the cove. I'll keep your revolvers a few days, and then mail them to you at the Rockland post-office. You can get 'em there. Better go now! Turn that man loose, Budge!" Muttering vengeance, Dolph and the captain disappeared in the direction of the Sly Hole. After giving them ample time to find the dory, the boys quietly made their way to the north shore. A boat with two men was visible, rowing out to the _Silicon_. As soon as it reached its destination the schooner got under way and proceeded eastward. "I don't like the looks of that craft," said Spurling. "There's something suspicious about her. Did you hear what Dolph said to the captain about making money? They're engaged in some kind of smuggling, or I'll eat my hat! But what it can be I haven't any idea. Well, we're lucky to be rid of 'em so easily. Guess they'll give Tarpaulin Island a wide berth after this. And it's dollars to doughnuts the captain never inquires after those revolvers at the Rockland office. I didn't feel it was quite safe to give 'em back to him just now, but I didn't want to take 'em away for good. He can do as he pleases about sending for 'em." He yawned. "It's past one, and we'd better be getting back to camp, or we won't be in condition for our busy day to-morrow. Come on, boys!" Slowly, and a trifle weariedly, the five made their way across the island. Even though the fire in the stove had gone out long since, the warmth of the cabin felt good to them. "Well, Whittington," remarked Spurling as they once more crept into their bunks, "how do you like your first night on Tarpaulin? Some life out here, after all, eh?" Percy had recovered his assurance. Now that the experience was over he rather enjoyed it. "Not so bad," he replied. Before he went to sleep he lay for some time thinking. V GETTING READY A persistent metallic whirring broke rudely in upon the dreams of the heavy sleepers in Camp Spurling. It was four o'clock. It seemed to Percy as if he had never before found so much trouble in getting his eyes open. "Choke that clock off, somebody!" shouted Lane from overhead. "I'm not deaf, but I shall be if this hullabaloo keeps on much longer." Spurling, who was already half-dressed, checked the alarm. The red rays of the morning sun, striking through the eastern window, bathed everything in crimson. The minds of the boys turned naturally to the foiled thieves. "Where do you think the _Silicon_ is?" asked Throppy. "Twenty-five miles east, and making for Fundy as fast as sail and gasolene'll take her," replied Jim. "She can't go any too far or fast to suit me." A hearty breakfast of fried bacon, hot biscuits, and coffee made the drowsy crowd feel better. "Now," said Spurling, "we've got a big day's work ahead of us, and the sooner we start on it the better. We want to begin as quick as we can to round up some of those dollars that are finning and crawling in to us, so we mustn't waste any time in getting our trawls and traps overboard. First of all, we need bait. We can buy hake heads for our lobster-traps from the fish-wharf at Matinicus, and herring for the trawls from one of the weirs at Vinalhaven. That means traveling over forty miles; but it's fine weather, and we ought to do it easily. Besides, it'll give you fellows a good chance to learn how to handle a power-sloop. We'll take the trawls with us, and bait 'em on the way back, so as not to lose any time; and we'll set most of those lobster-traps this afternoon." They all went over to the fish-house, and Jim swung the door wide open. Five great hogsheads inside caught Percy's eye. "What're those for?" he asked. "Holding fish. Each one'll take care of what two thousand pounds of round fish'll make after they're dressed and salted." "What do you mean by round fish?" "Just as they come out of the water, before they're cleaned." "What're those half-barrels, full of small rope?" "Trawl-tubs; and those coils inside are the trawls. Each tub holds about five hundred fathoms of ground-line, with a thirty-eight-inch ganging, or short line with a hook on its end, tied every five feet; so there're between five hundred and six hundred hooks to every tub. One man alone can bait and handle four tubs of trawl. Two of us are going to fish together, so we ought to be able to swing six tubs without any trouble." Percy looked about the house. Other barrels stood there; a net was draped over the beams; many coils of small rope were hung along the walls or piled on the floor. His attention was attracted by a large heap of peculiarly shaped pieces of wood. Each was eighteen inches long, five inches square at one end, and tapered almost to a point at the other, near which a hole was bored; they were painted white, encircled by a single green stripe, and bore the brand "SP." "Cedar lobster-buoys," said Jim. "SP's my Uncle Tom's brand. Every man has a different kind, so his floats won't get mixed with anybody else's. Now let's take these tubs of trawl aboard the sloop." At six the _Barracouta_, carrying the five boys and towing the dory, started from Sprowl's Cove for Matinicus. It was so calm that the sails were of little assistance, and they had to depend almost entirely on the engine. Rounding Brimstone Point, they headed slightly north of west for Seal Island, about six miles away. Everybody took his turn at steering, Jim acting as instructor. "Any one of you may be called on to handle this boat alone some time in the next three months, and you can't begin learning how any too early." Percy's experience with automobiles stood him in good stead. He was naturally interested in machinery, and soon mastered the details of the _Barracouta's_ engine. The others also showed themselves apt pupils. At half past seven the high cliffs of Seal Island lay to the north. Passing for a mile along its rocky shores, they kept on toward Matinicus, now rising into view. Jim pointed to a breaker a little south of their course. "Malcolm's Ledges! A bad bunch of rocks. Years ago a fishing-schooner struck there in the night. Crew thought at first they'd reached safety, but they soon found it was only a half-tide ledge. The vessel heaved over it when the water rose, and sunk, so that only her topmast stuck out. One man, the sole survivor, hung to that. He was taken off in the morning, but his arm was worn almost to the bone by the swaying of the mast." Farther on they passed the long, treeless, granite hump of Wooden Ball, with its few lobstering-shacks, and sheep grazing in its grassy valleys. Ledge after ledge went by, until at last they entered the little rocky haven of Matinicus, crammed with moored sloops and power-boats, and ran in beside the high, granite fish-pier at its head. Percy found everything new and strange--the stilted wharves on the ledges, heaped with lobster-traps and festooned with buoys of all shapes and colors; the fish-pier with its open shed, sheltering the dark, discolored hogsheads rounded up with salted fish; the men in oilskin "petticoats," busy with splitting-knives on hake and cod and pollock and haddock, brought in by the noisy power-boats; the lighthouse-keepers from Matinicus Rock, five miles south, in military caps, oilskins, and red rubber boots, towing a dory to be dumped full of slimy hake heads for lobster bait; the post-office and general store above the cove, and the spruce-crowned rocks beyond it. [Illustration: THE CAMP AT SPROWL'S COVE] Jim pointed out a bronze tablet on a slanting ledge. "In memory of Ebenezer Hall, first English settler on Matinicus. He lived with his family in a log house at the head of this cove. In 1757 some Indians were camped on one of the Green Islands, six miles or so northwest, living on the eggs of seabirds. Hall went over to the island one day and set fire to the grass, destroying the nests and eggs. Next morning five Indians in two canoes came over to Matinicus to take revenge. They landed on this beach, built a fire, and began cooking their breakfast. Hall had barricaded himself indoors, but he could put his head up through a little lookout in the top of his cabin. He wanted to shoot the Indians, but his wife wouldn't let him. After they had eaten they scattered and opened fire on the house from different points. Hall replied. Finally the Indians were reduced to their last half-bullet. One of them lay flat in that little hollow, while the others pretended to launch their canoes. Hall stuck his head up through the lookout to see what was going on, and the ambushed Indian sent the half-bullet through his brain. He dropped back inside. They wouldn't have known he was hit if his wife hadn't cried out for quarter. They burst open the door and carried her off, with her daughter and one son. Another boy escaped out of a back window and hid in the swamp, and they couldn't find him. Afterward he settled on an island close to Vinalhaven, where Heron's Neck Light is now." "Hall had better not have burned that grass," said Percy. "Yes," replied Jim. "If he had minded his own business and let the Indians alone he wouldn't have stopped that last half-bullet." The fish-pier was in charge of a superintendent, employed by a large Gloucester concern. Jim arranged to sell here whatever fish they might catch during the summer. He also bought several bushels of salt, as well as two barrels of hake heads to start them in lobstering. The _Barracouta's_ tank was filled with twenty-five gallons of gasolene, and six five-gallon cans were purchased besides. The boat would require about seven gallons a day for ordinary fishing, so this would supply them for more than a week. "How often do you get the mail?" asked Jim of the storekeeper, who was also postmaster. "Three times a week by steamer from Rockland--Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays." As Spurling had decided to bring his fish over every Friday, they would thus be enabled to keep in fairly close touch with the outside world. Percy, however, was somewhat disgusted. He had gotten into the habit of thinking he could not live without a daily paper. While the others were purchasing various supplies, including some mosquito netting, he replenished his stock of cigarettes. "Anybody here got a wireless?" inquired Throppy. "No, but there's one on Criehaven, three miles south." Throppy had planned to install an outfit on Tarpaulin, and had already written home to have his plant there dismantled by his brother, and its parts forwarded by express to Matinicus. For an amateur he was an expert operator. The _Barracouta_ was already well loaded when, with the dory towing behind, she rounded the granite breakwater and started for Vinalhaven, twelve miles away. At noon they ran in alongside Hardy's weir on the eastern shore of the island. Several bushels of glittering herring were dipped aboard, and the heavily freighted sloop at once swung away on her fifteen-mile jaunt to Tarpaulin. "Now," said Jim, as soon as they were well clear of the island, "I'll teach you how to bait up. Take the tiller, Filippo." Emptying out the ground-line from one of the tubs, he took a small herring in his left hand, and with his right grasped the shank of the hook on the first ganging; he forced the sharp point into the fish until the barb had gone clean through and the herring was impaled firmly. Then he dropped the hook into the empty tub, giving the ganging a deft swing, so that it fell in a smooth coil. He repeated the process swiftly, while the others watched him with interest. "How many hooks can you bait in a minute?" asked Budge. "Time me." Budge followed the second-hand of his watch while the coil in the tub grew larger. "Better than ten a minute," he announced. "That's going some." "It's slow to what some fishermen can do. It means about an hour to a tub. Catch hold, you fellows, and see how fast you can do it. Might as well make a beginning. You'll have plenty of experience before the summer's ended. I'll take her awhile, Filippo." The other boys, Percy included, were soon hard at work, each on his own tub. At first they made a slow, awkward business of it. Impatient exclamations rose as the sharp hooks were stuck into clumsy fingers. Finally Percy threw down his trawl in a fit of anger. "I've had enough of this! I didn't come out here to butcher myself." "You can steer," said Jim, quietly. "I'll take your place." Percy stepped to the helm, and Jim began baiting again. The others stuck to their unfamiliar task, despite its discouragements, and were soon making fair headway. Percy eyed them sulkily. His pricked fingers smarted. The boat rolled and pitched on the old swell, making him a trifle seasick. A wave of disgust swept over him. This was no place for the son of a millionaire. He wished himself back on the land. By the time they reached Tarpaulin, at about half past four, all the six trawls were baited. "We won't set them till day after to-morrow," determined Jim. "Guess we can find enough work to keep us busy ashore till then." There was no doubt about that. Until supper-time various odd jobs kept everybody occupied. Most important of all, the mosquito netting was cut and tacked over the three windows. "Now we can have plenty of fresh air with the mosquitoes strained out of it," said Jim. Boughs of spruce and fir were brought from the woods and strewn in the bunks under the blankets. That night the boys turned in early and slept like the dead. Even Percy could find little fault with his pillow and mattress of fragrant needles. In the morning he took a swim. The water was too cold for comfort, and inadvertently he ran into a school of jellyfish, from which he emerged feeling as if he were on fire all over. He dressed hurriedly, shivering and disgruntled. The novelty of Tarpaulin was wearing off, and he hoped heartily that he would soon be in a more interesting place. A month there would drag horribly. That forenoon the inside of the cabin was put to rights. The spring was cleaned out and stoned up. Under Jim's direction the boys gathered a heap of driftwood and dragged it up to the highest part of Brimstone Point. There a beacon was built, and kindling placed beneath it. "That'll serve as a lighthouse in case any of us get caught out at night and lose our way," said Jim. The remainder of the morning was spent in fitting up the lobster-traps with warps, toggles, and buoys. During dinner the summer's work was discussed and the boys were allotted their respective duties. To Jim fell naturally the oversight of the fishing and lobstering. Lane was to receive and disburse all moneys, and have general charge of the business matters of the concern. Throppy, because of his mechanical and inventive turn of mind, was intrusted with the duty of seeing that the cabin, the boats, and all the gear were kept in first-class shape. "Now," concluded Jim, "so far the most important position of all has gone begging. Who'll be cook? Whittington, it lies between you and Filippo." "You can strike my name from the ballot at the go-off," stated Percy, promptly. "I never even boiled an egg in my life, and I don't intend to begin now." [Illustration] "That narrows it down to Filippo," said Jim. "What do you say? Will you cook for us?" The Italian's melancholy olive face lighted up with pleasure. "_Si, si!_" he exclaimed, gladly. "I will cook." "Good enough! You're elected, then! We'll all tell you everything we know. Here's an old cook-book on the shelf, and well teach you the recipes. That leaves Whittington for general-utility man. He'll be our hewer of wood and drawer of water, to say nothing of washing the dishes. We'll all feel free to call on him whenever any of us gets into a tight place. How does that hit you, Whittington?" "Never touched me! I'm no servant." "What will you do, then?" inquired Jim, pointedly. "Just what I please, and not a thing besides," replied Percy, with equal directness. The others exchanged looks, but Jim said no more. The greater part of the afternoon was devoted to setting the lobster-traps. They were loaded on the sloop, dory, and pea-pod, taken out, and dropped overboard around the island, brown bottles, of which there was a generous supply in the shed, being fastened to the warps for "toggles," to hold them off the bottom, so that they might not catch on the rocks. By five all the traps were set. "You and Throppy can pull these to-morrow morning, Budge," said Jim, and he gave them brief directions. "I'll make a trip with you myself the next day. But to-morrow Whittington and I are going to see what we can get on the trawl." After an early supper they climbed the eastern point. The sheep, which were feeding on its top, scampered off at their approach, their retreat covered by the ram, with shaking head. Nemo rushed, barking, after the flock, only to be butted ignominiously head over heels and to retreat, yelping, to the beach. "Bully for Aries!" laughed Throppy. "Who's Aries?" asked Percy. "The ram, of course! Where's your Latin?" "Never heard the word. Where do these sheep drink, anyway? Out of the spring?" "No," replied Jim. "The dew on the grass gives them all the moisture they need." Sandpeeps were teetering along the ledges below. Two seals bobbed their round, black heads in the surf at the promontory's foot. A mile to the south rose the spout of a whale. "Many craft go by here?" inquired Budge. "Plenty. Fishing-schooners, tugs with their tows, yachts, tramp steamers, sailing-vessels from the Bay of Fundy for Boston, and every little while a smack or power-boat. The ocean liners to Portland pass about fifteen miles south. So we oughtn't to be lonesome." On the highest part of the point Throppy found a dead spruce about twenty feet tall, which he picked as a mast for his wireless. Its top would be at least sixty feet above the cabin, so he could talk over twenty-five miles. He had brought with him four hundred feet of copper bell-wire and a dozen or so cleat insulators. He cut two spruce spreaders, and strung his antennæ. Then he made a hole through the cabin wall, improvised an insulator out of a broken bottle, and a rough table out of a spare box, and was ready to install his batteries and instruments as soon as they should arrive. The boys returned to the cabin. "How about those conditions, Whittington?" asked Budge. "Going to begin making 'em up?" "No hurry about that," responded Percy, indifferently. He went outside to smoke a cigarette. The bull-frogs were singing in the marsh. Inside, Roger was making a start on teaching Filippo English, and learning a little Italian in return. Throppy was tuning his violin. He played a short selection, and then the boys turned in. "To-morrow we start fishing in dead earnest," said Jim. "Whittington and I'll get up at midnight, and Filippo'll have to give us breakfast. You other fellows won't need to turn out till four. Here's hoping for good luck all round!" Percy made a wry face. The hour for rising did not sound good to him, but there was no harm in trying it once. After that he would see. Soon all were sound asleep, lulled by the murmur of the surf. VI TRAWLING FOR HAKE "Turn out, Whittington! All aboard for the fishing-grounds!" Spurling's voice, reinforcing the last echoes of the alarm-clock, dispelled Percy's inclination to roll over for another nap. Jim's strong tones carried a suggestion of authority which the younger lad was half minded to resent. He swallowed his pride, however, rolled out, and dressed. It was only a half-hour after midnight when he sat down with Jim to a breakfast of warmed-over beans, corn-bread, and coffee, prepared by Filippo. Budge and Throppy were sleeping soundly. They would not get up until three hours later. Percy envied them, but he ate a good meal. "Now," directed Jim, "pull on those rubber boots and get into your oil-clothes. You'll see before long why they're useful. Trawling's a cold, wet, dirty business, and you want to be well prepared for it. And don't forget those nippers! They'll protect your hands from the chafe of the line." Taking buoys, anchors, and other gear from the fish-house, they got into the dory and rowed out to the _Barracouta_. The six tubs of trawl, baited two afternoons before, were already on board. They stowed everything in its place, then headed out of the cove, towing the dory. It was a clear, cool night. A light wind was blowing from the north, but the sea was fairly smooth. "Guess we'll run down to Clay Bank," said Spurling. "It's only six miles to the southward. We ought to get a good set there." Steadily they plowed on. It was Percy's first experience in a small boat on the midnight ocean, and he felt something akin to awe as they breasted the long swells, heaving in slowly and gently, yet resistlessly. Down to the horizon all around arched the deep blue firmament, spangled with stars. Matinicus Rock glittered in the west, while just beyond the shoulder of Brimstone Point, Saddleback Light, almost level with the sea, kept vanishing and reappearing. As the _Barracouta_ forged forward her prow started two diverging lines of phosphorescent bubbles and her wake resembled a trail of boiling flame. Percy called Jim's attention to the display. "Yes," remarked the latter, "the water's firing in good shape to-night." There was a sudden splash to starboard. A gleaming body several feet long rolled up above the surface; a grunting sigh broke the silence; and the apparition disappeared. "What's that?" demanded the startled Percy. "Porpoise! 'Puffing pig.'" For over an hour Jim held the sloop to an exact course by means of his compass. At half past two he stopped the engine. "Well, I guess we're here!" "We're here, fast enough!" assented Percy, staring about. "But where's here? Doesn't look any different to me from anywhere else." "Clay Bank." With his sounding-lead Jim tried the depth of the water. "Thought so! Fifty fathoms!" He prepared at once to set the trawl. Dropping the outer jib and mainsail, he jogged slowly before the wind under the jumbo, or inner jib. "Now let her go!" Over splashed the buoy, an empty pickle-keg, painted red, and drifted astern. Next, down went the light anchor. As soon as it reached bottom Jim lifted the first tub of trawl to the wash-board. Then with the heaving-stick, eighteen inches long and whittled to a point, he began to flirt overboard the coils lying in the tub. Percy, holding the lantern, watched the steady stream of gangings and herring-baited hooks follow one another over the side and sink astern. In a surprisingly short time the tub was empty, and the five hundred fathoms of trawl, with more than a hook to a fathom, lay in a long, straight line on the muddy bottom, three hundred feet below. A second tub trailed after the first, its trawl being attached to the end of the other. The four remaining tubs followed in order. At the junction of the second and third a buoy was fastened, and another between the fourth and fifth. To the end of the trawl from the sixth and last tub was tied another anchor, and as soon as it had reached bottom the last buoy was cast over. They had set almost three and a half miles of trawl, bearing more than thirty-one hundred short, baited lines. "And there's a good job done!" exclaimed Jim, as the last buoy floated astern. "Here's to a ten-pound hake on every hook!" "Do you often catch as many as that?" inquired Percy, innocently. Jim laughed. "Hardly! We'll be more than lucky if we get a tenth of that number." Day was now breaking. The night wind had died out and, save for the long, oily swells, the sea was absolutely calm. Jim started the engine and swung the _Barracouta_ round, and they ran leisurely back to the other end of the trawl, meanwhile eating the lunch Filippo had put up for them. Soon they were close to the first red buoy. "Now for business!" said Jim. He stepped into the dory. "Guess you know enough about automobiles, Whittington, to handle this engine. Keep the sloop close by and watch me haul. You can take your turn when I get tired." Gaffing the buoy aboard, he pulled up the anchor, and soon was hauling in the trawl over the wooden roller on the starboard bow. Percy watched with all his eyes. This was real fishing. As the line came in Jim coiled it smoothly down into an empty tub on a stand in the bow. The first three hooks were skinned clean. "Something down there, at any rate," he commented. The trawl sagged heavily. "First fish, and a good-sized one! Pretty logy, though! Feels like a hake!" Percy stared down into the blackish-green water. Out of its gloomy depths rose an indistinct shadow, gradually assuming definite shape. A blunt, lumpy head with big, staring eyes broke the surface; two long streamers hung from beneath the lower jaw. Jim reached for his gaff. "Hake! And a good one, too!" Striking the sharp iron hook through the fish's gills, he lifted the slimy gray body over the gunwale, unhooked it, and slung it, floundering, over the kid-board into the empty space amidships. "Fifteen-pounder! Wish we could get a hundred more like him! Hullo! Who's next?" The newcomer had a huge reddish-brown head with bulging cheeks; his blotched body, adorned with wicked spines, tapered slimly off to an inconspicuous tail. "Horn-pout! Toad sculpin! Bah! Get out!" Jim slat the fish disgustedly off, and he sculled slowly downward. Two more bare hooks. Then three hake in succession, the largest not over five pounds. On the next line hung a writhing, twisting shape about eighteen inches long. With a wry face Jim held the thing up for Percy's inspection. "Slime eel! He's tied the ganging into knots and thrown off his jacket. Look here!" He stripped from the line a handful of tough, stringy slime like a mass of soft soap. "How's that for an overcoat! They always throw it off when they get hung up on a trawl." Flinging the stuff away with a grimace, he rinsed his hand and cut off the ganging with his knife. "No use trying to unhook that fellow!" Fathom after fathom of trawl came in over the roller. The flapping, dying heap in the center of the dory enlarged steadily. Jim was spattered with scales from head to foot, and drenched with water from the splashing tails. He stopped for a moment to rest. [Illustration] "Now you see what oil-clothes are good for," said he. "I'll give you your chance in a little while." Percy had kept the _Barracouta_ near by as Jim pulled the dory along the trawl. He could watch the process very well from the sloop, and he was by no means anxious for a personal experience with it. It looked too much like hard work. He made no reply to Jim's offer. Refreshed by his rest, the latter resumed hauling. Up came a little cluster of yellow plums, as large as small walnuts, each on a stem six inches long, attached to a brownish bunch of roots. "Nigger-heads! Always grow on rocky bottom; nicest kind of place for fish. Trawl must have run over a patch of ledge. We're likely to pick up something here besides hake. What's this?" A heavy fish appeared, hanging motionless on the next ganging. Jim gave a shout. "Haddock! Twelve-pounder. Swallowed the hook and worried himself to death. Drowned!" "Drown a fish!" jeered Percy. "Sure you can, any kind of fish, if you only keep his mouth open. If this fellow hadn't taken the bait in so deep he'd have been liable to break away. Fishermen call 'em 'butter-mouths,' their flesh is so tender; under jaw's the only place where a hook will hold to lift 'em by. See his red lips, and that black streak down each side. And look at these two black spots, big as silver dollars, on his shoulders; that's where they say the devil got him between his thumb and forefinger, but couldn't hold on." It was now not far from four o'clock. The sun, rising straight from the water, lifted his fiery red disk above the eastern horizon. It was a strange sight to Percy. The sunrises he had seen could almost be numbered on the fingers of one hand. He yawned. The novelty of trawling was wearing off; he wished himself back in his hard bunk. A heavy, chunky fish of an old-gold color, with an almost continuous line of fins, was the next habitant of the sea to cross the dory gunwale. Jim held him up to show Percy. "Look at this cusk! He likes rocky bottom as well as a haddock. He's used to deep water, and if you start him up quick his stomach will blow out of his mouth like a bladder. I've seen 'em so plenty that they floated a trawl on top of water for half a mile." Seven or eight small haddock and cusk, and then once more the trawl began to yield hake. "Back again on muddy bottom," said Jim. "What d'you say to trying your hand at it?" Percy agreed, but without enthusiasm. He had seen enough to realize that pulling a trawl was no sinecure. By means of a fish-fork Jim pitched his catch aboard the sloop. The first tub of trawl was now full. He transferred it to the _Barracouta_ and set an empty tub in its place. "You'll find fishing is no bed of roses," he remarked as he dropped down into the standing-room. "I believe you," answered Percy, with conviction. He started to get aboard the dory. "Not there!" warned Jim. "Forward of the kid-board!" The caution came too late. Percy stepped into the slippery pen from which the fish had just been pitched; unluckily, too, he was not careful to plant his weight amidships. The dory, overbalanced to starboard, careened suddenly, and he fell sprawling on the slimy bottom. Jim could not repress an exclamation of impatience. "Why didn't you step where I told you?" "I didn't think she'd tip so easy," retorted Percy, angrily. In bad humor with himself and things in general, he scrambled up and took his place back of the empty tub. Jim sheered the _Barracouta_ off. "Put on your nippers! If you don't your hands will be raw in a little while." Percy thrust his fingers through the white woolen doughnuts, grasped the trawl, and began dragging it in over the roller. He made slow, awkward work of it. Jim watched him with ill-suppressed impatience, keeping up a constant stream of necessary counsel. "Careful! Don't jerk so, or you'll catch your hooks in the gunwale. There's a good-sized one! Don't try to lift him aboard without the gaff. Press your hook down and back! Don't yank it sideways like that; you'll only hook him harder. Coil that line away more evenly, or we'll have a bad mess when we come to bait up. Don't lose that fellow! There he goes! Be more careful of the next one!" Needful though it was, this quickfire of advice rasped on Percy's temper. The unaccustomed work tired him badly. He was soon conscious of a pain in his shoulders and across the back of his neck; his wrists ached. Every now and then the hard, wiry line slipped off the nippers and sawed across his smarting fingers or palms. But pride kept him doggedly pulling. A dozen hake of various sizes lay behind him in the pen when a flat, kite-shaped fish, four feet long, with a caricature of a human face beneath its head, came scaling up through the water. "What's that?" he gasped in amazement. "Skate!" "Shall I keep him?" "Keep him? No! Unless you want to eat him yourself." Bunglingly Percy tried to dismiss his unwelcome catch, but he made slow work of extricating the deeply swallowed hook. Jim had stopped the _Barracouta_ a few feet off. With the agony that an expert feels at the unskilful butchery of a task by an amateur, he watched his mate's awkward attempts. At last he could stand it no longer. "Come aboard the sloop, Whittington," he ordered. "I'll finish pulling the trawl." Percy obeyed sullenly. He had almost reached his limit of physical endurance, and he was only too glad of relief for his smarting skin and aching muscles. Fishing was a miserable business, and he wanted no part of it; on that he was fully decided. But even if a job is unpleasant, a man would rather resign than be discharged. Jim's abruptness hurt his pride; the slight rankled. From the _Barracouta_ he somewhat enviously watched Spurling deftly unhook the skate. The remainder of the trawl was pulled in in silence. Percy kept the sloop at a distance that discouraged speech, closing the gap only when Jim signaled that he wished to discharge his cargo. By ten o'clock the last hook was reached, anchor and buoy taken aboard, and the _Barracouta_, with two thousand pounds of fish heaped in her kids and towing astern in the dory, headed for Tarpaulin Island. The trip home was a glum one. Two or three times Jim tried to open a conversation, but Percy responded only in monosyllables. He was tired and sleepy, and felt generally out-of-sorts. So Jim gave it up and let him alone. They reached Sprowl's Cove at noon. Budge and Throppy had returned some time before from pulling the lobster-traps; Jim inspected their catch. "About forty pounds," was his estimate. "Rather slim; but then the traps were down only about twelve hours. We'll do better after we get fairly started. I'm not going trawling to-morrow; so the whole crowd can make a lobstering trip in the _Barracouta_. Now let's have dinner. This afternoon we'll all turn to and dress fish." Percy filed a mental negative to the last statement. He had decided that, so far at least as Tarpaulin Island was concerned, his fishing days were over. Nevertheless, he ate a good dinner. At one o'clock the four academy boys rowed out to the _Barracouta_. All but Percy had on their oilskin aprons, or "petticoats." "Where's your regimentals, Whittington?" asked Lane. "I'm only going to look on this afternoon," replied Percy. The other three exchanged surprised glances, but made no comments. On board the sloop Jim was soon busily engaged in demonstrating the process of dressing fish. Budge and Throppy learned quickly. Percy's refusal to take part in the work did not prevent him from watching it with interest from the cabin roof. The fish were split and cleaned. Their heads were cut off and thrown into a barrel, to serve later as lobster bait, and the livers tossed into pails. Their "sounds," the membrane running along the backbone, were removed and placed in a box. After the bodies had been rinsed in a tub of water, and the backbones cut out, they were flung into the dory, taken ashore and plunged into another tub of water, and then salted down in hogsheads. Three pairs of hands made speedy work. "What do you do with those?" Percy pointed to the pails containing the livers. "Leave 'em in a barrel in the sun to be tried out," responded Jim. "The oil is worth more than sixty cents a gallon." "And those?" He indicated the box of "sounds." "Cut 'em open with a pair of shears, press out the blood, and spread 'em on wire netting to dry for three days; then sew 'em up in sacks, to be shipped to some glue-factory. Four pounds of 'em'll bring a dollar. These things and some others are the by-products of the fishing business. They're worth too much to throw away." Percy's eye dwelt on the knives and aprons of his three associates. "I'm glad I don't have to fish for a living," he said. VII SHORTS AND COUNTERS Percy slept soundly that night. To be sure, the alarm routed out the Spurlingites at the unseemly hour of four, but that was far better than twelve. After breakfast he enjoyed a cigarette on the beach while the others were helping Filippo clear away. It was a calm, beautiful morning, and as young Whittington gazed over the smooth, blue sea he felt that even a fisherman's life might have its redeeming features. At six they all started to make the round of the lobster-traps, on the _Barracouta_. The first string of white buoys, striped with green, was encountered off Brimstone Point. "Here's where we make a killing," said Jim. As he approached the first buoy he opened his switch, stopping the engine. Putting on his woolen mittens, he picked up the gaff. Close under the starboard quarter bobbed the brown bottle that served as a toggle. Reaching out with his gaff, he hooked this aboard, and began hauling in the warp. At last the heavily weighted trap started off bottom and began to ascend. In a half-minute its end, draped with marine growths, broke the surface. Holding the trap against the side, Jim tore off its incumbrances. The trailing mass was composed principally of irregular, brownish-black, leathery sheets at the end of long stems. "Kelp!" answered Jim to Percy's inquiry. "Devil's aprons! They grow on rocky bottom. I've seen a trap so loaded with 'em that you could hardly stir it." He dragged the lath coop up on the side. It contained a miscellaneous assortment, the most interesting objects in which were four or five black, scorpion-like shell-fish clinging to the netted heads and sprawling on the bottom. Unbuttoning the door at the top, Jim darted in his hand and seized one of these by its back. Round came the claws, wide open, and snapped shut close to his fingers; but he had grasped his prize at the one spot where the brandishing pincers could not reach him. "He's a 'counter,' fast enough! No need of measuring him! Must weigh at least two pounds." Jim dropped the snapping shell-fish into a tub in the standing-room. "I thought lobsters were red," remarked Percy. "They are--after you boil 'em." Spurling's hand went into the trap again. This time the result was not so satisfactory. Out came a little fellow, full of fight. Jim tested his length by pressing his back between the turned-up ends of a brass measure screwed against the side of the standing-room. "Thought so! He's a 'short'!" He tossed the lobster overboard. "What did you throw him away for?" asked Percy. "Isn't he good to eat?" "Nothing better! But it's the State law. Everything that comes short of four and three-fourths inches, solid bone measure, from the tip of the nose to the end of the back, has to be thrown over where it's caught." "Why's that?" "To keep 'em from being exterminated. It's based on the same principle as the law on trout or any other game-fish. Lobsters are growing scarcer every year, and something has to be done to preserve 'em." "Does everybody throw the little ones away?" "No! If they did there'd be more of legal size. The Massachusetts law allows the sale there of lobsters an inch and a half shorter than the length specified here; so their smacks come down, lie outside the three-mile limit, and buy 'shorts' of every fisherman who's willing to break the Maine law to sell 'em. Besides that, most of the summer cottagers along the coast buy and catch all the 'shorts' they can. So it's no wonder the lobster's running out." While Jim talked he was emptying the trap. Another "counter" went into the tub, and two more "shorts" splashed overboard. The financial side of the question interested Percy. "How many 'shorts' will you probably get a week?" "Five hundred or more." "And how much would a Massachusetts smack pay you for 'em?" "Ten or twelve cents apiece." "Then you expect to throw more than fifty dollars a week over the side, just to obey the law?" "That's what!" Percy lapsed into silence. The lobsters disposed of, Jim began to clear the trap of its other contents. A big brown sculpin was floundering on the laths. Taking him out gingerly, Jim tossed him into the bait-tub upon the hake heads. "He'll do for bait in a few days." He picked out and threw over three or four large starfish, or "five-fingers." The hake head stuck on the bait-spear in the center was almost gone; Jim replaced it with a fresh head from the bait-tub. Then he seized a mottled, purplish crab that had been aimlessly scuttling to and fro across the bottom of the pot, and impaled him, back down, on the barb of the spear. Shutting and buttoning the door, he slid the trap overboard, started his engine, and headed for the next buoy. Its trap was caught among the rocks on the bottom, and Jim, unable to start it by hand, was obliged to make the warp fast and have recourse to towing. Just as it looked as if the line were about to part, the trap let go. It yielded one "counter" and three "shorts." Also, it contained more than a dozen brown, unhealthy-looking, membranous things, shaped like long coin-purses, lined with rows of suckers, and with mouths at one end. "Sea-cucumbers! I've seen a trap full of 'em, almost to the door. They're after the bait, like everything else." Trap after trap was pulled, with varying success. Occasionally from a single one three or four good-sized lobsters would be taken; occasionally one would yield nothing at all. But the majority averaged one "counter." Percy could not accustom himself to the seeming waste of throwing over the "shorts." "I should think you might sell those little fellows to the Massachusetts boats, and nobody be the wiser for it." "I could; but I won't. I'll make clean money or I won't make any at all." There was a finality in Jim's tones that closed the subject for good. Half the traps had now been hauled and there were about seventy-five pounds of lobsters in the tub. Spiny, egg-like sea-urchins, green wrinkles, and an occasional flounder or lamper-eel gave variety to the catch. There was always the hope that the next trap might yield five or six big fellows. "Now and then," said Jim, "you get one so large he can't crawl into a pot. He'll be on the head, just as you start pulling, and he'll hang to the netting until he comes to the top. After they take hold of anything, they hate to let go." "What's the biggest one you ever saw?" asked Lane. "One day when I was in Rockland, a smack brought in a fifteen-pounder she'd bought at Seal Island. But of course they grow a good deal larger than that. The big ones don't taste nearly so good as the little ones. After they get to be a certain age, seven or eight years, the fishermen think, they don't 'shed.' Then you find 'em covered with barnacles, their claws cracked into squares, all wrinkled up. Those old grubbers belong to the offshore school; they stay outside, and never come in on the rocks." Percy was listening with all his ears. "What do you mean by saying they don't 'shed'?" he asked. "Harken to the lecture on lobsters by Professor James Spurling!" announced Lane in stentorian tones. The next group of traps was some distance off, so Jim had a chance to talk without interruption. "In the spring a lobster that is growing begins to find his shell too tight, so he has to get out of it. Some time after the first of July he crawls in under the rocks or kelp, where the fish can't trouble him. His shell splits down the back and he pulls himself out. He stays there for a week or ten days while a new and larger shell is forming. When he begins to crawl again, he's raving hungry. One queer thing I almost forgot. Fishermen say that, while he is lying under cover, all soft and unprotected, a hard-shell lobster, active and ugly, generally stands guard outside the hole, ready to fight off any enemy that may come along." By the time the last trap was pulled the lobster question had been pretty thoroughly canvassed. "Guess I've told you all I know, and more, too," said Jim. They were back in Sprowl's Cove at half past ten, and put their lobsters into the car with the others. Hardly had they finished when a motor-sloop came round the eastern point. "Here's a smack!" exclaimed Jim. "On time to the minute! Shouldn't wonder if it was Captain Higgins in the _Calista!_" The boat swept into the cove in a broad circle, and ranged alongside the car. At the helm stood a tall, grizzled man of perhaps sixty, with gray beard and twinkling blue eyes. A lanky, freckled boy stuck his head up out of the cabin. "Any lobsters to sell, boys?" inquired the man. "Isn't this Captain Higgins?" asked Jim. [Illustration] "That's my name--Benjamin B. Higgins, of the smack _Calista_, buying lobsters from Cranberry Island to Portland, and this is my son Brad, my first mate and crew. I own this boat from garboard to main truck, bowsprit-tip to boom-end, and I don't wear any man's dog-collar. I'll give you a square deal on weight and pay you as much as any smackman, neither more nor less. Do we trade?" "We do," answered Jim. "Let's have your dip-net!" Stepping upon the car, he was soon bailing out the lobsters. Captain Higgins placed them in a tub on his deck scale. "Going to be here long, boys?" "We've taken the island for the season from my Uncle Tom Sprowl." "So you're Cap'n Tom's nephew? Must be Ezra Spurling's boy." Jim nodded. "Glad to meet you! Made a trip once to the Grand Banks with Ezra; must be all of thirty years ago. Well, time flies! If you'll save your lobsters for me, I'll look in here every Thursday. How does that hit you?" "Right between the eyes." After the lobsters were bailed out, Jim and Budge went on board the smack. Captain Higgins weighed the heaping tub of shell-fish. "One hundred and seventy pounds. Market price 's twenty-five." He glanced inquiringly at Jim. "All right!" agreed the latter. "Then we'll put 'em in the well." He lifted off a hatch aft of the scale, opening into a compartment containing something over three feet of water; it was twelve feet long and thirteen wide, and divided into two parts by a low partition running lengthwise of the sloop. Two water-tight bulkheads separated it from the rest of the boat, and several hundred inch-and-a-quarter holes, bored through its bottom to allow free access to the water outside, gave it the appearance of a pepper-box. It already contained hundreds of live lobsters. Picking the shell-fish carefully from the tub, Jim and the captain dropped them, one by one, into the well. Soon all were safely transferred to their new quarters, and the hatch was replaced. Captain Higgins invited Jim and Budge down into his little den of a cabin. Unlocking an iron box, he took from it a wallet and began counting out bills. "Forty-two dollars and a half!" He passed the amount over to Jim. "You carry quite a sum of ready money, Captain," said Lane. "Yes; I have to. This business is cash on the nail. My boat can take over twelve thousand pounds of lobsters, and sometimes she's almost filled. I've started out with three thousand dollars in that box, and I rarely go with less than two thousand. It'd surprise you to figure up the amount of cash these smacks spread along the coast. They say that one winter, when lobsters were specially high, a Portland dealer paid a smackman over fifty-five hundred dollars for a single trip." "Somebody must make a big profit. Think what a lobster costs in a market!" "Somebody does--sometimes. But it isn't the smackmen. Lobsters ought not to be kept in a well longer than a few days. A friend of mine started out from Halifax with ten thousand pounds of Cape Breton lobsters. He got caught in a gale of wind and lost forty-seven hundred pounds before he landed in Boston. Some years ago a Maine dealer put one hundred and five thousand lobsters in a pound during May and June; he fed them chiefly on herring, and the total cost was over ten thousand dollars. Things went wrong and he took out just two hundred and fifty-four live ones. Not much profit about that!" Arranging to call near noon the next Thursday, Captain Higgins had soon rounded Brimstone Point and was on his way to Head Harbor on Isle au Haut, his next stopping-place. In the middle of the afternoon, while the boys were baiting trawls on the _Barracouta_, another boat chugged into the cove. It was a smack from Boston. "Got any lobsters, boys?" asked the captain, a red-faced, smooth-shaven man of forty. "All sold!" was Jim's reply. "And we've arranged to let the _Calista_ have what we get." "What do you do with your 'shorts'?" "Heave 'em overboard." "Save 'em for me and I'll give you ten cents apiece for 'em." "Nothing doing!" "You and your crowd could clean up fifty dollars more a week here just as well as not. What are you afraid of? The warden can't get out here once in a dog's age." "The State of Maine doesn't have to hire any warden to keep me honest." "You're a fool, young fellow!" said the man, heatedly. "That may be," retorted Jim, "but your saying so doesn't make me one. Besides, I'd rather be a fool than a crook." The smackman's red face grew redder. "Don't you get fresh with me!" he warned, threateningly. "Do you mean to say I'd do anything crooked?" "You're the best judge about that." Jim was tiring of the conversation. He turned his back on the stranger and resumed baiting his trawl. Finding that nothing was to be gained by a longer stop, the man, muttering angrily, started his engine and left the cove. "I'm not saying whether this lobster law's a good thing or not," said Jim to the other boys. "Some fishermen say it isn't. But so long as it's the law it ought to be kept, until we can get a better one. I don't believe in breaking it just for the sake of making a few dollars." "Then the law doesn't suit everybody," ventured Throppy. "Not by a long shot! Each session of the Legislature they fight it over, and make some changes, and then a new set of people are dissatisfied. What's meat to one man is poison to another. It's impossible to pass a law somebody wouldn't find fault with." "What keeps one man from pulling another man's traps?" asked Percy. "His conscience, if he has any; and, if he hasn't, his dread of being found out. It's a mean kind of thieving, but more or less of it's done alongshore. Sometimes it costs a man dear. I know of two cases, within twenty-five miles of this island, where men have been shot dead for that very thing. About as unhealthy as stealing horses out West, if you're caught. Like everything else, now and then it has its funny side. Once a lobsterman lost his watch, chain and all; for a day or two he was asking everybody he met if they'd seen it. A neighbor of his went out to pull his own traps. In one of them he found the first man's watch, hanging by its chain to the door, just where it had been caught and twitched out of its owner's pocket when he had slid the trap overboard, after stealing the lobsters in it. It was a long time before he heard the last of that." "Did he get his watch back?" asked Percy. "Don't know!" replied Jim. "But if he didn't it served him right." On the _Barracouta's_ next trip to Matinicus she brought back the balance of Throppy's wireless outfit. It did not take him long to get his plant in working order. Almost every evening thereafter he spent a short time picking up messages from passing steamers and the neighboring islands, and sending others in return. The wireless came to fill an important place in the life of the boys on Tarpaulin, furnishing a bond of connection between them and the outside world. VIII SALT-WATER GIPSIES A few mornings after the first call of the _Calista_ Budge and Percy were out pulling traps. Percy had told Jim plainly that he did not care to do any more trawling. Jim had smiled and made no reply; but after that either Throppy or Budge went out with him after hake. What the others said in private about Percy he neither knew nor cared. On this particular forenoon the lobster-catchers had half circled the island. As they nosed along the northern shore Percy spied some strange-looking floats ahead. "There's a red buoy!" he exclaimed. "Somebody else must be fishing here!" Incredulously Budge glanced forward. What he saw left him sober. "You're right! This'll be unpleasant news for Jim." They ran up to the strange float. It was a battered wedge, painted a faded brick color. Percy gaffed it aboard. "What's the brand?" queried Budge. "Hasn't any." Lane examined it and found that Percy was correct. The wood bore no marks to reveal its owner. "Better haul the trap?" asked Percy. He began heaving in on the warp. "Stop that!" ordered Budge, sharply. "Throw it over. We don't want to get into any scrape. We'll have to put it up to Jim this noon. He'll know what to do." They counted nine more of the red buoys before they reached the northeast point of the island. "Look there!" Percy pointed toward the landlocked Sly Hole. A thin column of blue smoke was rising above it, as if from the stovepipe of an anchored boat. Budge debated for a moment, then turned the bow of the pea-pod toward the narrow entrance. "We'll go in and see who's there." A dozen quick strokes sent the boat through the winding channel into the little harbor. Budge rested on his oars and they looked eagerly about. In the center of the haven lay anchored a rusty black sloop about forty feet long, a dory swinging at her stern. From her cabin drifted the sound and smell of frying fish, mingled with men's voices. "Might as well take the bull by the horns," said Budge. He rowed directly up to the sloop. The sounds on board evidently drowned the dipping of his oars, for it was not until the stem of the pea-pod struck the rusty side that the voices stopped and two startled brown faces popped up out of the companionway. Both men had sharp black eyes, and black shocks of hair badly in need of the barber. One was slightly gray, and a prickly stubble of unshaven beard covered his chin. The younger man had a jet-black mustache with long, drooping ends. Both wore red shirts, open at the neck, with sleeves rolled above the elbows. The younger held a half-smoked cigar, while his companion grasped a large fork, which he evidently had been using on the fish. For a few seconds the two couples regarded each other in silence. [Illustration] Then the man with the black mustache smiled ingratiatingly. "H'lo, boys!" he invited. "Won't you come 'board?" "No, thank you," declined Budge. "When did you get here?" "We come last night, from ... there," with a vague gesture toward the west. "We fish, we lobster. You live on dis island ... yes? We stay here, too. We be good friend. Wait!" Diving below, he brought up a long-necked black bottle. "You have drink?" "No!" refused Budge, decidedly. The man looked disappointed. He muttered a few words to his companion. The latter scowled. Then they drank from the bottle and replaced it below. The younger man began talking again. "Disa good harbor! We build camp there." He gestured toward the beach. "We plenty lath on board. We make one ... two hundred trap. We stop all summer. Good friend, eh?" "I guess so," returned Budge. The program announced had taken him somewhat aback. He hardly knew what to reply. Pushing the pea-pod off, he turned her toward the channel. "You livea 'cross dis island ... yes?" shouted the man after him. "We come see you to-night!" Budge made no response to this advance. Steady, rapid pulling soon brought the boys again into open water. "Well, what do you think now?" asked Percy. "Wait till we hear what Jim says," was Lane's reply. The remaining traps were hauled in double-quick time and they made a bee-line for Sprowl's Cove. Spurling and Throppy came in at noon on the _Barracouta_. Jim's brows knitted when he heard of their new neighbors. "What should you say they were?" he inquired. "Don't know," answered Lane. "Only I'm sure they're not Yankees." "And they had no brand on their buoys?" "Not a letter!" "That's against the law. Suspicious, too. So they intend to build a camp here and spend the summer?" "That's what they said." The anxious furrows in Jim's forehead deepened. He brought his fist down hard on the _Barracouta's_ cabin. "Boys," he said, firmly, "they can't stop here. There aren't lobsters enough on these ledges for them and for us. What they get we won't. They've got to pull up those traps and get out just as quick as we can make 'em." The others exchanged looks of surprise. Though they knew Jim's absolute fairness and sense of right, they could not help feeling that his decision was a harsh one. Jim read their faces. "I know what you're thinking, boys. It seems as if I had no right to drive 'em off. But suppose any one of you owned a piece of woods on the mainland, and a stranger should come and begin to chop the trees down without your permission. How long would you stand it? The same principle holds good here, even if it is twenty-five miles offshore. This is my uncle Tom's island. He's been paying taxes on it for years. His living comes from it and the waters round it. He's leased it to us on shares, and we've got to look out for his interest as well as our own. "But how can you stop them from setting traps?" queried Lane. "I thought the sea beyond low-water mark was public property." "It is. They can set as many traps as they can bring on their sloop, and I never could trouble 'em so long as they lived aboard. If they fished with only the few they've got now I'd never say a word. But when they talk of building a camp ashore, and going into the business wholesale with one or two hundred pots, we must draw the line, and draw it sharp. They can't use any of the shore legally without my permission, and that they'll never get; and if they try to use it illegally they'll find themselves in hot water mighty quick. "Another thing," he continued, "they're strangers to us, and drinking men. They might pull our traps or accuse us of pulling theirs. There's a chance for all sorts of mix-ups. No, they've got to go, and the sooner the better." "They're coming across to call to-night," said Lane. "Not if we can get over there first. We'll go round in the sloop as soon as these hake are dressed and salted." At four o'clock the last fish was slapped down on the rounded-up tub. "Now we'll go," announced Jim. "Come on, everybody! You, too, Filippo! Might as well show up our full force. It may help stave off trouble." "Aren't you going to take the gun?" Percy inquired. "Gun? No! What'd we want of that? We don't intend to shoot anybody." Twenty minutes after the _Barracouta_ left Sprowl's Cove she was thudding into the Sly Hole. The sloop still lay at anchor in its center, but the dory was grounded on the beach. From the woods above, ax-strokes echoed faintly. "Either cutting firewood or beginning on that camp," said Jim. Presently the chopping ceased. Before long the two men appeared on the top of the bank, dragging a spruce trunk about twenty feet long. On seeing the _Barracouta_ they halted in surprise, then dropped the tree and hurried down to their dory. "Seem to be afraid we've been mousing round aboard their boat," muttered Spurling. Without responding to his hail the two strangers rowed hastily to their sloop and went below. A minute or two of investigation evidently satisfied them that nothing had been disturbed. As they came up again Jim ran the _Barracouta_ alongside. "Where you from?" he asked. The younger man again acted as spokesman: "Way off ... there!" As when Budge had questioned him, he gestured vaguely toward the west. Then he launched into a repetition of what he had said that forenoon. "We stay on dis island all summer. Make trap. Build camp. Catch plenty fish, plenty lobster. All friend, eh?" He laid his left hand on his heart, and with his right made a sweeping gesture that included the whole group. "You wait!" Dropping suddenly out of sight, he reappeared with equal quickness, brandishing the black bottle. "We drink ... all together, eh?" Jim brushed his proffer aside. "I've hired this island. You'll have to pay me rent if you stop here." A shadow of wrath swept over the dark face. Instantly it was gone, and a smile replaced it. "Rent!" he protested. "No, no! Friend no pay! We sing, we smoke, we drink, we playa cards. All good friend together. No pay money!" The last very decided. The older man nodded vigorously in confirmation, and for the first time broke silence. "No pay money!" he repeated. "All friend!" The two laid their hands on their hearts and stood smiling and bowing. For a moment Jim was nonplussed. He backed the _Barracouta_ out of earshot. "Well, what d'you think of the outlook?" asked Lane. "Don't like it, and I don't like them. Too much palaver! I've got 'em sized up. They're regular salt-water gipsies; I've heard of 'em before. They drift round from one place to another, fish a little, lobster a little, smoke a good deal, and drink more. They'd be worse than a pestilence on this island. Yes, sir! They've got to go! They know just as well as I do that they've no right to stop here; but they're going to bluff it through. They'll try to stave me off by pretending not to understand what I mean, but you noticed they were bright enough when money was mentioned." "What are you going to do about it?" "Tell 'em they've got to go!" "And if they won't?" "Send for the sheriff!" While the boys had been holding their council of war the two men had disappeared into their cabin, where they held an angry, but unintelligible, discussion. As Jim brought the _Barracouta_ once more alongside their heads quickly appeared. They were scowling blackly. "Will you pay rent?" demanded Jim. "No pay rent," came the defiant reply from both together. "Pull up your traps, then, and go!" "No go!" exclaimed the younger. "You go! We stay!" "That settles it," said Jim. "I'll send for the sheriff to-night, and have him here in the morning." He leaned over to start his engine. At his first movement the two dropped out of sight, but before he could rock the wheel they were up again, each holding a shot-gun. They leveled these weapons at the _Barracouta_. "No send for sheriff! No start engine!" Jim straightened up and the startled boys glanced at one another. The demonstration of hostility had come like a bolt from a clear sky. Things looked ugly. Again the younger man spoke. "S'pose you go for sheriff. We stay! Cut buoy! Sink boat! Burn cabin! Then go before you get back! How you like that, eh?" For once Jim was at a loss. What answer could be made to such an argument? The other noted his hesitation, and smiled triumphantly. "You let us alone, we let you alone! You trouble us, we trouble you. Now you go!" It was half a permission, half a command, backed by the leveled guns. Jim was on the point of starting the engine when Filippo interrupted him. "Misser Jim, let me talk to 'em," he begged in a low tone. Spurling glanced at him in surprise. "What for, Filippo? Are they countrymen of yours?" "Don't know! I see!" "Go ahead, then! It can't do any hurt." "Hi!" called out Filippo. "Listen! _Ascoltatemi!_" The two men started as if they had been shot; they fixed their gaze on Filippo. He began talking rapidly to them in Italian, gesturing freely. They replied in the same language. For fully ten minutes the heated dialogue continued. Jim and his mates listened in silence, now and then catching a word they had learned from Filippo, but not comprehending the drift of the debate. At last it was clear that some conclusion had been reached. Shaking their heads in disgust, the two sullenly restored their guns to the cabin. Filippo turned to Jim. "All right! They go to-night, after they pull traps. Now we start--right away!" Jim looked at the Italian in amazement; but he started the engine and the sloop forged out of the cove. Once in the passage, he broke silence. "How did you ever manage it, Filippo?" "I tell them your uncle own island; you hire it of him for summer. You lots of friends. If they no go, you send for sheriff right away. We too many for them. Guard cabin with gun till you get back. Sheriff come in night, while they sleep. Take them, take boat, take trap. Put them in jail. They break rock, work on road rest of summer. They not like that. They go!" "Good enough, Filippo! Guess you didn't strain the truth much. You certainly have got us out of an unpleasant hole. I'm free to say I was at my wits' end. Good thing for us we ran across you on the wharf at Stonington!" "Better thing for me!" answered Filippo. That evening after supper the boys stole silently through the woods to the northeastern end of the island. The Sly Hole was empty! The sloop had gone! Stepping out of the evergreens, Jim looked westward along the shore. "There they are!" The dory towing astern was piled high with traps. "Shouldn't wonder if they had some of ours among 'em!" exclaimed Jim. "No matter! We're getting rid of 'em cheap, if they scoop a dozen! But look at that! They've got all they want, and now they're cutting away our buoys! Here's where I call a halt!" He sprang out upon the bank in plain sight. "Hi, there! Stop that!" One of the men had just gaffed a buoy. At Jim's hail he glanced up and waved his hand nonchalantly. Then he deliberately cut the warp. The other man dropped into the cabin and reappeared with the two guns. Jim threw himself flat on his face. "Down, boys!" he cried. A hail of birdshot peppered the bluff and the woods behind it as both the double-barrels roared out in unison. One leaden pellet drew blood from the back of Jim's hand, while Throppy, a little slow in dropping to cover, was stung on the cheek. The others were untouched. Percy shook with fright and excitement. Lane was boiling with anger. "Let's take the _Barracouta_ and follow 'em!" he proposed. "Cool off, Budge!" laughed Jim. "That's just a parting salute. Besides, they've got two guns to our one. Let 'em go! And good riddance to bad rubbish! See! They're on their way now!" The sloop's head swung to the north and she filled away. "They've done what damage they've dared and they're gone for good. They'll be up at Isle au Haut to-night, either in Head Harbor or Kimball's Island Thoroughfare. Forget 'em!" "Lucky my temper isn't hitched up with your strength," said Lane. IX FISTS AND FIREWORKS Late on the afternoon of July 3d, when the morning's catch of eighteen hundred pounds of hake had been split and salted, Spurling called a council of war. Percy attended with the others. He had gone out with Budge in the morning to haul the lobster-traps; the rest of the day he had loafed, lying on the soft turf below the beacon on Brimstone Point and reading _The Three Musketeers_. Of the work that pleased him he had determined to do only as much as he liked, and not a stroke more. Lobstering was really attractive; there was enough novelty and excitement about it to keep him interested. When a pot came up it might contain no shell-fish or a half-dozen; the element of uncertainty appealed to his sporting instincts. But fishing he had stricken utterly from his list. It was too hard and too dirty. Slogging at the heavy trawls and afterward dressing the catch was too plebeian a business for the son of a millionaire. So he let the others tire their muscles and soil their hands and clothing while he attended strictly to the business of pleasing himself. He could not help being aware of a growing coolness on the part of his associates, but it gave him no concern. His month of probation was almost up, and he had decided that, come what might, he would leave at its end. Only a few days more, and this hard, monotonous island life would be behind him forever. He would send back a check to cover the expense of his board, and that would permanently close his relations with Spurling & Company. This resolve to pay for meals and lodging gave him a feeling of independence. Hence, though he knew the others did not care whether he attended or not, he felt himself entitled to a place at the council. The meeting took place on the beach in front of the cabin. Spurling and Stevens had just come from the _Barracouta_, their oilskin "petticoats" bearing gory evidence of their work for the last two hours. "Fellows," proposed Jim, "to-morrow let's celebrate! We can't set the trawls, for we haven't anything to bait up with. And even if we had, I don't believe in working on the Fourth. When I was at Matinicus the other day I saw a poster advertising a ball-game and big celebration at Vinalhaven. We'll have an early breakfast and run up there in the _Barracouta_. First, we'll go to Hardy's weir and take in a lot of herring for bait. Then we can slip round to Carver's Harbor and spend the rest of the day ashore. What d'you say?" There was no doubt regarding the vote. "The ayes have it!" shouted Spurling. "Now let's get everything in trim for day after to-morrow! We won't pull the traps again until then." Filled with enthusiasm at the prospect of a holiday, Budge, Throppy, and Jim dispersed to their various tasks. Yawningly, Percy returned to Brimstone Point and _The Three Musketeers_. After all, doing nothing on an island twenty-five miles out at sea was pretty dull work. The boys had an early supper and were soon asleep. Turning out at daybreak, they despatched a hearty meal of corn-bread and bacon. Everybody but Percy took hold with the dishes and helped tidy up the camp. Shortly after sunrise they were sailing out of the cove in the _Barracouta_. The trip in past Saddleback Light to Vinalhaven was uneventful. By eight o'clock they were lying alongside Hardy's weir, and its owner was dipping bushel after bushel of shining herring into the pen aboard the sloop. Before ten they were anchored off the steamboat wharf at Carver's Harbor. The town was in gala dress. Bunting streamed everywhere. Torpedoes, firecrackers, bombs, and revolvers rent the air with deafening explosions. The brass guns on two yachts in the harbor contributed an occasional salvo. As the boys rowed in to the shore the strains of "The Star-Spangled Banner" came floating over the water, and round the outer point appeared one of the small bay steamers, loaded with excursionists, including a brass band. On board also was the Camden baseball team, scheduled to play the opening game in the county league series with the home team that afternoon. Bedlam broke loose as the steamer made fast to the wharf and the crowd aboard streamed ashore. To Spurling and his friends, after three weeks of Tarpaulin Island, the narrow, winding street with its holiday crowd afforded the bustle and varied interest of a city. Even Percy deigned to allow himself to be tempted out of the sulky dignity which he had assumed since the council of the previous afternoon. The group scattered. Lane and Stevens wandered about town, taking in the sights and dodging the torpedoes and firecrackers of enthusiastic patriots of a more or less tender age. Spurling found an old 'longshore acquaintance from a visiting boat and went off aboard to inspect his new type of engine. Filippo struck up an eternal friendship with a fellow-countryman from the granite quarries on Hurricane. Percy, left to his own resources, invested in a new brand of cigarettes and promenaded back and forth along the main street, smoking and eying the passers-by superciliously. Noon found the restaurants packed with hungry excursionists; but the crowds were good-natured and everybody was able to get plenty to eat. At two o'clock there was a grand rush to the baseball-grounds. Spurling, Lane, and Stevens sat together in the front of the stand; Percy perched at the extreme right of the topmost row; while Filippo lay on the grass back of third base with his new-found, swarthy compatriot. Evidently there was some hitch about beginning the game. The Vinalhavens had taken the field for practice. The Camden team, bunched close together, were talking earnestly, meanwhile casting anxious glances toward the street that led to the water. The Vinalhaven scorer passed before the stand with his book. "What's the trouble?" asked Stevens. "Camden catcher and third-baseman haven't shown up. They started out with a party in a power-boat before the steamer. Engine must have broken down. Here it is time to call the game, and the visiting team two men short! And the biggest crowd of the season here! Can you beat that for luck?" The Camden pitcher separated himself from his companions and strolled toward the stand. "Anybody here want to put on a mitt and stop a few fast ones?" he inquired. "That means you, Jim!" said Lane. "Come on! Don't be too modest!" Spurling climbed out over the front of the stand. "I'll try to hold you for a little while," he volunteered. Soon he was smoothly receiving the pitcher's curves and lobbing them back. The combination went like clockwork. In the mean time the rest of the Camden team had taken the field and were warming up. The missing members had not yet appeared. "That'll do for a while," said the pitcher. The two drew to one side. "What team have you been catching on?" asked the Camden man, suddenly. "Graffam Academy." "I knew you must have traveled with a pretty speedy bunch. My name's Beverage." "Mine's Spurling." "Say, old man, I want you to do us a big favor. Catch this game for Camden, will you?" "I've been out of practice for over a month," objected Jim. "Never mind about that! I don't mean to flatter you, but we've got nothing in this league that can touch you. Come, now! As a personal favor to me!" "All right. I'll do my best." "Good for you! Now we've got to pick up a third-baseman!" Jim hesitated. "Our Academy shortstop is here," he said, slowly. "He can play a mighty good third at a pinch." "If he's willing, we'll take him on your say-so, and snap at the chance." Jim walked to the front of the stand. "You're signed for third for this game, Budge! I'm going to catch." "We've got a couple of spare suits," said Beverage. "Come on over to the hotel and change." In fifteen minutes Lane and Spurling were back on the field in Camden uniforms and the game had begun. The contest was a hot one. The teams were evenly matched, and the result hung in doubt up to the last inning. The crowd boiled with enthusiasm and the supporters of each team cheered themselves hoarse. In the middle of the fifth inning, when the excitement was running highest, a slim, bareheaded figure with a tow pompadour sprouting above a fog-burnt face leaped suddenly up at the right end of the top row in the stand. It was Percy. Exhilarated by the closeness of the game, he had forgotten his grudge against Spurling & Company. He flourished a roll of bills. "Two to one on Camden!" he shouted in a high-keyed voice. All heads turned his way. For a moment nobody spoke. Percy mistook the silence. He struck a theatric attitude. [Illustration] "Three to one! Are you afraid to support your home team?" A girl giggled. Two or three boys hooted. Then a short, dark, thick-set man in the second row whirled about and answered the challenger. "No," he said, deliberately. "We're not afraid to support our nine. If we were, it wouldn't be playing here to-day. We expect it to do its best. If it wins, it wins. If it loses, it loses. And that's all there is to it. Whatever dollars we have to put into baseball will go to meet the regular expenses of the team. We haven't any money to fool away in betting; and we don't care for any more second-hand talk from a half-baked youngster like you! You get me?" The crowd applauded uproariously. Pursued by the jeers and catcalls of the small fry, Percy sat down, his face, if possible, redder than before. Spurling caught an errorless game. It was Lane's bat in the last half of the ninth that finally drove in the winning run for Camden. Five to four. The crowd streamed noisily off the grounds. A knot of the younger element tried to heckle Percy, but he strode loftily by them, puffing his inevitable cigarette. Jim and Budge went to the hotel with the Camden team to change their suits. Beverage was jubilant over the victory. "It's a mean thing to say," he remarked; "but I'm glad that power-boat didn't get here. We owe the game to you two fellows. How much shall we pay you?" "Nothing," answered Jim. "We're paid already. We've enjoyed winning as much as you have." "Well, if you ever come to Camden, remember that you own the town." The boys decided to stop over for the early-evening celebration. The Vinalhavens were good losers, and the excursion steamer was not to start back until nine o'clock, so the town promised to be lively enough for the next few hours. Before it had grown very dark the streets began to blaze with fireworks. Percy's remarks of the afternoon still rankled in the minds of the junior portion of the residents, and, as he sauntered to and fro, he became the butt of many pointed jests. He ignored them all. Such trivialities were beneath the notice of a scion of the house of Whittington. It was his air of haughty superiority that got him into trouble. Tempted beyond endurance by his cool, insolent swagger, a small boy on the other side of the street discharged a Roman candle at him point-blank. One of the fiery balls struck his right side and dropped into the open pocket of his coat, starting a lively blaze. The garment got a smart scorching, and Percy's fingers were burnt and his feelings badly ruffled before he succeeded in extinguishing the conflagration. Singling out the offender among a group of boys dancing delightedly up and down, Percy made a sudden rush and pounced upon him like a hawk on a chicken. Holding him by the collar, he cuffed his ears soundly. The criminal wriggled and twisted, loudly and tearfully protesting his innocence. A stocky, freckled lad of about eighteen, with a close-cut head of brown hair, came out of a neighboring house on the run. His snub nose and projecting jaw suggested a human bulldog. He thrust his face close up to Percy's. "What're you maulin' my brother for?" he demanded, truculently. Percy dropped his victim, having finished chastising him. The latter rubbed his eyes and howled louder than ever. "I asked you why you were maulin' my brother," reiterated the newcomer in a still more belligerent tone. "Because he burned this hole in my coat," replied Percy, exhibiting the damaged garment. "I didn't do it!" howled the boy. "You hear that?" exclaimed the freckled lad, angrily. "He says he didn't and I say he didn't." "Well, I say he did!" "Do you mean to tell me I lie?" Percy became suddenly aware that a ring was forming round him. He cast a hasty glance about the lowering faces and recognized some of his would-be hecklers of the afternoon. No Tarpaulin Islanders were there. He was a stranger in a strange land. But the Whittington in him was up, and he did not blench. He faced his questioner. "If you say he didn't burn that hole--yes!" An indignant chorus rose from the group. "Did you hear that, Jabe? He called you a liar. I wouldn't stand that. Make him eat those words! It's the fresh guy who made the cheap talk at the ball-game. Soak him! Do him up!" Spurred on by these exhortations, Jabe dropped his head between his shoulders and came at his enemy with the rush of a mad bull. Percy was a good boxer. He had taken lessons from several first-class sparring-masters, and would have been no mean antagonist for anybody of his age and weight. But Jabe was a year older and fully twenty-five pounds heavier. Evidently, too, he had the abounding health and strength that come from life in the open. The odds against the city boy were heavy, but he stood up gamely. Jabe rushed in upon him and struck with all his might. Percy side-stepped, and the blow went harmlessly by, while his assailant's rush carried him to the other side of the ring. Whirling about with a cry of rage, he came back, swinging his arms like a windmill. "Now, Jabe! Now, Jabe!" rose the cry. Again Percy leaped aside, and his right arm shot out. The blow caught his foe fairly under the left ear, and he went sprawling; but he was down only for a moment. Springing to his feet, he hurled himself into the fray with redoubled fury. Again he was knocked down, and again he renewed the battle, with more strength than before. The fight could not last long. It was muscle against science, and in the end muscle won. Percy began to tire and to grow short of breath. He had smoked too many cigarettes to be able to keep up such a whirlwind pace for many minutes. Though he landed five blows to his enemy's one, the latter's one did more damage than his five. For the first time in the contest Jabe used his head. Hitherto he had struck straight for the mark each time. Now he feinted with his right for his foe's body. Percy dropped his guard somewhat wearily. Before he realized what was happening, Jabe's left, sent in with tremendous force, hit him a smashing blow squarely on the nose, knocking him over backward. It was the beginning of the end. Percy tottered up, blood spurting from his nose, his head spinning. He saw Jabe preparing for another rush and knew it would be the last one. He stiffened himself to receive the knock-out. A tall, broad-shouldered figure broke through the circle. "What's the trouble here?" It was Spurling's voice. His glance took in the situation. "That'll be about all," he said. "Come away, Whittington!" A bullet-headed, shirt-sleeved man bristled up defiantly. It was Jabe's father. "Guess we'll let 'em fight it out," he observed. His boy was winning. "No," said Jim. "It's gone far enough." "Not looking for trouble, are you?" "No," remarked Jim, easily. "I don't want any trouble with you, and you don't want any with me." The shirt-sleeved man glanced appraisingly at his square shoulders and strongly knit figure. "Right you are, George!" he laughed. "I don't want any trouble with you. You must be a mind-reader. You call off your dog and I'll call off mine." He grasped Jabe by the collar and jerked him backward. Jim dropped a compelling hand on Percy's shoulder. "Come on, Whittington! You ought to have brains enough to know you've been licked. It's time we started for Tarpaulin Island." X REBELLION IN CAMP Conversation lagged on the _Barracouta_ as she jogged smoothly over the starlit sea toward Tarpaulin Island. By the dim light of two lanterns, Jim, Throppy, Budge, and Filippo were busy baiting the trawls with herring and coiling them into the tubs in the standing-room. Percy had withdrawn from his companions and lay across the heel of the bowsprit on the decked-over bow. He had stanched the flow of blood from his nose, but it still pained him, and he was otherwise bruised and badly shaken by the buffets from Jabe's knobby fists. Judged by Percy's feelings, Jabe must have been all knuckles. Percy had to acknowledge that only Spurling's opportune appearance had saved him from being pounded unmercifully. But his pride had been injured far more than his physical body. It seemed improbable that he would ever see Jabe again, but he determined that some time, somewhere, and somehow the freckled lad should pay dearly for the slight he had put upon the house of Whittington. It was a few minutes past eleven when the sloop's engine stopped and she glided up to her mooring in Sprowl's Cove. Five sleepy boys tumbled into the dory and paddled ashore. The Fourth was over and the routine of workaday life would begin again for them early the next morning. Nemo dashed back and forth on the beach, barking a furious welcome and springing upon his masters indiscriminately. Unwittingly he leaped at Percy and in playful mood closed his teeth over the lad's right thumb, sprained and aching from the fight. "Get out, you cur!" exclaimed Whittington. He launched an aimless, vindictive kick in the general direction of the gamboling beast. As often happens with random blows, it went too true. Nemo ki-yied up the beach on three legs. "What are you about, Whittington?" burst out Lane, angrily. Among the entire five he was the fondest of the dog. Percy was ashamed and sorry that he had hurt the animal, but Lane's eruption of temper smothered his repentant feelings. "He bit my thumb," he muttered, sullenly. "You know well enough he was just in sport. Don't you kick him again! You hear me!" Percy mumbled an indistinct reply. As soon as the cabin was unlocked he turned into his bunk, without a word to anybody. For him the Fourth had been anything but a holiday. Before going to sleep, Spurling outlined their work for the morrow. "Throppy, you and I'll try our luck on Martingale Bank. It's only a half-mile northwest of the island, and sometimes you can get a big catch there. I've been saving it for a time like this. Budge, you and Percy ought to get at least a couple of hundred pounds out of those lobster-traps. They'll have been down two days and should yield some good-sized ones. Set the clock at four, Filippo! We'll be lazy for once." Percy's sleep was broken. He dreamed of being chased along the main street of Vinalhaven by a crowd of small boys shooting at him with Roman candles. He dodged into an open doorway, only to be driven out by a giant with Jabe's face and a half-dozen pairs of arms the fists of which were studded with a double allowance of knuckles. He was fast being pounded to a pulp when the alarm-clock went off. He woke in a cold sweat. Lying with closed eyes, he pretended to be asleep while Jim and Throppy finished a hasty breakfast. Soon the exhaust of the _Barracouta_ proclaimed that they were on their way to Martingale Bank. Percy dozed, but remained conscious of Filippo's culinary operations. At five Lane turned out, according to schedule. He shook Percy vigorously. "Wake up, Whittington! Breakfast!" "Don't care for mine yet." "Aren't you going out with me to haul those traps?" "No!" retorted Percy, sourly. "Suit yourself!" was Lane's brief response. Percy knew that Budge would rather go without him. He heard him give a whistle as he examined Nemo's leg; the animal cringed and whimpered. "Poor fellow! Too bad!" sympathized Lane. The remark was evidently intended for Percy's ears. At least the lad took it so. He felt sorry if Nemo was really hurt. Lane went out, and Percy turned over for another nap. When he next woke it was almost seven and the cabin was empty. He got up and dressed leisurely. Looking out of the window, he saw Filippo digging clams on the flats across the cove. That meant chowder for dinner, a dish he particularly detested. He made a wry mouth and turned to the larder, but could discover nothing but some cold fish and fried potatoes. The fire had gone out, and he determined to await Filippo's return before breakfasting. Deliberately scratching a match, he lighted a cigarette, thereby breaking the rule against smoking in the cabin. Then he stretched himself out on his bunk and began reading _The Three Musketeers_. Filippo returned before he had finished his chapter. The Italian's eyes grew round at the tobacco smoke. "You know Misser Jim say no smoking!" "Mister Jim isn't here now. You mind your own business and I'll mind mine. Get me some breakfast, will you?" "Fire gone out while you sleep and everything grow cold. You bring some wood and I build another." To Percy's still overstrained nerves Filippo's way of putting the matter suggested a condition on which the meal depended rather than a request. "Bring it yourself!" he growled. "I'm no servant! I don't shag kindling for any Dago!" At this insult Filippo's olive cheeks became quite pale. Into his eyes flashed a look Whittington had never seen there before. For an instant he almost feared that the young foreigner was about to seize a knife and spring upon him. Then the look passed and Filippo's color came back. "All right!" he laughed. "No wood, no breakfast!" Stepping out to the fish-house, he began shelling the clams he had just dug. Percy vacillated between pride and hunger. Hunger won. [Illustration] "I didn't mean that, Filippo," he repented. "I beg your pardon. I'll get the wood." He did, and Filippo heated up the fish and potatoes. Percy tried to engage him in conversation, but was able to extract only monosyllables in return. Evidently his hasty words still rankled in the Italian's breast. Breakfast over, Percy took his book and started for the beacon. It was a beautiful July morning. The sea rippled blue and sparkling to the horizon. Budge was hauling his traps on the ledges around the base of Brimstone. A half-mile farther out Jim and Throppy were busy at their trawls. Conditions for fishing could not have been more ideal. For a time Percy tried to read; but somehow Dumas's heroes failed to keep his interest. The sense of contrast between his own idleness and his mates' industry took all the pleasure out of his book. He tossed it aside and stood up. A motor-boat was rounding the eastern point. Percy recognized her as the _Calista_. Ordinarily he would have been glad to exchange chaff with Captain Higgins and Brad while they dipped the lobsters out of the car. This morning, however, he felt too much disgruntled to joke with anybody. A hawk with a flapping fish clutched in its talons scaled in from the south and disappeared among the evergreens. Percy suspected that there was a nest somewhere in the scrub growth. The search for it promised just enough of novelty to keep him interested. Making a detour around the north shore, so as to keep out of sight of Captain Higgins, he began hunting for the nest in the tops of the low trees. Two hours went by fruitlessly. It was hot and breathless in the close woods. Despite his dislike for clam chowder, Percy found himself growing hungry. At last he gave up the search in disgust, and started back for camp by the shortest route. As he emerged into the cool breeze on the summit of the high southern shore he saw that the _Calista_ still lay at anchor in the cove. Lane was alongside her in the pea-pod, while Jim and Throppy were rounding Brimstone Point in the _Barracouta_, with the dory in tow. The keenness of Percy's appetite made him careless of whether he was seen or not. He took the trail leading along the edge of the pasture. Directly below him the bank broke off in an abrupt dirt slope seventy-five feet high, overhung by a brow of sagging turf. Behind and above the cabin the slope was unusually steep. As Percy reached this point his eye was caught by a smoke-feather on the southern horizon. Steamers always interested him. Stopping, and shading his eyes with his hand, he gazed intently at the distant vessel. The _Barracouta_ was now just entering the cove; the thudding of her exhaust echoed loudly against the barrier of earth beneath his feet. The rapid detonations, beating upon Percy's ear-drums, drowned until too late the quick pad-pad of hoofs from the opposite direction. Engrossed in watching the steamer, he had forgotten everything else. A nasal, threatening bleat, rising suddenly behind, roused him to a sense of danger. He whirled about. Charging straight at him, head down, only a few feet distant, old Aries, the ram, spurned the turf with drumming hoofs. Behind lay the treeless pasture; in front the bank fell away steeply. Instant flight along the trail was Percy's only resort. He turned to run. As he jammed his heel down hard to gain momentum for his start, the overhanging sod broke suddenly. His foot slumped, and before he could recover himself his foe was upon him. Biff! Struck from behind with the force of a battering-ram, Percy shot over the brink. As he fell he described a partial somersault, landing on hands and knees half-way down the slope. His momentum carried him heels over head, and he rolled and tumbled the rest of the way, bringing up in a heap at the bottom. [Illustration] He scrambled to his feet, wild with rage. Peals of mirth from the cove reached his ears. His mates and Captain Higgins, as soon as they saw that he was not seriously hurt, had doubled up with laughter. Their outburst of merriment increased Percy's fury. A triumphant bleat resounded above. Outlined clearly against a background of blue sky, legs well apart and hoofs braced stoutly, Aries stood on the brink, gazing proudly down upon his overthrown enemy. White with wrath, Percy groped for a stone and launched it viciously. It just grazed the ram's head. The laughter from the cove redoubled. A new idea struck Percy. Darting into the cabin, he ran out with Uncle Tom's shot-gun. "None of that, Whittington!" bellowed Spurling. Heedless of the shouted command, Percy clapped the gun to his shoulder and pulled first one trigger and then the other. Click! Click! Both barrels were empty. He might have remembered that so careful a fellow as Jim would never leave a loaded gun standing about. But there were a half-dozen shells in a box on the shelf. Laying the gun down, he rushed back into the cabin. Spurling realized what Percy was after. Springing into the dory, he sculled rapidly to the beach. He had almost reached the shore when Whittington dashed out of the door with the shells in his hands. He crammed two into the breech, while the ram gazed haughtily down upon him. "Put that gun down!" shouted Jim as the dory grounded and he leaped out on the beach. Up went the weapon to Percy's shoulder. His finger sought the trigger, but no report followed. The ram had vanished and the sky-line was unbroken. Before the exasperated lad could decide on his next step Jim was at his side, clutching at stock and barrel with strong hands. "Give it to me!" There was a short scuffle, and the gun was wrenched from Percy's grasp. "Let me alone, Spurling! I'll kill that brute before he's ten minutes older!" "Oh no, you won't!" replied Jim, coolly. Breaking open the weapon, he extracted the shells and dropped them into his pocket. "How many of these did you bring out?" "Never you mind!" "Oh, well, I know how many I had. I can count 'em. They're too dangerous to be lying around loose where a hothead like you can get hold of 'em." He took the gun into the cabin. In half a minute he was out again. "Two missing! Hand 'em over, Whittington!" "I won't!" Three steps, marvelously quick for so deliberate a fellow, brought Spurling to the other's side. An iron grip compressed Percy's shoulder. "Will you give 'em to me or shall I have to take 'em? Say quick!" The strong, unwavering grasp brought Whittington to his senses. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he brought out the shells. "Here they are!" Jim bestowed them carefully inside his coat. His manner changed instantly. "Now, Percy," said he, "pull yourself together! I don't wonder you were sore at the ram. What you got was enough to rile anybody; it would have set me hunting rocks myself. But you'll have to draw the line a long way this side of a gun. You can't blame the brute; it's his nature. And you can't blame us for laughing--we couldn't help it; you'd do the same in our place. The thing's over now. Forget it! Let's eat a good dinner, and all take hold on the fish this afternoon. We've made a whopping big catch, not much under three thousand pounds, I should say--enough, at any rate, to keep us all busy till dark. Let's bury the hatchet, handle and all, so deep that it'll never be dug up again! Shake on it!" Whittington ignored Jim's outstretched hand. Trembling with humiliation and anger, he had all he could do to keep the tears from his eyes. Turning away without replying, he walked eastward along the beach to the ledges. He clambered over these until he gained a spot out of sight of the cove, then threw himself down to think. His hunger had disappeared; food would have choked him. There he lay till the middle of the afternoon, smoking moodily. When he returned to camp at three he had decided on his course of action. All the others were aboard the _Barracouta_, at work on the fish. Spurling hailed Percy. "Want to lend a hand, Whittington?" "No!" refused Percy, shortly. Entering the cabin, he made a dry lunch on cold biscuit and soda-crackers, then threw himself on his bunk and began reading. The afternoon dragged on. At five Filippo came in and began to peel potatoes and slice ham for supper; soon they were frying in the spider. The smell was pleasant in Percy's nostrils. Half an hour later in came the others, tired and hungry. The fish had been finished. All sat down at the table, Percy, uninvited, drawing up his soap-box with the rest. Nobody said anything to him, but he ate with a relish. The meal over, Spurling turned to him with a serious face. It was plain he had something of importance on his mind. "Whittington," said he, "I've been talking matters over with Budge and Throppy, and we're all agreed it's time we came to an understanding. Things can't go on in this way any longer. To put the matter in a nutshell, we can't afford to have you living off us and not working. You've got to do your share or quit. That's all there is to it." Percy reddened with wrath. Nobody but John P. Whittington had ever dared to speak like that to him before. "What do you mean by making such talk to me?" he demanded. "You needn't be afraid but you'll be well paid for every meal I've eaten in this old shack!" "That isn't the point at all," said Spurling. "I gave your father fair warning what it would be when you came out here. We're not running any Waldorf!" Percy gave a derisive laugh. "And that's no dream!" he interjected, sarcastically. Spurling paid no attention to the interruption. "We're out here for work," he continued. "That means you as well as everybody else. I didn't count on you for much, but you haven't done even that." "I've known for the last week you were trying to freeze me out," observed Percy. "It's been cold enough about this camp to make ice." "Well, whose fault has it been?" "You treat that little Dago better than you do me!" "What of it? He's earning his salt, and a good deal more; and that's something your best friend couldn't accuse you of doing." Percy's temper was fast getting the better of him. "I'm not going to stop here to be kicked round by a bunch of Rubes like you," he snarled. "I won't stand for it any longer. I'll give you ten dollars to set me over on Matinicus to-night." There was a dangerous flicker in Spurling's eyes, but his voice was steady. "You can go, and welcome, on our next trip, day after to-morrow; but we can't break into our regular work to set you across." "No? Say twenty, then! And that's nowhere near what it'd be worth to me to be shut of you and your whole gang!" "I'm beginning to think I did wrong in stopping that fight at Vinalhaven yesterday. Guess you needed all you got and more, too!" In Percy's wrathful condition the reference to the pummeling he had received from Jabe came like a dash of acid in a raw wound. A flood of fury swept away his judgment. "You beggar!" he shouted. "You dollar-squeezer! I'll teach you to talk to me, you--!" He flung himself on Spurling with clenched fists. So sudden and unexpected was the onslaught that there was but one thing for Jim to do, and he did it, expeditiously and accurately. Percy went over backward and fell like a log. For a moment he lay motionless, then staggered up, feeling of his face. "What hit me?" he inquired, dazedly. "I did--right on the point of the jaw. Sorry I had to. Feel better?" Percy made no reply. Walking unsteadily to his bunk, he lay down. There was no violin-playing in the cabin that night. XI TURN OF TIDE At half past eight that night Camp Spurling was dark and quiet. Everybody was asleep but Percy Whittington. He lay in his bunk, wide awake and thinking hard, and his thoughts were far from pleasant. His face was still sore as a result of his battle with Jabe. His jaw ached dully from its encounter with Jim Spurling's fist. But worse than any physical pain was the smart of his wounded pride. Life in that cramped, tarry, fishy cabin was hard enough for a fellow who had lived at the best hotels and had the cream of everything. This painful wrenching of dollars out of the sea told sorely on his tender skin and undeveloped muscles. Yet beneath the surface he had enough of his father's stubbornness to make him stick doggedly to his lot, disagreeable though it was, if only he could have felt that he was receiving the consideration due to the son of John P. Whittington. Spurling's blow was the straw that had broken the camel's back. Percy had endured it just as long as he could. He had reached his limit. "I hate the whole bunch," he thought, bitterly. "Everybody's down on me, even to the dog. I won't stand it any longer. I'm going to get out to-night." His mind once made up, he promptly began planning. He decided to take one of the boats and row up to Isle au Haut. It was a good ten miles to Head Harbor, but he felt confident he could reach it long before daybreak. Leaving the boat there, he would tramp six miles up the island and catch the early steamer for Stonington. Beyond that his plans did not go. A flicker of light from the dying fire in the stove fell on the face of the alarm-clock ticking tinnily on the shelf. It was quarter to nine. Percy woke to the need of acting at once. At midnight Filippo would get up to make coffee and warm the baked beans and corn-bread for Spurling and Stevens, who were to start for the hake-grounds not far from one. By that time he must be miles away--too far, at any rate, to be overtaken. Overtaken? He smiled sardonically. Not one of them, he knew, would lift a finger to prevent him from going. He could just as well set out in the daytime. But his pride shrank from the relieved faces and grudging farewells that would signalize his departure. No; it would be far better to slip away by night, without saying anything to anybody. But his going must be unobserved. It would be humiliating to be detected. Cautiously he crept out of his bunk and pulled on his clothes, stopping apprehensively to listen for the regular breathing of his sleeping mates. But no one woke. The dying embers snapped in the stove. Nemo, slumbering on his canvas, stirred uneasily. Yet, so stealthy were Percy's movements, not even the dog's keen ears telegraphed them to his alert brain. A few minutes sufficed for the deserter to dress and crowd his more valuable belongings into a suit-case. Noiselessly he lifted the latch and stepped outside. It was a lovely summer night. A southwest breeze barely rippled the sheet of sapphire under the radiant stars. Tiny wavelets broke crisply on the pebbled beach. From the boulders that fringed the point came the drowsy murmur of the surf. A sheep bleated plaintively high above in the pasture; while far over the ocean to the south floated the faint, weird cry of a gull. The tide was more than half down, and dory and pea-pod lay high and dry on the shingle. The sloop rode at her mooring in the cove. Percy hesitated. Her engine would take him to Head Harbor in less than two hours, and save him a long, hard row. But no. Her absence would interfere seriously with pulling the trawls and lose Spurling & Company a good many dollars. Bitter though his feelings were, he did not wish to cause financial loss. He decided on the pea-pod. Ten feet of gravel lay between her stern and the water. Grasping her gunwale, Percy dragged her inch by inch gratingly down over the shingle, every sound magnified to his ears by his dread of discovery. He worked with the caution of an escaping convict. Now and then he glanced nervously toward the cabin, but from its gloomy interior came no sign that he was seen or heard. Apparently Spurling and his mates were sleeping the sleep of the dead. At the end of five minutes the pea-pod was afloat. Percy tossed in his suit-case and clambered hastily aboard. There was no time to waste. He wished to put as much salt water as possible between himself and Tarpaulin Island before midnight. Shipping his oars, he began to row, using infinite care lest creaking rowlock or splashing blade betray him. Gradually he drew out of the cove, and there was less need of caution. As he rounded Brimstone Point he cast one last, long look at the cabin, square and black and silent. The remembrance of his discomforts and indignities of the last three weeks surged over him. He shook his fist at his vanishing prison. "Good riddance!" he muttered. "Hope I'll never set eyes again on you or the bunch inside you!" He bent to his oars with redoubled vigor, and presently a high boulder shut out the camp. In five minutes more he had rounded the point and was pulling north on the heaving Atlantic swell. The tide was running out strongly. It came swirling round Brimstone in rips and eddies. Percy had never before realized that its force was so great. He made a hasty calculation, and was very unpleasantly surprised to discover that he would have to pull against it for fully ninety minutes ere it turned to run the other way. He began to feel less sure of reaching Head Harbor before daybreak. "Guess I've bitten off an all-night job," thought he, disconsolately. But there was no help for it--unless he desired to slink back to the camp he had just abandoned with such thief-like stealth. Percy set his teeth. "Not while I've got arms to pull with!" Before buckling to his task he glanced about. On his left rose the familiar shores of Tarpaulin. Miles to his right and almost due west the twin lights on Matinicus Rock twinkled faintly across the sea; while behind him, a little to the west of north, shone the single star of Saddleback, a good four leagues away. The dark-blue summer sky, unmarred by the slightest cloud-fleck, was brilliant with constellations. It was a night of nights for an astronomer or a poet, but Percy was neither. He had no eyes for the splendor that overhung him. Ten long, watery miles must be traversed before he could beach his pea-pod in the little haven behind Eastern Head. Would his arms stand the strain? His muscles were harder and stronger than they had been in the middle of June. Likewise, his grit had strengthened with his physique. "I'll make Head Harbor before light, if it kills me!" Turning, he scanned the starry sky, and by means of his scanty knowledge of astronomy identified the Great Dipper. Its pointers located the North Star. Under it he knew lay Isle au Haut, now a low, black ridge on the horizon, east of Saddleback Light. Percy settled himself on the thwart, steeled his muscles, and gripped the oars harder. Short as his inaction had been, he could see that the tide had swept him back a trifle. It was going to be no picnic, that pull in to Eastern Head! He threw all his strength into his arms, and again the boat made headway against the tide. By degrees Tarpaulin Island fell back. Before long it lay behind him--as he planned, forever. His anger still burned hot against Spurling and his associates. "Treated me like a dog, the beggars! Well, who cares for 'em? Let 'em sweat out their dollars catching fish and lobsters! I'll get my cash some easier way." The thought of money brought back the memory of his father, and with it a faint uneasiness. Up to this time, engrossed in making his escape, Percy had not troubled to look beyond the immediate future. Isle au Haut had bounded his mental as well as his optical horizon. But after that what? Stonington ... Rockland ... Boston ... New York ... two months of living on his acquaintances ... and then--John P. Whittington! Percy could picture the expression on the millionaire's features when he learned that his son had broken his promise and sneaked away from Tarpaulin Island, like a thief in the night. That grim face with its bulldog jaw was one any erring son well might dread, and particularly such a son as he had thus far been. John Whittington had told Percy plainly that the island was his last chance, and, whatever faults the millionaire might have, he was not the man to break his word. For the young deserter it was liable to be out of the frying-pan and into the fire with a vengeance. Percy had been in the frying-pan three weeks; life there, though not pleasant, had been endurable. At any rate, he had seen the worst of it; but for his wounded pride, he could have schooled himself to withstand its hardships, for they would have been only temporary. What the fire might have in store for him he did not know; but one thing he did know, and that was John P. Whittington! Not unimaginably, there might be far worse places than Tarpaulin Island. The lad's elation at his easily earned freedom vanished. The snap and vim went out of his strokes, and his speed slackened perceptibly. Though he still dragged doggedly at the oars, there was no longer any heart in his pulling. Westward, almost in line with the beacon on Matinicus Rock, grew a fairy pyramid of twinkling lights--the Portland boat, bound for St. John. Larger, higher, brighter, nearer, until they burned, a sparkling triangle of white and red and green. Soon the steamer crossed his bow not far to the north. He could hear the rush of foam and the throbbing of her screw. Gradually she passed eastward and blended again with the horizon. Slower and weaker fell Percy's blades, until the pea-pod was barely moving. The ebb, still running against the boat with undiminished strength, almost sufficed to hold her stationary. But, though the lad's muscles were relaxed and listless, a fierce battle was being fought out in his troubled brain. Should he keep on or should he go back? Go back? Return to two months more of the uncongenial drudgery from which he had been so glad to escape? Besides, he could hardly hope to drag the pea-pod up on the beach and regain his bunk without attracting the notice of somebody in the cabin. He could imagine the talk of the others when he was out of hearing. "Started to run away, but got cold feet and sneaked back again. Hadn't the sand to carry it through! We'd better sack him when the four weeks are up." His futile midnight sally would only result in added humiliation. But what if he kept on? Already more than an hour had passed. It would not be many minutes now before the tide would turn. The ebb would cease running out, and the flood would set just as strongly the other way, bearing him in toward Isle au Haut. To row with it would be an easy matter. Head Harbor before daybreak. Boston or New York the morning after. Two months or more of easy living in the same old way. After that the deluge, _alias_ John P. Whittington. Isle au Haut or Tarpaulin Island, which should it be? Beads of sweat started on Percy's face as he wrestled out his problem. Far more was involved than the mere question of going north or south. He had come to the parting of the ways. His whole life hung in the balance. Floating in that frail skiff on the uneasy swell, he realized that everything depended on the direction in which he swung the prow. His future lay in his oar-blades. Under the horizon north and west stretched the coast. He closed his eyes and saw a vision of the feverish city life he knew and loved so well--lighted streets thronged with gay crowds, human banks between which flowed rivers of velvet-shod automobiles and clanging cars; hotel lobbies and theaters and restaurants alive with men and women who had never stooped to toil; all the luxury and glare and glitter that wait upon modern wealth. This was what he was fitting himself for. What did it all amount to? He opened his eyes and came back to the little boat, rocking gently on the undulating swells; to the lonely glory of the peaceful ocean, arched by the starry sky. A light breeze was beginning to blow from the southwest, dispersing the thin silver mist that overhung the water. Percy glanced at his watch; it was quarter past ten, almost time for the ebb to cease and the flood to begin. Should he keep on or go back? He must decide quickly. Already his arms were tired, and he was more than two miles north of the island. The longer he delayed his decision the harder would be his pull against the flood if he turned. Minutes passed as he pondered, barely dipping his oars. It was slack tide now and the pea-pod just held her own. Down on the breeze floated a distant, melancholy note, the voice of the whistling buoy south of Roaring Bull Ledge, two miles from Isle au Haut. Was it an invitation or a warning? Slowly at first, then faster, the stern of the boat swung round. The tide had turned. The flood would carry him north with but little effort on his part. Should he let himself go with it? Percy's indecision vanished. The tide of his own life had turned, like that of the ocean; slow and doubtful though the change had been, the current was at last setting the other way. Grasping the oar-handles tightly, he whirled the head of the pea-pod southward and started again for Tarpaulin Island. XII PULLING TOGETHER The next hour and a half was anything but fun for young Whittington. His mind was set on reaching Camp Spurling before the hands of the alarm-clock came together at midnight. At any cost he must be in his bunk before the others woke. It was a long, hard row, a battle every second with the tide running against him with untiring strength. It demanded every ounce of energy Percy possessed. His back complained dully. His arms felt as if they would drop off. Time and again he decided that the next stroke must be his last, that he must lie down in the bottom of the boat and rest; but each time he tapped some hitherto unknown reservoir of power within himself, and kept on pulling. With the stern demand on his physical forces a change was being wrought in his brain. His foolish pride, his false sense of shame at changing his hasty plan to desert, his bitter feeling toward the others, gradually disappeared. Every oar-stroke brought him not only nearer the island, but also nearer a sane, wholesome view of life itself. His thoughts turned naturally to the group at the camp, this clean, independent, self-respecting crowd, who cared no more for his money than for the pebbles on the beach; who estimated a fellow, not by what he had, but by what he was. After all, that was the real test; Percy could not help acknowledging it. Saddleback glimmered astern. The whistle south of Roaring Bull was growing fainter. Percy felt encouraged. He turned his head. Yes, Tarpaulin was certainly nearer. Disheartening though the pull was, he had gained perceptibly. But the southwest breeze had stiffened, adding its opposition to that of the tide. It was now past eleven. He had decided that he must reach the cabin not later than quarter to twelve. Barely half an hour longer! His hands were blistered, his breath came in sobs, but he dragged fiercely at the oars. At last he was stemming the strong tide-rip off Brimstone Point. The next ten minutes were worse than all that had gone before. As he surged unevenly backward and forward, the current swung the pea-pod's bow first one way, then the other. Deaf and blind to everything but the work in hand, Percy swayed to and fro. Foot by foot the boat crept round the fringing surf at the base of the bluffs. Hands seemed to be plucking at her keel, holding her back. It was no use. They were too strong for him. All at once their grasp weakened. He glanced up with swimming eyes. He had passed the eddy, and the entrance of the cove was near. A few strokes more and the pea-pod grounded on the beach. It was twenty minutes to twelve! Percy staggered up to the cabin. All was dark and quiet. Gently lifting the latch, he slipped inside, pulled the door to again, and stood listening. The regular breathing of his sleeping mates reassured him. Compelling himself to walk noiselessly to his bunk, he crept under his blanket without even taking off his shoes. He had been gone three hours; and they had been the most momentous hours of his life. _Kling-ng-ng-ng-ng ..._ Off went the clock. It was midnight. Muttering drowsily, Filippo slid out of his bunk, checked the alarm, and lighted a lamp. Then he busied himself with his cooking-utensils. The last thing Percy heard was a spoon clinking against a pan. Dead tired, he turned his face to the wall and fell asleep. It was eight in the morning before he woke. What had made his arms and back so lame and raised those big blisters on his hands? Percy remembered. He lay for a few minutes, his eyes shut. An unpleasant duty was before him, and he must be sure to do it right. Aching in every joint, he rolled out at last and stood up stiffly. Filippo, who was washing the breakfast dishes, turned at the sound. His face was neither hostile nor friendly. "Your breakfast in oven," said he. "Sit down and I get it." He set before Percy a plate of smothered cod and a half-dozen hot biscuits. It was more thoughtfulness than Percy had expected. "Much obliged, Filippo," he said, gratefully. Filippo made no reply to this acknowledgment; but, as Percy ate, he could feel the young Italian watching him curiously. It was the first time Whittington had ever thanked him, and he did not understand it. After he had finished eating, Percy took his plate, knife, and fork to the sink. "Let me wash these, Filippo," he said. "No," returned the Italian, "I do it." But a look of surprise crossed his face. What had come over the millionaire's son? Percy spent the rest of the forenoon on the ledges. At noon he came back to the cabin. He had steeled himself for the task before him, and he was not the fellow to do things half-way. The John P. Whittington in him was coming out. Everybody else was in camp when he stepped inside. Lane did not look at him at all. Spurling and Stevens nodded coolly. Percy drew a long breath and launched at once into the brief speech he had spent the last three hours dreading. "Fellows," he stammered, "I've been pretty rotten to all of you. There's no need of wasting any more words about that. Last night I took one of the boats and started to row up to Isle au Haut. But I got to thinking matters over out there on the water, and it changed my mind about a lot of things. So I came back. Jim, I want to apologize to you for what I said last night. I deserved what you gave me, and it's done me good. I want to stay here with you for the rest of the summer--if you're willing. I'll try to do my full share of the work. You can send me off the first time I shirk." He ceased and awaited the verdict, looking eagerly from one to the other. There was a moment of silence. Surprise was written large on the faces of the three Academy men. Then Spurling stepped forward and held out his hand. "Percy," said he, with a break in his voice, "I've always thought you had the right stuff in you, if you'd only give yourself half a chance. For one, I'll be more than pleased to have you stop. What do you say, boys?" He glanced toward Lane and Stevens. "Sure!" exclaimed Lane, heartily; and Stevens seconded him. The boys shook hands all round; and they sat down to the table with good appetites. Everybody enjoyed the meal. "Boys," said Jim as they got up at its close, "this is the best dinner we've had since we came out here." Percy's heart warmed toward the speaker. He knew that it was not the food alone that made Jim say what he did. It had been Percy's habit to smoke three or four cigarettes during the half-hour of rest all were accustomed to take after the noon meal. He went, as usual, to his suit-case, and this time took out, not merely one package, but all he had, including his sack of loose tobacco and two books of wrappers. "Got a good fire, Filippo?" he inquired, approaching the stove. A burst of flame answered him as he lifted the cover. In went the whole handful. He watched it burn for a moment before dropping the lid. "I'm done with you for good," he said. As Lane and Spurling started for the _Barracouta_ to dress the fifteen hundred pounds of hake they had taken off the trawls that morning Percy joined them, clad in oilskins. "Jim," he petitioned, "I want you to teach me how to split fish." "Do you mean it, Percy?" asked Spurling. "You heard what I said this noon about shirking. I'm through with dodging any kind of work just because it's unpleasant. I want to take my part with the rest of you." "I'll teach you," said Jim. He did, and found that he had an apt pupil. Percy worked until the last pound of the fifteen hundred was salted down in the hogshead. He discovered that it was not half so bad as it had looked, and felt ashamed that he had not tried his hand at the trick before. "You've earned your supper to-night," observed Jim. "Yes; but I'm glad it's something besides fish." "You'll get so you won't mind it after a while." That night Throppy played his violin and the boys sang. They passed a pleasant hour before going to bed. "I'd like to go out with you to the trawls, Jim, to-morrow morning," said Percy. "Glad to have you," responded Spurling, heartily. Two hours before light they were gliding out of the cove in the _Barracouta_, bound for Medrick Shoal, four miles to the eastward. "Percy," said Jim as the sloop rolled rhythmically on the long Atlantic swells, "I want to tell you something. I was awake the other night when you left camp. I watched you row north and come back; and I saw the hard fight you had round Brimstone. I'm glad you made a clean breast of the whole thing, even when you thought nobody knew anything about it. It showed me you intended to turn over a new leaf and play fair. You'll find that we'll meet you half-way, and more." Percy was silent for a moment. "Glad I didn't know you heard me go out," he remarked. "If I had I might not have had the courage to come back. Well, I've learned my lesson. From now on I'll try not to give you fellows any reason to find fault with me." Medrick Shoal yielded a good harvest. About eighteen hundred pounds of hake lay in the pens on the _Barracouta_ when they started for home at ten o'clock. As they took the last of their gear aboard, a schooner with auxiliary power, apparently a fisherman, approached from the eastward. "The _Cassie J._," read Spurling, deciphering the letters on the bow. "Somehow she looks natural, but I don't remember ever hearing that name before. Probably from Gloucester. Wonder what she wants of us." The vessel slowed down and changed her course until she was running straight toward the _Barracouta_. One of her crew stood in the bow, near the starboard anchor; another held the wheel; but nobody else was visible. "Where are you from, boys?" hailed the lookout, when the stranger was only a few yards off. "Tarpaulin Island," answered Spurling. The man put his hand behind his ear. "Say that again louder, will you?" he shouted. "I'm a little deaf." Jim raised his voice. "I said we were from Tarpaulin Island." The lookout passed the word back to the helms-man. The latter repeated it, evidently for the benefit of somebody in the cabin. Then the man at the wheel took up the conversation, prompted by the low voice of an unseen speaker below. "How many fish have you got there?" "Eighteen hundred of hake." "What's that?" Was everybody aboard hard of hearing? Jim raised his voice. "Eighteen hundred of hake!" "What'll you take for 'em just as they are? We'll give you fifty cents a hundred." "Can't trade with you for any such figure as that." "Good-by, then!" The tip of the _Cassie J.'s_ bowsprit was less than two yards from the port bow of the _Barracouta_, altogether too near for comfort. "Keep off!" roared Spurling. "You'll run us down!" The steersman whirled his wheel swiftly in the apparent endeavor to avert a collision. Unluckily, he whirled it the wrong way. Round swung the schooner's bow, directly toward the sloop. A few seconds more and she would be forced down beneath the larger vessel's cutwater, ridden under. Only Jim's coolness prevented the catastrophe. The instant he saw the _Cassie J._ turn toward his boat he flung his helm to port. The sloop, under good headway, responded more quickly than the schooner. For a moment the bowsprit of the latter seesawed threateningly along the jibstay of the smaller craft. Then the two drew apart. Jim was white with anger. It was only by the greatest good fortune that the _Barracouta_ had escaped. "What do you mean, you lubber?" he cried. "Can't you steer?" "Jingo! but that was a close shave!" responded the man at the wheel. "I must have lost my head for a minute." The mock concern in his face and voice would have been evident to Spurling without the lurking grin that accompanied his reply. An angry answer was on the tip of Jim's tongue. He choked it down. Soon the two craft were some distance apart. On the _Cassie J._ a man's head rose stealthily above the slide of the companionway. He fastened a steady gaze on the sloop. The distance was now too great for the boys to distinguish his features, but a sudden idea struck Jim. He slapped his thigh. "Percy!" he exclaimed. "Do you remember the two fellows we caught stealing sheep the first night we were on Tarpaulin? I feel sure as ever I was of anything in my life that they're both on board that schooner. That's Captain Bart Brittler, sticking his head out of the companionway; and Dolph's somewhere below." "But what are they doing on the _Cassie J._? Their vessel was named the _Silicon._" "They're one and the same craft! I'm certain of it. I recognize her rig now, even if it was night when I saw her the first time. As for the name, it's only paint-deep, anyway; you can see that those letters look fresh. Of course it's an offense against the law to make a change, but such a little thing as breaking a law wouldn't trouble a man like Brittler." "Do you think they tried to run us down?" "Not a doubt of it! Brittler and Dolph stayed below, afraid we might recognize 'em. They didn't see our faces that night, so they don't know how we look; but they tried to make me talk enough so that they might recognize my voice. Guess that lookout's not so deaf as he pretended to be! Once Brittler felt sure who it was, he gave orders to the wheelman to run over us. He'd have done it, too, if I hadn't seen the schooner's bow start swinging the wrong way." The _Cassie J._ slowly outdistanced the sloop. By the time the stranger was a quarter-mile off six or seven men had appeared on her deck. "Feel it's safe for 'em to come up now," commented Spurling. "Wonder what they're cruising along the coast for, anyway! Something easier and more crooked than fishing, I guess! Here's hoping they steer clear of Tarpaulin!" At dinner that noon the boys related their narrow escape to the others, and all agreed it would be well to keep a sharp lookout for Brittler and his gang. "They've got a grudge against us, fast enough," said Lane. "They intend to even matters up if they can find the chance." That afternoon Percy again wielded the splitting-knife. "You'll soon get the knack of it," approved Jim. "Don't pitch in too hard at first. Later on, after you grow used to it, you can work twice as fast, and it won't tire you half so much." In dressing a fifteen-pound hake Percy came upon a mass of feathers in the stomach. He was about to throw them aside, when a silvery glint caught his eye. "What's that?" he exclaimed. Rinsing the mass in a pail of water, he picked from it the foot of a bird; round its slender ankle was a little band of German silver or aluminum, bearing the inscription, "U43719." He held it up for the others to inspect. "That's the foot of a carrier-pigeon!" said Throppy. "I know a fellow at home who makes a specialty of raising 'em. The bird that owned this foot was taking a message to somebody. Perhaps he was shot; or he may have become tired, lost his way, and fallen into the water, and the hake got him." They looked at the little foot with the white-metal band. "My uncle Tom was fishing once in eighty fathoms off Monhegan," Spurling remarked, "and pulled up an odd-patterned, blue cup of old English ware. The hook caught in a 'blister,' a brown, soft, toadstool thing, that had grown over the cup. He's got it on his parlor mantel now." "I'll keep this foot as a souvenir," said Percy. They finished the hake shortly after four. Percy shed his oil-clothes, went into the camp, and reappeared with his sweater. Going down to the ledges, he pulled off a big armful of rockweed. This he stuffed into the sweater, and tied it together, making a close bundle. The others watched him curiously. "What are you going to do with that?" inquired Lane. Percy smiled, but there was a glitter of determination in his eyes. "I'll tell you some time," was all the reply he vouchsafed. Taking the bundle, now somewhat larger than a football, he climbed the steep path at the end of the bank, and started for the woods. "I'll be home before supper," he flung back as he disappeared beyond the crest of the bluff. In less than an hour he was back, bringing the sweater minus the rockweed. His face was flushed, and streaked with lines where the perspiration had run down it, and he was breathing hard. Evidently he had been through some sort of strenuous physical exercise. "It's all right, boys," he said, in response to their chaffing. "Just a little secret between me and myself. No, I'm not trying to reduce the size of my head. Later on you'll know all about it." And with that they had to be content. XIII FOG-BOUND Dog-Days began about the 20th of July. Before that the dwellers in Camp Spurling had experienced occasional spells of fog, but nothing very dense or long-continued. Now they got a taste of the real thing. They were dressing fish on the _Barracouta_ one afternoon when a cold wind struck from the southeast. Spurling held up his hand. "We're in for it!" said he. "Feel that? Right off the Banks! In less than an hour we'll need a compass to get ashore in the dory." He was so nearly right that there was no fun in it. The wind hauled more to the east, and in its wake came driving a gray, impenetrable wall. The ocean vanished. The points on each side of the cove were swallowed up. Quickly disappeared the cove itself, the beach, the camp and fish-house, and the bank beyond them. The sloop was blanketed close in heavy mist. Jim made a pretense of scooping a handful out of the air and shaping it like a snowball. "Here you go, Budge!" he exclaimed. "Straight to third! Put it on him! Fresh from the factory in the Bay of Fundy! If this holds on until midnight, we won't be able to see outside our eyelids when we start trawling; there's no moon." "Will you go, if it's thick as it is now?" inquired Lane. "Sure! Here's where the compass comes in. If we stayed ashore for every little fog-mull, we wouldn't catch many hake the next six weeks. This isn't a circumstance to what it is sometimes. I've known it to hang on for two weeks at a stretch. Ever hear the story of the Penobscot Bay captain who started out on a voyage round the world? Just as he got outside of Matinicus Rock he shaved the edge of a fog-bank, straight up and down as a wall. He pulled out his jack-knife and pushed it into the fog, clean to the handle. When he came back, two and a half years later, there was his knife, sticking in the same spot. He tried to pull it out, but the blade was so badly rusted that it broke, and he had to leave half of it stuck in the hole." "Must have had some fog in those days!" was Lane's comment. "Did you say this all comes from the Bay of Fundy?" "Not all of it. Fog both blows and makes up on the spot. Sometimes it rises out of the water like steam. I've heard my uncle say that Georges Bank makes it as a mill makes meal. It's worst in August. Then the smoke from shore fires mingles with it; and the wind from the land blowing off, and that from the sea blowing in, keep it hazy along the coast all summer." Jim's predictions proved correct, as they generally did. While there were occasional stretches of fine weather during the next few weeks, the fog either hovered on the horizon or lurked not far below it, ready to bury the island at the slightest provocation in the way of an east or southeast wind. Despite its presence, the routine of trawling and lobstering went on as usual. Every Friday came the regular trip to Matinicus to dispose of the salted fish and procure groceries, gasolene, and salt, as well as newspapers and mail. On each of these visits Percy always weighed himself on the scales at the general store. Beginning at one hundred and thirty-five, he climbed steadily, pound by pound, toward one hundred and fifty. An active, out-of-door life, combined with regular hours and a simple, wholesome diet, together with the exclusion of cigarettes, resulted inevitably in increasing weight and strength. At the close of each afternoon he climbed the bluff with his sweater stuffed with rockweed. The others joked him considerably about these mysterious trips, but failed to extract any information from him regarding them. When he chose, Percy could be as close-mouthed as his father. At about this time a letter from the millionaire reached his son through the Matinicus office. It bore the postmark of San Francisco, and ran as follows: DEAR PERCY,--Stick to it. Affectionately, JOHN P. WHITTINGTON. It actually surprised Percy to find out how glad he was to receive this laconic epistle from his only living relative. He cast about for a suitable reply. "I want to send something that'll please him," he thought. "He hasn't had much satisfaction, so far, out of me." Finally, after mature deliberation, he indited the following: DEAR DAD,--I'm sticking. Your affectionate son, PERCY. _The Three Musketeers_ gathered dust on the wooden shelf. Percy had faced squarely the fact of his college conditions, and had determined that they must be made up at the opening of the fall term; so his spare time went into Virgil and Cæsar and algebra and geometry, instead of being spent on Dumas. He rarely asked for assistance from the others; they had little leisure, and it was his own fight. He buckled down manfully. Another task that he set before himself was the establishment of cordial relations with the other members of the party. He realized that his own fault had made this necessary. It had been an easy matter to get on good terms with Jim, Budge, and Throppy. With Filippo it was a little harder; but soon he, too, thawed out when he found that Percy treated him courteously and was willing to do his share of the camp work. Even Nemo wagged his tail when Percy appeared, and the crow grew tame enough to eat fish out of his hand. One afternoon, when the fog had lifted sufficiently to make it possible to see a few hundred feet from the island, a motor-boat unexpectedly appeared from the north and swung round Brimstone Point into the cove. She ran up alongside the _Barracouta_, where the boys were baiting their trawl. "I'm the warden," said one of the two newcomers, a gray-mustached, keen-eyed man. "I've come to look over your car." Jim took his dip-net and stepped into the motor-boat, and they ran up to the lobster-car. A few minutes' investigation of its contents satisfied the official that it contained no "shorts." "Glad to be able to give you a clean bill of health," said he as he set Jim back on board the sloop. "I wish some other people I know of did business as clean and aboveboard as you young fellows." A quarter-hour later the sound of his exhaust had died away in the fog to the northward. "What would he have done if he'd found any 'shorts'?" asked Percy. "Fined us a dollar for every one," answered Jim. "Taken the cream off the summer, wouldn't it? Sometimes it pays, even in dollars and cents, to be honest." The next morning was hot and muggy. The sea about the island was clear of fog for one or two miles. Jim and Budge had started long before light to set the trawl, and Throppy wished to make some changes on his wireless; so Filippo was glad enough of the chance to go out with Percy to haul the lobster-traps. The little Italian had lost much of his melancholy. He enjoyed his work and the good-fellowship of the camp. The weeks of association with his new friends had made of him an entirely different fellow from the lonely, homesick lad they had picked up on the steamboat wharf at Stonington. The two boys started in the pea-pod at six o'clock. A glassy calm overspread the sea. Even the perpetual ocean swell seemed to have lost much of its force. "I'll row!" volunteered Percy. He stripped off his oil-coat and sweater and rolled up his shirt-sleeves. "It'll be hot up in the granite quarries to-day, hey, Filippo? S'pose you're sorry not to be there?" "_Io sono contento_" ("I am satisfied"), replied the Italian. Hauling and rebaiting the hundred-odd traps was a good five hours' job and more for the couple, neither of whom had ever handled a small boat or seen a live lobster before the previous month. As the forenoon advanced the air seemed to grow thicker and more breathless. Over the water brooded a languid haze, through which the sun rays burned with a moist, intense heat. Percy's bare arms began to grow red and painful. "Feel as if they were being scalded," he complained. "I've heard Jim say a fog-burn was worse than any other kind. Now I know he's right." Eleven o'clock, and still twenty-five traps to be pulled. Most of these were on the Dog and Pups, a group of ledges more than a mile northeast of the island. It was the best spot for lobsters anywhere about Tarpaulin. Percy hesitated. "Fog seems to be closing in a little," he observed, "and we haven't any compass. Should hate to get out there and have it shut down thick. Might be hard work to find the island again." He glanced at the tub of lobsters. "If the Dog and Pups keep up anywhere near their average, we'll beat the record. What d'you say, Filippo? Shall we take a chance and surprise the rest of 'em?" Filippo flashed his white teeth. "I go with you," he smiled. "Then go it is!" decided Percy. He headed the pea-pod for the Dog and Pups. "We'll keep a sharp lookout, and if it starts to grow anyways thick we'll strike back for old Tarpaulin." A pull of about twenty minutes brought them to the ledges, around which the traps were set in a circle. They began hauling at the point in the circumference nearest to the island, following the buoys west and north. The catch exceeded their hopes. "We'll need another tub, if this keeps up," chuckled Percy. Filippo laughed jubilantly. The fog was forgotten. Their entire attention was centered on the contents of each trap as it was pulled. Round on the edge of the circle farthest from the island a pot refused to leave bottom. Percy tugged till he was red in the face, but he could not start it. "Catch hold with me, Filippo!" he puffed. The Italian joined his strength to Percy's, but to no avail. The slacker still clung to the bottom. The boys straightened up, panting. "We'll have to leave it," acknowledged Percy, disappointedly. "Probably there's half a dozen two-pound lobsters in it." He looked about and gave a startled cry. "Where's the island?" The wooded bluffs of Tarpaulin had disappeared. While they had been wrestling with the stubborn trap the fog had stolen a march on them. On all sides loomed a horizon of gray mist, not a half-mile distant and steadily drawing nearer. They must locate the island and get back to it at once. Percy tossed over the buoy and the warp at which they had been pulling. Tarpaulin lay southwest; but which way was southwest? Busied with the trap, he had utterly lost all sense of direction. The sun? He glanced hopefully up. No; that would not help any. The fog was too dense. Ha! The surf? "Listen hard, Filippo!" he exhorted. They strained their ears. No sound. The swell was so gentle that it did not break on the ledges of the island loudly enough to be heard a mile and a quarter off. The heaving circle of which they were the center was contracting fast. Its misty walls were now less than five hundred feet away. "Guess we'd better take a buoy aboard, and hang to it till Jim comes out to hunt us up. It'd make me feel cheap to do it, but it's the only safe way. But wait! What's that?" Both listened again. A sound reached their ears, plain and unmistakable, the rote of dashing water. "There's the surf!" rejoiced Percy. "Don't you hear it?" "_Si_, I hear it," answered Filippo. Dropping the buoy he had just gaffed, Percy took the oars and began rowing hard toward the sound, which gradually grew louder. The fog came on with a rush, sliding over them like an avalanche. It was hardly possible to see beyond the tips of the oar-blades. "Lucky we can hear that surf!" said Percy, comfortably. "But strange it sounds so loud and so near." Now it was close ahead. He stopped rowing, puzzled. A blast of cold air smote them. Suddenly there was a rushing all around. It was not the surf at all, but waves, breaking before the coming wind. They were lost in the fog! Percy faced Filippo blankly. For a moment his head went round. With bitter regret he now realized that in dropping the buoy he had given up a certainty for an uncertainty that might cost them dearly. But nothing was to be gained by yielding to discouragement. He reviewed his scanty stock of sea lore. "That wind is probably blowing from some point between northeast and southeast. If we turn around, and run straight before it, we'll be likely to hit the island." He swung the pea-pod stern to the breeze. "Here goes! Watch out sharp for lobster-buoys, Filippo!" But no buoys appeared. They might pass within ten feet of one and never see it. Five, ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed; and still no sign of Tarpaulin. The wind was becoming stronger, the waves higher; their rushing was now loud enough to drown the sound of any surf that might be breaking on the ledges of the island. Percy rowed for a quarter-hour longer, dread plucking at his heart-strings. At last he rested on his oars. "We've missed it," he acknowledged, despondently. They were lost now in good earnest. It was one o'clock. The fog hung over them like a heavy gray pall, so damp and thick that it was almost stifling. Percy turned the pea-pod bow to the wind and began rowing again. "We must try to hold our own till it clears up," he observed, with attempted cheerfulness. But his tones lacked conviction. It might not clear for two or three days. By degrees his strokes lost their force, until the oars were barely dipping. The boat was going astern fast. Two o'clock. Long ere this Jim and Budge must have returned from trawling and realized that the pea-pod and its occupants were lost. They were probably searching for them now, perhaps miles away on the other side of the island, wherever it might be. A gruff bark startled them. A round, black, whiskered head suddenly thrust up out of the water close to the port gunwale. Filippo cried out in alarm, but Percy reassured him. "Only a seal!" Abruptly the sea grew rough. All around them tossed and streamed and writhed long, black aprons of kelp. They were passing over a sunken ledge. Soon it lay behind them; the kelp vanished and the waves grew lower. Three o'clock went by; then four. The afternoon was waning. The thick, woolly gray that surrounded them assumed a more somber shade. Night was coming, pitchy and starless, doubly so for the two lost boys, adrift on the open ocean. Hark! What was that? They both heard it, far distant, off the port bow! Percy leaped up in excitement. "The shot-gun!" he cried. "They're signaling!" Heading the boat toward the sound, he rowed his hardest, while Filippo strained forward, listening. Ten minutes dragged by, and once again--_pouf!_--slightly louder, and slightly to starboard. Percy corrected his course and again threw his whole heart into his rowing. So it went for an hour, the signals sounding at ten-minute intervals, each louder and nearer than the one before. At last Percy thought it possible that their voices might be heard against the wind. He stopped rowing. "Now shout, Filippo!" Their cries pealed out together. They were heard. An answering hail came back. Soon the puff-puff-puff of the _Barracouta's_ exhaust was driving rivets through the fog. A little later they were on board the sloop, answering the inquiries of Jim and Budge, while the empty pea-pod towed astern. "Your seamanship wasn't bad, Perce," was Jim's judgment. "After you dropped the buoy, and then found you'd been rowing into the teeth of the wind, it might have been better to have tried only to hold your own until we came out to look you up. That breeze at first was nearer north than northeast, and when you ran before it you went south past the island. After that you were all at sea. But I might have done just the same thing. I can't tell you, though, how glad we are to see you back, even if it did cost next to our last shell of birdshot. The Gulf of Maine's a pretty homesick place to be kicking round in on a foggy night." "You aren't any gladder than we are," replied Percy. He glanced at the pea-pod towing astern. "But say, Jim! Just cast your eye over that tub. When it comes to catching lobsters, haven't Filippo and I got the rest of the bunch beat to a frazzle?" XIV SWORDFISHING All through July the Tarpaulin Islanders had been troubled with dogfish. Beginning with a few scattering old "ground dogs," which apparently live on the banks the year round, they had become more and more numerous as the month advanced. Bait was stripped from the hooks; fish on the trawl were devoured until only heads and backbones were left; and the robbers themselves were caught in increasing numbers. At last their depredations became unbearable. Jim and Percy had made a set one foggy morning on Medrick Shoal. When the trawl came up it was a sight to make angels weep. For yards at a stretch the hooks were bare or bitten off. Then came "dogs" of all sizes from "garter-dogs," or "shoe-strings," a foot long, to full-grown ten-pounders of about a yard. Mingled with them was an occasional lonesome skeleton of a haddock, cusk, or hake. "Look at the pirate!" said Jim. Grasping a ganging well above the hook, he held the fish up for Percy's inspection. It was two feet long, of a dirty gray color, slim, shark-shaped, with mouth underneath. Before each of the two fins on its back projected a sharp horn. "Think of buying perfectly good herring at Vinalhaven, and freighting 'em way down here to feed a thing like that!" mourned Jim. "He's the meanest thief that ever grew fins. Swims too slow to catch a fish that's free; but good-by to anything that's hooked, if he's round. He'll gouge out a piece as big as a baseball at every bite. I'd hate to fall overboard in a school of 'em." "Don't touch him!" he warned, hastily, as Percy reached out an investigating hand. "He'll stick those horns into you, and they're rank poison." "Aren't dogfish good for anything?" asked Percy. "Not a thing! No, I'll take that back. They can be ground up for fertilizer; their livers are full of oil; and their skin makes the finest kind of sandpaper for cleaning or polishing metal without scratching it. They've been canned, too, under the name of grayfish; but no fisherman'd ever eat 'em; he knows 'em too well." Rod after rod of trawl yielded the same results. "I'm almost tempted to save my buoys and anchors, and cut all the rest away," announced Jim in disgust. "I've known it to be done. They wear the line out, sawing across it. But I guess the best way is to save what we can and stop fishing for a while. Sometimes they come square-edged, like a stone wall, just as they have this morning; and in a few days they'll have gone somewhere else. Hope it'll be that way this time!" It was almost noon before the whole trawl was aboard. It had yielded barely two hundred pounds of hake. "Tell you what!" exclaimed Jim as he looked at his compass and headed the _Barracouta_ westward through the fog for home, "we'll put the trawl in the house for a few days, and fit up for swordfishing. There's a good ground fifteen miles south of the island. I've been down there with Uncle Tom. If we could get some fair-sized fish, it'd be worth our while to take 'em into Rockland." That afternoon they mustered their swordfish gear. In the house were three or four of the wrecked coaster's mast-hoops. One of these Jim lashed to the sloop's jibstay, about waist-high above the end of the bowsprit. "That'll do for the pulpit!" Near the jaws of the gaff he nailed a little board seat, rigged like a bracket on a roof for shingling. On this the lookout could sit, his arm round the mast, watching for fins. "Now for a harpoon!" Across the rafters inside the house lay a hard-pine pole eighteen feet long, ending in a tapering two-foot iron. Strung on a fish-line hanging from a spike were a half-dozen swordfish darts. These were sharp, stubby metal arrows, all head and tail and no body, with a socket cast on one side to admit the top of the pole-iron. Back of the arrow-head was a hole, through which was fastened the buoy-line. "Righto!" exclaimed Jim. "Now when the fog clears we'll be ready to do business." That very night the mists scaled away before a brisk north wind. Morning showed the sea clear for miles, though a fleecy haze still blurred the southern and eastern horizon. "We'll take this chance," decided Jim. "May not get a better. Remember it's dog-days!" At five o'clock they started south. Before eight they were on the swordfish-grounds. The wind, blowing against the long ocean swell, raised a fairly heavy sea. Though the day was clear, they could still feel the fog in the air. Jim allotted the company their several stations. "Budge, you swarm up to that seat on the gaff and watch out for fins! Throppy, you steer as Budge tells you! Stand by to take the dory, Perce, and go after any fish I'm lucky enough to iron. Filippo, be ready to throw that buoy and coil of warp off the starboard bow the minute I make a strike. I'll get out in the pulpit with the harpoon. Keep alive, everybody! We're liable to run across something any minute." Perched aloft, Budge scanned the tossing, glittering sea. His keen eye detected a triangular, black membrane steering leisurely through the waves a hundred yards ahead. "Fin on the starboard bow! Keep her off, Throppy!" In a short time the _Barracouta_ was close behind the unconscious fish. From the bowsprit end burst a shout of disgust: "No good! I can see him plain! Tail's too limber! Only a shark! Swing her off, Throppy!" "How can I tell a shark from a swordfish?" Budge called down to Jim. "Shark's back fin is shorter and broader, and he keeps his tail-fluke whacking from side to side. Swordfish has two steady fins, stiff as shingles; front one is long and slender and curves back on a crook; the after one is the upper tail-fluke. Try again!" Five minutes passed. Then an excited yell: "Fin to port!" Following Budge's shouted directions, the sloop gave chase. Soon they were near their quarry. "Swordfish!" breathlessly announced Jim. "And a big one! Put me on top of him, Budge!" Leaning against the mast-hoop that encircled his waist, he lifted the long lance and poised it for the blow. The tail of the fish was almost under his feet when he launched the harpoon with all his strength. Unluckily, at just that moment the sloop dipped and met a big sea squarely. Her bowsprit dove under, burying Jim almost breast-deep, spoiling his aim. The dart struck the fish a glancing blow on the side of the shoulder. Off darted their frightened game. Jim gave a cry of disappointment. "Too bad! Ten feet, if he was an inch! Well, better luck next time!" A quarter-hour passed. Budge strained his eyes, but no fin! The breeze was shifting to the northeast. Jim cast a practised eye about the horizon. "If the wind swings round much farther it'll bring the fog again. See anything, Budge?" "No--yes! Up to starboard! Right, Throppy! Keep her as she is!" The fish was swimming at a moderate rate, and the sloop had no trouble in catching up with him. The two stiff fins betrayed him. [Illustration: LEANING AGAINST THE MAST-HOOP THAT ENCIRCLED HIS WAIST, HE LIFTED THE LONG LANCE AND POISED IT FOR THE BLOW] "Swordfish all right!" muttered Jim. "Not quite so big as the other one, but too good to lose! Steady, Throppy!" Foot by foot the _Barracouta's_ bowsprit forged up on their prospective prey. Nobody spoke. Jim's grip on the pine staff tightened; his eye measured the distance to the dull-blue shoulder. Six inches further ... five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... _now!_ With all his might he drove the harpoon downward, straight for its mark. There was a tremendous flurry, and down went the fish, leaving a trail of blood. "Got him that time! Right through the shoulder! Over with that warp and barrel, Filippo!" The Italian obeyed, his eyes wide as saucers. Soon the coils of the fifty-fathom lobster-warp had straightened out in the wake of the terrified fugitive, and the red buoy danced off over the wave-crests. "He's up to you, Perce!" shouted Jim. "Go after him! Only be sure to remember what I told you coming out. Keep your eye on the barrel! Haul it aboard as soon as you can, and coil in the warp. Don't get snarled up in it if he starts running again." Percy drew the dory alongside and jumped in. Meanwhile the harpoon staff was dragged aboard by the line attached to it, the pole-iron having pulled out of the socket in the dart when the fish was struck. Jim stuck on a fresh dart, attached to another warp and buoy, and was ready for a second strike. "Pass Percy that lance, Filippo!" he ordered. "He may need it to keep off the sharks." The Italian handed to Whittington a short, stout pole, on its end a two-foot iron rod, flattened to a point shaped like a tablespoon, and filed to razor sharpness. Percy set out in pursuit of the red barrel, now almost two hundred yards to starboard. "Another fin to port!" hailed Budge; and the _Barracouta_ sheered off in quest of a second prize. For the first few minutes, though Percy rowed his prettiest, he could not hold his own with the moving barrel. Each glance over his shoulder showed that it was farther away. He bent stoutly to his oars. The sloop was heading in the opposite direction, and the distance between them widened rapidly. The wind had veered still further to the east and the fog hung more thickly on the horizon. The barrel was nearer. At last he had begun to gain on it. He rowed with renewed vigor. Either the fish was tiring out or had stopped swimming altogether. Presently the dory bumped against the keg. Pulling in his oars and dropping them over the thwarts, he sprang forward and gaffed the buoy. A moment later he had lifted it aboard and was pulling in the warp. The first ten feet came over the gunwale without any resistance; then he had to surge against the sag of a dead weight. The fish had either given up the ghost or was too exhausted to struggle. Fifty fathoms is a long distance to drag two hundred pounds. Percy's arms began to ache before he had coiled in half the warp. Then he was treated to a surprise. Several feet of line jerked through his hands. The fish had come to life again! Percy closed his grip on the strands, but soon let them slip to avoid being pulled overboard. He started to make the line fast, but remembered Spurling's caution against the danger of tearing the dart out of his prey. So he tossed the barrel over again and began rowing after it. After traveling a few rods, it stopped. Once more he took it aboard and began coiling in the warp. This time the fish must surely be spent. But no! Thirty fathoms had crossed the gunwale when the rope was whisked from his hands with even more violence than before. Taken completely by surprise, Percy was wrenched forward. He hung for a moment over the side, twisted himself back in a strong effort to regain his balance, and incautiously planted his foot inside the unlaying coil. A turn whipped round his ankle, and he was snatched overboard, feet first. Before he could make a motion to free himself he was plowing rapidly along under water. His first panic passed. Unless he wished to drown, he must somehow clear his foot of that vise-like grip. And whatever he did must be done at once. He tried to reach his ankle, but the rate at which he was traveling straightened out his body, and he could not bend it against the water rushing by him. The warp leading back to the dory trailed across his face. He felt his way down it, hand over hand, to his ankle. There was a terrible pressure on his chest, a roaring in his ears; he was strangling. He could not hold his breath ten seconds longer. Bent almost double, he grasped the taut line beyond his foot, first with one hand, then with both, and flung his whole weight suddenly on it in a desperate pull. The strain round his ankle eased, the rope loosened. Kicking vigorously, he freed himself from the loop. Then he let go of the warp and quickly rose to the surface. Percy was a good swimmer. He cleared the water from his mouth and nose, paddled easily while he drew two or three long breaths, then raised himself and looked around. Twenty yards away the dory bobbed aimlessly, the rope still running at a rapid rate over its gunwale. As Percy rose on a wave he caught a glimpse of the _Barracouta_ more than a mile off; engrossed in the chase of the second fish, her crew had probably not observed his mishap. He turned his eyes back to the dory at the very moment that the warp ran out to its full length and the barrel was whirled overboard. Its red bilge flung the spray aloft as it towed rapidly toward him. Ten yards away it came to a sudden stop. The swordfish was either dead or taking another rest. It was a matter of no great difficulty for Percy to reach the little cask. He rested on it for a moment, then resumed his swim toward the boat. Presently he was grasping the gunwale. A month earlier it would have been absolutely impossible for him to scramble into the high-sided, rocking craft. As it was he had a hard fight, and he was all but spent when he tumbled inside and lay panting. When he raised himself, the first thing he noticed was that the fog was driving nearer. The wind was now due east. It promised to bring the day's fishing to an early end. He must retrieve the barrel and get the fish aboard as soon as possible or he might lose it altogether. Shipping his oars, he rowed up to the cask and took it in. A pull on the warp showed that the swordfish was motionless. Percy began hauling again, but this time he was very careful to keep his feet clear of the coil. A damp breath smote his cheek. He glanced toward the east, and saw the fog blowing over the water in ragged, fleecy masses. The _Barracouta_ was momentarily hidden. When she reappeared, fully a mile distant, her crew were hoisting a black body aboard. While he was fighting for life they had succeeded in capturing the second fish. The sight reminded him of his duty. He resumed pulling. As the fathoms came in there was no sign of life on the other end. The fish sagged like lead. At last the long drag was over and its body floated beside the dory. "Deader 'n a door-nail!" muttered Percy. His prize was fully seven feet long. The iron had gone down under the shoulder and out into the gills, causing it to bleed freely. Its sword, which was an extension of the upper jaw, suggesting a duck's bill, was notched and battered, where it had struck against rocks on the bottom. Following Jim's directions, Percy fastened a bight of the warp securely round the tail of his prize, triced it up over the dory's stem, and made the line fast round a thwart. The fish was so heavy that he could not lift it very high, and most of its body dragged in the water. He began to row slowly toward the sloop. Thicker and thicker blew the fog. Finally it blotted out the _Barracouta_; but Percy's last view of her told that she was heading his way. What if she could not find him! The thought gave him an unpleasant chill. He rowed harder. A splash astern attracted his attention. A violent shock set the dory quivering. He started up just in time to see a large fish dart away, leaving the blood streaming from a gory wound in the head of the swordfish. A shark! Percy knew he was in for a fight. He seized the lance and sprang into the stern. A black fin shot alongside. The marauder rolled up for his turn at the banquet. Just as his jaws opened Percy drove the keen steel into his throat. Mad with fright and pain, the robber flashed off, thrashing the bloody water. Another fin appeared on Percy's left. Again he lunged, and found his mark. The tail of the wounded shark struck the dory a heavy blow. Down it rolled, almost pitching the boy overboard head foremost among the blood-crazed sea-tigers. For a moment he sickened at what might have happened; but he regained his balance and hung to the lance. His fighting blood was roused. He had risked too much already to have the swordfish torn to pieces under his very eyes. Knees braced tightly against the sides of the stern, hands locked round the stout butt of the lance, he foiled rush after rush of the black-finned, white-bellied pirates. Again and again he lunged and stabbed, until the water round the rocking boat was dyed crimson. [Illustration: KNEES BRACED TIGHTLY AGAINST THE SIDES OF THE STERN, HANDS LOCKED ROUND THE STOUT BUTT OF THE LANCE, HE FOILED RUSH AFTER RUSH OF THE BLACK-FINNED, WHITE-BELLIED PIRATES] There seemed to be no end to the sharks. Fins crisscrossed the water all about and cut in toward the swordfish in quick, savage rushes. Percy was becoming exhausted; his arms ached; his breath came short. He could not keep up the fight much longer. Where was the _Barracouta_? He shouted at the top of his lungs. Unexpectedly, out of the fog to starboard Jim's voice answered him. "Sharks!" yelled Percy. "This way! Quick!" "Fight 'em off! We're coming!" In less than two minutes the sloop was alongside, and oars and harpoon helped beat off the assailants while the prize was being hoisted aboard. Though badly gouged and bitten about the head, the swordfish was but little impaired in value, for its body had hardly been touched. Another of about the same size lay in the standing-room. It had been a good morning's work. Percy told his story as the _Barracouta_ nosed home through the fog. When he had finished, Jim dropped his hand on his shoulder. "Perce," said he, "you certainly put up a great fight and saved your fish. Nobody could have done any better." Those few words, Percy felt, amply repaid him for what he had gone through that morning. He had won his spurs and was at last a full-fledged member of Spurling & Company. XV MIDSUMMER DAYS Half past twelve found the _Barracouta_ again at her mooring in Sprowl's Cove. Throppy and Filippo were landed, with instructions to haul the lobster-traps the next morning if the fog would allow them to do it safely. Without waiting for dinner, Jim, Budge, and Percy started in the sloop for Rockland to dispose of their catch. They had no ice, so it was necessary to get the two swordfish to market as soon as possible. "Thicker 'n a dungeon, isn't it?" said Jim as they rounded Brimstone Point and headed northwest into the fog. "Lucky we've got a good compass! Without it we wouldn't stand the ghost of a show of getting to Rockland. We'd pile up on some ledge before we'd gone half-way." Shaping their course carefully by the chart, and keeping on the alert to avoid passing vessels and steamers, they drove the _Barracouta_ at top speed. Ten miles from Tarpaulin the increased height of the ocean swells told that they were crossing the shoal rocky ground of Snippershan. Five miles farther on they left behind the clanging bell on Bay Ledge and soon passed the red whistler south of Hurricane. A straight course from this brought them at five o'clock to the bell east of Monroe's Island, and before six they were alongside the steamboat wharf at Rockland. "Look out for her, boys!" directed Jim. "I want to get up-town before the markets close." He landed, and started on the run for Main Street. In twenty-five minutes he was back. "Sold 'em!" he announced. "Sixty dollars!" A little later an express-wagon with two men drove down on the wharf. The swordfish were hoisted from the _Barracouta_, the agreed price paid, and the team hurried away. "Not a bad day's work," said Budge. "Fair! Now let's go somewhere and get a good supper!" They found a restaurant on Main Street, unpretentious but clean, and sat down at one of its small tables. Two months ago Percy would have turned up his nose at the idea of eating in such a place; now he looked forward to a meal there with eager anticipation. Jim winked at him, then scanned the bill of fare, and turned to Budge. "What'll you have, Roger?" he asked. "I see they've some nice fish here." "Fish!" almost screamed Lane. "Not on your life! I've eaten so much fish the last two months that I'm ashamed to look a hake or haddock in the face. None for mine! Beefsteak and onions are good enough for me." Jim glanced at Percy. Percy nodded. "Three of the same," said Jim to the waiter. They starved until the viands came on, then turned to. Fifteen minutes later the three orders were duplicated and despatched without undue delay. "Try it again, Budge?" "I'd like to," returned Lane, truthfully, "but I can't." Jim broke a five-dollar bill at the cashier's desk, and they filed out. "Sorry Throppy and Filippo aren't with us," said Percy. "So am I; but we'll even it up with 'em somehow, later." After an evening with Sherlock Holmes at the movies the three went down to the _Barracouta_ and turned in. The next morning the fog was not so thick. They started at sunrise, and reached the island before eleven o'clock. At noon Stevens and the Italian came in with a good catch of lobsters. And now came some of the most enjoyable weeks of the summer. The five boys were thoroughly acquainted and on the best of terms. Their work had been reduced to a frictionless routine that left them more leisure than at first. Lane was treasurer and bookkeeper for the concern, and his reports, made every Saturday night, showed that returns, both from the fish and from the lobsters, were running ahead of their estimates at the beginning of the season. Percy, in particular, was learning to enjoy the free, out-of-door life, so different from anything to which he had been accustomed. At the close of pleasant afternoons, when a land breeze had driven the fog to sea and the work of the day was finished, he liked to take his Cæsar or Virgil up to the beacon on Brimstone, and lie at ease on the cushion of wiry grass, while he followed the great general through his Gallic campaigns or traced the wanderings of pious �neas over a sea that could have been no bluer or more sparkling than that which surrounded the island. Sometimes it pleased him to explore the sheep-paths through the scrubby evergreens with gray wool-tags clinging to the branch ends, and to emerge at last from the tangle of dwarfed, twisted trunks on the northeast point. There he would throw himself at full length on the summit of the bluff, with the surf in his ears and the cool, salt breeze on his face, and watch the sun flashing from the brown glass toggles near the white lobster-buoys; or, lifting his gaze to the horizon beyond the purple deep, he would trace the low, rolling humps of the mainland hills, the cleft range of Isle au Haut, or the heights of Mount Desert. But no studies or scenery caused him to forget his daily trip with sweater and rockweed. The glades on the southern edge of the woods were overgrown with raspberry-bushes. When Filippo's daily stint about the camp was finished, he visited these spots with his pail; and while the season lasted, heaping bowls of red, dead-ripe fruit or saucers of sweet preserve varied their customary fare. There were blueberries, too, in abundance, and these also made a welcome addition to their table. "Boys," said Lane, one morning, "I'm meat hungry. I can still taste that beefsteak we got the other night at Rockland. Think of the ton or so of mutton chops running loose on top of this island, while we poor Crusoes are starving to death on the beach!" "No need of waiting until you're in the last stages, Budge," observed Jim. "Uncle Tom told me we could have a lamb whenever we wanted one. All we've got to do is to kill it." A silence settled over the camp. The boys looked at one another. Nobody hankered for the job. "Budge spoke first," suggested Throppy. "I'm no butcher," returned Lane. "Come to think of it, I don't care much for lamb, after all." "Now see here!" said Jim. "What's the use of beating round the bush? We're all crazy for fresh meat. The only thing to do is to draw lots to see who'll sacrifice his feelings and do the shooting. We'll settle that now." He cut four toothpicks into uneven lengths. "Filippo's not in this." He had noticed that the Italian's olive face had grown pale. "Now come up and draw like men!" The lot fell to Lane. "You're it, Budge! Don't be a quitter! There's the gun and here's our last shell. Don't miss!" Lane's lips tightened. But he took the gun, put in the shell, and started up over the bank. "Don't follow me," he flung back. "I'll do this alone." Five minutes of silence followed. Then--_bang!_ "He's done it!" exclaimed Throppy. The boys felt unhappy. In a few minutes Lane came crunching down the gravel slope. His face was sober. "Where's the lamb?" asked Jim. "Up there! I didn't agree to bring it down." "Come on, boys!" Jim, Percy, and Stevens went up to the pasture; Lane remained in the cabin. A careful search failed to reveal the victim. Jim walked to the edge of the bank. "Oh, Budge!" he called. Lane came out of the camp. "Where's that lamb?" "Don't know! Running around up there, I s'pose!" "Didn't you shoot him?" "No! I couldn't. And I know none of the rest of you could, either. So I fired in the air." Jim's laugh spoke his relief. "Well, I guess that's the easiest way out of it for everybody. Next trip to Matinicus I'll order a hind quarter from Rockland. It'll mean a little more wear and tear on the company's pocketbook, but a good deal less on our feelings." One of the accompaniments of the heat and fog of those August days was a kind of salt-water mirage. Ships and steamers miles away below the horizon were lifted into plain view. Low, distant islands rose to perpendicular bluffs, distorted by the wavering air-currents; other islands appeared directly above the first, and came down to join them. Percy watched these novel moving pictures with great interest. Every few mornings either the trawl or the lobster-traps would yield something unusual. Now it might be a dozen bream, called by the fishermen "brim," "redfish," or "all-eyes"; again up would come a catfish, savage and sharp-toothed, able to dent an ash oar; and rarely a small halibut would appear, drowned on the trawl. Sometimes the lobstermen would capture a monkfish, whose undiscriminating appetite had led him to try to swallow a glass float; or a trap would come to the surface freighted with huge five-fingers or containing a short, ribbon-shaped eel, blood-red from nose to tail-tip. Spurling & Company were dressing a big catch of hake on the _Barracouta_ early one afternoon when a rockety report resounded close to the island. Percy, who was wielding his splitting-knife with good effect, as his oilskins showed, glanced up quickly. "That's a yacht's gun!" Sixty seconds revealed that he was right. Into the mouth of the cove shot a keen-pro wed steam-yacht, resplendent with brass fittings and fresh, white paint. Five or six flanneled figures lounged aft, while a few members of her crew, natty in white duck, dropped anchor under the direction of an officer. Side-steps were lowered and an immaculate toy boat swung out; a sailor occupied the rowing-thwart, while one of the yachtsmen stepped into the stern and took the rudder-lines. The boat sped straight toward the _Barracouta_, which grew dingy and mean by contrast. Presently the strangers were near. The yachtsman touched his cap. He was a good-looking fellow of perhaps nineteen, with a light, fuzzy mustache and eyes that were a trifle shifty. "Would you be so kind as to tell me--" He broke off abruptly as he recognized Percy. "By the Great Horn Spoon!" he almost shouted, "if it isn't P. Whittington! Percy, old man, what do you mean by hiding yourself away offshore in a lonesome spot like this? Come aboard! Come aboard! The old crowd's there--Ben Brimmer and Martin Sayles and Mordaunt and Mack and Barden. I've chartered the _Arethusa_, and invited 'em to spend a month with me along the New England coast. We're not having a time of it--oh no! or my name isn't Chauncey Pike!" His eyes dwelt curiously on the details of Percy's costume and occupation. "What you masquerading for? Hiding from the sheriff?" Percy met his gaze evenly. His estimate of men and the things that make life worth living had undergone a material change during the last two months. Pike's jesting flowed off him like water off a duck. He introduced the other members of Spurling & Company, and Pike greeted them cordially. "I want you all to take dinner on board with us to-night. We've got a first-class chef, and I'll have him do his prettiest. 'Tisn't every day you run across an old friend." Jim was inclined to demur, but Pike would not take no for an answer, and he finally gave in when Percy added his entreaties to those of the yachtsman. "Signal the yacht when you're through, Perce," said the latter as he rowed away, "and I'll send ashore for you. I know your friends here will excuse you for a while if you come aboard and talk over old times with us." "Better let me set you ashore now," said Jim, "so you can wash up and change your clothes." "Not much!" refused Percy. "I'll see every fish salted first." He was as good as his word. Not until the last hake lay on the top of its brethren in the hogshead did he take off his oilskins and prepare for his visit to the yacht. At his signal the boat rowed in and took him aboard. He received an uproarious greeting from his former friends. The first welcome over, he came in for more or less chaffing. "Boys," jeered Pike, "what do you suppose I found this modest, salt-water violet--or barnacle, I should say--doing? Actually dressed in oil-clothes and cleaning fish! Think of it! P. Whittington, the one and only! Wouldn't his friends along Fifth Avenue like to see him in that rig! Honest, Perce, if I wanted to bury myself, I'd pick a cemetery where the occupants didn't have to perform so much bone labor. I'd rather face the firing-squad than do what you were doing this afternoon." "Guess you're telling the truth, Chauncey," retorted Percy. "Come down below and let's have a drink all round!" "Not unless it's Poland water," said Percy, firmly. "The one drawback about this island is that the only spring's brackish. If you've any good bottled water I'll be glad to drink with you, but nothing stronger." "Just listen to that, fellows! Well, have your own way, Perce! We've a dozen carboys of spring water aboard, and you can drink 'em all if you want to. Try these cigarettes!" "Swore off over a month ago." "No! Shouldn't think you'd find life worth living. What do you have for amusement?" "We're too busy to need any," replied Percy, truthfully. Pike looked serious. Removing Percy's cap, he tapped his head with the tips of his fingers. "There's some trouble inside," he said at last, "but I can't quite make out what it is. I think we'll have to take him up to the city to consult some prominent alienist, as the newspapers would say. But first he's going east in the _Arethusa_ with Doctor Pike. Come on, Perce! Put off the sackcloth and ashes, or rather the oilskins and fish-scales, and travel with us for a while. We're all artists aboard, but we paint in only one color, and that's a deep, rich red! We're going to spread it over Castine and Bar Harbor and Campobello, and we want your esteemed assistance. Do we have it?" Percy shook his head. "You do not," he declined. "I'm booked for college in the fall, and I'm studying to make up my conditions." Pike looked sadly round at the others. "And so young!" he lamented. "I presume your friends ashore share your sentiments, and we'll have to take 'em into consideration in planning for that dinner to-night. Wouldn't have any scruples, would you, about beginning with a clear soup, then tackling a juicy beef roast with all the fixings, and winding up with lemon pie and ice-cream?" "Lead me to it," grinned Percy. "Well, fellows, I'm mighty glad to see you, even if we don't agree on all points. Now I've an engagement ashore for a half-hour or so, and if you'll set me on the beach I'll come aboard with the others." Curious eyes followed him as he climbed the bluff with his sweater and plunged into the woods. At six he rowed out with the rest of the Spurlingites, Filippo included. The dinner to which they sat down was one they remembered for the rest of the season. Pike had not overpraised his French chef. Everybody had a good time, and at the close of the meal a toast was drunk--in spring water--to the continued success of Spurling & Company. The boys went ashore early. No trawling was done the next morning, as it was the regular day for the trip to Matinicus. The _Barracouta_ started at nine o'clock. At about the same time the yacht catted her anchor, fired a farewell gun, and proceeded eastward, her passengers first lining up and giving three cheers for their guests of the night before, and receiving a similar salute in return. "Perce," said Jim as the sloop rose and sank on the swells on her way over to Seal Island, "if you won't think me impertinent, I'd like to ask you a question." "Fire ahead!" "You can tell me or not, just as you please, but I've been wondering since last night whether, right down at the bottom of your heart, you'd rather be with your friends on the yacht or with us on the island." "That's an easy one, Jim," replied Percy. "And the best answer I can make is the fact I'm on the boat with you this minute. I had an invitation to go with them, and I declined it. Things look different to me from what they did two months ago." At Matinicus Percy found a letter from his father, answering his epistle of a few weeks before. DEAR PERCY [it ran],--Glad to hear you're on the job. Keep it up. Percy countered that night as follows: DEAR DAD,--I'm still sticking. XVI A LOST ALUMNUS Throppy stepped out of the fish-house at the close of a breezy afternoon and started for the camp to wash up. The morning's catch had been split and salted; it just filled a hogshead. He glanced seaward at the white-capped squalls chasing one another over the broad blue surface. Three steps from the building he halted in surprise. "Hulloo! Who's that?" Round the eastern point came a small sloop. Evidently she had met with disaster, for the end of her boom was broken and dragging and her mainsail hung loosely. It was easily apparent that she had made a safe harbor none too early. Attracted by Throppy's exclamation, the other boys joined him, and together they watched the strange craft limp into the cove. As she came nearer they could see that she was old and dilapidated. Her brown canvas was frayed and rotten; tag-ends of rope hung here and there; and her battered sides were badly in need of a coat of fresh paint. "Built in the year one!" was Jim's verdict. "Almost too old to be knocking round so far offshore!" Gliding slowly into the cove, she lost headway not far from the _Barracouta_. A small black dog began to run to and fro on board and bark excitedly. The man at the helm, evidently her only crew, hurried stiffly forward, let the jib and mainsail run down, and dropped the anchor. Then the boys were treated to a fresh surprise. [Illustration] A shaggy white cat leaped from the standing-room upon the roof of the cabin. A Maltese followed her. Then another, jet black, sprang into view. The three rubbed about the legs of the man as he made his cable fast. Nemo, roused from his nap under the stove, ran down to the water's edge and began an interchange of ferocious greetings with the strange canine; while the cats, lining up in a row on the side, arched their backs and spit fiercely. The boys viewed this menagerie with amazement. "Barnum & Bailey's come to town!" muttered Budge. His craft safely moored, the man drew in a small punt which was towing astern and stepped into it. The dog followed. "Back, Oliver!" ordered his master. Grasping the animal by the scruff of the neck, he tossed him into the standing-room. Then he slowly sculled the punt to the beach. Jim walked down to meet him. The stranger was of medium height, and apparently over sixty years old. His beard and mustache were gray. He wore a black slouch-hat and a Prince Albert coat, threadbare and shiny, but neatly brushed. He stepped briskly ashore, with shoulders well set back. His dark eyes carried a suggestion of melancholy, and his face was deeply lined. "I've dropped in to make repairs," said he. "Broke my main boom in a squall about a mile north of the island, and thought I might get some one here to help me fix it." "You did right to come," returned Jim. "We'll be glad to do anything we can, Mr.--" "Thorpe," supplied the other. "That isn't my name, but it'll do as well as any." "Mine's Spurling," said Jim. They shook hands and walked up to the camp. There Jim introduced the newcomer to the other boys. Supper was about to be put on the table and the stranger was invited to share it. He accepted, and ate heartily, almost ravenously. "Seems good to taste somebody's cooking besides your own," he apologized. "When you've summered and wintered yourself, year in and year out, the thing gets pretty monotonous and you almost hate the sight of food." "Then you're alone most of the time?" ventured Lane. "Not most of the time, but all the time." The boys would have liked to inquire further, but courtesy forbade, and their guest did not volunteer anything more regarding himself. He shifted the conversation to Nemo. "Bright-looking dog you've got there!" he commented. "Yes," said Jim. "And he's fully as bright as he looks. I see you've a dog and some cats aboard." "Yes; and they're good company--better, in some ways, than human beings, for they can't talk back. The dog's Oliver Cromwell; and the cats I've named Joan of Arc, Marie Antoinette, and Queen Victoria. I must go aboard and give 'em their suppers." He rose from the table. "Come back again in an hour," invited Jim, "and we'll have some music. We've a violin here." "I'll be more than glad to come," returned their guest. "Music's something I don't have a chance to hear very often." Walking down the beach, he sculled out to his sloop. His animals greeted him, Oliver Cromwell vociferously, the cats with a more reserved welcome. "What d'you make of him?" asked Percy. "Odd stick, isn't he?" "Yes," said Jim, meditatively, "but he seems like a gentleman. What I can't understand is why he's cruising along the coast alone in that old Noah's ark. It doesn't seem natural. Besides, it's dangerous business for a man of his age. Well, it's no concern of ours. Let's give him a pleasant evening." Promptly at the end of the allotted hour the stranger came ashore again. "Got the children all in bed for the night," said he. "Now I can make you a little visit with a clear conscience." He spoke faster and more cheerfully than he had done before. The melancholy in his bearing had vanished. Jim thought he detected a slight odor of liquor about him, but he could not be sure. They all sat down together, and Throppy brought out his violin. "What shall it be, boys?" he asked, after a preliminary tuning up. "Give us 'The Wearing of the Green,'" suggested Lane. Soon the wailing strains of the familiar Irish melody were breathing through the cabin. "Kathleen Mavourneen" followed, and the stranger sat as if fascinated. At "'Way Down Upon the Suwanee River" he dropped his head in his hands and his shoulders shook. "Something livelier, Throppy," said Jim. Stevens started in on "Dixie." As the first spirited notes came dancing off the violin their guest raised his head quickly, and before the selection was finished his cheerfulness had returned. "Can you play 'The Campbells Are Coming'?" he inquired. As Stevens responded with the stirring Scotch air Thorpe rose to his feet and began whistling a clear, melodious accompaniment. The notes trilled out, pure and bird-like. The boys broke into hearty applause when he finished. Their approval emboldened him to ask a favor. "I used to play a little myself," he said; "but it's been years since I've had a bow in my hand. Would you be willing for me to see if I can recall anything? I'll be careful of your instrument." "Sure!" cordially returned Stevens. He handed violin and bow to Thorpe. The latter took them almost reverently. Tucking the violin under his chin, he drew the bow back and forth, at first with a lingering, uncertain touch, but soon with an increasing firmness and accuracy that bespoke an old-time skill. Gradually he gathered confidence, and a bubbling flood of liquid music gushed from the vibrating strings. At first he played a medley of fragments, short snatches from old tunes, each shading imperceptibly into the one that followed, blending into a whole that chorded with the night and sea and wind and the driftwood fire crackling in the little stove in the lonely island cabin. The boys sat motionless, listening, brooding over the visions the music opened to each. They had never heard such music before. Even Percy had to acknowledge that, as he leaned breathlessly forward, eyes glued to the dancing bow. One final, long, slow sweep, and the last notes died away, mellow and silvery as a distant bell. The musician raised his bowed head and looked about. "More!" begged the boys. With a nod of assent, he began "Annie Laurie." His audience sat spellbound. "Flow Gently, Sweet Afton" followed; and he closed with "Auld Lang Syne." Then he laid the violin carefully on the table and burst into tears. For two or three minutes nobody spoke. Filippo was weeping silently; Percy cleared his throat; and even the other three were conscious of a slight huskiness. The evening was turning out differently from what they had anticipated. Brushing away his tears, the stranger controlled himself with a strong effort. "I don't know what you'll think of me, boys," said he, shamefacedly. "I'm sorry to have made such an exhibition of myself. But music always did affect me; besides, it's wakened some old memories. Guess I'd better be going now." He half rose. "Stay awhile longer," urged Jim; and the others seconded the invitation. Thorpe sank back on his box. "You won't have to persuade me very hard. Evenings alone on the _Helen_ are pretty long." His eye fell on Percy's �neid on the shelf beside the window. "Aha! Who's reading Virgil?" "I am," confessed Percy. "Making up college conditions." The stranger looked at him keenly. "Conditions, eh? Guess you don't need to have any, unless you want 'em." "Found you at home there, Perce!" laughed Lane. "I don't propose to have any more after this summer," averred Percy, stoutly. "Stick to that!" encouraged Thorpe. "There's enough have 'em that can't help it." Taking down the volume, he opened it at the beginning of the first book, and began reading aloud, dividing the lines into feet: _"Arma virumque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato profugus, Laviniaque venit._ "Wouldn't want to say how long it's been since I last set eyes on that. Probably you boys notice that I use the English pronunciation of Latin instead of the continental; it's what I had when I was in college." "What was your college?" inquired Percy. Melancholy darkened Thorpe's face again. "Never mind about that," he replied, a little brusquely. Glancing round the cabin, he caught sight of Throppy's wireless outfit; soon the two were engaged in an interested discussion on wave-lengths and the effect of atmospheric disturbances. Later he was talking over the lobster law with Jim, and life-insurance with Lane. He seemed to be equally at home on all subjects. Eight o'clock came before they realized it. The stranger's face suddenly grew somber. "Boys," said he, "I must be going now. You've given me a mighty pleasant evening and I sha'n't forget it right away. You'll think it a strange thing for me to say, but the best return I can make for your kindness is to tell you something about myself." He glanced at Percy. "You asked me what my college was. I'm not going to answer that question, but I'll say this: At the end of its catalogue of graduates you'll find a page headed 'Lost Alumni,' and my name--my real name--is there. It's a list of those whose addresses are unknown to the college authorities, men who have dropped out, gone back, disappeared. Nobody knows what's become of 'em, and by and by nobody cares. That's just what I am--a lost alumnus! And it's better for me to stay lost!" With trembling hands he picked up a worm-eaten stick beside the stove. "I'm like this stick now--only driftwood! Once I was young and sound and strong as any one of you--just as this wood was once. Now--" Lifting the stove cover, he flung the stick into the fire; a burst of sparks shot up. "That's all it's fit for; and it's all I'm fit for, too! Name ... character ... friends ... home ... all gone--all gone!" He took a step toward the door, then halted. "I've told you this because it may do some one of you some good while there's time. Don't throw your lives away, as I've thrown away mine!" The sober, startled faces of his hearers apparently recalled him to himself. "Sorry I spoke so freely," he apologized. "Forget it, boys, and forget me! Everybody else has. Good night!" He opened the door. "Won't you stop ashore with us?" invited Spurling. "We can fix you up a bunk." "No; I must go aboard. My dog and cats would be lonesome; wouldn't sleep a wink without me. They're mighty knowing animals." He went out and closed the door. The boys looked at one another. Lane was the first to speak. "What d'you suppose was the matter with him? Must have been something pretty bad to make him feel that way. But, say! Didn't he make that violin talk? Never heard anything like it before!" That night the boys went to bed feeling unusually serious. Percy, in particular, did not get to sleep until late. The stranger's remarks had given him much food for thought. The next morning, before sunrise, the barking of Oliver Cromwell and a thin, blue smoke curling from the stovepipe of the _Helen_ told that the lost alumnus was preparing breakfast. Jim and Percy had started off with their trawls some time before. Stevens volunteered to help their visitor repair his boom, so Filippo went out with Lane to haul the lobster-traps. All the boys were back at noon, when Thorpe, repairs made, waved farewell and sailed slowly out of the cove, dog and cats manning the side of the _Helen_, as if for a last salute. Throppy told of his morning's work. "Tried to pay me for what I did; but of course I wouldn't take anything. You might not think it, but, inside, that old boat is as neat as wax. Got a good library on board, too; books there that were beyond me. All the current magazines. Easy to see how he keeps up to date about everything." At two o'clock that afternoon in popped the _Calista_ in quest of lobsters. The boys told her captain about their strange caller. Higgins laughed shortly. "What--old Thorpe! Oh yes, I've known of him these twenty years! Mystery? Not so much as you might think. It's the same mystery that's ruined a lot of other men--John Barleycorn! Thorpe showed up from nobody knows where about a quarter of a century ago; and ever since then he's been banging up and down the coast in that old boat. They say he's a college graduate gone to the bad from drink." "What supports him?" asked Lane. "Does he fish?" "Not more than enough to supply himself and his live stock. I've heard he's got wealthy relatives who furnish him with all the money he needs. He likes to live in this style, and they like to have him. He's out of their way, and they're out of his. In the winter he ties the sloop up in some harbor and stops aboard." "He seemed to be sober enough last night," said Jim. "Yes; when he's all right you couldn't ask for a man to be more peaceable or gentlemanly; but when he's in liquor, look out! I passed him a month ago one squally day off Monhegan, running before the wind, sheet fast, shot to the eyes, and yelling like a wild man. It's a dangerous trick to make that sheet fast on a squally day, or on any day at all, for that matter. Some time he'll do it once too often. Well, as the saying goes, 'When rum's in, wit's out!' How's lobsters?" XVII BLOWN OFF At two o'clock on a Friday morning toward the end of August Spurling and Whittington started with six tubs of trawl, baited with salted herring, for Clay Bank. Long before sunrise the last fathom of ground-line had gone overboard and the tubs were empty. Swinging the _Barracouta_ about, they retraced their course to the first buoy. A long, oily ocean swell, heaving in from the south, undulated the breezeless sea. The air was mild, almost suspiciously so. Dawn was breaking redly as they reached their starting-point and prepared to pull in the trawl. "I'll haul the first half, Perce," volunteered Spurling. Drawing the dory alongside, he cast off her painter and sprang aboard. Before taking in the buoy he stood for a half-minute, scanning sky and sea. "Almost too fine!" he remarked. "I don't like that crimson east. You remember how the rhyme goes: "A red sky in the morning, Sailors take warning. Looks to me like a weather-breeder. Those swells remind me of a lazy, good-natured, purring tiger. You wouldn't think they'd swamp a toy boat; but let the wind blow over 'em a few hours and it's an entirely different matter. Still, I don't think we'll see any really bad weather before midnight at the earliest. Guess we'd better plan not to set to-morrow." He was soon unhooking hake and coiling the trawl into its tub. Percy kept the _Barracouta_ close by. At the middle buoy he relieved Spurling in the dory. The set yielded over two thousand pounds of fish, principally good-sized hake. "Very fair morning's work," said Spurling. "We'll leave that last load in the dory. Now for home!" Soon the sloop was heading for Tarpaulin, the weighted dory towing behind. They were almost up to Brimstone Point when, with a final explosion, the engine stopped. Spurling gave an exclamation of mingled disgust and relief. "Something's broken! Well, we're lucky it didn't give way five miles back. It'd have been a tough job to warp her in so far, with a white-ash breeze. Cast off that dory, Perce!" As Percy pulled the smaller craft alongside the distant quick-fire of an approaching engine fell upon his ears. He glanced quickly toward the northeast. "No blisters for us this morning!" he shouted. "Here comes Captain Ben in the _Calista!_ He'll tow us in." Presently the lobster-smack was alongside, and soon the _Calista_, with sloop and dory in tow, was heading for Sprowl's Cove. Jim and Percy had left their boat and come on board the smack. They noticed that Higgins seemed unusually serious. "What's the matter, Cap?" inquired Spurling. "Any trouble with lobsters?" "No," replied the captain, soberly, "there's no trouble with lobsters, so far as I know. Haven't met with any losses to speak of, and I'm paying twenty-five cents a pound. But something's happened to a friend of yours. Remember that stranger who made you a call a couple of weeks ago?" "Sure! What about him?" "Well, coming across from Swan's Island yesterday afternoon, I nearly ran over a boat, bottom up, close to Griffin Ledge. I managed to spell out the name on her stem; it was the old _Helen_. Thorpe had made his sheet fast once too often, as I've always said he would. So he's gone, dog, cats, and the whole shooting-match. I cruised about for a while to see if I could find anything, but it wasn't any use; the tide runs over those ledges like a river. The old fellow had a good streak in him, and I'm all-fired sorry he had to go that way. It only shows what rum can do for a man, if you give it a fair chance." The tragic news had a sobering effect upon the boys. Percy, in particular, remembering the habits of certain of his friends, took the story to heart. Nobody said anything more until they were inside the cove and running toward the lobster-car. Budge and Throppy saw them coming and rowed out in the pea-pod. While the lobsters were being dipped aboard the smack and weighed, Spurling tinkered the _Barracouta's_ engine. At last he discovered the cause of the breakdown. "Broken piston-rod!" he exclaimed. "That means a trip to Matinicus. And we've got to go right away, so we can get back before night ahead of the storm that's coming. We must fix that engine, or we may lose two or three days' good fishing, after the sea smooths down. Perce, you and I'll go in the dory. You other fellows'll have to dress those hake alone this time." "I'll tow you across, Jimmy," offered Higgins. "But it looks a bit smurry to me. I think there may be a norther coming; and you wouldn't want to get caught out in that. Remember what happened to Bill Carlin!" "I know," answered Spurling. "But that engine's no good without a piston-rod. I was born in a dory. Besides, if it should blow too hard, we can stop on Wooden Ball or Seal Island." A few minutes later the _Calista_, with Jim and Percy aboard and the dory in tow, was moving away from Tarpaulin. An easy run of two hours brought them to Matinicus. Higgins dropped his anchor in the outer harbor near Wheaton's Island, and the boys rowed ashore in their dory, landing in the head of the little cove near the fish-wharf. Percy made a few necessary purchases at the store while Jim attended to the piston-rod. A half-hour later they were pushing off the dory, ready for their long row back. The sky was hazy and the sea calm. In the outer harbor Captain Ben hailed them from the _Calista_. "Be good to yourselves, boys, and don't risk too much. You won't have any trouble getting to Seal Island; if it looks bad, you'd better hang up there with Pliny Ferguson. He'll be glad of company at his shack for the next two days; for, unless I'm 'way off, there won't be many trawls set or traps pulled until next Monday. I'm going to stick to Matinicus till the blow is over." It was still calm when they passed the Black Ledges and headed for the northeast point of Wooden Ball. Jim was rowing, and the dory drove easily onward under his powerful strokes. Percy looked north. The mountains on the mainland had vanished, and even the heights on Vinalhaven were being blotted out; but as yet not a breath of air disturbed the glassy, undulating sea. They were now only a few hundred feet north of the ledges on the extremity of the Ball. The swell was breaking white against its barnacled granite boulders in a long, crashing rumble. "Let me spell you at the oars, Jim," said Percy. "Don't care if you do! And pass that bag of hard bread forward! I feel hungry enough to eat the whole of it. Wonder what Filippo'll have for supper to-night!" The boys had been in such a hurry to get away from Matinicus that they had not taken time for any dinner; so both had keen appetites. Jim made a hearty lunch on the crisp crackers. Percy's mouth watered as he swung to and fro at the oars, facing his companion. Ten weeks ago he would have disdained such plain fare; but now he could eat it with a relish. His gristle was hardening into bone. Four or five of the brittle disks satisfied Jim's hunger. "Your turn now, Perce! Let me take her again!" "Hadn't I better row a little longer?" "No! I feel good for five miles. Those crackers put the strength into a man." Percy attacked the bag with an appetite equal to Jim's. Malcolm's Ledges were near, breaking white half-way from the Ball to Seal Island. To Percy's ears the roar of the surf sounded louder. "Sea's making up a bit, isn't it, Jim?" "Yes; but I don't think it'll amount to anything for a long time yet." Down swept a squall from the north, roughening and darkening the water. The dory careened a trifle as it smote her side. "Well, Perce, we're more than a third of the way home. There's Brimstone Point, eight miles ahead. We may see a little rough water before we get there. Lucky you're not seasick nowadays!" The squall passed, but left a steady breeze blowing in its wake. The sky was gray, the sea leaden. The horizon all around seemed to be contracting, and the familiar islands were losing their height. They ran to leeward of the breaker on Gully Ledge, and passed into smooth water under the protecting barrier of Seal Island. Pliny Ferguson's shack was in plain view, and its owner came out and swung his hand to them. Spurling remembered Captain Higgins's advice, and hesitated. "What do you say, Perce? I'll put it up to you. Shall we keep on or stop here with Pliny? Seems to me there isn't the least doubt about our reaching the island before dark; but I don't want to make you run any needless risk. So I'll do as you say. Pliny'll be glad to make us comfortable, and we can slip across after the gale is over." Percy scanned the steep, desolate cliffs a half-mile to the north. "What would you do if you were alone, Jim?" "Make for Tarpaulin as fast as oars would take me." "Then I say keep on!" "Keep on it is, then," assented Spurling. Shielded from the wind by the high shore, the dory sped on east by south. The island was over a mile long. When they emerged from the protection of the ledges on its eastern end they could see that the breeze had increased in force. Up to windward in the direction of Isle au Haut Bay occasional white-caps were breaking. Spurling stopped rowing and took a long look around. Then he pulled off his sweater, settled himself firmly on the thwart, and braced his heels against the timber nailed across the bottom of the dory. His oar-blades caught the water with a long, steady stroke. "We'll head north of the island," he said to Percy, after a few minutes of vigorous rowing. "The flood'll be running for the next three hours, and that'd naturally set us toward the north; but before we get to Tarpaulin the wind'll be blowing us the other way. We've got to allow for both." Fifteen minutes went by, thirty, a full hour. Little by little Seal Island sank behind them and the familiar outlines of Tarpaulin loomed clearer and higher. The increasing breeze, blowing against the ocean current, kicked up a lively chop, on which the dory danced skittishly. It took all Spurling's strength and skill to drive her onward. At four o'clock they still had between four and five miles to go. The sea was alive with white horses. As the boat fell into the trough Percy momentarily lost sight of the island. He now recognized Spurling's wisdom in heading so far north of their goal. But for that they would inevitably have been blown off their course. Jim was buckling to his task like a Trojan. Bare-headed, shirt open at the neck, sleeves rolled up above his elbows, he swayed to and fro, a tireless, human machine. His blades entered the rough sea cleanly and came out on the feather. Admiringly, almost enviously, Percy watched the play of the banded muscles on his brawny forearms. He would have given anything to be as strong as his dory-mate. Past five o'clock, and still over two miles to the island. It was growing rougher every minute. The gale had fairly begun. It sheared the crests off the racing billows and flung them over the boat in showers of spray. Now and then a bucketful came aboard. It kept Percy busy bailing. Occasionally Jim brought the dory head to the wind and lay on his oars to rest. After all, human muscles, powerful as they may be, are not steel and india-rubber. "Pretty rough, isn't it?" said he, at one of these intervals. "Seasick, old man? You look a little white around the gills." Percy shook his head. The situation was too serious for seasickness. In spite of the jocularity of his words, Jim's voice sounded hollow. Both of them knew that it meant a hard fight to reach Tarpaulin. Silence, gray and leaden as the misty sky, settled over the dory. Spurling was throwing all the strength he possessed into every stroke; Percy bailed continuously. It took considerably more than an hour to make the next mile and a half. A rainy haze, driving down from the north, had shrouded the island, and Brimstone Point was barely visible. Jim's strokes were slower; they lacked their earlier force. His face showed the strain of the last hour. Uneasily Percy noted these signs of weariness. "Tired, Jim?" "Yes." The brief monosyllable struck Percy with dismay. If Spurling's strength should give out, what would happen to the dory? "Don't you want me to row awhile?" "You can take her for a few minutes." Scrambling forward, Percy grasped the oars and took Jim's place on the thwart. The latter lay down flat on his back in the bottom of the dory. Apparently he was not far from complete exhaustion. "Keep her up into the wind as well as you can," he directed. Percy did his best; but he found it a hard job. The gale, now far stronger than the tide that flowed against it under the surface, was forcing them steadily southward. Brimstone Point could just be seen, a half-mile to the northeast. Though he pulled his heart out, Percy could tell that he was losing ground, or rather water, every second. The wind mocked his efforts. He could not keep the boat on her course. Big rollers swashed against the port bow and broke aboard. Jim raised a drenched face, haggard with weariness, and took in the situation. "Harder, Perce!" he urged. "Hold her up till I can get my breath. It's the ocean for us to-night, if we don't hit Brimstone." Spurred by this exhortation, Percy jerked at the oars savagely and unskilfully. As he swayed back there was a sharp snap, and the starboard oar broke squarely, just above the blade. Round swung the dory, head to the south. Up started Spurling with a cry of alarm, his fatigue forgotten. "You've done it now!" Wrenching the port oar from his horrified mate, he sprang aft, dropped it in the notch on the stern, headed the boat once more for the island, and began sculling with all his might. It was a hopeless attempt. However strong he might be, no man with only one oar could make headway into the teeth of such a gale. For a time his desperate efforts held the dory in her place. Then little by little she began to go astern. With sinking heart Percy watched Spurling's shoulders rack and twist as he threw his last ounce into his sculling. By degrees his motions became slower and more painful. Suddenly he pulled in the oar and dropped it clattering aboard. "No use!" he groaned as he toppled backward and collapsed in the bottom of the dory. XVIII BUOY OR BREAKER Consternation seized Percy. Never before had he known Jim to acknowledge himself beaten. Their plight must be serious indeed. The dory swung side to the sea and sank into the trough. A half-barrel of water slopped aboard. Percy bestirred himself. Setting the oar in the scull-hole, he brought the boat's head once more into the wind. He was not strong enough to drive her against it; but he could at least keep her pointed into the teeth of the gale and prevent her from swamping. He dropped to his knees, for it was too rough for him to keep his balance if he stood upright. How far off was Tarpaulin? As he looked back a red glare sprang up northeast. Budge and Throppy had fired the driftwood beacon on Brimstone Point. Small good it would do Jim and himself to-night. They could not reach the island with one oar, and it was now too dark for their friends on Tarpaulin to make out the drifting dory. Percy began sculling frantically. "Hi! Hi! Hulloo-oo!" he yelled. "Oh, Budge! Oh, Throppy! We're going to sea! Come out and get us!" It was like shouting against a solid wall. His cries were whirled away by the gale. Presently he became silent, realizing that he was wasting his breath. Rapidly the dory drifted seaward. The fire dimmed to a misty red glow. A smart shower burst, and great drops spattered over the dory. Jim sat up. He turned his face toward the island, and Percy knew his eyes had caught the dying beacon. He said nothing; there was nothing to say. In a little while all was black, north, east, south, and west. Then Jim spoke, and his voice was as calm and deliberate as if he were in the cabin on the island, instead of a mile to leeward, driving to sea before a norther. "Well, Perce, we're in for it! I'm sorry I spoke so sharp when you broke that oar. It's an accident liable to happen to anybody. Let's take account of stock! We're in for a night and more on the water, and we want to do our best to keep on top of it, and not under it, until the gale blows itself out. The prospect isn't exactly rosy; still, it might be a blamed sight worse. We're in a good dory, and that's the best sea boat that floats." "Aren't we likely to be picked up before morning?" "Pretty slim chance. Everything small has scooted to harbor long before this. We haven't any light, and a vessel or steamer large enough to pay no attention to the storm would be as liable to run us down as to pick us up. So about the best we can hope for is to have everything give us a wide berth until daylight." "Will the gale last as long as that?" "Longer, I'm afraid. 'Most always we have one good, big norther in August that blows two or three days. I'm really the one to blame for getting us into this mess. I know the sea, and you don't. I ought to have had brains enough to stop on Seal Island. Well, it's no use crying over spilled milk. The only thing now is to try not to spill any more." The rain was descending in torrents. Storm and night drew a narrow circle of gloom about the reeling boat. Spurling tried to rise to his feet. The dory jumped like a bucking horse, and he caught the gunwale just in time to escape being pitched overboard. "Jerusalem!" he gasped. "Guess I won't try that again! Hands and knees are good enough for me. Hold her, Perce! I'll throw out some of this water." Kneeling in the flood that swashed from bow to stern, he bailed vigorously until the boat was fairly clear. "No use wearing ourselves out trying to keep her head to it with the oar!" said he. "I'm going to rig a drug!" Directly under Percy's arms, as he sculled, was a trawl-tub containing their purchases at Matinicus. These Jim tossed into the stern. Taking the tub, he crept forward. A lanyard of six-thread manila, put across double between holes in the top of its sides, formed a rope bridle or bail. To the middle of this bail Jim tied the thirty-foot painter with a clove hitch. Then he dropped the tub over the bow. "Pull in your oar, Perce!" he called out. Percy obeyed gladly. A heavy sea struck the dory. She reared, shot back, and started to swing sidewise. Then the "drug" caught her, and she seesawed again up into the wind and rode springily. The tub, filled with water, and drifting on its side thirty feet before the bow at the end of the straightened-out painter, formed a floating anchor, which held the dory head to the wind and sea. Practically submerged, and offering the gale no surface to get hold of, it moved much more slowly than the high-sided boat, and so retarded its course. Jim came crawling aft again. "Guess that'll hold her!" he exclaimed. "I've strengthened the lanyard with some ground-line, and it ought to last us through the night. We'll be as snug as if we were in Sprowl's Cove, hey, Perce?" Percy could hardly agree with him. The roaring, rain-shot blackness, roofed with murky clouds and floored with rushing surges, was not calculated to inspire confidence in a landsman. With every sea the dory leaped back several feet, until the straightened painter brought her up. Showers of spray flew over the boys. It was well both were clad in oilskins. They were not entirely without light. The water was firing. Every breaking wave dissolved in phosphorescence. The tub before the bow was outlined in radiance; the whipping painter was transmuted to a rope of silver; and as the dory split the crashing rollers they streamed away in sparkles of ghostly flame. Even in their peril the boys could not help appreciating the weird beauty of the display. "Wonderful, isn't it?" said Percy. "Say, Jim, how far south's the nearest land?" "Somewhere around two thousand miles, I guess. Too far to interest us any. I think it's one of the West Indies." The wind was growing stronger, the sea rougher. Now and then a young flood set both boys bailing, Jim with the bucket, Percy with the scoop. "Won't do to let it gain too much on us," remarked Jim. "She can't sink; but if she should fill it'd be pretty uncomfortable." The rain had ceased; the clouds did not hang so low. Suddenly Percy gave a whoop of joy. "Look in the west!" Not far above the horizon appeared a rift of clear blue sky, sown with stars. Longer and wider it grew. Other rifts added themselves to it, and in an unbelievably short time the entire heaven was swept clean. But somehow the wind seemed to blow harder than before. "How soon will it calm down?" asked Percy. Jim shook his head. "Can't say! May be a dry blow for two days longer." He looked eastward. "What's that coming? Steamer?" Sure enough it was. Below the white light on the masthead appeared and disappeared the red and green, obscured intermittently by the tossing waves. Soon they could be seen all the time. Percy began to grow excited. "Suppose they'll pick us up?" "Not a chance in a thousand. It's too rough for the lookout to spy our boat, and, even if the steamer should come close, we could never make her hear. She's either a tramp or an ocean liner from Halifax for Portland." On she plowed unswervingly and majestically, straight toward them. "I'm afraid she's coming too near for comfort," said Jim, anxiously. "She might run us down and never know it. Lots of fishermen have gone that way. Ship that oar in the scull-hole. I'm going to haul in the drug." He lifted the trawl-tub aboard and sprang quickly aft. "We'll know pretty quick whether she's likely to pass ahead or astern. We can't count on being seen. We've got to look out for ourselves." Freed from its floating anchor, the dory bobbed wildly. Wielding his oar skilfully, Spurling held her bow to the north, ready to scull for the last inch, or to let her drop back, as the approach of the steamer might make it advisable. Closer and closer came the big boat; her lights oscillated with pendulum-like regularity as she rolled on the heavy seas. "She'll pass astern," was Jim's verdict. "Won't do to drift in front of her." He sculled strongly, keeping an anxious eye on the threatening monster. Percy's hair bristled. "Harder, Jim!" he shouted. "She's going to run us down! Steamer ahoy! Keep off! Keep off!" The rushing foam smothered his cries. Meanwhile Spurling worked like a steam-engine. Two lives hung on his oar-blade. As the knife-like stem sheared past, close astern, the green eye disappeared; the red glared menacingly down from the huge bulk looming overhead. Then the lofty black side swept by, flashing an occasional ray from a lighted port-hole. The screw gave them a sickening moment, but they soon tossed safely astern, breathing hard, eyes on the dwindling leviathan, wallowing westward. Jim spoke first: "Close as they make 'em! I'm glad that's over!" Percy agreed with all his heart. Jim had discovered that the tub was becoming a bit shaky, so he reinforced the lanyard, and strengthened the bottom by binding it with ground-line. Before long it was towing again in front of the bow, as good as new. Hours passed, but the intensity of the gale did not slacken. The sea was frightfully rough. It kept the boys bailing continually. Dawn broke at last. On the eastern horizon grew a pale light, against which the ragged, savagely leaping crests were silhouetted weirdly. It brightened to a crimson glow, and soon the sun was shooting its fiery arrows across the heaving, glittering waste. The forenoon wore slowly on as they drifted steadily south. The water around the dory was alive with whirlpools. Gigantic green seas rushed down as if to overwhelm her, but she flirted her bow aloft and rode them stanchly. Percy, glancing to starboard, saw a black fin cutting the slope of a watery ridge. "Shark, Jim?" "Yes. And there's another to port. They're looking for trouble. They'll stick by till we're out of this scrape or in a worse one." He was right. The sun reached its zenith and began to descend, but still the black fins wove their ceaseless circles round the boat. Jim had been scanning the sea, hand over his eyes. "There's a schooner," he remarked, without enthusiasm. Percy was all excitement. "Where? Where?" "Up there, two miles to windward. Double reefed and clawing west. She'd never see us in a thousand years, and if she did she couldn't do us any good. Forget her!" The schooner inched her way imperceptibly under the horizon. The boys had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours; excitement had prevented them from feeling hungry. Now they came to a realization that they had stomachs, and they finished half the hard bread remaining in the bag. "We'll save the rest," decided Jim. "May need it worse later than we do now." Percy could easily have eaten twice his share, but he recognized the wisdom of Jim's decision. Both were very thirsty, but without a drop of fresh water aboard there was nothing to do but wait. At four o'clock came disaster. The drug suddenly let go! Round whirled the dory, side to the seas. Jim grabbed the oar and jammed it into the scull-hole, but before he could wet the blade a crumbling roller almost swamped the boat. Out went everything that would float. "Save that bucket, Perce!" shouted Spurring. Percy clutched the handle just as the pail was going over the side. He bailed, while Spurling brought the flooded craft stern to the seas. "Take her now, Perce! Give me the bucket!" Furiously he began scooping out the water. After a long, discouraging fight the boat was bailed clear. "We've got to run before it while I rig another drug," said Spurling. "Keep her as she is." In the stern stood a five-gallon can of gasolene, one of the few things that had not been washed overboard when the dory filled. Making use of the sadly diminished coil of ground-line, Jim fastened this can to the end of the painter. Picking a smooth chance, he swung the bow up into the wind again; and soon they were floating snugly behind their new drug. For another hour they drifted uneventfully. Out of a cloudless sky the red sun dropped below the flying spindrift. A second night was coming, and still the norther raged with undiminished violence. It was growing dark and the stars were already out when a new sound fell on Percy's ears. "What's that?" he exclaimed. Up from the south came a faint, long-drawn, mournful voice, _Oo-oo-oo-ooh!_ They listened breathlessly. It sounded again, _Oo-oo-oo-ooh!_ "Whistling buoy!" ejaculated Jim. He thought a moment. "Cashe's Ledge!" he shouted. "Sixty miles south of Tarpaulin! That's drifting some since yesterday afternoon. Must be less than a mile to leeward or we couldn't hear it against this gale." Nearer and nearer, louder and louder, sounded the melancholy note, just west of south. Both boys strained their eyes. "I see it!" cried Percy, triumphantly. "There--rising on that swell! Almost astern! It's striped red and black!" But Jim gave him no heed. Lips parted and face pale, he was gazing intently at something farther off. Suddenly he lifted his hand. "Listen! Do you hear that?" Above the noise of the surrounding sea rose a low, savage roar. Percy caught Jim's alarm. "What is it?" "The breaker on the shoal! Sometimes it combs up high as a house. It's less than a quarter-mile southwest of the buoy, and we're drifting straight down upon it! If we go over it, we'll be swamped, sure as fate, drug or no drug! We'll simply be buried under tons and tons of water!" Percy fought off his panic. "What shall we do?" he stammered. "Make the whistler--if we can. It's buoy or breaker, and mighty quick, too!" The dory's drift, if unchanged, would take her several yards west of the steel can crowned with its red whistle-cage. Its warning blast set the air vibrating, _Oo-oo-oo-ooh!_ Jim snatched out his knife and sprang forward. "Oar in the scull-hole, Perce! Lively!" Driving the point of his blade into the side of the bow, he dragged the painter in until he reached the gasolene-can. Severing the rope with one quick, strong slash, he scrambled aft and seized the oar. "Stand by with that painter to jump for the buoy, when I put the bow against it! Better take off your shoes first!" Percy obeyed. In his stocking feet he would be less liable to slip on the wet iron. Making a loose coil of the painter, he crouched in the bow. Meanwhile Jim had turned the dory round and headed her north of the whistler. A strong current was setting toward the shoal. It took all his strength to scull against it. Rapidly they neared the can. About eight feet in diameter at the water-line, it tapered to two feet across its flat top, seven feet above. From the circumference rose two iron bails, crossing each other at right angles, several inches above the whistle, which stood two and one-half feet high. A little to one side stuck up the small tube of the intake valve. Round the buoy above the water-line were bolted four lugs, or iron handles, by which the can could be hoisted on board the lighthouse steamer. As the steel cone sank the whistle bellowed resonantly. Down, down, till the waves swept over its top. Then, slowly it began to rise. The bellowing cut off, and the air rushed into the intake tube. Percy watched it, fascinated. Jim's voice roused him to their peril. "Look sharp! Be ready!" Less than ten feet of wild black water lay between the madly leaping bow and the buoy. Beyond it the shoal broke with an angry roar in a long line of crumbling foam. Percy gathered his strength for the leap. The distance lessened, foot by foot. Foot by foot the red-and-black cone emerged, as if thrust up by a giant hand. Percy fastened his eyes on a lug. A grayback heaved the dory forward. "Now!" screamed Jim. Young Whittington sprang upon the bow thwart, painter end in his right hand, and leaped for the lug. A second later the boat crashed against the buoy. His left hand caught the bent iron bar; his right missed it. His body thudded against the riveted side, slid down, and he hung by one arm, waist-deep in the water. OO-OO-OO-OOH!!! From the inverted mouth of the whistle, a few feet above, a hoarse, deafening blast roared down into his face. As he flung up his right hand and passed the end of the painter through the lug a body shot over his head. Spurling had leaped on the top of the dropping buoy. Percy was dragged down under the surface, the whistle still ringing in his ears. He clung desperately to lug and painter. The vibrations ceased. The can had reached its lowest point. It was rising again. Out came his head. "Can you hold on a minute, Perce?" roared Spurling's voice. "Yes," strangled Percy. "Then let go that painter! I've got it." Hanging head down, his legs twined round a bail, Spurling worked rapidly with both hands. Soon he had fastened the rope securely to the lug, mooring the dory to the buoy. OO-OO-OO-OOH! The can was sinking again. Putting both hands under Percy's arms, Jim lifted him. Then he lowered his grip to the boy's waist. That terrific blast rendered speech inaudible, but Percy understood. As the water raised part of his weight, he scrambled up over his friend's body. Thirty seconds later, drenched and gasping, they stood clinging to the bails on the top of the buoy. XIX ON THE WHISTLER Jim was the first to recover his breath. "Well!" he ejaculated. "Here we are! And mighty fortunate! We'll neither of us ever have a closer shave." He looked southwest, where the ledge was breaking white through the gloom, and shook his head. Percy, shivering with excitement, said nothing; but he felt as thankful as his mate. They stood close together on the circular top, holding on to the crossed bails, waist-high. Between them rose the whistle, thirty inches tall. Every time they sank in the trough it emitted its dismal bellow. To leeward the dory wallowed at the end of her painter, almost full of water. "Split her bow when we struck," said Spurling. "Just as well not to be in her. At any rate, we're not drifting." Their position, however, was none too secure. The buoy had a rise and fall of seven feet. Unsteadied by keel or rudder, it bobbed unexpectedly this way and that. The boys were obliged to cling fast to keep their footing on the narrow, slippery top. A sudden jump of the rolling can wrenched Percy's right hand from its hold. But for his left, he would have been flung into the sea. "That won't do," said Spurling. Producing a coil of line, he took three or four turns round Percy's waist, and lashed him fast to the bails. He did the same for himself. "Guess we'll stick on now," he remarked. "Where did you get that rope?" asked Percy. "It's all that's left of the ground-line. Thought it might come in handy, so I jammed it inside my oil-coat before I jumped. Never can tell when you'll need a few feet for something or other." The screech of the buoy, recurring regularly, set their ears ringing. "We've got to choke that off!" exclaimed Spurling, finally. "We'll go crazy, sure, if we have to listen to it all night." "How'll you do it? Jam something into the mouth of the whistle?" "Might smother it that way, but I know an easier one." He pushed his handkerchief into the curved end of the intake tube just as the bellowing buoy reached its lowest point. The next time it sank there was no sound. "Can't sing out unless it fills up with air," remarked Spurling. "It's human, so far!" "Is it all right to shut the signal off altogether? Mightn't some vessel strike the shoal if she doesn't hear it?" "Not much chance of that to-night! Everything'll give Cashe's a wide berth in a norther. But I'll let it scream a few times every ten minutes. That'll be often enough to warn off any craft within hearing." [Illustration: THEY STOOD CLOSE TOGETHER ON THE CIRCULAR TOP, HOLDING ON TO THE CROSSED BAILS, WAIST-HIGH] The last red embers of the sunset died out, and from horizon to horizon the sky was ablaze with stars. Even the boys, wet, hungry, and exhausted, could not be blind to such magnificence. "Good evening to study astronomy, Perce!" "Never saw a finer! But I'd want a steadier foundation than this for my telescope." As on the previous night, the sea was aglow with phosphorescence. Every wave was crested with silver. Buoy and tugging dory kept the water alive with light as they rose and fell. Leeward the long shoal broke in glittering foam. Spurling gazed silently down into the eddying tide. "Runs fast, doesn't it?" said Percy. "Yes; it's the ebb out of Fundy. Comes piling down over Cashe's at a two-knot rate. When the flood begins it'll run just as hard the other way. That's what makes the shoal so dangerous. There's only from four to seven fathoms over the ledge at low water, and that's little enough in a storm." "Were you ever down here before?" "No; but I've heard Uncle Tom Sprowl tell about the place dozens of times. Once, in particular, he was here in a schooner, hand-lining. It was almost calm, just a light east wind blowing, when they anchored an eighth of a mile to weather of the shoal. Pretty soon the decks were alive with fish. It kept breezing on all the time, and the ledge broke higher and higher; but they were having such good luck they hated to leave. So they hung to it till it got too rough for a small boat, and the breaker was twenty or thirty feet high. There was a big cod or haddock on every line, when all of a sudden the cable parted and they began to blow down on the ledge. It took some lively work to save the schooner and themselves. They got sail on her just in time to skin by the end of the breaker. Uncle Tom's been out in some pretty bad storms, but he's always said the time he parted his cable on Cashe's was the closest shave he ever had. See that shark!" Ten yards off, just under the surface, appeared the glittering outlines of a great fish. It moved leisurely, its projecting fin making a silver ripple. "Twelve feet, if he's an inch! I'd hate to fall overboard while he's around." "Think he's a man-eater?" "Don't know! But I'd rather let somebody else find out. There's another! I've heard fishermen say the sea round here's alive with 'em. I haven't a doubt but those two fellows that chased us to-day are somewhere about. Once they get after a boat, they'll follow it till the cows come home. Guess I'll let Ole Bull give us a few notes!" He pulled his handkerchief out of the intake tube. Presently the voice of the whistle was echoing across the sea. After a half-dozen screeches Spurling stopped up the tube again. "That'll do for now! We'll give him another chance in ten minutes." Up and down went the buoy, pitching and reeling dizzily. An occasional wave-crest buried the boys to the waist. "No place for a man with a weak stomach, hey, Perce," said Spurling. "You couldn't have stood this two months ago." Percy was gazing intently southward. "What's that white spot?" he asked, suddenly, pointing to a glittering patch fifty or sixty yards square. "School of herring! Now look out for some fun! Something's liable to be after 'em any minute." Hardly had the words left Jim's mouth when a great white streak moved rapidly toward the schooling fish. "Whale!" shouted Spurling, excitedly. "Watch out!" With a tremendous rush the huge, gleaming body shot suddenly clear of the water. For an instant it hung suspended, ten feet above the surface. Then, with a mighty splash, it dropped back, right amid the herring. The glittering school dispersed in a thousand directions, and the monster moved slowly off to the south. "Biggest whale I ever saw," observed Jim. "Fully seventy feet long! Well, he's had one good meal. Wish we could say the same! Hungry, old man?" "Yes; but more thirsty." "Stick to it! Somebody's likely to show up at any time to-morrow and take us off." "But if they don't--" "We'll have to hang on till they do." Percy could hardly stand upright. His joints ached. His eyelids sagged heavily for want of sleep. He would have given anything if he could have lain down. But that was impossible. Something of his father's doggedness enabled him to set his teeth and stand clinging to the bails. Their plight was bad enough, but it might have been much worse. Percy shivered a bit as he looked at the wallowing dory and the breaker beyond it. The buoy could not drift. It could not founder. It afforded them a safe refuge from wind and sea; but it could not give them food or drink. Particularly drink. Every atom in Percy's body, every corpuscle in his blood, seemed to be crying out for water. It did not seem as if he could endure it. He was almost desperate enough to quench his thirst from the sea. But, no! Men who did that went crazy. He moistened his dry lips with his tongue. If only he could have had a full dipper from the spring behind the camp! And he had turned up his nose because it was brackish! "Wish I had some of Filippo's hot biscuits!" said Jim. "I can taste 'em now." "Don't, Jim! It makes me feel worse. How long can a man stand it without eating and drinking?" "There was a fisherman out of Bass Harbor, last October, who went in a power-boat to Clay Bank after hake. His engine played out and he got blown off by a northwester. For over five days he didn't have a thing to eat or drink. Then he got back to Mount Desert Rock. That's the longest I ever heard of." Five days! And they had not yet gone two. Percy became silent again. The night dragged painfully. With mortal slowness the Great Bear circled the Pole Star. Jim was acquainted with the principal constellations, and he ran them over for Percy's benefit. Gradually, however, their conversation lagged. You cannot feel much interest in astronomy when your eyes feel as if they were being pressed down by leaden weights and your stomach is absolutely empty. Percy's body drooped over the bails. Though the position was horribly uncomfortable, he had all he could do to prevent himself from going to sleep, even despite the occasional screeches of the whistle. With an immense effort he stiffened himself upright. Jim was gazing down into the water. "It's going to moderate before long," he remarked, casually. Percy came wide awake in an instant. "How can you tell? It's blowing as hard as ever." "I know that. But the tide doesn't run so strong against the buoy. Just as it always makes up before the wind comes, so it begins to go down before the wind lessens. I believe the gale'll blow itself out by the middle of the forenoon." The news seemed too good to be true; but it dispelled Percy's drowsiness. He pried his eyes open and stared around. The waves were still running high and breaking in fiery sparkles. The silver sharks unwearyingly kept their silent vigil about the rocking buoy. Up the eastern horizon was stealing a faint pallor, harbinger of the approaching dawn. Lighter and lighter it grew. The gulls, which had been floating on the water all night, began to take wing and fill the air with their grating cries. The phosphorescence died out of the sea. Another day had begun. Raising his right hand, Spurling turned its open palm toward the north. "What did I tell you?" he exclaimed. "The wind is going down." Even Percy could see that it was not blowing so hard. The water, too, had grown much smoother, and the roar of the breaker was not so loud. "It'll be calm as a mill-pond in a few hours," remarked Jim. "By noon there ought to be some fishermen out here. They always start from Portland on the end of a norther, and run for this buoy to make their grounds from. All we've got to do now is to hold on and wait." He pulled in the dory and looked her carefully over. "Bow split open, as I thought," said he. "But apart from that she isn't damaged any. A little work'll make her as good as new. And in the stern is that box with the piston-rod in it. I'd have hated to lose that, after all this fuss. Things might have turned out a good deal worse, eh, Perce? But the next time I'll know enough to hang up at Seal Island." Jim's cheerfulness was contagious. Percy felt better. Though he was still tormented by hunger and thirst, the thought that relief might soon come gave him courage to endure them. Jim let the dory slip back to the end of her painter. "Might as well take an Indian breakfast." He buckled his belt a hole tighter. "Not a sail in sight yet! We could lie down in the dory and go to sleep, if she wasn't full of water. But, as things are, we'll have to make ourselves as comfortable as we can right here. Let's hope it won't be for long!" The gale weakened to a brisk breeze. The sea fell rapidly to a long, lazy swell, on which the buoy rocked drowsily. The warm sun inclined the boys to sleep; but they fought it off and scanned the horizon with eager eyes. Seven o'clock. Eight. Nine. Ten. And still no sign of a sail. At half past ten a smoke-feather rose in the east. "Yarmouth boat on her way to Boston," said Jim. "She'll pass too far north to see us." He was right. The steamer's course kept her on the horizon, several miles off. Before long she vanished to the west. Half past eleven went by, and no fishermen appeared. Percy began to fear that Jim was mistaken, after all. "Here comes our packet," remarked Spurling, quietly. A tiny saw-tooth of canvas was rising out of the sea, miles northwest. As it grew larger it developed into a schooner under full sail, heading straight for the buoy. "She sees us," said Jim. Percy felt like dancing for joy. Nearer and nearer came the schooner. The boys could see her crew staring curiously at them from along her rail. Fifty yards off she shot up into the wind and prepared to launch a boat. They could read the name on her starboard bow. "The _Grade King_," spelled Spurling. "I know her. She's a Harpswell vessel. Come out to seine herring. Bet she left Portland early this morning. Her captain's Silas Greenlaw; he used to sail with Uncle Tom. He'll use us O. K." A dory with two men in it came rowing toward the buoy. "How long've you fellows been hanging on here?" shouted a red-sweatered, gray-haired man in the stern. "Since six last night. We blew down from Tarpaulin Island in the norther. Don't you know me, Captain Greenlaw?" "Why, it's Jim Spurling, Tom Sprowl's nephew!" exclaimed the astonished captain. "So the gale blew you down from Tarpaulin, eh? Well, all I've got to say is that you were confounded lucky to hit the buoy and not the breaker. How long since you've had anything to eat or drink?" "Forty-six hours since we've had a swallow of water, and about twenty since we finished our last hard bread." "Well, well! You must be hungry and thirsty! Come right aboard and we'll see what we can do for you." Gladly the boys cut the lashings that bound them to the bails. The whistle gave a screech of farewell as they tumbled stiffly into the boat. The solid deck of the _Gracie_ felt good beneath their feet. "You can have all the water you want, boys; but you'd better go light on food at first," cautioned the captain. It seemed to Percy as if he could never get enough to drink. Gradually, however, his thirst was quenched. He began to realize that he had not slept for two days and a half. "I'd like to carry you right back to the island," said Captain Greenlaw, "for your friends must be worrying. But there are lots of herring here, and I've got to get a load first. That may take two or three days. I'll land you at Tarpaulin on my way home. Better turn in and sleep." The boys were shortly wrapped in a heavy, dreamless slumber. It seemed to them as if they had just closed their eyes when they were shaken awake again. "Here's the cutter!" exclaimed the captain. "They got a wireless to hunt you up. Going to run in to Rockland, and can land you at Tarpaulin this evening. What do you say?" Tired though they were, Jim and Percy were only too glad of a chance to get home speedily. So they were transferred to the _Pollux_, and their leaking dory hoisted aboard. Swung in hammocks in the seamen's quarters, they were soon slumbering dreamlessly again. At eight that night the _Pollux_ stopped off the island. The dory, made sound and tight by the ship's carpenter, was dropped overboard, and the boys rowed into Sprowl's Cove. Their appearance transformed the gloom that overhung Camp Spurling into the wildest joy. Budge, Throppy, and Filippo burst out of the cabin and raced headlong down the beach, waking the echoes with their shouts of welcome. Even before the dory grounded they tumbled aboard and flung their arms about the castaways. No brothers, reunited after deadly peril, could have given one another a warmer greeting. Jim freed his hands at last, stooped, and picked up a package which he tossed out on the gravel. There was a suspicious moisture in his eyes. "There's the piston-rod!" said he in a rather choky voice. "I guess we'll get our set all right day after to-morrow." XX SQUARING AN ACCOUNT It was almost noon the next day before Jim and Percy rolled out of their bunks in Camp Spurling. One of Filippo's best dinners satisfied the last cravings of their appetites; but for a week they felt the strain of their forty-seven hours in the dory and on the buoy. "When did you reach the _Pollux_, Throppy?" asked Jim. "I didn't reach her at all. When you didn't show up that night I wirelessed Criehaven, and the operator there hit the cutter thirty miles to the westward the next forenoon. She began hunting for you right away, but it wasn't until twenty-four hours later that she found you on the _Gracie King_. We picked up a message from her some time after she took you off the schooner. Perhaps it didn't relieve our minds!" Jim drew a long breath as he glanced round the cabin. "Seems good to be here! Not a bad old camp, is it, Perce?" "Never saw a hotel I'd swap it for," replied Percy, promptly. Two mornings later Budge and Percy started in the sloop for Vinalhaven after a load of herring. Jim did not accompany them, as he had decided to spend a forenoon hauling and inspecting the lobster-traps. The _Barracouta_ ran in alongside Hardy's weir at nine o'clock and took aboard thirty bushels of small fish. She then went around to Carver's Harbor to purchase supplies and fill her tank with gasolene. It was Percy's first visit to the town since July 4th, the occasion of his disastrous encounter with Jabe. In actual time, his defeat lay only a few weeks back; but, measured by the change that had taken place in himself, the period might well have been years in length. Percy was treading hostile ground, and he knew it. Prudence might have counseled him to remain on board the _Barracouta_ while Budge was making his purchases. Instead, he chose to stroll carelessly along the main street. At a corner he passed a group of small boys, who recognized him at once. "It's the fresh guy Jabe licked on the Fourth," he heard one mutter in a low tone. "Let's have some fun with him!" "Sh!" exclaimed another. "Jabe's over in Talcott's grocery. We'll get 'em together again!" Never interrupting his leisurely saunter, Percy passed out of hearing. But his heart was beating a little quicker and he was conscious of a tightening of nerves and muscles. Weeks of secret, painstaking preparation were drawing to a climax. Half-turning his head, he saw a barefooted urchin dash across the street and into a store on the other side. Percy began to whistle cheerfully as he strode along, alive to all that was taking place behind him. Crossing the street, he was able to glance back without appearing to do so; and he was just in time to see a stout, freckle-faced, bullet-headed youth shoot out of the store and come hurrying after him, with an eager crowd of small fry trailing behind. Still feigning unconsciousness of the approaching peril, Percy proceeded, whistling blithely. Through a gap between two buildings he had caught sight of a barn standing alone, some distance ahead and well to one side of the main street; its door was open, revealing a broad stretch of empty floor. He quickened his pace, and presently turned down the short street leading to the structure. Jabe and his retinue were less than fifty yards behind, and gaining rapidly. As Percy turned the corner they broke into a run. At that same instant young Whittington also began to sprint at top speed; and he kept up this pace as long as he felt sure the building on the corner concealed him from his pursuers. The second the sound of their approaching feet became audible he dropped into his former gait. He was now almost opposite the open door of the barn. His ears told him that Jabe and his crew had also swung into the cross-street. "Hey, there!" shouted a voice, roughly. Percy halted at once and wheeled about with affected surprise. A side glance into the barn told that its mows were well filled and that its floor was strewn with hayseed. Standing at ease, he awaited the approach of his foes. Jabe dashed up on the run. Five feet from Percy he came to a sudden stop and pushed his bulldog jaw out belligerently. "Well," he growled, scowling darkly, "I've got you at last just where I want you. You can't cry baby now and run to that big, black-haired fellow. I'm going to lick you good!" Percy stared at his enemy in mild wonder. "What for?" he queried, innocently. But the outward calm of his tones and manner did not betray, even remotely, what was going on beneath. His heart was pumping like an engine, the blood coursed hotly through his arteries, and all over his body his wiry muscles had tensed and knotted. Nine weeks of vigorous life in the open, combined with systematic exercise, taken with the possibility in view of some time squaring his account with Jabe, had made of him an antagonist that even an older, heavier boy might well hesitate to tackle. Of all this Jabe was ignorant. He saw before him the same fellow he had mastered on the evening of the Fourth, a little browner and clearer-eyed, possibly a little straighter and stouter, but still the same foe his fist had sent to the ground. Jabe knew of no reason why he could not easily repeat his victory, and he burned to do so in the presence of his admirers. Percy's harmless query roused him to unreasoning anger. "What for?" he mimicked. "What for? Why, because I always intend to finish what I begin; and I had you only half-licked when they pulled me off. Now I'm going to polish you up to the queen's taste. Hustle into that barn!" Percy allowed himself to be herded through the open door; it might have been noticed, however, that he was careful not to turn his back to Jabe, and that he stepped springily, with his feet well apart. Once inside, he slid his sole over the hayseed that covered the floor; it was no slipperier than the carpet of needles in that glade of the evergreens where he had practised daily with his improvised punching-bag since the second week in July. A quick glance about photographed on his brain the details of the arena in which he was so soon to play the gladiator. Jabe misunderstood the glance, and it increased his eagerness to begin the fray. "Afraid, are you?" he sneered. "Looking for some way out? Well, there isn't any besides this door. Line up across it, boys, and trip him if he tries to bolt before I get through with him. The rat's cornered at last, and now he's _got_ to fight. Peel off that coat, Mister! Move quick. I don't want to stop here all day!" Percy deliberately drew off the garment, folded it into a neat bundle, and laid it, with his cap, on a barrel in a corner of the floor. He had on a closely fitting black jersey, trousers held up by a belt, and rubber-soled tennis sneakers. This costume was not accidental. It had been donned that morning with an eye to possibilities and in accordance with previous solitary rehearsals. Thus far, events could not have suited him better if he had planned them. His deliberate motions increased Jabe's anger. "You'll move faster than that when I get after you," he sneered, "or it'll be over so quick that there won't be any fun in it. Now put up your fists, for I'm going to lick you within an inch of your life! Guard that door, boys!" His grinning satellites lined up across the opening, two deep, eyes and mouths wide open. In the front rank Percy recognized the imp who had burnt his coat, Jabe's brother, whose chastisement had started the trouble. The lad was dancing up and down with pleasurable anticipation. "Lick him, Jabe!" he shrilled. "Lick him, Jabe!" Swinging his clenched fists windmill fashion, Jabe made a savage rush across the echoing floor. Percy waited until his foe was almost upon him, then agilely leaped to one side. Carried on by the momentum of his charge, Jabe swept by and smashed against the wooden partition with a violence that set the hayseed sifting down from the loaded mow. Whirling about, he came back with increased rage. The boys yelled encouragement to their champion, their voices blending in a chorus, topped by his brother's high-keyed falsetto: "Lick him, Jabe! Lick him, Jabe!" Baffled in his first attempt, Jabe needed no applause to incite him to his best efforts. His fists rose and fell like flails as he spurned the flooring in a second onslaught upon his nimble foe. Again Percy, standing motionless until his assailant was almost within arm's-length, avoided his attack; and again Jabe brought up against the other wall with a force that made the boards rattle. Percy stood untouched a few feet away, smiling slightly, as his opponent gathered himself for another rush. The sight of his enemy, cool and unruffled, made Jabe furious. "Why don't you fight, you coward?" he cried. "If only I can reach you just once, it'll be all over!" He hurled himself forward like a missile from a catapult. His right fist grazed Percy's cheek. Roused from his policy of inaction, Percy shot in a stinging blow that found its mark under Jabe's right ear and sent him staggering. The fight was now fairly on. To and fro across the slippery hayseed the antagonists battled, raising a cloud of dust. The floor echoed hollowly under their quick tread. From the outset Percy knew that he had not a single sympathizer. But instead of discouraging him, that fact nerved him to do his utmost. He kept himself well in hand and did not waste an effort. If he could continue to side-step Jabe's quick rushes, and let the latter tire himself out, the fight was as good as won. It was a very different battle from that on July 4th. Jabe was as good as before, but no better; while Percy had improved at least a hundred per cent.; he had more skill and his nerves and muscles were far stronger. His rubber soles, too, gave him an advantage that he was not slow to improve. They assured him firm footing on the slippery floor and enabled him to turn quickly, as without trying to strike he contented himself with eluding Jabe's mad charges and sledge-hammer blows. The audience that blocked the door had grown silent. Things were not going according to schedule. After the first few rushes they had realized that their hero was getting the worst of the encounter. Ten minutes had gone by. Jabe was breathing hard, while Percy was fresh as ever. His cool smile maddened his antagonist and made him less skilful. In one of his onsets he had slammed his doubled fist against the wooden partition and split his knuckles; the pain and the running blood made him wild with rage. Confident at first of easy victory, he had finally realized that Percy was playing with him, that he had met his master in the boxing-game. His face had shown in turn anger, surprise, alarm, and at last positive fear. But one thought possessed his mind, to win at any cost, by fair means or foul. His rushes, which had slackened, grew more violent. He came at Percy head down; he tried to crowd him into a corner, to throw his arms around him, to overpower him by sheer, brute strength. Percy realized that in a rough-and-tumble he would be no match for Jabe. In legitimate boxing he had shown himself his foe's superior; and he was not particularly anxious to emphasize that fact by blacking Jabe's eyes or "bloodying" his nose. He would have been willing to let the matter stand where it was or allow Jabe to wear himself fruitlessly down to exhaustion. But such a course was neither feasible nor safe. Jabe would never voluntarily acknowledge that he was beaten. Besides, there was always the chance of something happening to put Percy at his mercy; and Percy knew only too well what that mercy would be. His only safety was to force a clear-cut decision. "It's a case of knock-out," he decided. "No use to bruise him up. Might as well have it over quick!" Savagely, though somewhat wearily, yet with undaunted determination, Jabe rushed him and struck out with his left. For the first time in the battle Percy launched in with all his strength. He cross-countered with his right on the point of Jabe's jaw. It was the wind-up. Jabe hit the hayseed in a heap. For a few seconds he lay motionless, then struggled to a sitting position. "Got enough?" asked Percy. Jabe took the count. "I'm licked," he acknowledged; and there were tears in his voice. "Can I do anything for you?" "No; I'll be all right in a little while." Percy put on his coat and cap and started toward the door. As he passed Jabe the latter stretched out his hand. "You can fight," he conceded, grudging admiration in his tones. Percy grasped the bunch of stubby fingers. "So can you," he returned. "If you'd been to the masters I've had, I wouldn't care to mix it with you." The boys opened a way for him respectfully as he passed through the door. He was breathing a little quicker than usual, but he had not received a scratch. Going back to the wharf where they had landed, he found that Budge had been waiting for him almost fifteen minutes. "What makes you so late, Perce?" he hailed. "We want to ship these groceries and start for Tarpaulin before noon." Percy began passing the boxes and bags down aboard the dory. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologized. "But I've just been settling an account with an old friend." Then he told Lane of his encounter with Jabe. "Now," continued he, "I'll tell you why I've been up into the woods every afternoon with that sweater of rockweed. I made it into a tight bundle and hung it on a springy limb to use for a punching-bag. It wasn't very ornamental, but it served the purpose. I've been training for this fight ever since the Fourth; had a feeling I'd get another chance at him. It's over now, and I hope everybody's satisfied. I am, at any rate." "So that's the reason of your daily pilgrimages," laughed Lane. "You certainly have been faithful enough to deserve to win. But what if you'd never run across Jabe again? Wouldn't you have felt that you'd thrown away your time?" "Not a bit of it! That bout every afternoon has kept me in first-class shape. But now the great event has come off, I'm going to break training and give the rockweed a rest." The _Barracouta_ was back at Tarpaulin before three o'clock. A remark dropped by Budge roused the curiosity of the others, and Percy was obliged once more to recount the story of his fight with Jabe. "Well," said Jim, when he had finished, "they say a patient waiter is no loser; but I guess it depends a good deal on how you spend your time while you're waiting--eh, Perce?" That night, after dark, when the boys were preparing to turn in, Filippo stepped out to the fish-house for some kindling. He came back on the run. "_Fuoco!_" he panted. The others trooped out hastily. On the southern horizon flamed a ruddy light. Spurling gave a cry of alarm. "Boys, it's a vessel on fire!" XXI OLD FRIENDS Touched by the live wire of human sympathy, Camp Spurling came wide awake in an instant. Out there, four miles to the south, men were perhaps battling for their lives. Jim issued his orders like bullets. "Come on, boys! We'll take the _Barracouta_. Fetch a five-gallon can of gas from the fish-house, Perce! Budge and Throppy, launch that dory!" Dashing into the cabin, he quickly reappeared. "Thought I'd better get one of those first-aid packets! Somebody may be burnt bad. Now, fellows! Lively!" The dory was barely afloat when Percy came staggering down the beach with the heavy can. Spurling swung it aboard, and all but Filippo jumped in. "Start your fire again!" shouted back Jim to the Italian. "Make some coffee! And be sure to have plenty of hot water! We may need it." Soon the sloop was under way and heading out of the cove. "Lucky you thought of that fresh can of gas, Jim," said Budge. "The tank's pretty near empty. We'd have been in a nice fix if the engine had stopped about a mile south of the island." "Take the tiller, Perce!" ordered Spurling. Vaulting up out of the standing-room, he grasped the port shroud and fastened his eyes on the fiercely blazing vessel. The flames had run up her masts and rigging, and she stood out a lurid silhouette against the black horizon. It was evident that she was doomed. "She's gone!" was Jim's comment as he dropped back into the standing-room. "Hope her crew got off all right. There isn't much we can do to help; but at any rate we ought to go out and tow in her boats." "What is she? Fisherman?" asked Throppy. "Most likely! And not a very big one. Shouldn't wonder if she'd had a gas explosion in her cabin; I've heard of a good many such cases. Hope nobody's been burnt bad!" There were a few minutes of silence as they gazed on the spectacle of destruction. The _Barracouta_, driven to her utmost, steadily lessened the distance. Brighter and larger grew the fire; every detail on the fated craft stood sharply out against the pitchy background. "Here come two boats!" exclaimed Lane. Sure enough, they were clearly visible, more than two miles off, rising and falling on the swell, their oars flashing in the light from the conflagration. The crew had abandoned the hopeless fight and were saving themselves. "Keep her straight for 'em, Perce!" directed Jim. Whittington obeyed. Soon the _Barracouta_ was within hailing distance of the dories. In the now diminishing light from the distant fire the boys could see that both were crowded with dark figures. "Must be at least twenty-five aboard the two," commented Stevens. "Yes," returned Spurling. "These fishermen carry big crews. Ahoy there! What's the name of your vessel?" "The _Clementine Briggs_, of Gloucester," replied a man in the bow of the foremost dory. "Running in to Boothbay from Cashe's with a load of herring. The gas exploded and set her on fire. We tried to put it out, but it was no use. Just got clear with our lives and what we stood in." "Anybody hurt?" "Couple of men got their faces burnt, but not very bad. Lucky it was no worse. But the old schooner's gone. Pretty tough on Captain Sykes, here, for he owned most of her and didn't have much insurance. Fisherman's luck!" "Want a tow in to the island?" "Sure!" "Well, toss us your painter, and tell the other boat to make fast to your stern." In a very short time the _Barracouta_ was headed back for Tarpaulin, with the two heavily loaded dories trailing behind her. Delayed by her tow, she moved considerably slower than when coming out. A strange silence hung over the two dories. For fishermen, their crews were unusually quiet, sobered, evidently, by the catastrophe that had overtaken their schooner. "Wouldn't those men who were burnt like to come aboard the sloop?" inquired Spurling. "Perhaps I can give 'em first aid." "No," returned the spokesman. "One of 'em's Captain Sykes, here in this dory with the handkerchief over his face. He isn't suffering much, but his cheeks got scorched, so I'm talking for him. The other man is in the next boat. The only thing for 'em to do is to grin and bear it; but just now they're not grinning much, 'specially the captain." Silence again. The sullen, red blaze on the distant vessel was dying down against the horizon. The flames had stripped her to a skeleton. Her hempen running rigging had been consumed; sails, gaffs, and booms lay smoldering on her decks; above the hull only her masts and bowsprit were outlined in fire against the blackness behind. Lacking anything better to do, Jim began counting the men in the dories. He made thirteen in each. Most of them sat like graven images, neither speaking nor stirring. They had not even turned their heads to look at the perishing schooner. He could not understand such indifference to the fate of the craft that had been their home. Sprowl's Cove was right ahead. Filippo opened the cabin door and stood framed within it, the light behind him casting a cheery glow down the beach. Louder and louder the bank behind the lagoon flung back the staccato of the exhaust. Presently the sloop nosed into the haven, the engine stopped, and Throppy went forward to gaff the mooring. The dories were cast off and rowed to the beach. By the time the boys got ashore all the men had landed. Jim, who had been watching them quietly, noted that most of them disembarked clumsily, more like landlubbers than sailors. They separated into two groups of very unequal size. One, numbering six, including the men with handkerchiefs over their burnt faces, withdrew from the others and began to talk in low tones, with earnest, excited gestures. The remaining twenty clotted loosely together, awkward and ill at ease, still preserving their mysterious silence. Before Jim had time to offer his unexpected guests anything to eat or drink, Filippo bustled hospitably down the beach to the larger group. "Will you have _caffè_? It is hot and _eccellente_." They stared at him without replying. By the light from the open door Jim could see that they were dressed like landsmen and that their clothes did not fit well. Their faces were darkish, they had flat noses, and their close-cropped hair was straight and black. Before Filippo could repeat his question a man from the smaller group hurried up and pushed himself abruptly between the silent score and their questioner. "No!" said he, brusquely. "We don't want anything. We had supper just before the fire." His tone and attitude forbade further questioning. Filippo, abashed by the rebuff, returned rather shamefacedly to the cabin. The speaker remained with the group, as if to protect them from further approaches. To Jim his attitude seemed to be almost that of a guard. It deepened the mystery that already hung about the party. It was now past eight o'clock, and naturally some provision would soon have to be made for passing the night. Jim pondered. Twenty-six guests would prove a severe tax on their already cramped accommodations. Still, the thing could be arranged; it must be. The smaller group of six could be taken into the camp. Six of the silent twenty could be stowed away aboard the sloop; while the remaining fourteen must make what shift they could in the fish-house. Jim proposed this plan to the sentinel. The man disapproved flatly. "No!" was his decided reply. "We've got to get away to-night." "To-night?" echoed Jim in amazement. "Why, man alive, you can't do that! It's fifteen miles to Matinicus, and you're loaded so deep it'd take you almost until morning to row there. And even if you made it all right, you wouldn't gain anything, for the boat for Rockland doesn't leave until the first of the afternoon. Besides, this wind's liable to blow up a storm. Of course you could row ten miles north to Head Harbor on Isle au Haut, walk up the island, and catch the morning boat for Stonington; but you'd have to pull most of the way against the ebb, and when this wind gets a little stronger it's going to be pretty choppy. _I_ wouldn't want to risk it. Better stop with us to-night and let us make you as comfortable as we can; and to-morrow you can start for any place you please." The man shook his head stubbornly. "How far is it to the mainland?" he asked. Jim could hardly believe his ears. "The mainland!" he exclaimed. "A good twenty-five miles." "Well, we've got to be there before morning." "You're crazy, man! Twenty-five miles across these waters in the night, with thirteen men in each dory! You'd never make it in the world. You can't do it." "Well, maybe we can't," retorted the other, impatiently, "but we're going to. There's more ways to kill a cat than by choking her to death with cream." He walked back to the smaller group, and soon they were in heated, but indistinct, argument. Jim noted that the men with handkerchiefs over their faces seemed now to have no difficulty in bearing their share of the conversation. Captain Sykes, in especial, was almost violent in his gestures. Presently they seemed to have reached an agreement. The spokesman walked back to Jim and came directly to the point. "What'll you take to set the crowd of us over on the mainland near Owl's Head before daylight?" Jim was equally direct. "No number of dollars you can name. I don't care to risk my boat and twenty-five or thirty lives knocking round the Penobscot Bay ledges on a night like this. But I'll be glad to take you all over to Matinicus to-morrow for nothing." "That won't do. We've got to reach the mainland to-night. I'll give you fifty dollars. Come, now!" Jim shook his head. "Seventy-five! No? A hundred, then! What d'you say?" "No use!" replied Jim. "I told you so at first." The stranger eyed him a moment, then stepped aside to parley again with the others. The colloquy was even more spirited than before. Captain Sykes swung his arms like a crazy man. He pointed to the sky, then to the sea, then to the voiceless score, huddled together, sheep-like, on the beach. Back came the speaker again, a nervous decision in his manner. "If you won't set us over yourself, what'll you sell that sloop for? Give you two hundred dollars!" Reading refusal in the lad's face, he raised the bid before Jim had time to open his lips. "Three hundred! We've some passengers who must get to a certain place at a particular time, and they can't do it unless we can land 'em before daylight to-morrow. Say four hundred!" "That sloop isn't for sale." "Wouldn't you take five hundred for her?" "No; nor a thousand!" Jim's jaws came together. Back in his brain was forming a suspicion of these fishermen who raised their bid so glibly. Why were they so eager to reach the mainland that night, and why did the twenty have no voice in the discussion? He scrutinized them searchingly. "What are you staring at?" demanded the man, angrily. Jim did not reply. Percy passed by on his way to the cabin. He had been using his eyes to good advantage. He nudged Jim. "Those fellows are Chinamen," he whispered. "I've seen too many of 'em to be mistaken." His words crystallized Jim's suspicions into certainty. The whole thing was plain now. The crew of the _Clementine Briggs_ (if, indeed, that was her name) were no fishermen, but smugglers of Chinese! He remembered a recent magazine article on the breaking of the immigration laws. Chinamen would cross the Pacific to Vancouver, paying the Dominion head-tax, and thus gaining admission into Canada. A society, organized for the purpose, would take them in charge, teach them a few ordinary English phrases, transport them to New Brunswick, and slip them aboard some fast schooner. The captain of this vessel would receive three hundred dollars a head for landing his passengers safely here and there at lonely points on the New England coast, whence they could make their way undetected to their friends in the large cities. Thus were the exclusion laws of the United States set at naught. The destruction of the schooner had made it necessary for her passengers to be landed somewhere as secretly and as quickly as possible. Twenty men at three hundred dollars a head meant six thousand dollars. That explained the anxiety of the six white men to reach the mainland that night. They were criminals, breaking their country's laws for money. Jim decided that they should never make use of the _Barracouta_. The spokesman dropped his conciliatory mask and turned away defiantly. "All right, young fellow! You've had your say; now we'll have ours." "Throppy," said Jim in a low tone to Stevens, who was standing with Lane beside him, "these men are smugglers. Call the cutter!" He had time for nothing more. As Stevens slipped quietly back into the cabin there was an angry outburst among the group on the beach. "I've done my best, Cap," protested a voice. "He won't listen to reason. Now take that rag off your face and handle this thing yourself. It's up to you." There was a sudden rush of enraged men toward Lane and Spurling. As they came, two wrenched the handkerchiefs from their faces, revealing to the astounded boys the features of the would-be sheep-thieves of the first of the summer, Dolph and Captain Bart Brittler! The latter was white with rage. His voice rose almost to a screech. "No more fooling! We need that sloop and we're going to have her! Will you sell her?" "No." "Then we'll take her!" Brittler's hand shot into his pocket as if for a revolver. "Stop there, Cap!" warned Dolph's voice. "No gun-play! 'Tisn't necessary. We can handle 'em." He flung himself suddenly on Spurling; another man leaped upon Lane. Though taken completely by surprise and almost hurled backward, Jim quickly recovered his balance. A sledge-hammer blow from Dolph's fist grazed his jaw as he sprang aside. He returned it with interest, his right going true to its mark; down went Dolph, as if hit by a pile-driver. He lay for a moment, stunned. Strong and active though Jim was, he could not bear the brunt of the entire battle. Lane's assailant had proved too much for him; they were struggling together on the gravel, the older man on top. Percy and Filippo came running; but their aid counted for little. A stocky smuggler turned toward them. A single blow from his fist sent the Italian reeling. Percy lasted longer; but his skill was no match for the brute strength of his foe. His lighter blows only stung his antagonist to fiercer efforts. Little by little the boy's strength failed and his breath came harder. He slipped on a smooth stone; with a sudden rush his foe pinioned his arms and held him struggling. [Illustration: "WE NEED THAT SLOOP AND WE'RE GOING TO HAVE HER!"] Dolph recovered, staggered to his feet, and entered the fray again. It was four to one against Jim; he fought manfully, but it was no use. Presently he lay flat on his back on the gravel, bruised and panting, one man kneeling on each arm, and a third on his chest. "Take him up to the camp, boys!" puffed Brittler. The doughty captain had not escaped unscathed. A swollen black eye and a bleeding nose bore eloquent testimony to the force and accuracy of Jim's blows. A guard on each side and another behind were soon propelling Spurling toward the open door. From within came the ceaseless click of a telegraph instrument. Throppy was still calling the cutter. Jim heard the quick patter of the continental code; Brittler heard it, too, and understood. He sprang forward with a shout of alarm. "They've got a wireless! Smash it!" A buffet on the side of the head knocked Stevens off his soap-box and sent him rolling on the floor. Five seconds later a crashing blow from a stick of firewood put the instrument out of commission. Brittler poised his club threateningly over the prostrate Stevens. "Wish I knew if you've been able to get a message through to anybody! If I thought you had--" He did not finish, but half-raised the stick, then dropped it again and turned away. One by one the remaining members of Spurling & Company were bundled unceremoniously into the cabin. Then the door was slammed shut and two men with automatics were stationed on guard outside. "Don't shoot unless you have to," instructed Brittler's voice, purposely raised. "And remember a bullet in the leg'll stop a man just as quick as one through the body." And then in a tone lower, but perfectly audible to those inside: "But don't stand any fooling! Stop 'em anyway! You know as well as I do how much we've got at stake." XXII PERCY SCORES Defeated and imprisoned in their own camp, the boys faced one another dazedly. Though none of the five had suffered serious injury in the scuffle, all were more or less bruised. Lane had a slight cut where the back of his head had come in contact with a sharp stone on the beach; and a swelling on Jim's right cheek told where the hard fist of one of his assailants had landed. Outside, the two guards conversed in low tones; but for a few minutes no one spoke or moved in the cabin. The boys sat on the boxes or had thrown themselves into their bunks. Elbow on table, chin resting in palm, Jim was buried in thought. In a short time, he knew, Brittler and his gang would sail away in the _Barracouta_. They would land their human cargo and probably scuttle the sloop. Somehow they must be thwarted; but how? The boys had no weapons to match those of their armed guard. Without ammunition, the shot-gun was but a bar of iron. How could they cope with the bullets in the automatics? Undoubtedly every smuggler carried a revolver, and would use it in a pinch; possibly some might not wait until the pinch came. It was a knotty problem. The drops oozed out on Jim's forehead as he wrestled for its solution. A low whistle fell on his ear. He glanced toward Percy's bunk and saw the latter's hand raised in warning; he was taking off his shoes, quickly and noiselessly. Why? Jim and the others watched. Soon Percy stood in his stocking feet. He pulled out his knife and opened the large blade. Stooping low, he stole toward the farther end of the cabin. The window there was open and covered with mosquito netting. Steps grated on the pebbles outside. One of the guards was making a circuit of the camp. Percy flattened himself on the floor directly beneath the window. The others, hardly daring to breathe, looked away. The man paused for a moment; Jim knew that he was peering in. Apparently satisfied that all was well, he resumed his patrol. Without delay Percy rose. He drew his knife along the netting near the sill, then cut it from top to bottom on each side, close to the frame. So skilfully did the keen blade do its work that the screen hung apparently undisturbed. The guards began talking again. Placing one of the boxes silently under the window, and stepping upon it, Percy slipped through the opening. His light build enabled him to drop to the ground without making any noise. The netting fell back and hung as before. Outside, it was thick fog; a slight drizzle was beginning. It was impossible to see further than a few feet. But the last two months had familiarized Percy with every square yard of the beach, and he could have found his way along it blindfold. Cat-footed, he stole down toward the water. Steps approached, voices; he halted, ready for a hasty retreat. But the feet receded toward the cabin, and he had no difficulty in recognizing the tones of Dolph and Brittler. The latter was in a bad humor. "Now," he growled, "we've got a long way to go, and none too much time. Every minute we waste here means just so much off the other end. Granted we reach the mainland all right, we'll have to hustle to slip those Chinks under cover before daylight. You'd better round 'em up in that fish-house, so none of 'em'll stray away and keep us from starting the second the sloop's ready. We've got to make sure there's plenty of gas aboard, as well as a compass and chart. I'll see if I can scare up a couple of lanterns." The two separated, Dolph evidently going to look after the Chinese, while Brittler kept on toward the cabin. Percy stood stock-still, his heart thumping. Would the captain discover his absence? "How's everything here, boys?" hailed Brittler. "All quiet," replied one of the sentries. "Come inside with me, Herb, so these fellows won't try any funny business." The door opened. Percy felt a thrill of fear. How could they fail to notice there were only four prisoners in the camp? But their captors evidently had not the least suspicion that he had escaped. Probably they thought he was lying in one of the bunks. He could hear the voices of Brittler and Jim, the one questioning, angry, and menacing, the other tantalizingly deliberate as he grudgingly gave the information demanded. Percy delayed no longer. He had his own work to do, and it demanded all his energy. Down he stole to the water's edge, then followed it west until he reached a sloping rock. The _Barracouta_, he knew, was moored not fifty feet out in the black fog. Without hesitating a second Percy waded in, and soon was swimming quietly toward the sloop. He had not dared to take one of the boats, for fear the grating of her keel on the beach or the sound of her oars might betray him. He cleft the water noiselessly, and it was not long before he grasped the _Barracouta's_ bobstay and hoisted himself aboard. Dropping down the companionway, he groped forward through the cabin to the little door leading into the bow, and crept in on hands and knees. His fingers found what he wanted, an opening between two planks, where a leak had been freshly calked with oakum. He dug this out with his knife-point, and the water began spurting in. Backing out and closing the door, he found a wrench in the tool-box and began fumbling about the engine. Soon the spark-plugs were unscrewed and in his pocket. "And there's a good job done!" he thought, triumphantly. "Guess that gang of blacklegs won't get very far in the _Barracouta_ to-night!" Voices on the shore. Dolph and Brittler were coming with a lantern; a blur of light brightened through the fog. "The compass and chart are aboard," came the captain's voice, "and this can of gas'll be enough to make us sure of striking the mainland. Launch that dory!" The dip of oars and an increasing brightness told that the boat was approaching. It would not do for Percy to be detected. Lowering himself from the port bow into the water, he clung to the bobstay. "They won't see me here!" Bump! The dory struck the sloop and grated along her side. Dolph and Brittler clambered aboard and descended into the cabin. "Here's the chart!" exclaimed the captain. "And the compass, too! He told the truth about them, at any rate." "Lucky for him!" rejoined Dolph. "I don't like that big fellow worth a cent." "Good reason!" was the captain's rather sarcastic comment. "You haven't any license to joke me about that knockdown, Bart Brittler! I noticed you weren't in any hurry to mix it with him." There was a moment of silence. "What's that?" cried the captain, suddenly. "Sounds like water running in! Hope the old scow isn't leaking. Let's have that lantern!" Through the thin planking Percy could hear him open the little door and crawl up into the bow. Then his faint, muffled voice reached the eagerly listening boy. "There's a bad leak here! Come in a minute!" Into Percy's brain flashed a sudden idea that left him trembling with excitement. Could he do it? If he tried, he must not fail. An instant resolution set him dragging himself toward the stern. Clutching the rim of the wash-board, he flung up one leg, caught his toe, and raised himself, dripping. A moment later he was in the standing-room. He looked down into the cabin. The light of the lantern, shining round a body that almost filled the little door to the bow, showed a pair of legs backing out. The die was cast. It was too late now for Percy to withdraw. His only safety lay in action. Like lightning he slammed and hooked the double doors of the companionway, pulled the slide over, and snapped the padlock. Dolph and Brittler were prisoners on board the _Barracouta!_ There was a moment of surprised silence. Then bedlam broke out below, a confused, smothered shouting, a violent thumping on the closed doors and slide. But Percy gave it no heed. Thus far his plan had succeeded, even beyond his expectations. But his work was only begun. Before it should be finished, four men on shore must be overcome. Aquiver with excitement, he sprang into the dory and quickly rowed to the beach, some distance from the camp. Then he leaped out with the oars and carried them well up on the shingle. The other dory of the smugglers was, he remembered, almost exactly in front of the cabin. Skirting the water, he soon came plump upon the boat. He felt inside, found the oars, and gave one after the other a shove out into the cove. Barely had he done this when hurrying steps approached. One of the guards from the camp was coming to investigate the tumult on the _Barracouta_. He passed so close to the dory beside which Percy was crouching that the boy could almost have touched him. Luckily he had no lantern. Percy hardly dared to breathe until the man was twenty feet past. "What's the trouble out there?" he shouted. If the two on the sloop heard him at all, they made no intelligible reply. The tumult and thumping kept on. Not waiting to see whether or not the sentinel would succeed in establishing communication with his marooned companions, Percy ran silently up the beach. Making a broad circuit, he approached the cabin from behind. Through the open window he could see his mates, listening with parted lips to the hubbub outside. He attracted Jim's attention by tossing in a pebble. Spurling sauntered leisurely toward the rear of the cabin. His precautions were needless; the remaining sentry had concentrated his whole attention on the uproar in the cove. "Jim," whispered Percy, hurriedly, "I'm going to jump that guard. You and Budge stand close to the door. The second you hear any fracas rush out and take hold with me. Stop him from shouting, if you can." Jim nodded and stepped back from the window. Percy crept stealthily round the camp toward the fish-house. He rightly inferred that the smuggler would be gazing down the beach toward the invisible sloop. A well-oiled clock could not have worked more smoothly. The sentry's thoughts were focused on what was taking place out there in the fog, and he was all unconscious of the peril that menaced him in the rear. Suddenly out of the blackness behind him a lithe figure shot like a wildcat. One arm encircled the neck of the astounded guard, the hand pressing tightly over his mouth. The other hand caught his right wrist and twisted it backward, causing him to drop his revolver. The force of the attack flung him flat on his face. Before he could even struggle the door was wrenched open and two figures darted out and joined in the mêlée. It was soon over. Three to one are heavy odds. The sentry, gagged and securely bound, was hustled inside the cabin. His hat, overcoat, and automatic were appropriated for Jim Spurling, who took his place. So skilfully had the coup been conducted under cover of the disturbance in the cove that none of the other smugglers had taken the slightest alarm. Spurling assumed his post none too soon. Hardly had the door been closed, with Lane, Stevens, and Percy on the alert just inside, when the other guard came hurrying anxiously back. He had been unable to fathom the meaning of the tumult on the _Barracouta_. "I don't like this at all, Herb," growled he as he drew near Jim. "Dolph and the skipper have gotten into some kind of a scrape, but what the trouble is I can't figure. I'd have gone out to them in the other dory, but I couldn't find any oars. We'd better call Shane and Parsons away from guarding those Chinks and decide what it's best to do. We don't know the lay of the land here, and any mistake's liable to be expensive." By the time he had finished his remarks he was close to Spurling. The latter's silence apparently roused his suspicions. He stopped short. "What--" He got no further. Jim's left hand was over his mouth and Jim's right grasped his right wrist. Out burst reinforcements from the camp. It was a repetition of the case of the first sentinel, only more so. Presently Number Two lay on the cabin floor beside his comrade, unable to speak or move. Jim was a good hand at tying knots. The five boys gathered in a corner and took account of stock. Two of the six white men prisoners; two others marooned on the sloop and _hors du combat_, at least temporarily; two still at large and in a condition to do mischief, but at present entirely ignorant of the plight of their comrades. Two automatics captured, and the dories of the foe useless from lack of oars. Best of all, the boys themselves free and practically masters of the situation. Matters showed a decided improvement over what they had been a half-hour before. But the victory was as yet incomplete and Jim was too good a general to lose the battle from over-confidence. At any minute Dolph and Brittler might burst their way out through the double doors of the _Barracouta_ and establish communication with the two men guarding the Chinese. So once more the trap was set and baited. Roger put on the hat and coat of the second sentry and joined Jim on guard. Crash! Crash! Crash! A succession of heavy, splintering blows, echoing over the cove, announced that the pair imprisoned on the sloop had at last discovered some means of battering their way to freedom. _Crash-sh!_ Speech, low but intense, came floating over the water. The smugglers were out and evidently looking for their dory. Baffled in their search, they began shouting. "Hilloo-oo! On shore! Shane! Parsons! Herb! Terry! Are you all dead? Come out and take us off! Somebody's scuttled the sloop and locked us down in the cabin! Just wait till we get ashore! We'll fix those boys! Ahoy there! Our boat's gone! Come and get us!" Jim pressed Roger's arm. "Ready! Here comes one of 'em!" Somebody was running toward them from the fish-house. A black figure suddenly loomed up, close at hand. "What's the trouble out there, Herb? Dolph and the cap are yelling like stuck pigs! Hear 'em! Guess I'd better go out to 'em in the other dory, don't you think? Shane can handle the Chinos--" His voice shut off in a terrified gurgle. A strong hand forcibly sealed his lips and two pairs of muscular arms held him powerless, while Percy, darting from the cabin with a coil of rope, relieved him of his automatic and tied him firmly under Jim's whispered directions. Soon he, too, lay beside his comrades. "Shut the door a minute, Filippo!" ordered Jim. "Now," he continued, briskly, "I guess we've got 'em coppered. We'll do up that man in the fish-house in short order. By the way, Throppy, did you raise the cutter before the captain smashed your instrument?" "Don't know," answered Stevens. "I was so busy calling for help that I didn't wait for any reply." "We'll know before midnight," said Jim. "Take Parsons's automatic, Perce, and come along with Budge and myself. Throppy, you stay here with Filippo and help guard these fellows." He glanced at the sullen three lying bound on the floor. "Don't look as if they could make much trouble. Still, it's better for somebody to keep an eye on 'em." Jim, Budge, and Percy stepped out and closed the door. The shouting from the _Barracouta_ kept on with undiminished vigor. Appeals and threats jostled one another in the verbal torrent. "Let 'em yell themselves hoarse," whispered Jim. "It won't do 'em any good." The fish-house was near. A lighted lantern hung just inside the open door. Near it stood the fourth smuggler, peering anxiously out; behind him huddled the Chinamen. He gave an exclamation of relief as he saw Jim's figure approaching through the fog. "I'm glad--" He stopped short, frozen with surprise, at the sight of the three boys. Swiftly his hand darted toward his left coat pocket. "None of that, Shane!" commanded Jim, sharply. "Put 'em up!" The three automatics in the boys' hands showed the guard that resistance was useless. He obeyed sulkily. "Feel in his pocket, Perce, and take his revolver! No, the other side! He's left-handed." Percy secured the weapon. Escorting Shane to the camp, they soon had him safely trussed. Brittler was bellowing like a mad bull. "Now for Dolph and the skipper! Guess the three of us are good for 'em!" Leaving the four smugglers in the custody of Throppy and Filippo, the other boys proceeded down to the water. The shouting suddenly ceased. A rope splashed. "They've cast off the mooring!" exclaimed Jim. Another unmistakable sound. "Now they're rocking the wheel to start her!" Percy felt for the spark-plugs in his pocket. "They'll rock it some time!" They did. At last they stopped. There was a muttered consultation, inaudible to the listening ears on shore. "Might as well wind the thing up now!" observed Jim in an undertone. "On board the sloop!" he hailed. "It's all off, Captain! We've got your four men tied up, and we've got their revolvers. You and Dolph might as well give it up. Throw your guns in on the beach, and we'll come out and get you, one at a time!" A tremendous surprise was voiced by the absolute silence that followed. It was broken by Brittler's sneering voice: "So we might as well give up, had we, eh? Guess you don't know Bart Brittler, sonny! Let 'em have it, Dolph!" _Spang--spang--spang--spang!_ A fusillade of revolver-shots woke the echoes. The bullets spattered in the water and thudded on the beach. Fortunately no one was hit. "Scatter, fellows!" shouted Jim. And in a lower voice he added, "Don't fire back!" Silence again. The two on the sloop were evidently reloading. Then came a regular splashing. The men on the _Barracouta_ were paddling her ashore. Armed and desperate, now fully aware that the only things between themselves and a term in a Federal prison were the bullets in their automatics, they would go to almost any length to escape, even to the taking of life itself. Plainly there was trouble ahead. The boys came together again at the foot of the sea-wall. Should they fight or run? It was one or the other. Whatever else they might be, Dolph and Brittler clearly were not cowards. If there was a fight, it was certain somebody would be shot, very likely killed. Was the risk worth taking? Would it not be better to hurry back to the cabin, warn Filippo and Throppy, and escape up the bank into the woods? The smugglers, with but two automatics against four, would hardly dare to follow them. "Way enough, Dolph!" growled Brittler's voice. The sloop had grounded. Splash! Splash! Her two passengers had leaped out into the water and were making their way to the beach. Jim came to an instant decision. He opened his lips, but the words he had planned to speak were never uttered. The strong, rhythmical dip of oars suddenly beat through the fog. "What's the trouble here?" demanded a stern voice. A great surge of thankfulness almost took away Jim's power of speech. "It's the cutter!" he ejaculated, chokingly. "Throppy got her, after all!" XXIII WHITTINGTON GRIT So far as the smugglers were concerned the game was up. It was one thing to attempt to overpower a group of boys and appropriate their sloop, but it was quite another to offer armed resistance to the officers of the United States revenue service. Dolph and Brittler realized that; they realized, too, that they had absolutely no chance of escaping from the island, so they stood sullenly by while Jim told his story to the lieutenant commanding the boat. At the close of his recital the officer turned to them. "You hear the statements of this young man. What have you to say for yourselves?" "Nothing now," replied Brittler. "You may hand over your guns." The two surrendered their automatics and were placed under arrest. Following Jim's guidance, the lieutenant inspected the captured smugglers in Camp Spurling and the Chinese in the fish-house. Leaving a guard on shore and taking Jim with him, he went off to make his report to the captain. "It's a case for the United States commissioner at Portland," decided the latter. "We'll have to take the whole party there. Guess you boys had better come along as witnesses. The _Pollux_ was bound east when we picked up your wireless; but this matter is so important that I'm going to postpone that trip for a couple of days. I can bring you and the rest of your party back here early day after to-morrow." It meant to the boys a loss of only two days at the outside. That was a little thing in comparison with what might have happened if the cutter had not come. "We'll start without waste of time," resumed the captain. "Lieutenant Stevenson, you may bring the prisoners aboard." Jim went ashore with the officer to notify his companions and prepare for this unforeseen journey. Eleven o'clock found the _Pollux_ steaming west with her thirty-one additional passengers. The passage was uneventful and they were alongside the wharf in Portland early the next forenoon. Promptly at two came the hearing before the commissioner. It did not take long. Brittler and his accomplices were held for trial at the next term of court, and the Chinese were taken in charge by the immigration inspector. Before six that night the boys were passing out by Portland Head in the _Pollux_, bound east. The next morning they landed once more in Sprowl's Cove, and a few hours later they had fallen back into their customary routine, as if smugglers were a thing unknown. The leak in the _Barracouta's_ bow was calked, making her as tight as before. The following day dawned fiery red and it was evident that a fall storm was brewing. Jim and Percy had to battle with a high sea when they set and pulled their trawl; and they were glad enough to get back to Tarpaulin with their catch. By noon a heavy surf was bombarding the southern shore. Five o'clock found the gale in full blast. A terrific wind whipped the rain in level sheets over cove and beach and against the low cabin squat on the sea-wall. Great, white-maned surges came rolling in from the ocean to boom thunderously on the ledges round Brimstone. The flying scud made it impossible to see far to windward. It was the worst storm the boys had experienced since they came to the island. At half past five, after everything had been made snug for the night, they assembled for supper. On the table smoked a heaping platter of fresh tongues and cheeks, rolled in meal and fried brown with slices of salt pork. Another spiderful of the same viands sputtered on the stove. Hot biscuits and canned peaches crowned the repast. Filippo had done himself proud. A long-drawn blast howled about the cabin. "Gee!" exclaimed Percy, "but wasn't that a screamer! This is one of the nights you read about. 'The midnight tempest was shrieking furiously round the battlements of the old baronial castle!'" "Cut it out, Perce, cut it out!" remonstrated Lane. "You make me feel ashamed of myself. It's really unkind in you to air your knowledge of the English classics before such dubs as the rest of us." "Well, at any rate, I'm glad we're under cover. Wonder if the men who used to go to sea in this cabin enjoyed it anywhere near as much as we have!" "Not half bad, is it?" said Jim. "Remember how delighted you were when you got your first sight of it, three months ago?" Percy grinned. "I've changed some since then," he admitted. "Forget that, Jim! It's ancient history now." As he drew up his soap-box his eye dwelt appreciatively on the delicacies in the platter. "Aren't you other fellows going to eat anything?" he inquired, with mock concern. "I don't see any more than enough for myself on that platter. Don't be so narrow about the food, Filippo!" The Italian pointed to a pan rounded up with uncooked titbits. "Plenty more!" "Good!" said Percy. "I was afraid somebody else might have to go hungry." All devoted themselves to the contents of their plates. They kept Filippo busy frying until their appetites were satisfied. Supper was over at last, and the dishes washed and put away. Outside, the storm raged worse than ever. Stevens sat down to his instrument, repaired after its damage by Brittler, and put the receivers over his ears. "Come on, Throppy!" exhorted Lane. "Don't go calling to-night! Get out of the ether and give some other wireless sharps a look-in! Pull off that harness and take down your violin. Let's make an evening of it! We sha'n't have many more." Stevens lifted his hands to remove the headpiece. Suddenly a change came over his face and his arms dropped slowly. He gave his mates a warning look. There fell a silence in the cabin. Anxiously the others watched the operator's tense features. Minutes passed. On a sudden he sprang up and tore off the receivers. "There's a steamer in trouble outside. Name sounded like _Barona_. Her engine's disabled and she's drifting. Can't be very far off!" The boys felt sober. "It's a hard night for a craft without steerage-way," said Jim. "What's that? Thunder?" A long, low rumble made itself heard above the storm. It came again, and yet again. The gloom was lighted for a second by a sudden blaze. "What's that!" exclaimed Jim once more. Between the thunder-peals his ears had caught a single whip-like crack. A stunning crash followed a lurid glare, lighting up sky and sea. Again came the sharp detonation, but little louder than a fire-cracker. This time all heard it. "A signal-gun!" Lane's voice was full of excitement. He sprang to the door and the others followed. The gale was blowing squarely against the end of the cabin. So great was its force that Roger had all he could do to push the door open. Presently the five stood outside, exposed to the full fury of the blast. For a few seconds all was black. "Look! A rocket!" Up from the pitchy sea southwest of Brimstone shot a line of fire, curving into an arc and bursting aloft in a shower of many-colored balls. At its base were dimly visible two slender masts and a white hull. Almost instantly they vanished; but the boys had seen enough. "A steam-yacht!" cried Jim. "Not more than a half-mile off Brimstone and drifting straight on the ledges. Looks as if she was a goner!" "Can't we help her somehow?" asked Percy. "I'm afraid not. We couldn't drive the sloop against this gale and sea; besides, those rollers would swamp a life-boat. All we can do is to get out on the point and try to save anybody who comes ashore. Put on your oil-clothes, fellows! Light both the lanterns, Percy! Budge, you and Throppy each take one of those spare coils of rope! I'll carry another and the Coston lights. Now I can see why Uncle Tom always insisted on having a couple of 'em in the cabin. Filippo, you'd better stay here, keep up a good fire, and make plenty of coffee. There goes another rocket! The gun, too! I don't blame 'em. Men couldn't be in a worse fix!" Leaning sidewise against the gale, the little lantern-guided procession trudged along the sea-wall and stumblingly ascended the slippery path to the beacon on Brimstone. Sheltering the oil-soaked kindlings with his body, Jim scratched a match; and in a twinkling long tongues of smoky flame were streaming wildly to leeward. "Ah! They see us!" Three rockets in quick succession rose from the yacht, now barely a quarter-mile away. The thunder and lightning were almost continuous. Every flash told that the imperiled craft was steadily drifting nearer the dangerous promontory. "She'll strike the Grumblers!" muttered Jim. "And that means she's done for! If only she was a thousand feet farther east she'd float by into the cove. Hard luck!" The Grumblers were a collection of jagged rocks, exposed at low tide. Under the incessant flashes their black heads appeared and disappeared in a welter of frothy white. It was an ominous spectacle for the men on the yacht. Taking one of the Coston lights, Jim clambered down on the ledges. Soon the warning red glare of the torch, held high above his head, was illumining the rocks and breakers. He held the light aloft until it went out, then rejoined the others. "They're getting a boat over!" cried Stevens. Half a dozen men, working with frantic haste, were swinging a tender out to leeward. "No use!" said Jim, despondently. "She won't live a minute in this sea." Ten seconds confirmed his prediction. The yacht rolled. As the boat struck the water a giant sea filled her. Then came darkness. The next flash showed the boat drifting bottom up beside the larger craft. Another tender was launched; it survived one sea, but the next overturned it. Still a third boat met with the same fate. Every surge was heaving the yacht nearer the breakers with dismaying speed. A group of figures gathered amidships. Silently, with pale faces, the boys watched the progress of the doomed craft. She was going to her death. How could any of those on board escape? Jim threw off his despondency. "Now, fellows," he cried, "the minute she strikes she'll begin to pound to pieces! Their only chance'll be to run a line ashore. We must get out as far as we can to catch it." Every billow buried the base of the point in snowy foam and sent the spray flying far up its rugged front. Using the utmost caution, the boys descended to the limit of safety. At the next flash they peered eagerly seaward. The yacht was almost on the Grumblers! Up she heaved on a high surge, dropped. They caught their breaths. No! Not that time. She rose again. Down ... down ... Suddenly she stopped. A grinding crash reached their ears. "She's struck!" screamed Lane. A blaze of sheet lightning showed her, careened landward, lying broadside toward them about one hundred feet distant. It was the beginning of the end. Jim, clinging to a boulder far out on the streaming ledges, now showered with spray, now buried waist-deep, was watching every movement of the crew. "They've made a line fast round the foremast!" he shouted back. "They're going to send its end ashore on a barrel! Watch out!" Presently the tossing cask was visible, drifting rapidly landward. For the first twenty-five yards its progress was unhindered; then a half-tide ledge barred its way. It hung on this in the trough of a sea; but the next billow swept it over. Before long it was bumping on the rocks almost within Jim's reach. Watching his chance, he lunged forward and caught it. A crashing surge flung him down heavily and rolled him over and over; but he stuck stoutly to his prize. When the water ran back he came crawling up on his hands and knees, sliding the cask before him. "Can't stand!" he explained, briefly. "Ankle hurt! Now muckle onto this line, everybody, and haul in! They've got a hawser bent on the other end." A glance toward the yacht told that he was right. It also told that the peril of her human freight was greater than ever. Each sea, raising her slightly, dropped her back with her decks at a sharper angle toward the land. The grinding of the rocks through her steel side could be distinctly heard. "All together! In she comes! Now ... heave! Now ... heave! Now ... _heave!_" Their strength doubled by the realization that life hung on their efforts, the boys swayed at the line until at last they grasped the end of the hawser. To it was attached another smaller rope for pulling in a boatswain's chair. Working rapidly, they made the hawser fast round an upright boulder. The lightning flashes were now less frequent, but lanterns on the ship and ashore enabled each group to note the other's progress. At last the slender cableway was rigged. Jim swung a lantern. Another lantern on the yacht answered. "The smaller line, boys! Pull in! Careful!" As the boys hauled, a figure dangled away from the vessel's side. Shoreward it swayed, now high above the wave-troughs, now dipping through a lofty crest. It dragged safely over the inside ledge, while the boys held their breaths; and presently they were unlashing a man from the boatswain's chair. "Yes," he said in response to Jim's question, "she's the steam-yacht _Barona_. Belongs to Churchill Sadler of New York. One of his millionaire friends chartered her for a short trip to the Maine coast. Fifteen men aboard. I'm the mate. Came ashore first to see if this rig would work all right." The chair was already half-way back to the vessel. "They'll send Mr. Whittington next," continued the mate. Percy started with surprise. "What's that? Whittington?" "Yes. John P., the millionaire! He's the man who hired the yacht." "He's my father!" gasped Percy. The mate gave an exclamation of astonishment. "Lucky we got this chair to working or soon you wouldn't have had any father!" The swinging seat had now reached the yacht. Two men lashed into it a stout, squarely built figure. The lantern signaled that all was ready and the shoreward journey began. Percy was shaking so violently that he could hardly pull. The mate reassured him. "Don't be frightened, young fellow! We'll land him all right!" He added his strength to that of the others, and John P. Whittington came in faster. He reached the ledge, only twenty-five feet from shore. Then came disaster! Something gave way on the yacht, and the hawser suddenly slackened, letting the boatswain's chair drag on the ledge. The end of a swinging rope caught in a crack. The millionaire stopped short! "Harder!" shouted the mate, setting the example. The boys surged on the rope, but to no avail; they could not budge the chair. Percy stood motionless with horror. Up curled a huge wave, high over the struggling figure. A thundering deluge hid him from view. It looked bad for John P. Whittington. Two or three seas more and it would matter little to him whether he was pulled in or not. Guttering and rumbling, the water flowed back. Down over the ledges after it leaped a slim, wiry figure. It was Percy Whittington! He had thrown off his oil-clothes to give his limbs greater freedom. His head was bare and his light hair stood straight up from his forehead. Grasping the hawser, he plunged into the sea and dragged himself toward the rock to which his father was fastened. The group on the point stood silent, watching him struggle yard by yard through the black water until he gained the ridge. On it lay the figure in the boatswain's chair, struggling feebly. Percy planted his feet on the slippery rock. But before he could reach his father another liquid avalanche buried them both. It seemed to the anxious watchers as if it would never run back. When it did, the older man sagged from the chair, motionless; the lad still clung to the hawser. The future of the house of Whittington hung trembling in the balance. The mate gave a groan. "He can't do it!" At that very instant Percy roused to activity. Even before the ledge was entirely clear he was leaning over his father, knife in hand. It was useless to attempt to extricate the rope-end from the crack in which it was caught; the only thing to do was to cut it. Percy stooped quickly. Already the next sea was curling over his head. He made a savage assault upon the rope. Slash! Slash! Twice his arm rose and fell. The billow was breaking down over him when he leaped erect and flung up his hand. "Pull!" yelled Jim. Just as the flood boiled over the ledge the chair and its senseless burden jerked away. Percy grasped the lashings and was towed along behind his father. Dread overcame him as he felt the limpness of the older man's body. Through the eddying tide ... up over the slippery rocks ... and presently Jim and the mate were unfastening the bonds that held the insensible millionaire in the boatswain's chair. They carried him up near the beacon and laid him down on Percy's oil-clothes. "He's breathing!" said the mate. "He'll come round all right. You'll know what to do for him. I'll go back and help get the other men off. Their lives mean just as much to their people as his does to you." Working with Budge and Throppy, he took in the slack of the hawser, and soon the chair was dancing back to the yacht. Meanwhile Jim and Percy were working over Mr. Whittington, and before long he recovered his senses. With a groan he half raised himself. "Where am I?" "You're all right, Dad!" "Percy!" Both father and son showed a depth of feeling Jim would hardly have credited them with possessing. "You don't need me here any longer," he said. "I'll go down and help pull the others ashore. Throw these oil-clothes of mine over your father, Percy, and make him comfortable, and as soon as the rest are safe we'll carry him to camp." "What's that?" growled the millionaire. "Carry me? I guess you don't know the Whittingtons, young man!" His jaw set and he rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet. "Come on, Percy! Where's that camp?" Walking slowly, the father leaning on his son's shoulder, the two disappeared in the darkness. Jim watched them for a few seconds, then started down over the ledges. The last half-hour had raised his estimation of the Whittington stock considerably above par. Then for a time, engrossed in life-saving, he forgot everything else. At last all the men were landed safely. It was none too soon, for the yacht was now almost down on her side; and it was plain she would pound to pieces before very long. Rescuers and rescued sought the cabin, where a good fire and hot coffee awaited them. Whittington, senior, clad in dry clothing, lay in Percy's bunk. Filippo was bustling to and fro to supply the wants of his numerous guests. His eyes fell upon a dark-haired, olive-skinned young man in the rear of the shipwrecked group, and the cup he was carrying clattered on the floor. "Frank!" he cried. "_Fratello mio!_" The brothers flung themselves into each other's arms. The Whittington family was not the only happy one in Camp Spurling that night. XXIV CROSSING THE TAPE There was little sleep on Tarpaulin, either for rescuers or rescued, until the small hours of the morning. The cabin was crowded to its utmost capacity, as the fish-house was too cold for the drenched, wearied men. Filippo kept a hot fire going until long after midnight, and served out coffee galore. During his intervals of leisure he and Frank conversed in liquid Sicilian. Outside, the storm roared and the surf boomed on the ledges about Brimstone; beyond in the blackness lay the wrecked _Barona_, hammering to pieces. Gradually conversation ceased and the camp grew quiet. The boys and their unexpected guests, sandwiched closely together on the floor and in the bunks, drifted off into fitful slumber. But John P. Whittington's eyes remained wide open. He was outstretched in Percy's bunk. His clothes hung drying before the stove, and he had on an old suit of Jim's, as nothing that Percy wore was large enough to fit his father's square, bulky figure. Beside him lay his son, sound asleep. John P. marveled at his regular breathing. Occasionally he touched the lad with his hand. All his thoughts centered about Percy. He could not but feel that this brown, wiry fellow who had saved his life was a stranger to him. He could see with half an eye that a great change had come over the boy during the summer; he had grown quieter, stronger, far more manly. Yes, Percy had stuck. John Whittington had only half believed that he could or would; and he had spent a good many valuable hours worrying over what he should do with his son if he didn't stick. The result showed that all those hours had been thrown away; but somehow the millionaire couldn't feel very bad about the waste. He began to wonder if Percy might not have done better in the past if his father had put in a little more time with him personally and spent less in mere money-making. He had tried to shift his responsibility off on somebody else, had hired others to do what he should have taken pains to do himself. That was a big mistake; John P. Whittington could see it plainly now. And it had come near being a pretty costly error for him, for Percy. Well, those days were over. Percy had turned squarely about and was doing better. Whittington, senior, determined to do better, too. Little by little the gale blew itself out. By daybreak the sky was clear and the wind had gone down, but the high rollers still wreaked their wrath on the shattered yacht and thundered on the point. A fiery sun shot its red rays over the slumberers in the crowded cabin. Filippo roused yawningly, built the fire, and busied himself about breakfast. Soon everybody was astir. The millionaire's clothes were now dry, and he dressed with the others. Save for a slight stiffness and a few bruises, he was all right. After breakfast he went up on Brimstone with Percy and the others to take a look at the _Barona_. The steel hull lay on its side on the foaming reef, a battered, crumpled shape, sadly different from the trim yacht that had left New York so short a time before. A miscellaneous lot of wreckage was swashing in the surf at the base of the point, and Jim and some of the crew were salvaging what they could; but it was not very much. Standing in safety on the promontory in the sunlight of the pleasant morning, John P. Whittington gazed long at the wreck. "Well," he remarked at last to the captain, who stood beside him, "I guess I see where I'm out fifty or seventy-five thousand dollars. Might as well take my medicine without a whimper. It was all my fault. You wanted to run into Portland when the storm was making up, but I thought we'd better try for some port nearer the island. I've gotten so into the habit of having men do as I want them to that I thought the wind and sea would do the same. But I've learned they won't. It's been an expensive mistake, and it came altogether too near being more expensive still. It's up to me to foot the bills. I'll make it all right with you and the crew and Sadler." The sea was going down rapidly. A council was held. The Rockland boat would leave Matinicus at half past one, and, as Jim felt that the _Barracouta_ could easily make the run to the island, it was decided to send the crew back to New York that very day. The captain and the mate arranged to remain on Tarpaulin until a wrecking-tug from Boston should arrive. Mr. Whittington, yielding to the persuasions of Percy and the invitation of the other boys, consented to take the first vacation of his life and stop with them a week or ten days, when their season on the island would close. While the crew were preparing to embark, Filippo approached Jim with his newly found brother. "I like to go with Frank," he said. "Sorry to have you leave, Filippo," returned Jim. "But I know just how you feel, and I don't blame you a bit." He called Stevens and Lane aside. Presently the latter went into the cabin and reappeared with a roll of bills. Jim handed them to the Italian. "Here's one hundred dollars, Filippo, your share for your summer's work. You've earned it fairly. If there's anything more coming to you, after we figure up, I'll send it on. What will your address be? We hope to see you again some time." Filippo was overcome. Tears of gratitude filled his eyes as he stammered his thanks. It was arranged that letters in the care of the Italian consul at Boston would always be forwarded to him. Jim and Throppy took the departing party over to Matinicus on the _Barracouta_, getting them there in ample time for the Rockland steamer. The sloop was back at Tarpaulin by four o'clock. Meanwhile John P. Whittington had started on his vacation. Though his time ran into thousands of dollars a week, he felt he could profitably spend a little of it in getting acquainted with his boy. One of the first things his keen eyes noted was the absence of the cigarettes. "Knocked off, eh, Percy? For how long?" "For good, Dad!" The millionaire suppressed a whistle; something had certainly struck Percy. The next morning, his sturdy figure garbed in oilskins, he started out with his son and Jim for Clay Bank. He had to acknowledge that rising at midnight was a little early, even for a man accustomed to work as hard as he had always done. Out on the shoal he was a silent but interested spectator while the trawl was being pulled and the fish taken aboard. An old swell was running, and he speedily discovered that seasickness was another thing his will could not master. That afternoon he watched Percy skilfully handle the splitting-knife and later do his part in baiting the trawl. On the morning following he went out lobstering, and found as much to interest him as on the day before. Everything was new to him. He discovered that even a man experienced in big business can learn some things from boys. Soon his sleep at night was as sound as his son's. He made a trip to Matinicus in the _Barracouta_, and talked prices with the superintendent of the fish-wharf and the proprietor of the general store. "Have a bottle of lemon, Dad?" invited Percy. Mr. Whittington was on the point of refusing; he did not care for soda. On second thought, however, he drank it soberly. Percy appreciated his father's acceptance of the proffered courtesy. "It's the first time my money ever bought anything for you." The experience was a novel one for them both. Just after light one morning the wrecking-tug from Boston appeared. A brief examination of the _Barona's_ hull by a diver showed that the havoc wrought by the sea and rocks had been so great that but little of value could be saved. So the tug started back that very afternoon, and the captain and the mate of the yacht went with her. The weather was now much cooler, and the boys were glad that their stay was to be short. Wild geese were honking overhead in V-shaped lines on their way south. Mr. Whittington accompanied the others on a gunning trip to Window Ledge, and came back with a dozen coots. He smacked his lips over the coot stew and dumplings prepared by Jim. Throppy dismantled his wireless and packed up his outfit to send away. On their last Thursday at Tarpaulin Uncle Tom Sprowl came in on the smack with Captain Higgins. He had boarded the _Calista_ at York Island. Everybody, including Nemo and Oso, was glad to see Uncle Tom. His rheumatism was fully cured and he was spry and chipper. He was more than satisfied with what the boys had accomplished during the summer, and he planned to continue lobstering after their departure. He noted the change in Percy. "Told Jim your son needed salting," he confided to Mr. Whittington. "He's all right now." The afternoon before they were to leave the island Roger reckoned up his accounts. They showed that after Uncle Tom's share had been deducted, Spurling & Company had a thousand dollars to divide. Of this, one hundred dollars had already been paid to Filippo. Lane handed Percy one hundred and fifty dollars. "I don't want him to take that," objected Mr. Whittington. "We shouldn't feel right if he didn't," said Jim. "Dad," spoke up Percy, "I want it. I've earned it. Look at those hands and arms. It's the first money I ever had that you didn't give to me. I'm going to have one of the bills framed behind glass." "He's earned it, fast enough," corroborated Jim. "Let him take it, Mr. Whittington. We'll all feel better about it if you will." So the millionaire gave his consent, with the mental reservation that in some way he would make it up to the others later. "What are you going to do with all that wealth, Percy?" he asked. "It won't keep you very long in gasolene." "Send half of it to Filippo for his brother Frank," replied Percy, promptly. "He lost about all he had when the _Barona_ was wrecked." Later that afternoon Mr. Whittington took Jim aside out of Percy's hearing. "Honestly, between us, how has the boy done this summer?" "I wouldn't ask to have anybody take hold any better than he has since the middle of July." The millionaire looked gratified. "I'm more than pleased at the way things have turned out, and I don't know how I can ever repay you. Can't I help you somehow in money matters?" Jim shook his head decidedly. "No, thank you, Mr. Whittington. As I told you at the beginning of the summer, we're making our own way. Percy is entitled to every cent we've paid him, and I can honestly say we're glad he's been with us." A half-hour afterward Mr. Whittington found his son alone. "How about those college conditions, Percy?" he asked. "Just finished my work on 'em before the wreck, Dad. I'm ready to take my exams the minute I strike college. It's been a hard pull, harder even than the fishing and lobstering, and it's kept me hustling; but I believe I've won out. Studying isn't so bad. All you've got to do is to make up your mind to get your lessons, and then get 'em." "That's so in other things besides studying, Percy. You'll find it out later on." "I guess I don't need to tell you," continued his son, "how much I owe to Jim Spurling and the others. They're the whitest bunch I ever ran with, and I wouldn't have missed my summer with them for anything." "Something different from what you felt three months ago, eh, Percy? Remember our talk at Graffam Academy, Commencement night?" "Rather guess I do! And, believe me, I sha'n't forget it in a hurry. By the way, there's one fellow I owe a good deal to that I haven't told you about yet." He related to his father the story of his two encounters with Jabe. The older man listened with grim but satisfied attention. "Licked him at last, did you? If you hadn't, I should want you to look him up and do it now. It's a Whittington habit to carry through what you begin. Well, Percy, you've certainly made good." A glimmer of pride, the first he had ever shown in his son, crossed his face. "I blamed you for junking your auto. Now I've gone and junked a yacht that'll cost me more than fifty times as much. Well, there's no fool like the old fool! But it's been worth it." He gave his son a look in which affection mingled with pride. "It was quicksilver, kill or cure; and I'm mighty glad it's been cure." 
43856	----	[Illustration: At sight of the hole and freshly upturned earth, Hunter grew livid with rage. Page 140. _The Boy Chums Cruising in Florida Waters._] The Boy Chums Cruising in Florida Waters OR The Perils and Dangers of the Fishing Fleet By WILMER M. ELY Author of "The Boy Chums on Indian River," "The Boy Chums in The Forest," "The Boy Chums' Perilous Cruise," "The Boy Chums on Haunted Island," "The Boy Chums in the Gulf of Mexico." [Illustration] A. L. BURT COMPANY NEW YORK Copyright, 1914 BY A. L. BURT COMPANY. THE BOY CHUMS CRUISING IN FLORIDA WATERS. Contents CHAPTER PAGE I. OLD FRIENDS 3 II. GETTING SETTLED 12 III. THE FIRST ALARM 20 IV. THE WARNING 29 V. FRIENDLY ADVICE 38 VI. THE MIDNIGHT LIGHT 47 VII. THE MYSTERY 56 VIII. THE VISITORS 65 IX. MORE TROUBLE 74 X. ONE NIGHT'S SPORT 83 XI. THE QUARREL 92 XII. THE GHOST 102 XIII. CHRIS' STORY 111 XIV. A CUNNING TRICK 120 XV. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 129 XVI. AN ACCIDENT 138 XVII. MORE MYSTERIES 146 XVIII. MORE MISCHIEF 154 XIX. TELLING MR. DANIELS 163 XX. THE GROUPER BANKS 172 XXI. HAPPY DAYS 181 XXII. TREASURE TROVE 189 XXIII. SALVAGE HUNTERS 198 XXIV. THE ACCIDENT 206 XXV. THE STORM 214 XXVI. CASTAWAYS 222 XXVII. HOMEWARD BOUND 231 XXVIII. THE CHUMS HAVE TWO CALLERS 239 XXIX. AN IDLE DAY 248 XXX. THE DISCOVERY 256 XXXI. THE FISH 265 XXXII. ABOUT MANY THINGS 274 XXXIII. THE SMUGGLERS AGAIN 283 XXXIV. THE SURPRISE 292 XXXV. AND THE LAST 301 THE BOY CHUMS CRUISING IN FLORIDA WATERS. CHAPTER I. OLD FRIENDS. "IS this Mr. Daniels?" The busy man at the paper-littered desk swung around in his chair and treated the speaker and his three companions to a brief but keen appraising glance. Swift as it was, he noted that the questioner was a sturdy, well-built lad with a frank open face deeply tanned by wind and sun. His companions consisted of another boy about the same age but of slighter build, an elderly, stout, heavily-whiskered man with the unmistakable stamp of the sailor in his bearing, and a little negro lad with a grinning, good-humored face. All three bore an appearance of health and cleanliness and their clothes, though old and worn, were neatly patched and as spotless as soap and water could make them. "Daniels is my name," he replied, briskly, "what can I do for you?" "We want a chance to fish for you, sir." "Have you had any experience?" "My companions have never fished any but I put in a couple of seasons at it. We all know how to handle boats and none of us are afraid of work," declared the spokesman of the little party, eagerly. "I seldom engage green men," said Mr. Daniels, "but I will talk with you a little further, later," he added, hastily, as he saw the look of disappointment on the four faces. "I am a pretty busy man now. I have got to get some letters off on the morning train. Look around and amuse yourselves for half an hour and I will then be at liberty." The four strangers needed no second bidding. Even as they had been waiting, they had cast interested glances through the open office door at the busy scene in the immense building adjoining. Now, as Mr. Daniels turned back to his desk, they stepped out into the great barn-like room and gazed around with eager curiosity. Everywhere was bustle and hustle. At the far end of the building, a dozen wagons were unloading their burdens in great glistening heaps upon the clean water-deluged floor, fish, fish, thousands upon thousands of them. In one corner rose a great mound of trout, a simmering mass of white, bronze, and rainbow spots, close to these lay a heap of Spanish mackerel, beautiful in their rich coloring of silver and gold; just beyond the mackerel rose a greenish-blue pile of hundreds of blue fish and close beside these lay a snow-like mountain of ocean mullet, while further on, was heaped up, a miscellaneous collection of finny creatures, sea bass, gorgeous in their rich golden bronze, quaint bird-like sea robins, lacey-winged flying fish, repulsive looking flounders, and a hundred and one humble little dwellers of the sea that had fallen victims to the all-embracing nets. Down the length of the room, groups of men were working frantically to lessen the rapidly growing mounds of fish. It almost seemed a combat between the stream of loaded wagons and the busy workers. One group labored furiously at the heaps, shoveling the fish into big, swinging, scoop-like scales. As soon as the scales showed two hundred pounds, they were swung forward to another group and their contents dumped on the floor. This group, with skillful, flying hands, packed the fish in layers into empty barrels. For every layer of fish, a hurrying line of men dumped in a huge shovelful of chopped ice. As soon as it was filled, the barrel was taken in charge by other waiting hands. The head nailed in, it was rolled out on a platform at the far end where a car lay waiting on a side track to hurry it away to the fish-hungry folks of the northern cities. The little negro lad gazed at the busy scene with distended eyes. "Massa Chas, Massa Chas," he exclaimed, at last, "dar ain't no use ob you white chillens trying to catch no fish." "Why, Chris?" questioned the larger lad. "'Cause dey's done cotched dem all. Dar can't be many left, Massa Chas." "Nonsense, Chris, there's as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it." "Maybe so," said the little negro, doubtfully, "but I reckon dar ain't so many ob dem." "You can not prove there isn't," laughed Charley. "May be not," said the little negro, with dignity, "but you-alls had ought to take a cullard gentleman's word widout any proof." "So I will, Chris," agreed the white lad, with a twinkle in his eye, "but there is Mr. Daniels beckoning to us. Let's see what he has to say." "Take a chair and I will talk with you, now," said Mr. Daniels as they re-entered the office. "Now, first, I would like to know what has given you and your friends this fishing idea. Fishermen are a pretty rough class as a rule and you all seem fitted for a better class of work. Tell me something about yourselves, please." "There isn't much to tell, sir," said the boy spokesman, modestly. "We four have been comrades for several years and we hate to separate now. We were sponge fishing out of Tarpon Springs but we lost our schooner through trouble with our crew. We saved only the clothes on our backs. We have to get something to do right off. Fishing seems to be the only thing in this part of the state that we would be able to work at and keep together. We heard of you, sir, in Tarpon Springs. We arrived here at Clearwater this morning. In fact, we came here direct from the station." There was a curious gleam in Mr. Daniels' eye as he listened to this terse, business-like explanation. "What kind of work have you done besides sponging?" he questioned. "We have been kind of Jack-Of-All-Trades," smiled the lad. "We have raised truck on the East Coast, fished for pearls in the West Indies, hunted plume birds in the Everglades, and gathered wreckage on the Atlantic beaches." "Your names?" demanded Mr. Daniels, eagerly. "My name is Charley West, sir. This is my chum, Walter Hazard; this gentleman is our good friend, Captain Westfield, and this," indicating the little negro with a smiling nod, "is Mr. Christopher Columbus." "I suspected it," exclaimed Mr. Daniels. "You are the boy chums whose adventures have been told in several books. I have a boy at home who has them all. He has made me read them over to him 'til I know them by heart." Charley blushed, much embarrassed. "I am afraid the writer has made too much of our little adventures," he said, modestly. "We had no idea he was an author when he got us talking about our trips or we would not have talked so freely." "Well, he speaks well of the boy-chums," smiled Mr. Daniels, "and I am going to take his recommendation. As I have already said, I do not often engage green men but I am going to give you four a chance. But before you decide to go into it, I want you to understand that this fishing business is no picnic." "We do not expect it to be any picnic," replied Charley, quietly. "In the first place, it is dangerous," Mr. Daniels continued. "Besides the risk from storms and accidents, there are dangers from fish and sea reptiles. Then, too, there are often troubles with other fishermen. As a class, fishermen are rough and lawless. In my position, with hundreds of men working for me, it would ruin my business to take sides with any one man or set of men in my employ. They must settle their quarrels among themselves. As the old saying goes, 'Every tub must stand on its own bottom.'" "We will be careful and keep out of trouble," Walter assured him. "One can not always avoid it," Mr. Daniels replied. "In addition to the drawbacks I have mentioned, fishing is extremely hard, trying, nasty work, although I will say that it seems a wonderfully healthy occupation. Fishermen are seldom sick." "Does it pay?" Captain Westfield inquired. "That depends largely upon the fisherman. Of course, there is an element of luck in fishing. Experience counts for something, too, but in the main, as in everything else, it is the amount of work that decides success or failure. Some of my men make as high as two hundred dollars a week, others hardly make a living." Charley glanced inquiringly at his comrades who answered with nods. "We will try it, if you please," he said, quietly. "All right," replied Mr. Daniels, briskly. "You shall have just the same outfit I furnish the rest of my men. Four nets,--that is, one for each of you,--three skiffs, and a motor boat. I furnish the motor boat and the skiffs free, but you are expected to keep them up in good shape and to buy your own gasoline and oils. As for the nets, I sell them to you at cost, I take out one-third of your fish until they are paid for." "That seems a very liberal arrangement," Charley observed. "I have to do it in order to get enough fish to keep my customers supplied. Now, as to shelter, you will have to have a place to stay. Out on the long wharf that runs out into the bay, you will find a number of little houses which belong to me. You can use any one of them that is not already occupied." "You are very kind," said Charley. "Not at all. Now, one thing more. Are you supplied with money?" "We saved nothing from our schooner but the clothes we had on," Charley admitted. "Then I will tell Mr. Bacon, the store-keeper, to let you have what groceries and clothing you need until you get to earning. Oh! by the way, I forgot to ask you if you can run a motor boat?" "We have never run one, but we could soon learn." "Well, I'll send a man down with your nets this afternoon and have him show you the boats that you will use and also give you a lesson in running the engine. You'll soon catch on to it--it's simple. And now," he concluded, "that, I believe, finishes our business arrangements and now I have a favor to ask of you." "After your kindness, we would do anything in our power," Charley promised, gratefully but rashly. "Good! I want all four of you to come up to dinner with me. That boy of mine would give me fits if I let the Boy Chums get away from me without him meeting them." Our little party of chums were too modest to relish the idea of a dinner under such conditions; but, after Mr. Daniels' kindness to them, they could not do other than accept the proffered invitation much as they would have liked to refuse. CHAPTER II. GETTING SETTLED. THE dinner proved less embarrassing than the little band of adventurers had feared. To be sure Mr. Daniels' son, a sturdy little lad of eight, stared at them constantly with wide-eyed hero worship and plied them with an army of questions about their adventures; but the boys, who detested talking of their exploits, skillfully directed his questions to Chris and the vain little darkey, glad of the chance to brag, entertained the little lad with wonderful yarns of their adventures, in all of which he made himself out the hero. Mrs. Daniels proved to be a nice, motherly, little lady who quickly made them all feel at their ease, while Mr. Daniels exerted himself to make the meal pleasant for them. As soon as they decently could, however, the four took their departure, for they were anxious to see something of the little town and to get settled in their new home. "Let's go down to the wharf first of all," Walter proposed as soon as they were out on the street. "We want to pick out our house the first thing we do." There was but one main street to the little town and a question put to a passer-by got the information that it led down to the wharf. A few minutes' walk brought them past the straggling row of stores that comprised the town's business center. Just beyond these the four stopped to gaze around in admiration and delight. "My! It's beautiful!" Charley exclaimed. "A regular Paradise," Walter agreed. Before them stretched a wide street of snow white lime rock, overhung by gigantic live oak and magnolia trees. Back a little ways from the street nestled houses almost lost 'mid trees and flowers. Between them and the sidewalks were gardens blazing with a mad riot of color. The rich yellow of alamandas mingled with the deep purple of Chinese paper flowers and the warm blue of Lady Alices. Here and there stood Royal Poinciana trees and a vivid blaze of scarlet. Great flowered cacti reared their thorny forms high in the air and delicate lace-like ferns grew all around. In and out amongst the blaze of color flitted gorgeous-hued tropical birds twittering to each other, while here and there frisked little gray squirrels chattering excitedly over the fallen acorns. Captain Westfield drew in a long breath of the sweet flower-scented air. "I am going to like Clearwater," he declared. "Well, we are going to have lots of time to get acquainted with it," observed Charley, practically. "We had better be moving on now, it is going to be a busy afternoon for us." But at the end of the gently sloping street they paused again with murmurs of admiration. Before them a long wharf ran out into a great bay, its waters blue as indigo save where flecked by foaming white caps. Across on the other side of the bay, and about two miles distant, stretched a chain of white-beached islands between which the foamy churning breakers showed where the waters of the bay connected with the Gulf of Mexico. But our little party spent only a moment admiring the beautiful scene, they would have long weeks to admire its loveliness. Just now they were more interested in the wide snowy beach on either side of the wharf. Here was a living picture of part, at least, of their new occupation. The shore was dotted with groups of fishermen engaged in tasks pertaining to their calling. Some were busy mending long nets stretched out on racks of poles. Some were pulling nets into their boats preparatory to a start for the fishing grounds. Others, just in from a trip, were pulling their wet nets out to dry. Still others were busy calking, painting and repairing their skiffs upturned on the beach, while here and there little groups were engaged over camp-fires from which rose appetizing odors of frying fish and steaming coffee. Close in to the beach the fishing fleet lay bobbing at anchor, a hundred skiffs and at least half as many motor boats. As our little party stood watching the busy scene, a motor boat with three skiffs in tow came chugging in for the beach. When within a stone's throw of the shore it rounded up and anchored. Almost before the anchor had touched bottom a man had jumped into each skiff, cast it lose from the launch, and was sculling in for the beach. Our little party joined the group that gathered at the water's edge to meet the newcomers. The skiffs lay deep in the water and the reason was apparent when they grounded on the sands. Each was heaped from thwart to thwart with flat silver colored fish. "Pompano!" exclaimed Charley. "Pompano," snarled a sallow-faced, tough-looking fisherman near him. "That's just the luck of that Roberts gang. Tarnation stuck up guys. Won't have nothing to do with us fishermen. Think themselves too good. They are greenhorns too. Only started fishing this season. They have regular fools' luck though. Just like their luck to hit a nice bunch like that when better fishermen are coming in without a fish. They had ought to be run out of Clearwater." The man in the nearest skiff heard the sneer and his good-humored face took on a look of scorn. He surveyed the speaker from head to foot as though he was examining some strange kind of animal. Then he spoke slowly and deliberately. "Run us out of town, you cowardly cur?" "Why, there isn't enough of your kind in the state of Florida to run one Roberts. If you ever ran anything in your life it was a rabbit. I've heard enough of your sneers and I give you notice right now to quit. Yes, the Roberts boys do consider themselves too good to associate with you and your kind. Not because you are fishermen but because you are lazy, lying, thieving, rum-drinking bums. It's time some one told you the truth about yourself. You and your gang seem to have the rest of the fishermen bluffed so they will stand for your sneers. You talk about luck. Well, maybe it is luck, but let me tell you there's mighty hard work to back it up. We have hunted over fifty miles of water, been without sleep for thirty-six hours, and worked 'til we can hardly stand, for these fish. Luck! You make me sick! If you worked one night a week like we work right along your poor little wife would not have to work her fingers to the bone over the wash-tub to support you. Hunter, you are a disgrace to mankind." The sallow fisherman's face went livid and he gasped and spluttered with rage. His hands clenched and he made a movement towards the man in the skiff but evidently prudence got the better of his rage. "I'll pay you for this, Bill Roberts. I'll pay you out. You see if I don't," he cried. "I know what you are thinking about," returned Roberts in level tones. "I know of the tricks you have played on other men that have crossed you. I know what happened to them, but don't you think for a moment that I'll make the mistake they made in going to law about it when they couldn't prove anything. If any such accidents happen to us, I'll not go to law about it. I'll beat the miserable little soul out of your body. Get away from here or I may do it now." Hunter slunked away muttering curses and the other fishermen strolled off behind him. Bill Roberts looked after them with a grin. "That fellow gets my goat," he chuckled. "I'm sorry I lost my temper but I'm about worn out from work and loss of sleep and my nerves are on wire edge. I've no use for that fellow anyway, and I guess I would have told him my opinion of him, sooner or later." "You seem to have been fairly well paid for your hard work," observed Captain Westfield. "You've got twenty or thirty dollars' worth there, haven't you?" Charley chuckled and Bill Roberts grinned. "I see you don't savey pompano," he said. "They are a scarce fish. I reckon we've got one thousand pounds of them and they are worth forty cents a pound. Figger that out, Mister." "Four hundred dollars," gasped Walter. "Whew! I hope we strike a few bunches like that, Charley." "You folks going to fish, eh?" enquired Roberts. "Well, it's a good healthy business and it pays well for hard work. We don't often strike a bunch like this, but by keeping steady at it, we always make pretty good money. The worst drawback about fishing is the men in it. Take my advice and avoid them all you can. Don't get mixed up with that Hunter gang anyway if you can help it. Drop into our camp,--it's right over there on Tates Island,--whenever you feel like it, and we will give you all the pointers we can." Charley thanked the friendly fisherman. "We will be over there soon," he promised. "We are new to the place and we would like to get some pointers right off but we are just getting settled and must hurry off now." "I like that gang," he said to his companions as they hurried out on the long dock. "They seem of a better class than those other fishermen." "They would not have to be very good to be that," observed Captain Westfield, gravely. "Those fishermen are a tough looking lot. I hope we will not have any trouble with them." "We will not have any," said Walter, cheerfully. "If we just tend to our own business I guess they will tend to theirs. Well, I guess these are the houses Mr. Daniels spoke about." They had reached the end of the long dock. On one side of it stood a row of small shacks. Most of them were occupied but at last they came upon a large one that stood empty. "Golly," exclaimed Chris, as he peeped inside, "dar poor white trash dat lived in dis was sho' dirty." The floor was thickly covered with filth and rubbish, the walls were tobacco stained, and the windows were broken and covered with grime. "We'll soon make it look different," said Captain Westfield, cheerfully. "Let's go to work with some system and we'll soon be comfortably settled. Walter, you make out a list of what we need and go up to the store. Charley, see what you can do with those windows. Chris and I will clean out. Bring a broom, Walt." When Walter got back with his arms full of bundles he found the shack wet inside but clean, the windows shining brightly, and his comrades nowhere in sight. CHAPTER III. THE FIRST ALARM. THE shack contained a rough board cupboard in one corner and a few shelves along one side and upon these Walter arranged his purchases which made quite an imposing array. He had bought carefully but there had been many things that the four of them absolutely had to have. There was a change of rough, cheap clothing for each, four blankets, the same of oilskins, four lanterns, a belt and sheath-knife apiece, and a stock of groceries; this was small, containing only such staples as rice, coffee, sugar, salt, beans, bacon, and flour, for he figured that they would get most of their living from the sea. His packages arranged to his satisfaction, Walter sat down to await the appearance of his chums. Charley was the first to arrive. He came out from the shore, staggering under a great load of clean, silver Spanish moss. "For our beds," he explained, as he spread the soft hair-like stuff on the floor in one corner. "It will take a little of the hardness off the boards." Captain Westfield soon appeared bearing a large box partly filled with sand. "What is that for?" Walter inquired. "That's our stove," the old sailor explained. "It will have to do us until we are able to buy one. Chris is coming with some wood." The little darkey soon appeared, bearing a load of driftwood that he had picked up on the beach. "I reckon you-alls can fix up things widout me," he observed as he deposited his burden just outside the door and produced a bit of string and a fish hook from his pocket. "Dar jis' naturally oughter be lots ob fish around dese old dock posts. A mess of dem, fried nice an' brown, would sho' go powerful good for supper." Charley grinned, for Chris loved to fish with all the ardor of his race. "Go ahead," he said, "we will get along without you." The little negro needed no second permission, and baiting his hook with a piece of bacon, and getting astride of a post, he began to fish earnestly. The others occupied themselves in trying to make their new home as comfortable as they could with the little they had to do with. They spread their four blankets on the pile of moss, filled and trimmed their lanterns, made a rough table and some benches out of a few boards they found on the dock, and covered the broken panes in the windows with some sand-fly netting Walter had bought at the store. When all this was done and their new garments hung up on nails, the rude shack took on quite a comfortable, home-like appearance. "It's not so bad," Charley observed. "It will do us very well until we can get better quarters." "We have cause to be thankful," Walter agreed. "Only a few hours ago we had nothing in the world, now, we have got a dry place to stay, clothes, a supply of food, and a prospect of soon making money." The chums' further conversation was interrupted by a rumble of a wagon and a hail from the dock. It was the man with their nets. "Better put them inside your house until you are ready to use them," he advised. "The nets all look alike and some one might steal them from you if you left them outside. I'll be out again in about half an hour with your boats, they are anchored up the beach a way." The boys awaited his return with eagerness for they were anxious to view their new crafts. Soon they heard the quick snapping of an engine and a large launch swung out from the beach with a string of skiffs in tow. "My, she can move some," Charley cried as she swept towards them with a froth of foam at her bow. "She's got good lines," announced Captain Westfield, with the certainty born of his sailor life, "she is bound to be a good sea boat with that shape." When within a hundred feet of where the boys stood on the dock, the man threw off the switch and the graceful craft glided up alongside. Charley caught the line the man threw, took a couple of half hitches around a post, and the three clambered aboard. "By gum, she's a beauty," exclaimed Captain Westfield with delight as he finished his inspection. "You're right," agreed the man, pleased with the old sailor's approval, "she's one of the best in the fleet. There's only two or three that can run away from her, and she is a peach in a seaway--just like a duck. She is thirty feet over all and sound as a dollar. You will find that cozy little cabin will come in pretty nice in bad weather. Few fish boats have one. Which one of you is going to run her?" "Not me," said Captain Westfield, decidedly. "I've dealt with sailing crafts all my life and I'm not hankering to start monkeying with engines at my age." "Both my chum and I would like to learn how to run the engine," Charley said, "so if anything should happen to one of us the other would know what to do." "All right," the man agreed. "All I can teach you are the principles, you will have to learn to run it by yourself. A gas engine is a thing you have to learn by experience. No two engines are exactly alike. Each has its own peculiarities which one has to become acquainted with. The principles are quite simple. There are only three elements, oil, gas and the spark. See this little valve here? You turn that and it lets the gasoline into this little tank--called a carburetter. This other little valve lets air into the same tank to mix with the gas. Now your gas is on ready to start. See these wires, they lead from four dry battery cells to the switch and from the switch to this plug in the head of the engine called the spark plug. Shove on your switch,--that's right. Now your gas and spark are ready. To start, now, all you have got to do is to rock this big fly wheel a couple of times then throw it over quickly. To stop, just throw off your switch. As soon as you stop, shut off your gas. Keep that oil cup filled. It lubricates the engine. Be careful with matches and lights when your gas is turned on--you can't be too careful." He clambered up on the dock. "Good-by and good luck to you," he called. "Hold on," cried Charley, in dismay. "You are not going off and leave us this way, are you?" "Boss's orders," grinned the man. "I can't be with you always. You have got to learn to run her for yourself sooner or later." The boys sat down and gazed at each other in consternation as the man disappeared up the dock, then Charley grinned as the humor of it struck him. "It's up to us," he chuckled, "unless the captain will help us out." Captain Westfield shook his head, decidedly. "You are the engineers," he said, firmly. "I can't make head or tail of that dinky heap of iron. 'Pears to me though that the man said something about turning one of those things there." "He did," said Charley, with mild sarcasm. "He also mentioned several other things. Well, here goes for a try." He rolled up his sleeves and started to work. At the end of half an hour, he was still turning the big fly wheel and puffing and perspiring much to the delight of a crowd of fishermen who had quit work for the day and had gathered at the dock's edge offering free comments and suggestions. "He'll sure wear that fly wheel out," observed one in a perfectly audible voice. "Put rowlocks in her and get a pair of oars, young fellow," suggested another. Charley stood the chaffing nobly but at last he was obliged to stop for breath. "I'm sure I don't know what's the matter with the thing," he declared. "It had ought to go. I've cranked it until I've got blisters on my hands." "Maybe, if you put on the switch it will go," Walter observed. Charley glared at him. "And you have been sitting there laughing in your sleeves while I've been working myself to death," he spluttered. "Mr. Daniels wants us to find out such little things for ourselves," observed Walter, grinning. Charley forced a smile. "Well, I'll let you find out a few things, yourself, while I rest." "Is the entertainment over for the day?" queried one of the fishermen. "No, it's just going to begin," Charley prophesied with a grin. "Oh, I can start it all right," Walter declared, confidently. "Just watch me and I'll show you how." He turned on the switch, rocked the fly wheel a couple of times, then threw it over with a quick jerk. The engine started with a sharp snapping like a quick fire gun. "There, I've started her," he yelled, proudly, above the din. "That is not the way she was built to run," shouted Charley, while a roar of laughter went up from the assembled fishermen, for, instead of going ahead, the "Dixie" had started astern full speed. Charley who was standing ready to cast off took a quick turn of the line around a cleat and stopped her in her backward career. "Stop!" he cried, "or she'll break the line." But Walter was thoroughly bewildered and stood gazing helplessly at the popping machinery. "Pour water on it, that's the way to stop it," jeered a fisherman. "Throw your switch," Charley advised. Walter, recovering his wits, obeyed and the popping instantly ceased. "Well, I made the engine go, anyway," he replied to Charley's jeers. "I'll get her going all right yet." Again he threw the fly wheel only to have her rear back on the line. "Don't tow the dock away," begged a fisherman. "We all live here. We don't want to lose our home." "Tell you what to do, young fellow," advised another, "just change your rudder and put it on the other end." Walter, very red in the face, threw off the switch. "Throw the fly wheel over the other way and she'll go ahead," Charley said. "Hump!" Walter grunted, as he realized his error, "why didn't you tell me that before?" "Mr. Daniels wants us to find out such little things for ourselves," observed Charley, sweetly. Walter laughed. "You're even with me now," he said. "Well, I guess, between us, we can learn to run her, but I guess we had better call it quits for to-day. It's getting late. Let's anchor her out for the night." Charley agreed and they poled the launch away from the dock and cast the anchor, returning to the wharf in one of the skiffs. It was nearly dark when they entered the shack to find a most disagreeable surprise awaiting them. CHAPTER IV. THE WARNING. CHRIS had started a brisk fire in the box of sand and was preparing to fry a big mess of fish which had fallen victims to his craft. "Golly!" he exclaimed when the boys offered their assistance, "I doan want none ob you white chillens foolin' around an' spoilin' dese fish. If you-alls wants to help, jes' light up de lanterns an' sot de table." Charley groped around, found the matches, and struck a light. "Why didn't you get more than one lantern, Walt?" he complained. "We will need four when we get to fishing." "I bought four. They are hanging right there on the wall," his chum replied. "There's only one here," Charley announced. "Are you sure you got four?" "Of course," Walter replied. "Maybe some of us moved them, when we were fixing up the shack." But a close search of the shack failed to reveal the missing lights. "They have been stolen," Charley said, quietly. "We had better look and see if anything else has been taken." But Walter was already looking over his purchases. "Nearly all our groceries are gone," he cried. The band of chums gazed at each other in dismay. "It must have been done while we were working with the launch," Charley said. "Chris, did you see any one go into the shack?" "No, Massa Chas," the little negro confessed. "De fish was jes' naturally biting so fast dat I doan look around much." "What shall we do about it?" Walter inquired. "I don't see as we can do anything," said Charley, thoughtfully. "We will just have to grin and bear it and be more careful in the future. Of course, it was one of those fishermen who did it, there was no one else on the dock,--but we have no clue as to which was the guilty one and we can not accuse all of them." "Wisely said, my lad," approved Captain Westfield, "all we can do is to keep quiet and watch out in the future. We evidently have some tough characters for neighbors. Let's not mourn and get downhearted, that won't bring the things back. Here Chris has got a good supper ready. Let's get at it and be cheerful." The boys recognizing the wisdom of the old sailor's advice, and hiding their disappointment, they made merry over the crisp, tasty, fried fish, pancakes, and coffee that the little negro had prepared. As soon as the supper things were cleared away, Captain Westfield produced his old worn, well-loved Bible and read the story of Christ with the discouraged fishermen, after which he prayed earnestly and with simple faith for the Lord's blessing upon them in the new life upon which they were about to enter. Just as he concluded, there came the sound of shuffling footsteps outside, and a bit of rustling white paper was shoved in under the door of the shack. Charley picked it up and glanced at the ill-written scrawl it contained. With an angry gleam in his eyes, he flung open the door and peeped outside. The retreating footsteps had died away, and he could distinguish nothing in the inky darkness but the glimmering lights in the other shacks. He closed and fastened the door carefully. "What was it?" Walter asked, noting the grim, set look on his chum's face. "Nothing much," Charley replied with a meaning glance. "I'll tell you about it later." As soon as Chris, who was always early to bed, was snoring peacefully on his blanket, Charley produced the scrap of paper. "What do you think of that?" he asked, briefly. Walter and the captain bent their heads over the almost illegible scrawl. Walter looked up from the paper, his face flushed with anger. "It's an outrage!" he cried. "Why I'd die first." "Read it to me, Walt," requested the Captain. "I can't make out that writing." Walter obeyed. "Strangers, "We-alls don't allow no niggers around hyar. Get rid of that little nigger you've got with you or it will be worse for him and worse for you. "The White Caps." The old sailor fairly exploded with wrath as he listened. "By the keel of the Flying Dutchman," he shouted, "that little darkey is better than a shipload of thieving fishermen. I just wish I had my hands on the fellow that dared write that thing." "Poor little Chris," Walter exclaimed. "He is as noble a little fellow as ever lived. His skin may be black but he's white, clean white, inside. Think of the times he's risked his life for us and how good, honest and uncomplaining he has always been. Get rid of Chris, never!" "Of course not," Charley agreed. "The question is what are we going to do. I wouldn't say anything about it while Chris was awake because I knew how terribly bad it would make him feel,--he is a sensitive little fellow, but what are we going to do? The fellow or fellows, who wrote this are liable to do something to him at the first good opportunity they have, especially if he is not warned and on his guard." "Give up all idea of fishing and leave this place, before we part with Chris," declared Captain Westfield. "Not much," cried Walter. "Just tell those fishermen, one and all, that Chris stays with us. And if they do him the slightest injury, we will make them suffer for it." "I don't like either course you propose," observed thoughtful, clear-headed Charley. "As for the Captain's plan, I don't want to leave here. We have a good prospect of making money here if we can stick it out and we are in poor shape to pick up and leave. Besides I don't like the idea of being forced out of a place by any one. I don't think much better of what Walt proposes either. We are no match for a hundred fishermen, and it is foolish to make threats when one can not carry them out. In the second place, if we quarrel with the fishermen over Chris, it will make them more bitter against him and more certain to do him an injury. Lastly, nothing we could do to them for an injury done Chris would help him any after the injury was done. What we need to do is to protect him from any possible harm." "Well, let's have your plan," Walter said. "I have none as yet," Charley confessed. "I propose we wait until morning before we decide on any course. Some plan will occur to us, I am sure. There is always a way out of any difficulty if one only thinks hard enough. I am dead tired and I'm going to bed and try to forget about this trouble until morning. I'd advise you two to do the same." It had been a very full and eventful day and Walter and the Captain were not loath to follow Charley's example. The three crept into their blankets and turned out the lantern; but, tired as they were, they were not to get the sleep they longed for. From the other shacks came the voices of their occupants gradually increasing in number and volume. At first, it seemed as though a kind of celebration was in progress; for the sound of laughter, songs, and dancing filled the air, but gradually, the uproar took on a rougher note. Voices were raised in anger, curses were bandied back and forth, and now and then came the sound of fighting. "I believe they are all drunk or fast getting drunk," Charley declared. "Why, I understood Mr. Daniels to say that this was a dry town and that no liquor was allowed in the place," said his chum. "Yes, and he also said that there was more liquor drunk here than in any other town in the state," Charley amended. "He says it's a mystery where it comes from. The town authorities it seems, keep a close watch for blind tigers and also keep an eye on the packages that come by freight and express but none of it seems to come in that way." "Well, it evidently comes in some way," remarked Captain Westfield as a fresh uproar of fighting arose from the dock. It was useless to try to sleep as long as the din continued, so the three lay talking in low tones. "Hark!" cried Charley, suddenly. "I wonder what they have done now." Loud and clear above the din of fighting rang the sharp crack of a pistol. The report was followed by excited shouting and then silence. "I'll bet one of them has been shot and it has frightened and sobered up the rest," Walter exclaimed. "Let's go out and see." "No, you don't, lad," Captain Westfield declared, firmly. "You'll stay here if I have to hold you. It's none of our trouble and we don't any of us want to get mixed up in it." Whatever had happened, it had effectually quieted the wild revelry. Our little party lay for awhile listening but the silence remained unbroken and one by one, they at last dropped off to sleep. It was perhaps midnight when Walter raised up on his elbow and whispered softly. "Are you asleep, Charley?" "As wide awake as I ever was in my life," his chum grunted. "Why, anything the matter with you?" "Something is stinging me to death," declared Walter, anxiously, "I smart, burn, and itch all over." "Me too," chimed in the captain's voice, "I've laid quiet here and took it rather than wake you boys up. Jehosaphat, what is it?" Charley chuckled. "It's nothing dangerous," he explained, "evidently we are entertaining a few thousand of those fishermen's closest friends--bedbugs. Light up the lantern, Walt, and let's have a look." An examination by the light showed their faces and bodies covered with red, angry-looking blotches. "There's no use trying to sleep here," Charley declared. "Let's go out on board the 'Dixie.' It will be pretty close quarters sleeping in her cabin but anything is better than this." "But our things will be all stolen," Walter objected. "They will not bother anything to-night for they will think we are inside, and we will be back before they are up in the morning," said his chum. Chris was awakened and the four crept softly out of the shack closing the door carefully behind them. To reach their skiff, they had to pass the other shacks. As they came opposite the first one Charley, who was in the lead, stopped short with a muffled cry of horror. CHAPTER V. FRIENDLY ADVICE. THE moon had arisen while they slept and now shining brightly down clearly revealed the fearsome object stretched on the planks at Charley's feet. It was a man lying flat on his back, his arms outstretched, and his face upturned to the stars. "Dead, murdered!" Charley cried, softly. "Perhaps he is only drunk," suggested his chum in a tense whisper. But Charley silently pointed to a gaping hole in the man's forehead and the dark pool on the wharf at his head. The captain, stooping, felt of the man's wrist, raised his arm and let it drop. "Yes, he is cold, dead, and stiff," he whispered. "Let us get away from here. We can do him no good." In a few minutes, the four were huddled in the "Dixie's" cabin, talking over the tragedy with bated breath. They were not strangers to the sight of death. In the course of the adventurous lives they had lived, they had often seen the coming of the gristly monster, but the suddenness of this sight had upset their nerves already overtaxed by the events of the previous day and the night, and it was long before they could compose themselves to sleep. Just as Walter was dropping off into dreamland, Charley nudged him with his elbow. "I've got it," he whispered, softly. "What?" inquired Walter, drowsily. "A plan to avoid trouble with the fishermen and keep Chris from all harm." "Let's hear it," demanded his chum, rousing up a little. "Wait until morning. I haven't thought out all the details yet. Get to sleep if you can. We'll need all the rest we can get for to-morrow is going to be a busy day." It seemed to the weary little party that they had hardly closed their eyes when they were awakened by the sun shining in the cabin windows. Hastily dressing, they got aboard the skiff and made for the dock. There was a crowd gathered in front of the shacks and they clambered up on the wharf unobserved. Beside the fishermen, Mr. Daniels was standing in the group and with him was a stocky, determined-looking man, wearing a revolver, whom the boys took to be a sheriff. "Good morning, friends," called Mr. Daniels when he caught sight of the little party. "Come here. Perhaps you can tell us something about last night's affair. These fellows here seem to know nothing about it." Briefly, Captain Westfield told the little they knew of the trouble. "That don't help us much," observed the sheriff, when he had concluded. "As long as these fishermen will not talk it is going to be hard to locate the murderer. The man who was killed was a pretty bad egg, although that does not excuse the murderer. I wish I could find out where that whiskey comes from. It is that which causes all the trouble." It was on Walter's tongue to tell Mr. Daniels of their own troubles but he remembered the fish boss's declaration that they must fight their own battles and he checked himself. The sheriff soon left, taking with him as suspects a couple of fishermen who were known to have quarreled with the dead man the day before. Before he left, however, he addressed the assembled fishermen. "Now," he said, firmly, "these affairs among you have got to stop and stop right now. Most of you men are not bad at heart. It's the liquor makes you crazy and ready to follow the lead of the reckless ones. I don't know where you get the booze but I am going to find out and the guilty ones are going to suffer. I'll give you a chance to come square with it. I'll give a reward of five hundred dollars to the man who puts me next to this booze business, and promise him that he will not be punished unless he is one of the main offenders. You know where I live. I am ready to talk any time to the man who will come to me and help me put an end to the accursed business." None of the fishermen spoke but it was evident that the mention of the large reward was not without some effect. Some faces showed eager cupidity while others betrayed great uneasiness. "That reward offer is a bomb in their midst," whispered the observant Charley to his chum. "Some of those fellows will squeal to the sheriff unless they are too afraid of what the rest would do to them. I guess those that look so uneasy are the guilty ones, they have cause to be scared. Five hundred dollars is a big temptation for some one to turn state's evidence. But come, we have no time to stand around. We have got lots to do to-day. Chris, will you see if you can rustle us up a little breakfast?" "Now for our own troubles," he continued as soon as the little negro was out of hearing. "We all know now that we can not stay here. If those fellows will kill one of their own comrades, they certainly would not hesitate to do the same to Chris or one of us if they got a good chance. So we must get away from here at once. As soon as we eat breakfast, let's get all our things on the 'Dixie' and pull out. I've a sort of plan in my head for a new home but first I want to go over to the Roberts camp and have a little talk with them. There are several things I want to find out. Before we go, though, I want to say a few words to these fishermen." The fishermen were still standing as the sheriff had left them, talking excitedly together and Charley approached the group. "Men," he said in a clear, manly voice, "please give me your attention for a moment." A surprised silence fell upon the group, and the lad was quick to take advantage of it. "We only landed in this place yesterday. We came here broke, seeking a chance only to work and earn. Mr. Daniels was kind enough to give us that chance. We have started in strangers to all of you and with no malice or ill feeling towards any of you. Last night we received a note signed the White Caps stating that we must get rid of our little colored cook or suffer serious consequences. Now suppose, men, that you had a friend who for years had been faithful, loyal and true to you. Suppose that he had again and again risked his life for you. Would you turn him down at some one else's demand, even if his skin was black? Could you do it and retain an atom of your own self respect? No, you could not. Nor can we. That little darkey has been all of those things to us for many years and we can not and will not turn him adrift. You, or some of you, object to his presence on this dock. Very well, we will leave the dock. He will not bother you even with his presence. All we ask is that if you come across him elsewhere at any time that you do him no harm. We appeal to your sense of fair play. We do not believe any American lacks that sense. We ask this not through fear but because it is right and just." A murmur ran through the group of fishermen when the lad concluded and turning around walked back to his friends. He had little hopes that his words had done any good but the chance had seemed worth the attempt. Chris soon called them to breakfast and as soon as it was finished, the boys brought the "Dixie" alongside and stored their belongings in her cabin. After a few attempts Charley succeeded in starting, the engine and with the captain at the wheel and their skiffs in tow behind, they swung away from the dock and headed across the bay for a little island on which stood the Roberts camp. As they approached the place, they were delighted with the looks of the little camp. They landed at a neat little wharf, on either side of which were neat, well-built net racks upon which were neatly hung well-mended nets. The skiffs hauled upon the shore were well-painted and in excellent shape. A trim little path bordered with sea shells led up up to a neat, cozy, white-painted cottage nestling in amongst a group of cocoanut palms. "These Roberts are tidy as sailors," observed Captain Westfield. "We can bank on their being pretty near all right. I never saw a clean, tidy man that was a bad man." As Charley had expected, they found the Roberts at home taking a needed day's rest after their hard work. They greeted the little party cordially. "Glad to see you," said Bill Roberts, heartily. "Hope that you will drop in on us often now that you have found the way." "We have come to bother you already," Charley said. "I thought perhaps you could tell us if there would be any objection to our making a camp on one of these islands." "What, tired of life on the dock already?" grinned Bill. Charley briefly related their experiences with the fishermen. Bill and his brothers, Frank and Robert, were indignant. "It's some of that Hunter gang's doings," Bill declared. "Most of the fishermen are not such bad fellows but they are afraid to oppose the gang for fear of what might be done to them on the sly. You have done just right to leave there, now, you won't be mixed up in any of their troubles. Sure you can make camp on any of these islands. They are owned by the state and no one has got any right to object. You could build a shack right here on our island but I've got a better idea than that. You see that island right over there opposite the Clearwater dock? That's Palm Island. There is a pretty fair abandoned house on it which with only a little fixing up would do you first rate. There's a good spring of cold water on it too. I'll take a run over there with you and show you where the spring is." The little party gratefully accepted his offer. Just as they were shoving off from the dock, the younger brother came running down with a rifle in his hands. "Better take this," he offered. "We have got an extra one and it may come handy to you. You can return it later on if you find you have no use for it." Our friends thanked him for his kindness. A weapon was what they had been longing for since their acquaintance with the fishermen. They hoped to never have occasion to use one, but its possession gave them a sense of security. They were delighted with the little cabin and spring that Bill showed them on Palm Island. The island itself was a small one of about ten acres and densely covered with palms. It was long and narrow. One of its snow-white beaches fronted on the Gulf of Mexico and the other on the bay. The cabin was in a good state of repair, and the spring gushed up clear and cold from under a clump of rock. Their new friend soon took his departure giving them one last piece of advice before he went. "Better leave one man in camp all the time," he said. "It needs one to do the cooking and keep nets mended up, and it's best not to take any chances. That Hunter gang may drop in on you any time." As soon as he was gone, the little party fell to work fixing up their new home with which they were one and all delighted. CHAPTER VI. THE MIDNIGHT LIGHT. "I WISH we could get to fishing right off," Charley observed, "but I believe it will pay us best to get everything fixed up right first, then we will have nothing to bother us and we will be able to fish steadily without any interruptions." "Issue your commands, boss, and they shall be carried out," Walter assured him. "The cabin is the first thing to be attended to. There isn't much fixing required, as I can see, except to clean it up a little. But we need something for beds, bare planks make pretty hard sleeping. How do you suppose some clean dry sea moss would do for couches?" "Just the thing," Captain Westfield declared. "I like the sweet salty smell of it. I'll bring some up from the beach, and clean up the house too, that's my job." "We had ought to have some kind of a fireplace to cook on," Charley continued. "It's a little trouble to build one, but there's lots of rock on the beach and it hadn't ought to take very long." "Dis nigger's goin' to 'tend to dat," announced Chris. "I'se de cook an' I knows jes' what kind ob oven I wants. I'se goin' to see if I can't find something to eat too. We ain't got but mighty little grub left an' we best save it all we can." "Well, Walter and I will try to manage the rest of the work, then. Come on, Walt, we have got to build a small dock and racks for our nets." There was plenty of driftwood on the beach and with proper tools the two boys would have taken but a short time to complete their tasks, but the only implements they possessed were their sheath knives. "This is a case where necessity has got to be the mother of invention," Charley observed. "Let's pick out our driftwood as near of the same length as we can, that will save some cutting which would be an almost impossible job without saw or axe. We had better tackle the dock job first because it's the hardest. Let's see--we will want six stout pieces for posts, three others for cross pieces, and a lot of planks for the top." Although the driftwood was plentiful, it took the boys some time to find just what they wanted and carry it all to the place they had decided to have their wharf. "Now comes the hardest part of the job," Charley announced, as they dumped their last load on the sand. "That is to get our posts set. I don't see any way to do but get overboard and work them down by hand." "Here goes, then," said Walter, beginning to shed his clothing. The water was not very deep and the boys stood one of the posts upright and attempted to work the end down into the bottom by swaying the top back and forth. "It's no go," panted Walter after half an hour of hard labor which only sank the post a few inches in the hard sand. "It would take us ten years to put them all far enough down to hold." "I expect we will have to give up the dock for the present," Charley agreed, ruefully. "Too bad. Of course one is not absolutely necessary but it would save us a good deal of trouble and also wet feet." "It is lucky that your assistant is a person of great intelligence," Walter observed, slyly. "Your methods are primitive, clumsy, hand-labor methods. This is an age of machinery and brains. Now, if I were boss of this, job, I would call in the aid of machinery to replace the hand methods which have been tried and found wanting." "I resign as superintendent in your favor," Charley grinned. "There is more honor than pay attached to the position, anyway. It will be a good opening for you. You will be able to say in future years that you held at least one position where you were not paid more than you were worth." "Your words are prompted by intellectual jealousy," declared his chum, calmly. "However, it is the misfortune of the truly great not to be appreciated until they are dead. If you will bring the launch in here, I'll explain my plan so simply that a child, or even you, can understand it." Charley, deciding that he was getting the worst of the good-natured banter, obediently waded out and brought the launch in. "I don't know whether you are well enough acquainted with engines to realize it," mocked Walter, who had only made the discovery himself that morning, "but the cylinder of this engine, as you will see when I point it out, is inclosed in a hollow iron jacket. This thing down here is a pump, and you will notice that there is one pipe running from it down through the bottom of the boat and also another pipe leading into the jacket. Observe also that there is a short piece of pipe in the jacket to which is fastened a piece of hose that runs out over the side of the boat. Do you take in all that?" "I do," said Charley, briefly. "All right, though I am quite surprised. Now, when the engine is running that pump sucks up water through the pipe that goes through the bottom of the boat. The water is forced through the other pipe into the jacket and passes overboard again through the short pipe and hose. The constant circulation of cold water keeps the engine from heating up and exploding." "You know more about engines than I suspected yesterday," Charley said, dryly. "I know many things that would surprise you," observed Walter, calmly. "Now, I will show you how simple it is for a brainy person to make practical use of such things. Now, we'll just fasten the end of that hose to the end of the post and start up the engine. The force of the expelled water will wash away the sand from below the post permitting it to sink." "Yes, and you will start the engine the wrong way and pump the poor post out of the water," Charley jeered. "The superintendent does not stoop to manual labor," replied Walter, calmly. "I shall simply order my assistant to start the engine." The joke was on Charley and he owned it by starting up the engine without further parley. "Now get overboard and hold the post steady," Walter commanded, and his chum meekly obeyed. The idea was really an excellent one. The post sank rapidly and in an hour all six were sunk to the required depth. Charley labored in the water with suspicious willingness while Walter, bare-backed, sat proudly and comfortably in the launch tending the switch and giving orders with sarcastic comments on the worker's ability. From time to time, Charley glanced up with a malicious grin at him sitting in naked state by the engine. That grin made Walter uneasy, for it was not often that he got the best of his chum in a joke and Charley's meekness was suspicious. "Now for the cross pieces. Put them on next," he ordered. "By jove, how are we going to fasten them though. We have got no nails or hammer." "This is an age of machinery and brains," quoted Charley. "Surely my brilliant superintendent can overcome such a little difficulty." Walter puzzled for a few minutes. "I'll have to give up," he admitted. "I resign as superintendent. Give your orders, Mr. Super and I'll execute them." He flopped over the launch's side into the water. "Ouch!" he yelled. "What's the matter with this water? It smarts me like fire." "There's nothing the matter with the water," grinned Charley, "it is just nice, cool, clear sea water. I am enjoying it. The salt in it does not agree with a badly sunburned back, however." "My! I should say it doesn't," agreed his chum, as the reason for the smarting dawned upon him. "Now laugh. Go ahead, don't mind my feelings. I am not sensitive." And thus with good-natured banter, the two boys made light work of their heavy, disagreeable task. Charley solved the lack of nails and hammer, by plaiting some stout ropes of cocoanut fiber with which he securely bound the cross pieces in place. After that it was only a few minutes' task to lay on the planks for the top and their wharf was completed. The net racks gave them less trouble, as they consisted merely of two poles about four feet apart set up on posts. By noon, the boys' tasks were completed and they repaired to the cabin where they found that the captain and Chris had not wasted their time. The cabin had been made neat and clean and in each corner was a great heap of dry fragrant sea moss upon which their blankets were already spread. Just outside the door, Chris had cunningly constructed a kind of rude, flat-topped stove out of rocks, and the fragrant odors coming from it caused the boys to quicken their steps. "My, Chris, if that dinner tastes as good as it smells, it will be all right," Charley said. The little negro beamed with delight. "Trust dis nigger to git plenty to eat," he grinned. "Don't make no difference if dat poor white trash steals all the grub, dis nigger can get up a good meal all right. I'se just got up a kind of feast to-day 'cause hit's our first meal on de Island." And a feast it truly was. First came a thick soup or stew that was delicious. "What's this, Chris?" Charley asked, as he smacked his lips over the first spoonful. "It's a new one on me." "Dem's stewed scallops. I find lots of dem on the flats," declared the delighted little negro. "Dey are powerful hard to open an' clean, but dey sure beat oysters all hollow for tastiness. Don't eat too much ob dem, Massa Chas, 'cause dar's lots ob other things comin' yet." The next dish was a large fish baked until the juicy meat was dropping from the bones. With it came the tender, baked bud of a palmetto cabbage, and great red, boiled claws of stone crabs. To top off with, there were golden brown, feather-weight flap-jacks with syrup and white, milky cocoa plums. The little party ate like cannibals, while Chris urged more upon them, tickled with the success of the feast he had prepared. "I hate to quit, but I haven't got room for another mouthful," Charley declared, at last. "Come on, Walt, stop it. There is more work to do this afternoon and I don't want to do it all by myself. Besides you are going to get another meal to-night." "That's right, begrudge me a few mouthfuls of food," grumbled Walter as he rose slowly and painfully from the table. The afternoon was busily spent in putting their nets on the racks, overhauling the skiffs, and making themselves more familiar with the launch's engine. Night found all hands tired and sleepy. As soon as supper was over, they stretched out on their soft spicy couches ready to get back the sleep they had lost the night before. At midnight Charley sat up suddenly wide awake. For a moment he sat still and alert. Everything was quiet. Yet he knew that something unusual had occurred to rouse him from his sound slumber. This sudden awakening was a habit bred by his adventurous life amid the perils of sea and forest. Silently he waited, every nerve alert, to sense what had happened. At last it came again, a deep, mellow, horn-like sound. One, two, three times it vibrated on the still night air, then came silence again. Softly he crept over and awakened Walter and the captain. "I don't know what's the matter, but some one is signaling on a conch shell," he explained, "and the sound is not far off." CHAPTER VII. THE MYSTERY. LEAVING Chris still peacefully snoring, the three stole softly outside the cabin. Once outside they paused and listened again for a repetition of the strange signal. They had not long to wait for in a few minutes, it came again, a long melodious mellow note, three times sounded. "It comes from the Gulf," Captain Westfield declared. "Let's go down to the point. We can see both bay and gulf from there." The island terminated in a long sand point that ran out into a passage that connected the bay with the Gulf of Mexico. To it, the three hastened their steps. Just as they stepped out on the sand spit, the mysterious signal sounded again. "There it is," Charley cried, pointing out to sea. "It's a ship." Out in the Gulf, about three hundred yards from where they stood, a dim shadowy mass loomed up vaguely in the darkness. "It's a ship all right," Captain Westfield agreed, "but thar's something queer about her. No ship ever comes in close to these shores. With all the reefs thar are around hyar it's too dangerous unless one knows the channels mighty well. Then, that ain't no distress signal she's sounding,--four long blasts is the distress signal the world over. Then too she ain't got lights--that ain't proper and shipshape." Even as he spoke, a bright flash blazed up from the strange vessel's deck. It only lasted a few seconds, but in that brief space it lit up the mysterious stranger, showing a huddled mass of men in her waist and throwing into sharp distinctness every rope and spar. "A flare," cried Walter, "they are certainly signaling some one." "There is something familiar about those spars," Charley exclaimed. "Did you notice them, Captain?" "No. I was looking at the hull. She sits low as a pirate craft. She's schooner rigged and about one hundred tons burden. Hallo! Here comes some one who has heard her signals. We can find out about her all right." From the bay came the quick chug chug of a motor turning up at full speed. As she swept into the passage, the little party could tell even in the dim light that she was a large launch and traveling at a rapid rate. "Ahoy!" hailed Charley, as the strange launch came abreast. The launch's engine was stopped at his call, but no answer came to his hail. "Ahoy!" he shouted again. "Can you tell us what ship that is and what she wants?" A string of low-muttered curses came from the launch, and almost at the same minute a single fiery rocket hissed aloft from her deck. Immediately her engine began to throb again. "Why, she's turned around and going back!" exclaimed Captain Westfield in amazement. "Look at the schooner!" cried Walter. From the mysterious ship came muffled orders and the creak of blocks as sails were hoisted and sheeted home. Slowly the put-put of the launch's engine died away in the distance from which it had come, and the mysterious schooner, under full sail, glided silently away in the darkness. "I'll be joggered!" exclaimed Captain Westfield. "That's queer. I wonder what they were up to." "Something that will not bear the light of day, I guess," said Charley, thoughtfully. "I believe it was our hail that frightened the fellows in the launch and their rocket was a signal to the schooner to clear out. Well, I guess the excitement is over for the night and we might as well go back to bed." Walter and the captain lay awake for some time discussing the strange incident but Charley lay long awake on his couch, silent and thoughtful. He was puzzling to determine where he had seen the strange schooner before. In the second, the flare had revealed her in the darkness, he had sensed something vaguely familiar in the low graceful hull and the set of the raking masts. "Where have I ever seen a foremast that raked aft like that one," he pondered. Suddenly it flashed vivid and distinct in his groping memory. "No, no," he muttered to himself. "It simply can't be her. It must only be a chance resemblance. That flare only lasted a second. Guess I am getting to imagine things. I'd better forget it and try to go to sleep." Never-the-less it was long before he rid his alert brain of the tormenting thought and compelled sleep to come. When he awoke, it was to find his chums up before him. Chris had breakfast cooking and Captain Westfield had just returned from taking a morning plunge in the surf. Walter was not in sight, but he soon appeared bearing a sack full of turtle eggs which he had found on the beach. "I've been exploring our island," he announced. "Say, some of the fishermen must come over here to hold their celebrations. There are several well-worn paths on the island. I followed two of them and they both led into the same place, a little clearing in a thick bunch of palms. It looks as though there had been several fights there for the ground is all trampled up as though it had been dug, and I found a couple of long, queer-looking clubs and this full bottle. What's in it, Charley? I can't make out the label." Charley took the big black bottle and examined the label that had puzzled his chum. "It's in Spanish," he announced, then translated rapidly: "Aguardiente, 100 Proof, Manufactured by Sicava & Sons, Santiago, Cuba." He pulled the cork and a pungent reeking odor filled the air. "Why, it's rum," said Captain Westfield. "A kind of rum," Charley agreed, "only far stronger and more fiery. No wonder the fishermen fight if this is the kind of stuff they drink. It would make a rabbit spit at an elephant." "Throw it away," Walter said. "We don't want the vile stuff." "No, I think I will keep it," said his chum, thoughtfully. "I have a notion that this little bottle is going to be mighty useful some time." "How's that?" Walter questioned, but the spell of silent thoughtfulness was still upon Charley and he paid no heed to the question. "I wish you fellows would go down and pull the nets into the skiffs," he said, as soon as breakfast was over. "I will be down as soon as I take a dip in the surf." "Why, what do you want the nets on so early for?" Walter protested. "We don't fish except at night, do we?" "We need to have a little drill," Charley explained. "It will be easier for you to learn how to handle the nets in the day time, and we will not have to waste any of our precious night time practicing." As soon as the three were gone, Charley left the camp himself. He did not pause at the beach to take a swim, however. Instead he turned into one of the well-beaten paths Walter had spoken of. He was following up a vague suspicion that had been growing in his mind and, for good reasons, he wanted to follow it out alone. If he was right in his surmises then would be the time to tell his chums. There was no use of worrying them until he was certain. His keen eyes noted one peculiar thing that his chum had not observed the significance of. All the paths led inward from the gulf beach and none from the bay. A few minutes' walk brought him to the cleared place Walter had described. It was only a few feet in extent and was densely surrounded by a thick growth of cocoanut palms. No one a few feet distant would have suspected its existence so well was it hidden from sight. At the entrance to the little space, Charley picked up two heavy pieces of timber about six feet in length. "These are Walter's clubs," he grinned. "Well, I suppose one could take them for that but clubs don't generally have a nice smooth rounded hand grip at each end and clubs the length of these things would be awkward to handle at close quarters. I have an idea these were used to carry heavy burdens. They would come pretty handy for that. Just lay the thing to be carried across them and one man take hold of the ends in front and another man at the back. Strange, Walter did not notice an odd thing about this clearing too. There is not a root or twig on the ground. Men would hardly fix up a place as clean just to fight in. He is right about one thing, though, this ground does look as though it had been all dug up, and unless all my guess is wrong, it has been dug up. Let's see how near I've hit to the mark with my suspicions." He got down on his knees and began to dig in the soft earth. In a few minutes he came upon that which he sought. It was not unexpected for all his theories had pointed the one way. As he dug over here and there, however, he grew amazed at the magnitude of his discovery. At last he ceased his digging and carefully filled up the many holes he had made trying to smooth over the face of the ground the same as it was before. This accomplished to his satisfaction, he stood up with a thoughtful frown on his face. Should he tell his companions of his discovery, he pondered. It was of no use to any of them at present. Would it be wise to tell them yet? Some one might let slip a word in an unguarded moment that would spoil everything. "The more that knows a secret the greater the chance of its leaking out," he reflected. "No," he would not tell them at present. Having reached this decision, he made his way back to the beach. Stripping, he took a hurried plunge in the surf and hastily dressing hurried across the island to the skiffs. "We have got the nets all aboard," Walter greeted him with. One glance at the heaped up nets in the skiffs' stern and Charley's face fell. "Whew!" he whistled, "you have sure done it now. Well, it's all my fault. I should have explained to you how to boat a net. They don't want to be piled up in a heap like that. You can't run out a net in that shape. It would all tangle up and go out in lumps and bunches. When you boat a net, you want to pile the lead line up carefully on one side of the stern and the cork line on the other letting the loose webbing fall in between, then it will run out smoothly without tangles and snarls." The nets had to be all tumbled out of the skiffs and hauled in again as Charley had directed. His chums were quite crestfallen over their mistake, but he only laughed. "Everything is new to you and you are bound to make a lot of mistakes at first," he assured them, "but you will soon catch on. Don't get discouraged over a little mistake like that, you'll make many bigger ones before you get used to the business. Hallo, I guess we are going to have some visitors. That launch out there is heading in here." CHAPTER VIII. THE VISITORS. THE boys glanced up from their work from time to time at the rapidly approaching motor boat. "My, but she is a fast one!" commented Charley, noting the crest of foam at her bow and the rapid popping of her exhaust. "I believe she is as fast, or faster, than our 'Dixie.'" Within a few minutes after they had sighted her, she was near enough for the chums to distinguish her passengers or crew. "Why, the man at the wheel is that fisherman Hunter," Walter exclaimed, "and there are four more with him, some of his gang, I suppose." "I wonder what they want with us," speculated the captain, uneasily. "Nothing pleasant, I guess," said Charley, gravely. "I believe those fellows are bent on making trouble for us. Let's not have any words with them, if we can help it. If we have got to have a fuss with 'em at all though, I guess now is as good a time as ever. I'll get Chris out of the way," he added, in an undertone to Walter. "He does not know yet that he is the innocent cause of our trouble, and there is no use letting him if we can help it. It would make the poor little chap feel awfully bad." As soon as it was apparent beyond all doubt that the launch was coming in to the little dock, he called the little negro to one side. "I want you to go up to the cabin and stay there until I call you," he directed. "If I give one long whistle, come a running and bring the rifle with you." The little negro was barely out of sight, when the big launch, its engine shut off, glided in to the dock. Besides the sallow-faced Hunter, it contained four fellows almost as vicious and mean looking as himself. Hunter made the launch fast to a post and climbed out on the dock followed by his companions. Our little party greeted the visitors with a pleasant good morning. "Good morning," grunted Hunter with a snarl, "I didn't come all the way over here just to say good morning though." "Then what did you come for?" demanded Walter curtly, his quick temper beginning to flare up at the fellow's insolent tones. "I am going to let you know mighty quick," snarled Hunter. "You brought that little nigger over here with you, didn't you?" "We did," Charley answered briefly. "Well, you-all have got to get off this island--and get off of it mighty quick," he declared. "Why," Captain Westfield demanded, his own anger beginning to rise. "First place, 'cause you ain't got any right to stay here. This island belongs to a friend of mine and I've got charge of it." Charley was keeping his temper well in hand though he was as angry as his chums. "We have been advised that this island belongs to the state," he said, coolly, "and we believe what we have been told. We have got as much right on state land as you or any one else." "Well, I give you notice to get off right away. We don't allow no niggers in the fishing business 'round hyar." "Now look here, Hunter," Charley said coolly, "you fellows objected to our having the little negro with us on the dock. Very well, we moved over here to avoid trouble. Now you come over here and try to order us off this island which we have as many rights to as you. That's going too far and we are not going to stand for it." "We ain't going to have no niggers fishing 'round hyar," repeated Hunter doggedly. "Chris is not going to do any fishing. He is our cook--and a mighty good one too." "Don't make any difference. You fellows have got to get off this island." "Which we refuse to do," Charley said defiantly. "Amen to that," agreed Captain Westfield, hotly. "You'll have a hard job making us," chimed in Walter. Hunter's sallow face reddened with anger. "If you smart Alecks ain't off this island before to-morrow night you'll get what's coming to you," he snarled. "Look here, Hunter," Charley said, quietly, "it strikes me you are a little bit too anxious to get us to leave here and I think I know the reason. Now you fellows had better get in your boat and go. We want nothing to do with you and your gang. We will tend to our own business and you had better tend to yours. If you bother us any more, well, I know of an officer who would be willing to pay a good big sum to know about a strange craft that haunts this coast in the night, and a motor boat that answers her signals." It was a chance shot on Charley's part but it went home. "We wasn't out at all last night," denied Hunter. "We were all in bed, didn't even go fishing." "I never mentioned last night," said Charley, quickly, and Hunter muttered a curse as he saw the slip he had made. "You're only doing a lot of wild guessing, and guessing ain't proof," he snarled. "Take all the guesses you want to your officer. He won't do anything. He's got to have proofs." Charley realized with regret that his veiled threat had failed, but he tried not to show his chagrin. "Leave here," he ordered. "Get into your boat and go." "I'm leaving right now," Hunter snarled. "But you'll be leaving here for good before two days are gone. Before I go, I'm going to slap you around a bit to teach you some manners, you young whelp. Look out for them other two, boys, while I give this smart Aleck a dressing down." His companions drawing their sheath knives, crowded threateningly towards Walter and the captain while he lunged forward at Charley who stood his ground a little pale but unafraid. He came at the lad with a rush, both fists swinging. "Keep back," Charley cried, but Hunter aimed a swinging blow at his head with all his force. Charley ducked with the quickness he had learned in a Y. M. C. A. gym and at the same instant drove his right fist forward with all of his weight behind it. It caught the sallow fisherman fair on his chin and sent him reeling backwards. He staggered and almost fell but recovering himself with an oath whipped out his sheath knife and came rushing at the plucky lad. It was a desperate situation. A lightning glance out of the corner of his eye showed Charley he could expect no help from his chums. They were menaced by the three ruffians with upraised knives. Their own knives lay in their fishing belts up in the cabin. No stick or club was within his reach. It was a case of bare hands against naked steel. Hunter came at him with a savage thrust. The lad leaped lightly to one side to avoid it. His foot slipped on a mossy rock and down he went on the sand. With a yell of triumph the fishermen leaped for him as he lay half-dazed by his fall. Crack, crack, crack came three sharp reports and the shrill whine of whistling bullets sang above the prostrate lad. The effect on the fishermen was startling. With a cry Hunter turned and ran for the launch and his companions crowding at his heels. "We'll get you yet," he yelled as he hurriedly cast off. "We'll get you when you ain't got that little nigger behind a tree guarding you with a gun. We"--but his curses were lost in the crackle of the engine as he threw on the switch. Walter and the captain hurried to Charley and helped him up from the sand. "I am all right," he declared as soon as he was on his feet. "I came down so hard it knocked the wind out of me for a moment but I am all right now." "Chris shot just in time," Walter exclaimed. "I thought you were going to be killed before our eyes." "I don't believe they would have gone that far," said his chum. "Hunter might have beat me up a bit but I think he aimed to frighten us off the island more than anything else." "I wonder why he is so anxious to drive us away from here," pondered Walter, puzzledly. "That's easy to tell," Charles declared. "His gang are smuggling aguardiente here from Cuba. That was the meaning of that schooner, the motor boat, and those signals last night. I found a cache of the stuff in that cleared place this morning. There must be five hundred bottles of it." "Then all we have to do is to tell the sheriff and he'll put the gang where they will not bother us any more," Walter exclaimed in relief. "That's what I tried to bluff Hunter into thinking," replied his chum, "but it did not work. You see, we have got no proofs and he knows it. We see a schooner at night acting queerly, also a motor boat, and we find a stock of aguardiente buried on the island, but that proves nothing against the Hunter gang or anyone else for that matter. Of course, I feel sure that they are the guilty ones but that isn't proof." "I reckon we are in something of a mess," said Captain Westfield, worriedly. "We are going to have trouble with those fellows sure. They can't carry on such a game with us here on the island, and it ain't likely they are going to stay quiet and lose all that stuff they've got cached." "It looks bad," Charley admitted, gravely. "We must talk it over carefully and decide what is best to do. But where's Chris? It's funny he don't show himself. Something must be the matter." With a sudden alarm, Charley hastened up for the cabin, followed by his chums. As soon as he came in sight of the hut, he slackened his speed with a sigh of relief for the little negro was seated in the doorway with the rifle in his hands. "Good work, Chris," he exclaimed. "Your shots came just in the nick of time. I am glad you didn't hit any of them though." "I ain't shot none, Massa Chas," protested the little negro. "You dun tole me to stay right hyar till you whistle an' you ain't whistled yet." "Then where did those shots come from?" Charley demanded. "Hit sounded like dey come from where you-alls was," Chris declared. "Then they must have come from the fringe of palms close to the beach," Charley decided. "Well, some one on the island has done us a good turn and we better look him up and thank him. Likely he didn't want to be seen and recognized by Hunter." But at the end of an hour they were back at the cabin, a thoroughly mystified little group. They had been all over their little domain but no sign of a human being had they discovered. CHAPTER IX. MORE TROUBLE. ALL the little party were greatly puzzled but Chris was the one most troubled. The superstitious little negro was quick to attach an uncanny meaning to the strange incident. "Hit was a ghost," he declared, solemnly. "Dat's jes' de way de ghosts do on Cat Island. Nobody can ebber find 'em when dey look for 'em. Dey jes' melt into de air." "Bosh, Chris," derided Charley, "there are no such things as ghosts." "Yes dar is, Massa Chas," persisted the little darkey. "Plenty of people has seed dem a heap ob times. My ole daddy on Cat Island dun seen one once. He come 'cross hit on de road one moonlight night. Hit was all white an' bigger den any man an' dar was blue fire comin' out ob hits eyes, an' nose, an' mouth. Daddy run like de wind an' he dun got away from hit. But he always 'lowed if he hadn't had his conjurer charm tied 'round his neck hit would hab cotched him sho'. Sho' dar is ghosts." Walter laughed. "Well, if there are bad spirits there must be good spirits also, Chris," he observed, "and this one seems to be a pretty good sort. He certainly done us a good turn. If I ever meet him, I hope he will not do the vanishing act for I want to thank him." But Chris was not to be reassured and he went about his task of getting dinner muttering darkly to himself. "Frankly, what do you make of it?" Walter inquired of his chum as they waited the preparation of the meal. "I? I don't know what to think of it yet," Charley confessed. "As soon as I found out that it was not Chris who did the shooting I thought maybe one of the Roberts boys had landed on the other side of the island and happened to come across just in the nick of time. I can understand that no one would want to be seen by the Hunter gang for the sake of avoiding future trouble with them, but I can not for the life of me understand why the unknown should wish to avoid us, also. That is the puzzling part. Why did he vanish, and where did he go to? He had no time to get away in a boat without our seeing him. It's a mystery to me." "I ain't worrying much about that," observed Captain Westfield. "Whoever it was he was friendly to us and that's more than we can say for that Hunter gang. We are bound to have more trouble with them, I fear, and I don't see any way to steer clear of it unless we pick up and leave this part of the country." "We can't do that," Walter declared. "We are penniless and there is no other work we can do around here. Besides we owe a good big bill at the store and it would not be right to go away and leave it for Mr. Daniels to pay." "No," agreed the captain, "we can't do that. Well, I don't know what is best to do. What's your opinion, Charley?" "Of course, we can't leave here," replied the lad, decidedly, "and I for one, don't want to leave. There are four of the Hunter gang and there are four of us. It's true, we have only one gun amongst us while they are probably well armed. In a way, I do not think the question of weapons is so very important. I do not believe that they will provoke a serious open fight. That demonstration this morning was to frighten us away. There is law in this state and officers capable of enforcing it, and, bad as that Hunter gang is reputed to be, I do not believe the members of it are going to run the risk of being hung for any open killing. What evil they will try to do to us will be done secretly and in such a way that we can not have them arrested for it. I judge, that is the way they have always done their meanness from what Bill Roberts said to Hunter that day. If we stay here that is what we will have to always be on our guard against. Of course such a state of things will not be pleasant but I believe we are as bright as they and by being watchful we will give them little chance to do us any injury." "What about that stuff they've got cached," objected Captain Westfield. "It's worth too much money for them to let it lay where it is and they won't dare take it away as long as we are on the island." "I've been thinking of that," Charley answered, "and I believe, the best thing to be done is to get the stuff off the island. If we catch any fish to-night, we will have to take them over to Clearwater and just tell Mr. Daniels about our finding the stuff. Likely, he will see that it is removed at once. That will rid the Hunter gang of the necessity of driving us off the island and it will likely scare them so that it will be some time before they attempt to smuggle any more in." "Wall, I reckon, that is the best course for us to steer," agreed the old sailor. "Of course, they'll have a grudge against us for the loss of the stuff but they've got one against us anyway, so it don't make much difference. We'll have to leave some one in camp all the time so as to protect our grub and things." "We will leave Chris," Charley decided. "One of us will have to cook and keep the nets mended up anyway and Chris is certainly the boy for the cooking job. We will leave the rifle with him. At night, or when there is any sign of trouble, he can bar himself up in the cabin and be safer than he would be with us. It's strong as a fort, and the palmetto logs it is built of will not catch fire easy if any one should try to smoke him out." Accordingly when dinner was finished, Charley explained the situation to the little negro, only telling him of the cached liquor and not mentioning the objections made to his presence amongst them so as to spare the little fellow's sensitive feelings. Chris protested vigorously at the plan to leave him behind. "I ain't scared ob dat poor white trash," he declared, "but hit ain't noways nice to stay hyar alone wid a haunt walking 'round on dis island. I jes' naturally can't do dat, Massa Chas." In vain his three companions argued with him. All the superstitions of his race were aroused. "A spirit was a haunting de island," he declared, "an' hit warn't noways wise to stay alone whar a haunt was. "If I only had my ole daddy's conjurin' charm, hit might be all right," he said, doubtfully. "Hit dun saved him from a ghost once." "I'll tell you what I'll do," said Charley at last. "I'll let you have my one ghost charm. It will ward off any ghost that ever walked this island." "Has you got one for sho', Massa Chas? Let's see hit," exclaimed the relieved little darkey. Charley gravely produced from his pocket a tiny stone, Chinese mannikin, which he had once used as a watch charm and which had found its way into his pockets along with a few other worthless odds and ends. It was grotesquely carved and hideously ugly but Chris viewed it with delight. "Hit sho' looks like a powerful charm," he declared with the longing for possession. "I'll guarantee it to protect against any ghost I ever saw," declared Charley, truthfully and solemnly. "If you could dun spare hit to me, I reckon I wouldn't mind being left behind, Massa Chas," offered the little negro. "All right," Charley agreed, delighted with the success of his ruse. "You want to be careful not to lose it though. I don't know where I could get another like it." They left the appeased little darkey engaged in fastening the ugly mannikin with a string around his neck, and took their way down to the dock for the practice drill Charley had decided upon. "Now, I don't want to be bossy," the lad explained as they made their preparations for the trial, "but, as things are, I happen to be the only one of us who has had any experience in fishing. I would much rather that some one else could take the lead for fishing is one business where the leader must be obeyed without argument or question. His followers must give him the same quiet service that a military company gives its officers. It is upon such unquestionable following that the successes in fishing largely depends. The leader's position, running head boat it is called, requires quick judgment and swift action, and these can not be had if argument or explanations have to precede them." "That's all right, I understand what you mean," said Captain Westfield, placidly. "All you will have to do is to give your orders." "Sure," agreed Walter, "we wouldn't know what to do unless you did." "All right," agreed Charley. "I want to say, though, before we start, that this fishing is a nerve-trying business, as you will soon find out. Sometimes it wears a person's temper to a wire edge and he will say things and do things he afterwards regrets. If I should happen to speak shortly or curtly any time please overlook it if you can and I will do the same with you. I've seen this fishing game break up old friendships more than once. And now," he concluded, "for our practice. We will suppose now that we are stealing up on a school of fish. Our positions are this. My skiff goes ahead. The captain in his skiff keeps ten feet behind me and a trifle to the left. You, Walter, keep nearly opposite me but about four hundred feet distant. Now, when I give the signal to make a run, I will stop rowing. The captain will back the end of his skiff up to mine and I will tie our two nets together. Then I will shout to you and you will throw the end of your net overboard and we will all start rowing as hard as we can. You will watch my boat, Walter, and keep just opposite me all the time. When our nets are pretty well run out, I will shout again and we will both head directly for each other. When we come together, I go around your stern and cross your net with mine. As soon as you and I start, the captain starts also. He swings away from me and heads for where you dropped the end of your net. He crosses it, and, if he has any net left in his boat, he rows back inside the circle and zigzags back and forth until it is all run out. If we do this all right and luck holds good, we will have our fish penned up like this." With a stick he drew on the sand this simple diagram. [Illustration] "As soon as our nets run out," he continued, "we row around inside the circle and beat on our skiffs with the oars and make all the racket we can to drive the fish into the nets. Then, each man rows back to the end of his net and takes it up being careful to pile it right so that it will run out smoothly and also be careful not to break meshes taking out fish. I guess that's about all." "Why, that's simple as can be," Walter exclaimed. Charley grinned. "Let's try it and see," he said knowingly. CHAPTER X. ONE NIGHT'S SPORT. "NOW just imagine that we are really hunting fish," Charley directed, as he shoved his skiff from shore. "Take up your positions exactly as I directed and make as little noise as possible with your oars." His companions eagerly obeyed and the three skiffs slowly crept ahead as if stealing up on a school of fish. But their leader was not yet ready for real fishing and they had proceeded thus but a little ways when he gave the captain the signal for a run. The old sailor deftly backed up his skiff and threw Charley the end of his net. The lad caught it and quickly made it fast to his own. "Give way," he shouted, seizing his oars, and the three boats darted away while the nets ran out smoothly over their sterns. When he judged that three-fourths of his net was out, Charley shouted to his chums and the two boats swung around for each other. The last of Walter's net ran out just as Charley passed around the stern of his skiff and turning back into the circle rowed out the few remaining yards of his own net. "That's one important thing to remember," he commented as he rowed up to his chum's boat. "We always want to turn when we have got just enough net left to reach each other with. If our nets don't come together the fish all run out through the gap." "Whew," Walter panted, "I never dreamed those nets were so long. I thought my arms were going to break from rowing so hard before you gave the signal to turn." Charley grinned. "They are four hundred yards each--nearly a quarter of a mile long. Wait until you get one full of fish and it will seem forty miles long. The captain's got that other end closed up nicely, and now for the drumming up." The three rowed around inside the circle while Charley showed them how to frighten the fish into the nets by pounding on the bottoms of the skiffs and beating the water with the blades of their oars. "Why, the circle is full of fish," Walter suddenly exclaimed. "I can see hundreds of them darting about." "I saw them before I gave the signal to run," Charlie said coolly, but his words were lost in the din the captain and his chum were making in their excitement. Walter was beating the water frantically with his oar while the old sailor standing up in his skiff was clapping his hands and shouting "Shoo, shoo", much as though he was driving a flock of chickens. Charley rested on his oars and watched them with a broad grin on his face. "Don't get excited," he remarked, when at last they stopped from sheer exhaustion. "Captain, it's no use straining your voice yelling at the fish. They can't hear you. The only thing that scares them is a vibration of the water they live in. That beating the water with your oar is the proper caper, Walter, only it happens that these fish are mullet and you can't drive mullet into a gill net in the day time. Fine as the twine is, they see the meshes and back off. And, now, let's row back to the ends of our nets and pick them up." His two crestfallen companions meekly obeyed, and after considerable blundering due to their inexperience the nets were once more got aboard the skiffs. The two novices' arms and backs were beginning to ache but Charley insisted on another trial. It was well he did so for Walter had not rowed out a third of his net when some leads caught in the webbing and the pile turned over into a tangled heap that took the three a good half hour to straighten out. "You must be careful how you pile your net in the boat," Charley cautioned, when the mess was at last straightened out. "If that had happened when we were really and truly fishing it might have meant the loss of forty or fifty dollars' worth of fish. You must keep your loose webbing piled clear of your lead and cork lines. I noticed you had piled your net carelessly, that's why I wanted to make another run. There's nothing like experience to make one careful." "You might have told me about it and saved all this hard extra work," grumbled Walter with a flash of temper. "My arms and back ache like a tooth ache." "Cheer up. We'll go ashore now, and have a rest and supper before we start out for real work," said Charley, cheerfully, ignoring his chum's remarks. A long rest under the palm trees and one of Chris' capital suppers put Walter into good humor again. "I guess, I got mad a little too easily," he half apologized to his chum over the meal. "I didn't stop to think that you had been working as hard as I and that you would not have put us all to that extra work if you had not thought it necessary." "That's all right," answered Charley, heartily. "Just forget it. Every one gets a little riled sometimes, and fishing is mighty hard on the temper." But the lad knew that the flashes of temper would come many times before his chum became a seasoned fisherman. "Oh, well," he consoled himself, grimly, "it's no use trying to avoid them, the sooner they come and go, why, the better." Chris had prepared a lunch for the fishermen to carry with them to eat during the night, and just as the sun went down, the three boarded the launch and with the three skiffs in tow set out for their first attempt in their new calling. The memory of that first night will linger in Walter's and the Captain's memory for years to come. They had run about two miles in the launch when Charley shut off the engine. "I think we had better anchor here and take to the skiffs," he said. "These are strange waters and we might pile the launch up on a rock in the darkness." A lantern was lit and placed on the launch's bow to guide them back to her, and the other lanterns were also lit, turned down low and placed in the bottom of the skiffs. "None of you must ever allow your lights to show while we are hunting fish," Charley continued. "A light frightens them worse than anything else. A flash of lightning makes them all scurry for deep water. There's no use taking to the skiffs for a little while, it isn't dark enough to fish yet." "That's one thing which puzzles me," Walter said. "How are you going to find fish at night. Of course, I understand how you can tell where they are in the day time, for if you can't see the fish themselves, you can tell they are there by the ripples they make in the water." "They are oftentimes easier to find at night," Charley affirmed. "There is nearly always more or less phosphorescence in the water and a fish can not move without leaving a glowing streak in his wake, that is, if he is within ten feet of the surface. An expert fisherman can tell by the character of the bright streak the kind of fish that makes it. Each species makes a different kind of movement and an expert can read their trails like a hunter reads tracks. Nights when the water does not fire it is harder, for then the fisherman has to go by sound. Each kind of fish makes its own peculiar noise but it is hard to distinguish some of them apart and still harder to tell their size. Our nets are made for mullet and that is the only kind of fish we need be concerned with." "Why, there is a lot more to fishing than I thought," Walter commented. "I supposed it was simple and easy to learn." "It takes years of experience to make a skilful fisherman," Charley assured him. "I do not claim to be one. I only just know the rudiments of it." "I reckon it's that way with most everything," Captain Westfield remarked, thoughtfully, "from running a ship up to running a nation. Thar's always a heap more to larn than the man outside thinks thar is." "But all the knowledge a man can get does not help without plenty of good hard work," Charley amended. "And it's time for us to begin ours now. It's dark enough now, I believe. All aboard for our first attempt." The three scrambled into their skiffs and casting loose from the launch, took to their oars bringing their crafts into the formation they had practiced. In a few minutes, the launch was lost to sight and they could not see each other. Only the faint glow of the turned-down lanterns rising above the gunwales of their skiffs enabled them to keep track of each other. As they crept slowly on into the night, Walter was surprised to see how teeming the waters were with life. On every side of his boat, fiery streaks marked the passage of finny creatures. At times, he passed through spaces fairly aglow with the movements of them. As Charley had said, there was a marked difference in the character of the water trails. Some were close to the surface, while others showed deep below. Some were long and continuous in a straight line. Others twisted and turned, while still others seemed to run only a little ways and then stopped suddenly. But they all marked the passage of fish, and he soon began to wonder why Charley did not give the signal to circle them. At first, he consoled himself with the thought that his chum knew what he was doing, but as they rowed steadily on mile after mile through the flashing schools, he began to have doubts. After all, Charley had admitted that he was not an experienced fisherman. Perhaps Charley was not passing through the same schools. Perhaps he was not watching close. Walter's arms and back began to ache from the steady rowing and as his fatigue increased he began to get irritated. Why all this steady rowing on and on when there were plenty of fish all about them. The same thoughts were passing through Captain Westfield's mind but he had been bred in a calling which demands constant patient obedience to the one in command. He had elected to follow Charley's leadership and that was the end of it. He would do it without question. At last Walter could stand it no longer. "Say, Charley," he hailed, "there's lots of fish around here." "I see them," came the cheerful answer. "They don't look right to me, though. Let's go on a bit." Sullenly, Walter rowed on in silence. After what to his tired muscles seemed ages of weary pulling, a crisp order came floating over the water. "Get ready--Drop your net weight over"--A pause, then: "All right--all together--pull hard." Walter forgot his aching limbs in the excitement of the moment. He bent to his oars and sent his skiff flying through the water while his net rippled swiftly out over the stern. "Come together," at last came the order and he swung his flying craft around to meet his chum's. "Gee," panted Charley, as he crossed the end of Walter's net, just as the last of his own ran out. "I pulled myself out of breath trying to get around that school. Most of them outran me, but I guess we have got a few penned up in the circle. Put up your lantern and let's rest a bit before we drum up. Good," he exclaimed as the lights flashed out over the water. "They are hitting the nets already---Listen." From all sides of them came a soft peculiar smacking sound much like that made by a person opening and closing his mouth rapidly. "Listen, old chap," Charley cried in glee, "you are hearing your first catch of mullet." CHAPTER XI. THE QUARREL. THE new fishermen could hardly wait to beat up the circle so eager were they to see what their nets contained. "I guess we have got all there was in the circle," Charley at last announced. "Let's start to take up. Fasten your lantern to the end of an oar and fix it so it will shine down on your net so that you can see what you are doing, look out for cat fish. I put a short club in each of the skiffs to-day. If you get a cat fish, kill it before you try to take it out of your net." "What kind of looking fish are they?" Walter paused to inquire. "They are a slimy fish without scales," Charley explained. "They have a flat head and on each side of the gills and on the back are needle-sharp horns about three inches long with fine saw teeth along the edge. When the fish are swimming the horns lay back flat against the body, but when they strike a net or anything else, they stick the horns straight out. They are fierce to take out of a net, they will tangle up dozens of meshes on those horns and the fine twine is hard to work off the saw edges. It's dangerous to handle them unless they are killed for they are liable to flop and stick those horns in you and make a very poisonous wound. Well, let's get to work, the night is slipping away fast." With lanterns popped out over the skiff's stern the three set to work. At first it was exciting to haul in the nets with the struggling fish entangled in their meshes, and to watch the pile in their boats steadily grow, but the novelty soon wore off and only the hard work remained. And hard work it was, harder than either the captain or Walter had dreamed. A breeze had arisen since sunset and they had to drag their skiffs up against it as they pulled in their nets. When they came to a fish they had to hold the net with their feet, while they bent over under the dim light and freed it from the entangling meshes. Every now and then they came to a great mass of sea moss caught up in their nets, which required all their strength to dump out, nor did they escape painful accidents, although they met with none of the dreaded cat fish, every fish handled by them seemed armed with sharp fins and their fingers were soon sore with a multitude of tiny punctures. A flopping fish flipped a bit of jelly into the captain's eye. It burned like a touch from a red hot iron, and the old sailor half blinded grew faint from the intense pain. At last Walter realized what it meant to handle four hundred yards of net. Before he had got half of his in the boat he was fairly ready to lie down and cry from pain and sheer weariness. Charley, more expert, soon had his net boated and taking hold of the other end of Walter's helped him with the balance, then rowed over and performed a like service for the captain. "Let's rest a little bit and eat our lunch before we start again," he suggested when the nets were all up. "I'll anchor my boat and you both come alongside and tie up to me so we can all eat together." He had brought a box partly filled with sand along in his skiff and in it he now proceeded to build a small fire on which he boiled coffee and heated up the lunch Chris had given them. The hot meal and steaming coffee made his two companions almost forget for a time their pains and weariness. "How many do you think we got that time?" Walter inquired, over a second cup of coffee. "About twelve hundred pounds of mullet," he judged, "some thirty odd pounds of trout and about two hundred pounds of bottom fish," say twenty-eight dollars' worth altogether. "That's pretty fair for one run. If we can get in four more runs like it before daylight, it will make a good night's work." "Four more runs," cried Walter in dismay, all his aches and pains returning at the thought, "why I don't believe I can last out one more." "I know it's tough on you two," said Charley sympathetically, "but we have got to do it. We cannot hope to make money by just making one or two runs a night. It will not be quite so bad after you get hardened to it. I know just how you feel. I once fished every night steady for six months and we made from six to eight runs each night. I was new to the business then and I thought the first two or three nights that it would certainly kill me. Tired. Why many a time I've gone sound asleep while rowing and fallen over into the bottom of the boat amongst the fish without waking up. Oh, it's tough all right, but you have got to get used to it." Walter was silent. He was doing a sum in mental arithmetic, "eight runs a night. Four hundred yards of net to run out each time and four hundred yards of net to take in. Eight hundred yards multiplied eight times was six thousand four hundred yards or over three miles besides all the endless rowing." Why it was more than flesh and blood could stand. Was any amount of money worth such nerve and muscle racking labor? He was still pondering this when his chum gave the order to start again and they once more fell into the old formation and rowed silently on into the darkness. Mile after mile they rowed steadily on until the launch's lanterns showed only a pin point of light in the distance. The ache in Walter's muscles grew to an acute pain. Every stroke of the oars was an effort that seemed impossible to repeat. All around his boat came and went darting flashes of many fish. Again the old question arose. Why all this aimless, senseless rowing. He felt a hot unreasoning resentment against his chum that grew with his deadly weariness and at last flowed out in speech. "Charley," he snapped out across the water, "I'm getting sick of this nonsense. There's fish all around us. Let's either try to catch them or go home. I'm tired of this rowing, rowing, rowing for nothing." Charley was silent a moment before replying. Matters had come to the pass he had feared. He had witnessed the same thing many times with new beginners. One of two things must happen, either Walter must learn to have faith in his leadership until he himself had gained experience or else they must give up fishing. No amount of argument would convince him like a bit of experience, as the result of having his own way in something he knew nothing about. It was bitter medicine but it was the only treatment which would check the disease, however, he decided to give his chum one last chance. "I am doing the best I know how, Walt," he answered. "I have to follow my best judgment in this fishing so long as I am running head boat." "Judgment nothing," scoffed Walter angrily, "there's no judgment in rowing our arms off when there are fish all around us." "All right Old Chap, you can run head boat if you think you can do better. I'll follow you without question," Charley replied wearily. "All right, I will," agreed Walter, shortly. "I can promise you I will not make you row yourself to death for nothing." In silence Charley changed positions with his chum. They had not proceeded a hundred yards in the new order when Walter's skiff slid in amongst the biggest school he had yet seen. "All right, let's run them," he shouted excitedly. Charley smiled grimly as he cast him the end of his net to make fast but he said nothing, and when his chum gave the signal to start he was off at the word. "Whew," panted Walter, as they came together at the end of the run, "we've made a killing this time. Just look at the bright streaks. Why, the circle is full of fish. Come on, let's drum them up." "I wouldn't drum any," Charley advised. "I'm running head boat now," Walter reminded him shortly, "kindly do as I say." "All right," his chum agreed, cheerfully, and fell to beating the water lustily with his oar. "I guess they are all in the nets now," Walter at last announced. "Let's pick them up." Charley rowed back to the end of his net in silence. He grinned with grim humor as his quick ear caught queer grunting sounds from along the lines of net. He seized the end of his and pulled it aboard, then he paused, adjusted his lantern carefully, took a drink of water from his jug, laid his short club handy on the seat beside him, and settled himself for a long spell of hard work. Walter reached for the end of his net, tingling with anticipation. The first few yards came in empty, then a score of white bellies showed in the dripping webbing as he hoisted it into the boat. Pride gave way to dismay. Instead of the clean, glistening mullet he had expected, these were slimy, flat-headed fish, loathsome to look at, emitting repulsive grunts and reeking forth a sickening odor. Each was hopelessly tangled in a mess of webbing. For a moment, he wildly debated the notion of casting the net back overboard and fleeing. Then he grimly, doggedly, settled down to work. His thoughts were more unpleasant than the task before him. He had brought this upon himself and not only upon himself but upon his companions also. Because he had become a little tired, he had given way to a fit of temper and made a fool of himself. Well, Charley and the captain would never want him to fish with them again, and it served him right, but his heart ached at the thought of separating from those kind, true, friendly companions after all the years they had spent together. He paused for a moment and listened. From the captain's skiff came muttered exclamations as the old sailor labored over his unwelcome catch. From Charley's boat came only the sharp, frequent crack of the club as he hauled the detested fish in over the stern. Slowly the minutes lengthened into hours and the night dragged away, while the humbled lad, suffering in every muscle, his fingers bleeding from a score of scratches, and one hand swelling rapidly where a horn had entered, worked grimly on. Slowly Charley's light drew away from him for the other lad's experience had taught him the knack of taking out fish swiftly. Once, Walter raised his eyes from his task and looked about. The morning star had risen in the east and Charley's light had disappeared. "Got disgusted and gone home," he decided, bitterly. "Well, I don't blame him." The day was just breaking when Walter, at last, reached the end of his net. The captain had escaped lightly and had been through for some time. He was stretched out on a seat, resting, and placidly smoking his pipe. The launch was only a short distance away. Charley had rowed back and was bringing her up to save his chums the long row to her. "Good morning," Charley hailed, cheerfully, as he shut off the engine, "all through." Walter almost shouted with joy. His chum was not angry with him after all. Charley ranged alongside and peeped into his skiff. "What have you saved them all for," he exclaimed, as his eye lighted on the big pile of fish. "Why, to sell," Walter faltered. His chum grinned. "No one buys them. Why you couldn't give them away. But come, both of you and make fast. We'll just get home in time for breakfast." It was a humble and abashed lad that stepped aboard the launch. "Charley, I've been a fool," he blurted out, "but if you can overlook it this time, it will not happen again." "Forget it," said his chum heartily. "I hated it more for your sake than for my own, but it's all over now. Cheer up, Old Chap." "How did you know what kind of fish they were?" Walter inquired, after a brief silence. "By the streaks. A catfish fires deep below the surface and he only runs a little ways then stops. A mullet makes a long straight streak close the surface. But those were not all catfish we rowed through to-night. There were sharks in one place, a school of porgies in another, and a lot of sea bass and some fish I could not determine and was afraid to run." CHAPTER XII. THE GHOST. "I WANT you two to lie down in the cabin and catch an hour's nap on the way home," Charley said as soon as he got the engine started. "I'll run the launch in." Walter and the captain protested feebly, but the lad would hear no refusal. "You both look utterly played out," he declared. "There is no use of all of us staying awake, and I am fresher than either of you. Fishing is not so hard for me because I know all the little tricks of handling a net and taking out fish that helps to make it easier. You will soon learn them and get hardened to the work, and then we will take turns running the launch. Now stretch out, that hour's rest will do you a world of good." His two chums lost no time in arguing the point, but stretched on the cabin floor and pillowing their heads on their arms were instantly asleep. So worn out were they that Charley could hardly wake them when the dock was reached. Chris had a hot breakfast and steaming coffee waiting for them; as soon as it was dispatched Charley ordered the two off to bed. "Get rested up good for to-night's work," he announced. "There is nothing that you need do now. Chris will pull the nets out to dry and I'll row across to Clearwater with the fish. There is no need of more than one going and I want to see the sheriff and have a talk with him." It was only a few minutes' run across the bay to the little town, and Charley was soon tying up to the fish dock. He hurried up to the fish house and notified Mr. Daniels of his catch and waited while a wagon brought the fish up and they were weighed. The catch totaled thirty dollars in cash. "Not bad for the first night," said Mr. Daniels, encouragingly. "Several of my old experienced fishermen caught less than that last night." Leaving the fish house the lad hurried over to the store and ordered some supplies he needed sent down to the launch. By the time his purchases were made he judged it was late enough to find the sheriff in his office and there he accordingly made his way. But here he met with much disappointment, for he was informed that Sheriff Brown was out of town and would not return for several days. He headed back to his launch greatly troubled in his mind. He had counted strongly on the sheriff taking charge of the cached liquor. As long as it remained on the island, just so long could they expect trouble from its owners. Now he could not decide what was best to do. He was hurrying on debating the question with himself when turning a corner, engrossed in his own thoughts, he almost collided with Bill Roberts hurrying in the opposite direction. "Starboard your helm a bit and take in some of that press of sail you're carrying," hailed that worthy, "you came mighty near running me down. How's everything? How's fishing coming on?" Charley warmed to the sight of Bill's friendly, frank, good-humored face. "The fishing's all right," he answered, brightly, "but some other things are worrying me. I was thinking of them and not noticing where I was going." "You look tired and worried," said Bill with a critical scrutiny. "Can we Roberts help you out any with what's worrying you?" "You might help me out with some advice," said the lad with a sudden impulse. "If you can spare me a few minutes' time I'll tell you what's the matter. "Got all the time in the world," said Bill cheerfully. "We are not fishing for a few days. Our nets are about all worn out and we are waiting for new ones from the factory. There is a seat over there under the tree, come on and sit down a while and tell me all about it. It helps a man sometimes just to tell his troubles." He listened with eager interest while Charlie told the story of the strange schooner, the motor boat and the buried liquor and of their quarrel with Hunter's gang. He pondered a while after the lad had concluded. "Kind of a bad mess," he said at last. "Of course it's the Hunter gang that's doing the smuggling, but you haven't got anything to prove it. They ain't going to lose all that liquor they've got buried either, but they ain't going to dig it up as long as there is a chance of their being seen doing it, consequently their only hope is to get you fellows off the island by fair means or foul." "Just the conclusion I arrived at," agreed Charley, grimly. "Your plan to have the sheriff take charge of it was the thing, but of course that cannot be done until he comes back. It isn't likely they will seek an open fight with you, they are too foxy for that. But they will try to get at you by every underhanded means they can think of. You'll have to be on your guard every minute until the sheriff returns and takes charge of that liquor. Those fellows are cunning and treacherous. I am not going to tell you of the things they have done to other fellows who have crossed them. It would do no good and only worry you more. I just want to impress upon you that you cannot watch out too sharp. Now I am going to lend you another rifle to keep in the launch; we have plenty of guns, for we hunt and trap when the fishing is poor. As I have said we are not fishing for a few days, and if you should need help any time just fire three shots close together and we will be over in a hurry. We would be tickled to death to catch those fellows in some devilment so that they could be sent up for a good string of years." "You are very good," said Charley, gratefully. "It's not right to bother you with our troubles, but it has been a great relief just to unburden myself to you." "Sorry I cannot be of more help to you," Bill replied, heartily. "I hope we are going to be good friends, for I like the looks of your crowd. Our trouble with Hunter's gang has kept us from making friends amongst the other fishermen. They will not meet us half way for fear of the injuries the Hunter gang might do them, if they got friendly with us. You will find it the same way in your case, and it will be pleasant for us to visit back and forth on stormy days when we have nothing else to do. There is another thing I can do that will help you a bit. Come on down to the dock with me and I'll do it now." Near the end of the pier they came upon Hunter himself, holding forth to a gang of his cronies. The fellows made to move away at their approach but Roberts hailed him. "Look here, Hunter," he said in his straightforward way, "I want to impress one thing on you so you will not forget it. This lad and his companions are friends of ours and anyone that does any of them harm, has not only them to reckon with but with the Roberts boys also, remember that!" Then turning his back to the scowling fisherman, he said good-by to Charley and walked away, indifferent to the lowering glances of Hunter's cronies. "Fine protector you've got," sneered Hunter, when Roberts was out of hearing. "Just mark one thing, young fellow, your gang are going to wish they had never seen Clearwater before we are through with them, and that goes for that upstart Roberts, too." "We are not afraid of you or your threats," Charley replied, coolly, as he cast off the launch and started up the engine. As the throbbing little engine drove the launch through the dancing, sparkling water, Charley lay back in the thwart with his hand on the wheel and rested his aching body. He was tired in muscle and brain. It was nearly noon and his eyes were heavy with sleep. He dozed off for a moment only to wake up with a jerk as something cold touched his foot. He glanced down and was startled to see that several inches of water was sloshing around his feet. Thoroughly awake, he straightened up and looked around. He was in the middle of the bay about a mile from either shore. He had evidently dozed but a few minutes, yet the launch had been dry when he dozed off and now there was several inches of water in her and it was rapidly increasing. She must have sprung a leak and a big one at that. Seizing the bailer with his free hand he began throwing the water out in a steady stream. Swiftly he calculated his chances of making the shore. The engine rested only a few inches above the bottom of the boat. If the water reached it the motor would stop. He had no fear for his own safety for he could easily swim across the bay if necessary. But if the launch filled she would sink, their career as fishermen would be at an end, and Mr. Daniels would be poorer the several hundred dollars the launch had cost. A few minutes' bailing convinced him that the water was rapidly gaining. It had risen to within a couple of inches of the engine. Five minutes more and it would reach the motor. It was a desperate situation and the keen-witted lad took a desperate chance. Letting go the wheel he frantically tore at the thin sheathing that lined the bottom. Luck was with him for the first piece came up easily revealing a large, smooth, round hole, just below the water line, through which the water was gushing in a steady stream. Tearing up his shirt, he rolled it up into a tapering plug and thrust it into the hole. Holding it in place with one hand, he steered for the dock with the other. The water still came in around the plug, but slowly; and with a sigh of relief, the lad at last ran the launch upon the beach beside the dock just as the water rippled up around the engine's base. As she grounded, the launch heeled over on the other side lifting the hole above the water, and Charley had a chance to examine it more closely. Its smooth, regular appearance and some chips adhering to the edge showed that it had been made by an augur, and a ball of waste floating around on the water showed that it had been plugged to stay closed until the pressure of swift moving through the water should force it out. There was no doubt in the lad's mind as to who had made it and he began to feel a certain respect for the resourcefulness of his enemies. It was a cunning scheme. If it had succeeded it would have accomplished its purpose. With no launch, he and his chums would have been forced to leave the island; for without one they could no longer have carried on their fishing. Charley whittled out a smooth plug of soft white pine and drove it firmly into the hole. He cut off the plug flush with the planking, and flattening out a piece of tin from a can, nailed it over the spot to hold the plug firmly in place. Chris brought dinner down to him and he snatched a few mouthfuls and drank two cups of coffee while he worked. By the time the job was finished and the launch bailed out, it was well along in the afternoon and the lad groaned as he realized that he must face another hard night's work without sleep. "Massa Chas," said Chris, as they trudged up to the shack together, "I ain't bothered you-alls 'bout it before 'cause I seed you was all tired an' wore out, but I'ze dun got something to tell you." Charley glanced sharply at the little negro's serious face. "What is it?" he said, quietly. "Massa Chas," said the little fellow, solemnly, "sho' as I is a living nigger, I seed dat ghost last night." CHAPTER XIII. CHRIS' STORY. THE little darkey's face was so serious that Charley could not doubt that he had seen, or imagined he had seen, something out of the common. He was so long familiar with Chris' superstitious fears that, ordinarily, he would have scoffed at them, but now, he remembered the shooting the previous day and the mystery surrounding the disappearance of the unseen marksman. "Tell me just what you saw, Chris," he said, quietly. "Hit was soon arter sundown," began the little negro. "I had dun got de dishes washed up an' was fixin' to go to bed when I 'lowed that a little swim in de gulf would make me sleep a sight better. So I starts down for de beach. I ain't more den thirty feet away when I seed hit atween me an' de water. Hit was walking back an' forth, back an' forth, wid hits face turned all de time to de water. Hit was white, all white, Massa Chas." "What did you do?" questioned Charley, as the little negro paused, shivering at the recollection. "I don't know 'zackly, but I reckon I let out a yell an' shut my eyes to hide out dat awful sight. Den I remembers dat charm an' I grabs for hit, saying some conjurer words daddy taught me. Dat sho's am a powerful charm, Massa Chas. Hit sho' am powerful." "Go on," said Charley, impatiently. "Dat charm sho' did de work, for when I opened my eyes dat ghost was gone. Jes' dun melted into de air. Soon as my laigs quit shakin' so dat I could walk I makes for de cabin an' bars up de door an' windows tight. Dat's all I guess 'sept dat hit was a powerful long time afore I could get to sleep an' I keeps awishin' for you-alls." "How long did you keep your eyes closed?" Charley questioned. "Hit seemed like a year but I reckon hit wasn't no more dan a minute." Charley arose, wearily. "Show me the spot where you saw it," he directed. The little negro lad led the way without hesitation. When about twenty feet from the water's edge, he stopped. "Hit was right hyar," he declared. Charley bent down and examined the sand carefully. A glance assured him that Chris' story had some basis in facts for numerous footprints were impressed upon the firm, white sand. He studied them with eager interest. They were not fishermen's tracks, or those of his companions, for the fishermen all wore big, heavy boots, and he and his chums were shod in rough, broad-toed, working shoes, while the tracks indicated a small shoe--possibly a number seven--and their shape suggested expensive footwear. "If I were a story book detective, Chris, I could tell from these tracks the age, size, and color of the one who wore them; his height, the color of his hair, and what he ate for breakfast; but, as I am only a common, every-day mortal, all I can make out of them is that your ghost was a man, and a pretty heavy one, too, judging from the way his feet sank into this hard sand; see, our shoes hardly make an impression. If his clothes matched his shoes, he must have been well dressed. I should say that he wasn't very old either for here is where he jumped at least five feet. That must have been when you worked your charm or rabbit's foot on him." "I say hit was a ghost," persisted Chris, stubbornly. "Hit was white, all white, an' hit vanished jes' like that." "And here's where it vanished," said Charley, following a line of the footprints to where they led up into the fringe of palms. "He might as well have vanished, though, for we cannot track him in this hard ground; so we may as well go back to the cabin. Hereafter, Chris, just as soon as it comes dark, go into the cabin and bar the door and nothing will hurt you. The charm will guard you from any stray ghosts and the bars and rifle will keep anything else out." "Dat's all right, Massa Chas," said the little negro, bravely. "I ain't scared much ob de ghost now, I'ze seed how dat charm works. An' golly! I reckon dat ghost is de only thing dis nigger ever was scared of." Vain as was this boast, Charley knew it was true. He had seen the plucky little negro in many dangers and had never known him to show a sign of fear except at the unknown which excited all the superstitious fears of his race. It still lacked an hour to time to go fishing and Charley lay down on his couch but he could not sleep. He lay quiet, puzzling over Chris' experience. Coupled with the mysterious shots of the day before, it made a problem that defied all his attempts at solution. "Who could the unseen one be? Certainly not one of the fishermen, the tracks proved that. Chris' oft-repeated declaration that the ghost was all in white suggested that it might be a tourist. Tourists often dressed in white duck or linen in the tropics, while thinner-blooded natives always wore warmer clothing at this season of the year. But what would any tourist want on the island, and above all, why remain hidden. After all, the mysterious one was friendly to them so why worry about the matter? But was he friendly? Might not those mysterious shots have been aimed at them as well as the fishermen?" And then a startling thought occurred to the lad. "Might not it be an escaped lunatic?" That would explain the queer actions for which he could find no other logical reason. The thought was most distasteful. A lunatic at large on the island, and armed with a deadly weapon was more to be feared than all the hostile fishermen. With an effort, Charley shook off his gloomy speculations and rising, proceeded to don his fishing clothes. He was dead tired and would gladly have staid in this night but he felt that he must not hold back. They must fish every night while the weather was fine and they could get out. There would be stormy nights when they could not get out and they must work their best to make up for their lack of experience. When he was fully dressed, he aroused his companions. They were still stiff and sore from the unaccustomed labor and their hands were swollen and painful from the many pricks they had received, but their long sleep had refreshed them and they attacked with ravenous appetites the hearty supper Chris had cooked. "I am going in the opposite direction to-night," Charley announced, as they took their places in the launch and started out. "I got a wireless message to-day telling me that there is a big bunch of fish to the north of us. It's a fact," he replied, in answer to his companion's questioning looks. "All day there has been a big flock of pelicans hovering over the water in that direction. They often follow up large bunches of fish to pick up the ones wounded by sharks." They had run but a little way when he gave the order to cast anchor. "I think we have gone far enough," he said. "It is easier to find a big school at night than in the day time and I do not wish to run by them in the launch. Somehow, I've got a hunch that we are going to strike a big bunch, from the space those pelicans were spread out over the water." His suppressed excitement communicated itself to his companions and they fidgeted about, impatient for dark to come. It came at last and they lost no time in getting away from the launch. For perhaps a mile they rowed on in silence, then Charley ceased rowing and thrust an oar down deep into the water. He viewed the result with dissatisfaction. "For some reason the water does not fire to-night," he announced. "It happens that way very often. I am sorry for we'll have to fish by sound, and that is much more difficult. Now whenever I stop rowing both of you stop also. That will give me a better chance to listen." Resuming his oars, he continued his cautious advance, pausing every little while and straining his ears for the faintest sound from the water. At last, he stopped suddenly. His quick ear had caught the sound for which he had been waiting. "Listen!" he cried, excitedly. From far ahead came a faint rippling murmur frequently broken by soft pats upon the water. "That's the school," he declared, eagerly. "It's a big one and they are working this way. All we have to do is to hold our boats in position and wait. They are coming straight for us." "If those are mullet, they don't sound as though they amounted to much," said Captain Westfield, doubtfully. "I've heard mullet jump when they made a splash like you'd thrown an anchor overboard." "Mullet working that fashion, you never want to run," Charley explained. "Fishermen have a saying: 'Never fish jumping mullet.' When mullet are schooled up they do not jump high because of injuring others in their fall. That patting sound you hear is the flipping of their tails above water." Keyed up to the highest pitch our three fishermen waited the coming of the steadily advancing multitude. "Pass me the end of your net, Captain," Charley at last directed, in a voice that trembled with excitement. All ready with oars dipped he waited, waited until even in the darkness Walter could see the advancing school coming, bearing a tiny wave before them. Nearer crept the wave, fifty feet, thirty feet, twenty feet, then--"Go!" Charley shouted, and the boats, driven by the strength of excitement, leaped in amongst the frightened school. Around them the water boiled and foamed with the frightened fish. They struck the sides of the skiffs like hailstones on a tin roof. They battered against the dipped oars making them vibrate like an electric current. Charley held on his course as long as he dared before giving the signal to close up. When they came together, the end of his net barely crossed over Walter's. "I came near losing them all by being too greedy," he panted. "A few feet more and my net would not have reached you and they would have poured out of the gap like quicksilver. Well, I guess we've got enough for our breakfast, all right." "How many do you think we've got?" Walter questioned, eagerly. "Wait and see," Charley laughed. "Come on and let's get drummed up good and start picking up as quick as we can. I fancy we've got plenty of work ahead of us." The drumming finished, they rowed back to the ends of their nets. Walter leaned over and dragged his aboard, then gave a shout of delight. "They are sticking in it like pins in a pin cushion," he shouted. "Same here," agreed Charley, happily, "and I guess, the captain is in the same fix." In a few minutes their boats had drifted apart and put a bar to further conversation, but Walter grinned as there floated over the water Charley's voice singing all the songs he knew, and the captain's whistle going over and over the one and only tune he knew, "The Sailor's Hornpipe." Evidently things were coming well with them. For himself, he labored steadily and happily on for every yard of net pulled aboard yielded up at least a dozen silvery captives. Time flew with flying footsteps and when, at last, he straightened up to get a drink of water from his jug, he was surprised to see a gray light stealing over the waters. Day was breaking and the night had passed away. He could see Charley and the captain, plainly. Charley's net was all aboard and he was helping the old sailor with his. Both their skiffs lay dangerously low in the water. He glanced down at his own boat. Her gunwales were nearly level with the water under the weight of the fish in her, and he had still a hundred yards of net to pick up. CHAPTER XIV. A CUNNING TRICK. WALTER had still some seventy-five yards of his net in the water, when Charley, having finished with the captain, ran the launch down alongside of him. "Throw part of your fish in here and then just pull the rest of your net aboard," he directed. "Don't stop to pick out the fish. I'll do that on the way home. We've got to hustle and get those fish over to Clearwater. It is getting late and it will only take a short time longer to spoil them. Some have been out of water nearly all night." He and Walter changed places, and while Charley picked out the fish with nimble, skilful fingers, his chum started up the engine and headed the launch back for camp. The sun was well up when they reached it, and pausing only to empty the fish from the skiffs into the launch, the launch was headed across for Clearwater, leaving behind the three skiffs, and the captain to help Chris pull out the nets. "I wish I could let you stay behind and rest up," Charley told his chum, "but I have to have someone to stay in the launch while I go up to the fish house," and he told his experience of the day before which up to now he had not had the opportunity to relate. Walter was indignant over the underhanded trick and was frankly puzzled by the account of Chris' ghost. "It is certainly queer how we fall into difficulties in everything we undertake," he said. "Now, we have only been here a few days and already we are involved in a smuggling case, have had trouble with a gang of fishermen, and are tangled up in a ghost mystery. It does beat all how we always seem to get into trouble." "We have always been lucky in getting out of it," Charley reminded him. "Yes, but you know the old saying that 'the pitcher that goes often to the well is sure to get broken.'" "But the pitcher that does not go, gets no water," grinned Charley. "The facts are that we all want to be making big money in a short time and the big money lies in dangerous and unusual pursuits. If we stuck to the slow, well-beaten pursuits, we would have no more troubles than anyone else, I dare say." "Well, I am beginning to get wearied with too many adventures," Walter confessed. "If we pull out of this fishing business with a good sum to our credit, I'm going to hunt for some quiet pursuit like raising chickens or tending sheep." "We've got two months of the fishing season yet," remarked his chum, thoughtfully, "then comes the closed season when the law does not permit anyone to fish. Well, if we have good luck, we may make a fair bit in two months. Of course, we cannot expect many catches like last night's but we ought to make something right along if we work hard." Further conversation was ended by their arrival at the dock. Several fishermen were lounging on the pier and they crawled to the edge looking down with envious eyes at the launch's load. Among them, Charley noted Hunter's sallow, sneering face. He paused only to make the launch fast then hurried up for the fish house. Walter lay back on a seat and rested while he waited the arrival of the wagons. The fishermen, after a few idle questions as to where the catch had been made, and which way the fish had been working, gradually drifted away to their various duties, most of them heading for shore to work upon their nets and boats, but Hunter and a couple of companions disappeared in one of the shanties on the other side of the dock. "So that's where the rat lives," Walter reflected. "He would have a good chance to take a pot shot at me from there if he dared but he wouldn't try anything so raw as that. I don't believe he would take such a risk in broad daylight with so many around." The lad's meditations were interrupted by the arrival of the first wagon from the fish house. He helped to load it and as soon as it was gone settled back to his resting. As he lay back with every muscle gratefully relaxed, his quick ear caught a peculiar sound. On his guard from Charley's experience of the day before, he raised up and looked carefully around. The sound was easy to locate. It came from the shanty Hunter had entered. He could see something dripping down in large drops from the slat-like floor. "They have got a leaky water pail or something of the kind," he guessed, then, as a peculiar smell was wafted to his nostrils, he lay back again with a grin. "Their gasoline can has sprung a leak," he decided. "The gas is all running out. If it was anyone else but Hunter, I'd call and tell him about it, but as it is his, it can all leak away for all I care," and he lay back and listened with a certain satisfaction to the steady drip of the escaping fluid. Half dozing he heard footsteps in the shack and a moment later the scratch of a match. The next instant he was on his feet, his heart beating wildly. It had happened like a flash of lightning. All around the launch the water was aflame. Fool that he had been. He had been caught by a trick simple but cunning. That film of oil on the water had only needed a dropped match to set it aflame. For a moment he stood helpless, bewildered by the sudden catastrophe. The oil had drifted all around the launch and she was in the center of a sheet of flame. Already he could smell the blistering paint on her hull, and the heat smote him in the face like a fiery blast. Only for a moment he stood thus paralyzed. Then his wits, accustomed to work quickly in emergencies, swept back. With a leap, he gained the bow and with his sheath-knife severed the rope which held the launch to the dock. Springing back to the engine, he shoved on the switch and flung the fly wheel over. Instantly the motor began to throb and the threatened launch backed slowly out of the sheet of flame. Safe outside the danger zone, Walter shut off the engine and with his cap beat out the patches of flame that clung to the launch's sides. Then he leaned over and grimly inspected his craft. Ten minutes before she had been a dainty thing in her coat of white, now she looked like an ancient wreck with her scorched and smoke-grimed sides on which the melted paint hung in ugly, dropsical blisters. The worst of it was there was no redress for the damages done her. So cunning was the scheme that it bore all the semblance of an accident, though the wrathful lad knew it was anything but that. He could imagine scoundrels chuckling to themselves in the closed shack and his blood boiled in his veins. How we would like to repay them for the fright and damage. He sat down for a moment and strove to gain control of his temper for he realized that an outburst on his part would do no good and might make more trouble. As soon as he calmed down a bit, he started up the engine and worked the launch back to the dock. A wagon was waiting and its driver looked down in amazement at the sadly-altered launch. "What happened to you?" he questioned. "Some gasoline and a match," Walter replied, carelessly. "No damage done beyond some scorched paint. Please report it to Mr. Daniels and tell him we will repaint her as soon as there comes a spell of bad weather when we cannot fish." The driver departed with his load satisfied with the explanation for accidents were common amongst the fishing fleet. In half an hour longer the last of the fish had been carted away and Charley came hustling down with a beaming face, which fell as he caught sight of the launch. He asked no questions, however, but jumped aboard and shoved off. Once under way Walter enlightened him. "Those fellows are clever in their meanness," said Charley, with grudging admiration. "One would not think from Hunter's looks that he had much brains. We have certainly got to be on our guard every minute. That's twice in two days he has nearly put us out of business without exposing himself." "I wish we could get even with him," declared Walter, wrathfully. Charley grinned. "In a way we are even with him already. There must be five hundred dollars' worth of liquor in that cache and he dare not touch a bottle of it as long as we are on the island. Seriously though, I would give a good deal to catch him in such a way that we could have the law on him. Until we do, we will have to be watchful and avoid open trouble. He is pretty sure to make a slip sooner or later. The cleverest of rascals do, and then will be our chance if he does not get us first. I am beginning to understand why the rest of the fishermen stand in such fear of incurring his enmity. There is the captain and Chris waiting for us on the dock. I wonder what's the matter. They ought to have been through their work and the captain asleep long ago." By this time, they had drawn near to the little pier and could plainly see the little negro and the old sailor pacing about in evident excitement. In a few more minutes, the launch glided in alongside the dock and the cause of the excitement became apparent. The two were standing by a heap of broken splintered planks that had once been their extra skiff. "What does this mean?" demanded Charley, in deepest discouragement. "I dunno, Massa Chas," replied the grieved little negro, "but I s'pect hit's some ob dat white trash's doings. Late last night I hears a boat acoming. First off I thought hit was you-alls, but pretty soon I 'lowed it wasn't 'cause de engine didn't sound like yourn. Hit stopped at de dock an' I gets to a crack an' peeps out. Pretty soon hyar comes four fellows astealing up de path. I up an' hails 'em an' dey stops short. I guess dey had reckoned dat dar was no one hyar 'cause ob de launch being gone. I shoots off de rifle an' dey took to der heels. Pretty soon I hears a breaking noise down by de dock an' den de put-put ob der boat, as dey puts off. An' dis mornin' I finds de skiff jes' disaway." "And that ain't all," broke in Captain Westfield, pointing over to where their extra net lay on its rack of poles. The boys gave a gasp of dismay. The new unused net was a mass of hanging strips. It had been literally cut and hacked to pieces. "This sort of thing has got to stop," declared Charley, white with rage. "Our catch last night came to a hundred and fifty dollars but it will cost forty-five dollars to replace that skiff, fifty dollars to replace that net, and at least twenty dollars to repair the launch, and all that damage has been done in a few hours. Goodness knows what they will do to us next. Things cannot go on this way any longer." His companions looked at him questioningly but he shook his head disparagingly. "I haven't a ghost of an idea what to do," he admitted, gloomily. "Maybe a little sleep will clear my head and bring some plan. I'm going up and turn in." He staggered drunkenly as he made his way up to the cabin. He was utterly exhausted, nerve and body. Once inside, he flung himself upon his couch and was instantly asleep. Chris tried to arouse him for dinner but it was like trying to awaken one, dead. Nature was claiming her due. CHAPTER XV. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS. IT was late in the afternoon when Charley at last awoke. The death-like sleep had done him a world of good and, except for stiffness and muscles that still ached, he felt his old self again. His companions were both up, moving about and he greeted them brightly. "I am feeling as fit as a fiddle," he declared. "As soon as I get a bite to eat I'll be ready for another night's fishing." "To-night is Saturday night," observed Captain Westfield, hesitatingly. "I don't want to stand in the way of making money, but I 'low it won't do no hurt for us to lay in to-night. We might get into a school that would keep us working all night, like last night, and it's noways right to work on the Lord's day." "That's right," agreed Charley, heartily, "I had lost track of the days. We will not go out again until midnight, Sunday night. I don't believe anyone ever really lost anything by obeying the Lord's command to keep his day holy." "Have you figured out any plan for dealing with the fishermen?" Walter inquired, anxiously. "Nothing very brilliant," his chum admitted. "One thing I think we had better do at once is to remove all that liquor to another hiding place and let them think we have destroyed it. It may make them feel more bitter toward us but they will no longer have a motive for driving us from the island. I would like to destroy it entirely but we have no right to do that. That is the sheriff's business. One thing, there is nothing like a good sleep to do away with worry and discouragement. I feel quite hopeful, now, but I was almost ready to quit this morning. After all I guess Hunter has done us about all the damage he can. Our other nets and boats we will always have with us and he will not have much chance to injure them if we keep watch of them. With the liquor gone, they will not be likely to bother us on the island, and, if they do, all we have will be in the cabin protected by a good rifle. Let's change the hiding place, now. We have time to do it before dark." His companions had no better plan to suggest so they readily agreed to his proposal. Taking with them some bits of thin boards for spades they sought the beach and turned into one of the paths that led to the buried liquor. "This smuggling business must have been going on for a long time judging from the number of these paths and the way they are worn," Charley observed. "Hunter ought to be rich from the enormous profits he makes on the vile stuff. It can be bought for a dollar a gallon in Cuba and on this side, I believe, it retails for five dollars a gallon." "The man who follows an evil trade, seldom prospers," said Captain Westfield, sagely. "In the end he has to pay for his ill-gotten gains. Generally he has to pay in this life, and he always has to pay in the hereafter." "I believe you are right," Walter agreed. "I have noticed that saloon-keepers and that class never seem happy. Even those who make money seem to be cursed with drunken children or something equally bad, and if they have a shred of conscience, they must suffer terribly in secret for the misery they cause and the punishment they must expect in the life hereafter." This conversation had brought them to the cache, and, pulling off their coats, they fell to work with their rude spades. They worked with a will and sent the loose sand flying for the sun was sinking low and they wished to complete their task before dark. In a few minutes they had made a hole a couple of feet deep, and some ten feet across. "We ought to be down to it," said Charley, with a puzzled frown. "It must be covered deeper than I thought." They worked on for a few minutes longer, then Charley threw down the board with which he had been shoveling. "It has been taken away," he declared, voicing the conviction which had grown upon his companions. "They got it last night, after all, Chris." "I doan see how, Massa Chas," objected the little darkey, "I watched dem come up de path an' I watched dem run away." "They must have come back after you went to sleep," Charley said, but Chris shook his head decidedly. "I doan sleep none arter dat," he persisted. "I laid awake and watched de balance ob de night." "Maybe, they had a boat on the gulf beach, also," Walter suggested, "and while some of them drew attention to the dock, the others removed the stuff." "Well, anyway, it's gone, and I am glad of it," Charley said. "Maybe they will not trouble us any more now. I confess that they were beginning to get on my nerves. Let's go back to the cabin and get supper and have a good sleep. Thank goodness we will likely rest one night in peace." His companions were nothing loath for they had not yet got entirely over their aches and pains. The night passed away uneventfully and morning found them entirely their old selves once more. "We are over the worst part now," Charley assured them. "Of course we will often come in very tired but we will never again feel like we did those first two nights, and the longer we fish the less we will mind the labor." As soon as breakfast was over, Captain Westfield produced his old, well-worn Bible from which he was never separated and read a couple of chapters of the story of Him he loved with all his big, simple, trusting heart. The simple service was just over when they heard the throbbing of an engine and they hurried down to the dock just in time to greet the Roberts who had come over in their launch to pay them a friendly call. It was pleasant to our little party to see friendly faces and hear kindly conversation after all the roughness and suspicion they had met among the unfriendly fishermen. It was good to feel that they were not alone entirely in their new life and that there was someone who took a friendly interest in them and wished them well. They began to have a strong liking for the three sturdy brothers, they appeared so frank, open and sincere. Bill had brought over with him the rifle he had mentioned and presented it to them, together with a box of cartridges. He was deeply interested to learn that the liquor had been removed. "It is a queer thing," he remarked. "I saw the Hunter gang come in Friday night about midnight. I had got caught over to Clearwater with a loose shaft and I was working on it when their boat came in. I supposed they had been fishing and I glanced into their launch to see what they had caught. It was empty. Of course, they could have hidden a few bottles in the lockers but not any such amount as you say was buried here. They were all mad as the deuce and quarreling amongst themselves. I didn't get the shaft fixed until about two o'clock. Their boat was still at the dock when I left and I could hear them snoring in their shanty. Another thing, I was over again last night to see if our new nets had come and I couldn't help but notice that apparently there was no drinking going on. Saturday night is pay night, and, if Hunter had had that liquor, he would certainly have been handing it out on the quiet and there would have been more or less drunken men about." "Then who could have taken it, if the fishermen didn't?" demanded Charley, thoroughly puzzled. "Can't imagine, unless that ghost of Chris' did it," admitted Bill, with a grin. "That was a curious thing to happen, and if I did not know that you fellows are the truthful kind, I would believe you were trying to kid me with that yarn. We have been here some time, and we have never heard of any stranger on this island. Let's take a look over: it again and see if there is any cave or other place a man could hang out." The others readily agreed to his proposal, and all set out together for a closer exploration of the island. They made a thorough search from end to end, and from shore to shore, but could find no place a man could hide out or any trace of human habitation. The shores were sloping sand beaches without rocks or caves and the only growth was the scanty groups of palms. They returned to the cabin more mystified than ever for they had convinced themselves beyond doubt that they were the only occupants of the island. "Well, if the fishermen haven't got that liquor, I suppose we must look for more trouble," Charley sighed. "I expect you may," Bill agreed. "Even if they have got it, I guess, they would not give you a very long rest. As soon as it was gone, they would want to bring in more and this is the only island around with a good gulf beach to land the stuff on. Also it's the handiest and most convenient for their purposes." "Then it's a case of move or be in trouble all the time," said Walter, dubiously. "Yes, that's about it," Bill agreed. "We can't leave yet," said Charley, decidedly, "so we will have to take whatever is coming to us. If we could only catch them in the act of smuggling, we could get rid of them for good and be conferring a blessing on the rest of the fishermen besides." "That's the very thing I've been thinking of," Bill agreed. "Whether they got the liquor again or not, they are sure to try the game again as soon as they think it's safe. I've been doing considerable thinking about it since I talked to you before and I've got a scheme I think might work." He proceeded to unfold his plan while the others listened with eager interest. "It might work," said Charley, thoughtfully, "but, while we are waiting, they may do us all kinds of injuries." "That's a risk you are running, anyway," Bill reminded him, "and we Roberts will do all in our power to help you. Call on us any time, day or night, if you are in trouble and you will find us ready." Charley thanked him heartily for his offer and soon after the Roberts took their leave. The little party were still on the dock watching their launch out of sight when they noticed another launch put out from the Clearwater pier, and it soon became apparent that it was headed for their island. "It's Hunter's craft," announced Walter, as it drew nearer. "Looks as though he had waited for the Roberts to leave to pay us a visit." As the launch drew nearer they saw it contained but one person and that one Hunter himself. CHAPTER XVI. AN ACCIDENT. HUNTER greeted the little party with a smile intended to be pleasant but which resembled a grimace on his sallow, evil face. "Good day, and how are all of you this fine day. Well, I hope," he said. "We are all right," Charley answered, curtly. "What do you want?" "Which of you is the leader of this pleasant little party? I want a little business talk with the leader," he said, fawningly. "Just a little business talk. It won't take more than five minutes." "Wall," observed Captain Westfield, "when we are at sea I'm generally the head man, but hyar on shore an' at this fishing business, I reckon Charley thar does the leading." "And a good leader he is too, I'll bet," said Hunter, flatteringly. "Oh, cut out all the soft-soap business," said Charley, shortly, disgusted with the fellow's attempts at flattery. "If you have anything to say to us say it." "But it's a private business," Hunter protested. "Just let me talk to you alone for a few minutes." Charley was about to refuse the request but curiosity as to what Hunter wanted to say prevailed. With a wink at his chums he accompanied the fellow to one side, apart from his companions. "Now, say what you have to say and be quick about it," he said, curtly. Hunter hesitated a moment. "Suppose there was something on this island that I was interested in," he began. "There is," said Charley, with a grin, "but if you want to talk to me, talk plainly. I know you buried that aguardiente on the island." "All right, say I did," agreed Hunter, defiantly, dropping his friendly pose. "I don't mind saying I did to you. You can't make anything out of that. If you said I told you I did, I'd swear I didn't. That's why I wanted to talk to you alone. I wasn't hankering for any witnesses to our talk. "Might as well wait and hear what I have to say," he continued, doggedly, "because I won't say a word before the others." Charley had started to join his companions but he paused in indecision, and Hunter went on eagerly. "Say, I did put the stuff there. Say, I could make a lot of money off it right now. Say, I ain't going to dig it up with witnesses to see and testify agin me. Say, I'd give you fifty dollars to take your party off the island for one single night, one hundred dollars if you quit the island for good. What would you say to that, eh?" Charley considered for a moment. "Nothing doing," he replied, slowly. "In the first place, you and your gang have done us more than one hundred dollars' damage. No use denying it," he said, hotly, as Hunter protested his innocence. "You were pretty slick with your tricks but we know who has been responsible for our troubles. In the second place, to smuggle in and to sell liquor in a dry county is a felony. If we connived at we would be guilty also. Third, I wouldn't take your word for anything. Lastly, I don't know where the stuff is, anyway." "You lie!" snarled Hunter, his little black eyes flashing evilly. "You know where it is buried." Charley grew white around the lips. "Be careful what you say," he cautioned. "If you will just follow me, I'll show you something." He led the way in silence to where the liquor had been buried. At sight of the hole and the freshly upturned earth, Hunter grew livid with rage. "You've stole it, you've stole it," he gasped. "We have not touched the stuff," Charley denied. "If you fellows didn't remove it, I don't know who did." "A likely yarn," Hunter sneered. "Nobody knew it was on the island except you and us." He conquered his rage with an effort. "Say," he said, "let's be partners in this. You can't sell the stuff like we can. You don't know the fellows who will buy and keep their mouths shut like we do. I tell you, even we, have to be mighty careful. Why, you'd get arrested before you got it half sold out. Let's be partners; that's fair. There's good money in it. You fellows could tend to the running of it and we could do the selling. We would split the profits up even." His earnestness convinced the lad that Bill Roberts was right. The fishermen had not got the liquor. "I have told you the truth, Hunter," he said. "We have not got the stuff and we do not know who has." "You're holding out on us," Hunter fairly screamed. "You are trying to hog the whole thing. All right, young fellow, what we will do to you will be a plenty. We haven't started on you good, yet. We'll make you regret the day you were born before we are through with you." "Get off this island," commanded Charley, his patience at an end. "Try all your tricks you want to. We are on the watch for them now. Sometime you'll make a slip and we'll take a turn. Now go!" Hunter walked down to his boat sullenly, muttering oaths and threats that Charley ignored. "That fellow is cunning," the lad said, as he related the conversation to his companions. "He admitted everything, but the admission does us no good. He would swear he had said nothing of the kind and the rest of you could not testify for you did not hear his words." The incident depressed the spirits of all. They had begun to think the persecutions were over and now they threatened to begin afresh. "Well, there is no help for it," said Charley. "We will have to endure it until we get our plan to working. We will just have to be on our guard day and night until it is settled. Let's turn in now and forget it while we catch a nap. We will need the rest if we are going out at midnight." They had no watch amongst them but Charley possessed the not uncommon gift of being able to wake at any hour he desired. When he awoke he satisfied himself by a glance at the stars that he was not mistaken in the hour and then aroused his companions. As the time was short before daylight, they ran but a little way from the dock before anchoring the launch and taking to the boats. They had hardly got fairly started with the skiffs when Charley called a halt. "See anything over where you are, Walt?" he called. "Yes," shouted back his chum, eagerly, "the water is alive with fish of some kind." "Same here," Charley stated, "but I can't make out just what they are. They are not catfish, and yet, they don't fire just like mullet. Let's try them with just a little piece of our nets and see what they are before we make a big circle." They had run out but a few yards of net when he gave the signal to close up. "We will not drum up any," he said, as he halted his boat just inside the little circle. "We will get enough in the nets, without, to tell what they are and will not frighten the rest of the school." A few minutes sufficed to pick up the few yards of net they had out. Charley scanned his puzzledly as it came inboard. It contained no fish but was filled with great gaping holes here and there. "Not a scale," he announced, disgustedly. "Did you fellows get anything?" "Nothing but a lot of holes," said Captain Westfield. "I've got a lot of the queerest looking fish I ever saw," Walter exclaimed. "Row over and take a look at them. One of them bit me. Gee! but it hurts!" A few strokes of his oars brought Charley alongside and he peeped over into his chum's skiff. A score of big, eel-like, repulsive-looking creatures squirmed in the bottom. One glance and Charley, chucking his anchor aboard Walter's skiff, sprang into it. "Quick, show me where it bit you!" he cried. Walter held out a hand in the palm of which a tiny puncture oozed out occasional drops of blood. Charley whipped out a cord from his pocket, bound it loosely around the wrist of the wounded hand and thrusting an oarlock in the slack twisted it around until the cord dented into the flesh. "Now, stick your hand over into the water and keep it there," he commanded. Seizing an oar, he gingerly ladled the repulsive-looking creature out of the skiff. "Whew! My arm aches clear up to the shoulder!" Walter exclaimed. "What were those nasty-looking fish, anyway?" "Morays, a kind of salt water eel," said his chum, gravely. "I don't want to frighten you, dear old chum, but those things are poisonous, almost as poisonous as a snake." Walter received the startling information coolly. "I suspected they were poisonous as soon as my arm began to ache," he said, quietly. "Will I lose my hand do you think?" "I guess not," lied Charley, cheerfully. He could not bear to tell him that he was likely to lose his life as well as his hand. Calling the captain to follow, the lad rowed the two skiffs to the launch, made them fast, and helped his chum aboard. As soon as the captain fastened on, he started the engine and headed the launch back for the dock. He was thankful that they had not come far from home, for, short as the distance was, before they reached the little pier, Walter's arm had swollen to twice its natural size and he had fallen into a kind of listless stupor. The captain and Charley helped him tenderly out of the launch and supported him up to the cabin where they laid him out on his couch. Charley looked about in helpless despair. "If I only had some of that aguardiente, now, there would be a good chance to save him," he said, bitterly. "I don't think there was time for much of that poison to get into his circulation before I got the cord around his wrist and shut it off. Well, it isn't much use, but we will make a fight for it. Chris, heat up some water, quick, and make a big pot of coffee, as strong as you can make it." The little negro flew to do his bidding and, in a few minutes, Charley had the wounded hand plunged in a bucket of scalding hot water and was forcing cup after cup of strong, steaming coffee down his chum's throat. CHAPTER XVII. MORE MYSTERIES. "WE have got to get a doctor just as quick as we can," Charley declared. "I wish you could go, Captain. I would rather be with him and do what little I can for him. I'm afraid he will not last till you can get a doctor over here." "But I do not know how to run the launch," the old sailor reminded him. "That is so, I will have to go," agreed the lad. "Well, I guess, you can do as much for him as I could. Keep his hand in hot water all the time and keep forcing the coffee down him every few minutes. I'll be back as quick as I can." Seizing his hat Charley started for the dock on a run. In a few minutes he was back, consternation on his face. "Something's broke about the engine," he cried, "I can't start it up and I can't see to fix it in the dark. You'll have to go over in one of the skiffs, Captain. You will make better time than I could for you row better." The old sailor was out and gone almost before he finished speaking, and in a minute Charley could hear the quick stroke of oars coming from the water. "Do you think Massa Walt's goin' to die, Massa Chas?" Chris inquired in an awed whisper as they watched the stupefied lad. "I am afraid so, Chris," Charley said, sadly. "Some of that awful poison has got into his blood. It checks the heart action. That is what I am giving the coffee for. It stimulates the heart and makes it work faster. But it is not powerful enough to overcome the deadening effect of the poison. It needs a powerful heart stimulant to do that. Whiskey would do fairly well. Oh! how I wish I had a couple of bottles of that aguardiente now!" He lapsed into silence and sat sorrowfully watching his stricken chum, while Chris crouched at his side, deepest grief on his little ebony face. Suddenly there came a sharp rap at the door, and Charley sprang to his feet. "It can't be the doctor so quick," he said. "Come in," he called out. There was no answer to his invitation and stepping to the door he flung it open. Nothing but blank darkness greeted his searching eyes. He stepped outside and looked around but the darkness was so dense he could not see twenty feet from the cabin. Puzzled, he was turning back into the cabin when his foot came into contact with something on the step. He picked the object up and bore it to the light. One glance and he gave a shout of joy. "Aguardiente, Chris," he cried. "May the Lord bless whoever put it there." He seized a cup and pouring it half full of the fiery liquor forced it down his chum's throat. He allowed a half hour to pass by, then administered another dose. At times he fancied he could trace a slight return of color in his chum's pale face but, if any, it was so slight that he could not be certain. At the end of an hour he gave a third stiff dose of the powerful stimulant. "I wish the captain would get here with the doctor," he said, anxiously. "I can't see as he is improving any. I fancy most that stuff is doing is to help keep him from slipping away from us." "Dat's de captain, now," Chris said, joyfully, as there came a brisk rap at the door. It was not the captain but a young, athletic-looking man bearing a small, black, leather case. "I am the doctor," he announced. "How is the boy? Still alive?" "Yes, he is still living," said Charley, in relief, "but I don't think he will last much longer unless you can help him." "What have you done for him?" the doctor inquired, as he knelt by the stricken lad and felt his pulse. Charley told him briefly. "Very good," the doctor commented. "Probably he would have died before now but for those aids. He is pretty far gone but maybe we can pull him around." He laid off his coat and went to work. From his case he produced a hypodermic syringe and a box of tablets. "Some warm water and a spoon," he requested. Chris was instantly at his side with the required articles. He filled the spoon with warm water and dropped one of the tablets into it. It colored the water a beautiful scarlet. "Permanganate of potash," he explained. "You fishermen ought to keep some always by you. It's invaluable in cases of snake-bites or other poisonous wounds." He filled his syringe from the spoon and baring Walter's arm injected it into a vein. "I expect your warm water treatment has drawn most of the poison from the wound, but we had better be on the safe side," he observed. He partly filled a basin with warm water and dissolved another of the tablets in it. Then, with his keen, surgeon's lancet, he cut open the flesh around the puncture, washed it out thoroughly with the solution, and then bound it up in soft, white gauze. "That is all we can do, now, but watch," he observed, when he had finished. He sat down with Walter's wrist in his hand and waited the effect of the treatment. "He is responding to the injection nobly," he said at last. "His pulse is getting quicker and his skin is becoming moist. Evidently there is not as much poison in the blood as I feared. Your prompt action has undoubtedly saved his life." In half an hour he gave another injection and watched the result with satisfaction. "Your friend is going to come out all right," he declared, cheerily. A wave of relief swept over Charley. "We can never fully pay you for what you have done," he said, with a lump in his throat. "Money can never square the debt." "That's all right," said the young doctor, heartily. "It's a matter of more than mere pay to most of us doctors when we are able to save a valuable life. I can do no more for your friend at present, but I'll leave some tablets with you to give him from time to time. I think the danger is over, although he will be a pretty sick boy for a couple of days from the reaction of the liquor and drugs he has taken, as well as from the poison itself, but with good nursing, he will pull through all right." Counting out some tiny tablets, he gave them to Charley, seized his hat and case, and with a cheery "good night" opened the door and disappeared in the darkness. He had been gone a full five minutes before Charley recalled that in his anxiety for his chum he had forgotten to ask his name or the amount of his bill. "Not very polite, but the captain will find that out," he consoled himself. "I wonder why the captain did not come up with him. I suppose the dear old chap could not bear the sight of Walter's lying so death-like. Chris, make up some more good, strong coffee and cook some breakfast. The captain's going to be all worn out when he gets back." Daylight was near at hand and with it came the old sailor, looking pale, worn and haggard in the morning light. "Is Walter dead?" he greeted, in a trembling, anxious voice. Charley laughed in sheer joyousness. "Dead nothing," he exulted. "He's getting better every minute. Why, didn't the doctor tell you that?" "I couldn't find the doctor," said the old sailor, in relief. "There was none in Clearwater. I got up the telegraph agent and got him to telegraph to Tarpon Springs for one. He'll come on the noon train. It was the best I could do. I waited to hear from the telegram, that's what's kept me so long." Charley stared at him. "Do you mean that you did not bring over the doctor that was here?" "Are you crazy or am I?" demanded the old sailor. "What do you mean?" "There was a doctor came about an hour after you left," said Charley, slowly. "He staid at least two hours. He gave Walter medicine which has pulled him through. He only left about an hour ago." It was the captain's turn to stare. "I'll be jiggered," he said in awe, "and I saw no motor boat going or coming. Who was he, and how in the world did he know we needed him?" Charley shook his head. "I'll give it up," he said. "However, he'll be back again and will solve the mystery." But the doctor did not reappear. However, the noon train brought a physician from Tarpon Springs. Charley, who, by daylight, had easily found and repaired the engine break, went over in the launch and got him. The new doctor was visibly annoyed when he examined Walter. "I do not understand why I was called on this case," he said, shortly. "The boy is out of all danger. He has had skilful treatment, most skilful treatment. I would not have come had I known there was already a doctor in charge." Charley explained the circumstances. "Your description fits, perfectly, Doctor Thompson of Tarpon Springs," the new doctor observed. "Did he have a finger missing on the left hand?" "He did, the second finger," said Charley, recalling the circumstance. The doctor studied the lad's face closely, started to speak, but checked himself. He was silent during all the trip back to Clearwater but after he got out of the launch he turned and faced Charley. "Young man," he said, coldly, "I do not know what your object was in telling me that string of lies, but I want to impress upon you that you have not deceived me." Charley stared at him in hurt astonishment. "Doctor Thompson dined with me last night," said the physician, icily. "We sat together after and talked in my study until one o'clock. At two o'clock, you say, he was at your camp, an impossible thing for Tarpon Springs is twenty miles away." With a curt nod he turned and strode up the dock leaving behind him an offended, astonished, mystified boy. CHAPTER XVIII. MORE MISCHIEF. ALL the way back to the island, Charley pondered over the mystifying occurrence. "I don't understand it, I don't understand it at all," he said to Captain Westfield whom he found sitting beside Walter who was still sleeping soundly. "There is some mystery about this island that puzzles me. If this sort of thing goes on I'll be converted to Chris' belief in spirits. One unexplainable thing after another happening so frequently is enough to make one lose his wits." "I wouldn't worry my head about it," said the old sailor, placidly. "The mysterious happenings have all been for our own good. Take this last one. Walter would surely have died but for that liquor and the doctor. I don't fear the kind of people or spirits that do that kind of thing. It's the mean, sly tricks of those fishermen that's bothering me. I cannot help but worry as to what they will do next. Just how do we stand now, do you calculate, lad?" Charley figured rapidly. "Our two nights' fishing makes one hundred and eighty dollars coming to us. I guess our grocery bills amount to about thirty dollars, it will cost forty-five dollars to replace the skiff, that ruined net means fifty dollars more, and repainting the launch will cost twenty dollars more. Our other three nets are as good as new. That brings our total expenses up to one hundred and forty dollars, leaving a balance of forty dollars to our credit." "I wish it were a little more," said the captain, wistfully. "If it was twenty dollars apiece, I would vote right now for giving up this fishing business. I've got a feeling that those fishermen are going to do us bad yet. They have pretty near succeeded a couple of times already. Next time we may not be lucky enough to escape. Bill Roberts' scheme might work all right, but it will take time and there's no telling what they may do to us while we are waiting." "I hate to give up," Charley replied, "but I guess it is the wisest thing to do; so far, they have only injured our property, but there is no telling how soon they will do some one of us bodily injury, they are getting desperate. This accident to Walt has made me see things in a different light. I would never forgive myself if one of you should be badly injured by those scoundrels as a result of my being stubborn and refusing to quit. If it were only myself it would be different, but, I do not want to drag the rest of you into the trouble. Walt's close shave has taken all the fighting spirit out of me. I agree with you that we had better quit. But we cannot strike out again with only forty dollars between us. It will be several days anyway before Walt is able to travel and we might as well put in as much of the time as we can fishing. We can notify those fishermen that we are going to leave soon and perhaps they will let up on their persecutions." "Where had we better go from here?" speculated the old sailor. "Back to the East Coast, I guess," answered Charley, wearily. "It's pineapple season and we will be able to get work in the plantations, I guess. They only pay a dollar and a half per day and the work is very hard. But this is the dull season in Florida now and we can't do better. I don't know as it much matters what we do," he concluded, bitterly. "We seem doomed to fail in all our undertakings." "Get that idea out of your head, lad," said the old sailor, gently. "If one lacks confidence, he will never succeed. You are tired out and your nerves are all unstrung from worry and loss of sleep. Go take a walk on the beach and a dip in the surf then come back and catch a nap and things will look brighter." His eyes followed Charley's departing form with pitying fondness. "Poor lad," he sighed, "he hates to give up, and he is thoroughly discouraged. It isn't often he gets that way though the good Lord knows he has but little to keep him bright and cheerful. No father, no mother, and his whole young life a constant battle against hardships and disappointments." When Charley returned his gloominess had vanquished. "Nothing like good salt air and a long swim to get the best of the blues, Captain," he announced, cheerfully. "I feel fit to do battle with the world again now. How's the boy coming on?" "Fine," the captain declared. "I'm expecting him to wake up hungry." "I'll be fixed for him, sho'," declared Chris, eagerly. "Dis has been de longest day for dis nigger, he jus' seemed to be in the way an' ob no account, so he's jus' been fixing up to feed you-all, dat does all de work, jus' de best he kin. Golly I got a supper dat will satisfy Massa Walt all right. I got fresh fish fried nice and brown, big fat oysters from off de rocks roasted in dere own juice, scallops chopped up fine and made inter meat balls, nice fresh corn bread an' plenty of coffee." "It would kill Walt to eat all that," laughed Charley. "Make up a little oyster soup and we will give him that when he wakes up. Your feast will not be wasted," he said hastily, as he saw the little negro's look of disappointment. "You want to remember that the captain and I haven't eaten since yesterday." "Dat's so," agreed Chris, brightening. "Hit's all ready when you is." He had little cause for complaint for when the two had finished there was little but crumbs left of the delicious meal. "Now I am ready to sleep," Charley announced, with a sigh of content. Walt was resting so easily that both Charley and the captain stretched out on their couches leaving Chris to watch and to call one of them to take his place when he became sleepy. The captain relaxed his tired muscles with a sigh of relief. "There's one thing that's been puzzling me a little, Charley," he observed, as he settled into a comfortable position. "How did it happen that Walt caught all those critters while you and I got nothing but holes." "I hadn't thought of that," admitted Charley, thoughtfully. "It is kind of queer; something jumped up, fish all bore down on one net, but, while that would account for Walt getting them all in his net, it does not explain all the holes in ours." It was a trifling circumstance but he puzzled over it a long time after his companion had fallen asleep. The sun was shining brightly when the two awoke for Chris, with unselfish kindness, had watched the night through rather than disturb them. They found Walter awake and greatly improved, the swelling in his arm and hand was subsiding rapidly. He was very weak and was shaky from the effects of the drugs and liquor but that would soon wear off. They were hardly dressed when the Roberts arrived in their launch. They had heard of Walter's accident in Clearwater and had come over to inquire after him and offer any assistance they could give. "Too bad," said Bill, regretfully, when the captain told him of their newly-formed resolve to leave the Island. "We Roberts are sorry to lose you folks. I wish you could stick it out, but, of course, you know your own business best. We will not only miss you but we hate to see that Hunter gang win another underhand victory. With you gone they will take up their old trade of smuggling in booze and making beasts of their fellow fishermen." "It is too bad," the old sailor agreed, "but it is best for us to go before they do us any more harm. We have more coming to us than we owe now, but if they got to us with many more of their tricks, we would be behind with the fish house and then of course we could not go." "Well," Bill Roberts offered, as they were leaving, "if you are going out fishing to-night I'll come over and stay with the boy." Our friends accepted his offer gratefully, for they had been loath to think of leaving their chum alone with Chris, only. It was true he was doing finely but there might come a change for the worse and the little negro would be helpless to get word to them. True to his promise, Bill appeared before sundown and they were free for another hunt for the finny prizes. They were not long in coming upon a promising-looking school of fish which Charley decided to run. Walter's absence made a slight difference in the mode of making the circle, but they got around most of the bunch in good shape. "I believe we are going to make a good haul," Charley declared, with satisfaction, as they rested after drumming up. "There's a lot of fish in the circle and they seem to be hitting the net good." But his hopes gave way to dismay as he pulled in yard after yard of his net without getting a fish. Instead the net seemed riddled with a multitude of holes. "Get anything, Captain," he paused to shout. "Nothing but holes," said the old sailor, disgustedly. "Got a hundred of them." "Queer," Charley muttered. He gathered up some of the loose webbing in either hand and pulled gently. The tested part broke as easily as a spider's web. Every few yards for the entire length of the net he repeated the operation. The result was always the same. He finished picking up and, sitting down, waited dejectedly for the old sailor. "We might as well go home," he said wearily, as the captain pulled alongside. "My net is rotten from end to end. It would not hold a minnow." "Mine is in the same fix," his companion agreed, sadly. "Now, we are in a bad fix. One hundred dollars' worth more nets to be charged up against us, and nothing to fish with." "We are in a bad fix," Charley agreed. "I don't understand it. Those were both new nets, and of the highest grade of twine. They should have lasted for at least three months and here they are gone after only a few nights' fishing. There is something wrong somewhere. Well, come on, let's go home. There is nothing to be gained trying to fish with these nets, they will not hold anything." The trip back to camp was made in silence; they were too utterly discouraged for speech. They found Walter sleeping peacefully and Bill Roberts sitting by his couch reading by the light of a lantern. The big fishermen listened in wondering sympathy to the recital of their experiences. "Those nets should have lasted at least three months," he declared, confirming Charley's statement. "They are good nets. Mr. Daniels is a square fish boss and does not give his fishermen anything but the best. Let's see if we can find out what has happened to them. That will not make them strong again, but it will be of some little satisfaction." CHAPTER XIX. TELLING MR. DANIELS. "THERE are several things that can happen to a net to make it rot quickly," Bill said. "Little things that a greenhorn might not think of any consequence. Now, first, have you run into any big bunches of gilly fish?" "No," Charley answered, "we have been lucky in that respect. I know why you ask the question. The slime from them catches in the knots of the meshes and unless well washed out will hasten their decay." "Correct," agreed Bill. "Then it is not gilly fish that done that damage. Next, have you been hauling your nets out to dry as soon as you got in, mornings." "Yes, they have been on the racks drying before the sun got up good. I've fished enough to know that a hot sun on a wet, heaped-up net will cause the twine to heat and rot quickly." "Well, that does away with another possibility," Bill said. "One of the most frequent causes of net trouble lies with the liming of them." "Yes, I know," the lad agreed. "Some mix the lime with water in their skiffs and throw it on the nets before it has time to slack thoroughly and it then burns up the twine. But that isn't the trouble. I was careful about that. I fixed up a barrel on the dock before we started in to fish. And every night before we started out I would put in a bucket of lime and fill the barrel up with water. Our nets were limed in the morning from that barrel. At least, I am pretty sure they were. I told Chris to do it. He has tended to the nets." "Sho', I always used dat water in de barrel," agreed the little darkey. "Only trouble was dat dar wasn't ebber enough ob it to dose all three nets good. By de time I got your's and de captain's fixed good, I'd have to put in more water to hab enough for Massa Walt's net." "There is your trouble right in that lime barrel," said Bill, with certainty. "It was always weakened down for Walter's net, and you say his net is all right yet." But Charley protested. "I never made the mixture strong enough to do any harm in the first place." "I'm going to take a look," announced Bill, picking up the lantern. "Everything points to that lime water and it must be it." The three followed in his wake as he led the way down to the dock. He examined the nets first. "Gee," he exclaimed, "I should say they were rotten. Let's have a look at Walter's." He stepped over to the rack where hung the lad's net and tested several meshes. "It is not as bad as those others," he announced. "Still it is getting pretty weak, I don't believe it would last out if a good school of fish struck it. Now let's look into that lime-water barrel." He plunged his arm down in the partly-filled barrel and felt the water tentatively. "Where do you keep your barrel of lime?" he asked, as he straightened up. "Right there on shore under that palm tree," Charley pointed out. "Want to look at the lime?" "No," said the big fisherman, absently, "I've seen enough." He led the way back to the cabin in silence. "Well, what do you make of it?" Charley asked when they were seated once more inside. "I'm sure sorry for you, fellows," blurted out the big fisherman, impulsively. "You've been played as mean a low-down trick as was ever played on anyone." "How?" demanded the captain and Charley together. "Someone has mixed potash in with the lime in your lime barrel, and it's just eaten the life out of your twine. It has been done to fishermen more than once around here and by that same gang of rascals. It never occurred to me that it had been done to your net, though, till I felt of that water. Lime water should feel harsh and gritty, but that felt oily and soapy and I knew then what the trouble was. "I wish I could help you out," he said, feelingly, noting the utter discouragement in the three faces. "I would gladly lend you nets if we had any but our old ones are all fished out and we have only three new ones ordered. It was so near the end of the season we did not order any extra ones." "We are mighty grateful to you anyway," Captain Westfield said. "You mustn't mind if we ain't very pleasant company just now. This last business has put us in a bad fix and we have got to study some way out of it." "I know," agreed Bill, sympathetically, "and as I can't do any good here now, I'll run over to camp and turn in. I've got to go over to Clearwater in the morning to tend to a little pressing business. Anything I can get you there?" "No," Charley said, thanking him, "we have got to go over ourselves to-morrow and tell Mr. Daniels about the nets." When the kindly-hearted fisherman was gone, the three sat long debating gloomily what they should do but arriving at no decision. "We might as well turn in," said Captain Westfield at last. "Thar's only one thing I can see clearly. We must go to Mr. Daniels to-morrow, like men, and tell him about our loss. If he can give us any work to do, we must take it and work until we have paid him every cent we owe, if it takes a year to do it." His two companions heartily agreed to this statement. It was clearly the only honest course to take. It was late when they at last got to sleep, and consequently late when they awoke. As soon as they had breakfasted, Charley and the captain started for Clearwater, leaving Chris to look after Walter's wants. On the Clearwater dock they found Bill Roberts and his two brothers. "I'll keep an eye on your launch until you come back, if both of you want to go up to the fish house," Bill offered, a proposal they gladly accepted. For a wonder Mr. Daniels was not busy and Charley poured out the story of their losses in a manly, straightforward manner. "We don't want you to think that we are asking you to take up our quarrels for us," he concluded, flushing. "We simply want to make it plain that we have done the very best we knew how. As we figure it, we owe you now about one hundred and fifty dollars which the prospects do not look very bright for our paying at present. If you have any work we can do, we will gladly work out the debt. If not, we will have to wait until we can get to earning again. But we will pay you every cent just as soon as we possibly can." "Don't worry your head about the debt," said Mr. Daniels, heartily. "I am sure you and your companions have done your best and I am truly sorry you have met with so many misfortunes. What you owe the fish house can stand until you are able to pay it. If I owned the business, I would cancel the debt entirely but I am only manager here." "You are very kind to take it this way," Charley said, gratefully. "I was afraid you might be angry at the failure we have made." Mr. Daniels smiled. "What you have told me about your troubles is not exactly news to me," he said. "You have good friends in those Roberts boys and they have kept me pretty well posted as to how things were going. I would have got rid of that Hunter gang long ago but they are deeply in debt to the Company and the only chance to get any of it back is to take out a little, each week, from the fish they catch. You see, I have got to consider the Company's interests always above my personal wishes. "What concerns me most, now," he continued, "is what you and your friends are going to do now that your nets are gone. Bill Roberts was up to tell me this morning that If I would let you have another set of nets he would stand good for them. But I told him that was unnecessary. I would gladly refit you again on my own responsibility if I had nets, but we have not got another one in the house. Have you any plan for the future?" "No very clear one," Charley admitted. "As you know it's Florida's dull season now. There's very little doing except in the pineapple fields." Mr. Daniels considered for a few minutes. "I do not like to advise you to do it, because it's dangerous work, but there is one thing you might pick up enough money at to tide you over the dull season." "What is it?" Captain Westfield demanded, eagerly. "Hook and line fishing for groupers and grunts out in the gulf. After all, I do not know as it is very dangerous if one keeps close watch of the weather." "The captain here is a regular weather prophet," Charley asserted. "He can smell bad weather hours before it comes." "That's a valuable gift for that kind of work," Mr. Daniels replied. "The grouper banks lay out in the gulf from eight to eleven miles from shore, and it wouldn't do for a small boat to be caught out there in a heavy squall. The more I think of it, the more I think it would be a good thing for you. You can keep right on using the launch, and the hooks and lines you need will cost but little. Of course, there is no big fortune in it but you had ought to make more than wages. Very likely, you could earn enough to pull out of the hole." "I reckon we'd better try it," said Captain Westfield. "I've done a lot of hook and line fishing in my time." "We can start to-morrow," Charley agreed, promptly, his spirits rising at the possibility of a way out of their difficulties. "Very well," agreed Mr. Daniels. "I'll give you a note to the store-keeper to let you have the lines and tackles, as well as what more groceries you need." "I would feel quite hopeful," said Charley, as he thanked the kind-hearted manager, "if I did not fear that Hunter would find some way of still further injuring us." "Silas Hunter will not bother you for a couple of weeks, anyway," Mr. Daniels assured him. "They took him and a couple of his cronies to the Tampa hospital on this morning's train." "Sick?" Captain Westfield inquired, with great relief. "You might call it that," Mr. Daniels smiled. "Bill Roberts got so mad over what he had done to you boys that he came over this morning and gave him a licking he'll not forget in a hurry. Some of the gang tried to interfere and Bill's brothers gave them a dose of the same medicine. Those boys are good friends of yours, and they are friends worth having." "Will not Hunter have them arrested?" inquired Charley, in fear for his zealous friends. Mr. Daniels' smile broadened. "I think not," he said. "Bill warned him if he did, he would repeat the operation over again." CHAPTER XX. THE GROUPER BANKS. "WE are grateful for what you did in our behalf," said Charley, when they again came upon the Roberts on the dock. "We did not expect you to take up our troubles but we cannot find words to express our gratitude for what you have done for us." Big Bill blushed like a school girl. "We didn't do much," he said, awkwardly. "I was going to do it anyway, sometime. It just came off a little sooner than I expected. I don't fancy fighting much--it's poor business--but it's the only way to handle fellows like that Hunter gang--a decent man can't stoop to meet them with their own tricks." "It is a rather primitive way of righting wrongs, but I was not thinking of that," said Charley, earnestly. "I was thinking of the loyal friendship, and the kindly feeling you had for us that prompted the act. It was a big, friendly action, all the more so as we are almost strangers to you." "That's all right," stammered Bill, embarrassed by his thanks. "I guess I beat Hunter up more than I intended to. He drew a knife on me so I couldn't handle him very gently. What did the fish boss have to say?" he inquired, eager to change the subject. The captain told him of the new plan that Mr. Daniels had suggested. "Mr. Daniels is a mighty square man," said Bill, emphatically. "I am glad you are going to follow his advice. We are thinking some of trying the reef fishing, too, until our nets come, so we will likely see a good deal of each other." "The more the pleasanter for us at any rate," declared the old sailor. "Well, I guess we must be going. Chris will be wondering what has happened to us. Good-by. Drop in on us when you get the chance." The trip back to the island was made with lighter hearts than they had brought with them, and they were made still lighter at the sight of Walter's improved condition. He was sitting up in bed arguing warmly with Chris that he was well enough to get up and dress, but the little negro had hidden his clothes and could not be moved by threats or entreaties. "No, Massa Walt," Chris was saying as they entered. "You got to jis' lay quiet. I'se had a terrible time aworryin' an' anursin' you an' I ain't goin' to risk youah getting sick on my hands again through youah foolishness. Golly, I doan know what you white chilluns would do widout dis nigger to watch out foah you-alls." So much was Walter improved, that Charley thought it safe to tell him of all that had happened since his accident. "I am almost glad the nets are gone," he declared, when Charley had finished. "I don't believe I would ever have made a good net fisherman. I could never have grown to like the work." Chris' joy was almost pathetic to see. "I'se sho' going wid you-alls," he cried. "Dis nigger can sho' catch fish with a hook. An' I sho' is glad I doan hab to stay alone on dis ole creepy island at night, no more." And, indeed, perhaps, the part the little negro had so far taken had been as hard and unpleasant as any of theirs. The evening that followed was by far the pleasantest they had spent on the island. Fear of the fishermen was over for the present at least. Walter's recovery was another cause for rejoicing, and they all looked forward to their morrow's work with a pleasurable anticipation that none had felt for the hard, nasty, trying net fishing. So eager was Chris to begin, that he was up long before daybreak cooking breakfast and putting up a hearty lunch for their dinner. The sun was just coming up as they steered out of the inlet into the open gulf. Walter had insisted upon coming with them and lay on one of the seats looking somewhat thin and pale but drawing in increased strength from every breath of the bracing, salt air. The captain was in full command, for, when it was a matter of sea work, Charley quickly gave way to the old, experienced sailor. While they bounded over the blue sparkling waves for the line of coral reefs he brought out the hooks, lines, and heavy sinkers they had purchased and rigged up the tackle for their fishing. It was simple. Just strong braided lines fifty feet long with a heavy lead on one end. Above the lead, he attached three very short lines a couple of feet apart, tying a hook on each. As soon as he decided that they were nearing the reef he ordered the engine slowed down and cast a line over the stern. "It's too deep to see when we get on the reef," he explained, "so we will have to feel for it. That lead on the line pulls along smooth over the sandy bottom but when it strikes the coral lumps on the reef it will begin to jerk." He sat with hand on the line until a series of quick, jumping tremors told him they were over the reef when he ordered the anchor lowered. With eagerness the little party baited the hooks and cast their lines over. They waited breathless for the tugging which would announce a bite, but as the minutes dragged away without a nibble, their high spirits began to lower. "Golly, I could do better than this on the island," grumbled Chris, as he pulled up his line and examined his bait for the twentieth time. The old sailor filled and lit his pipe with a twinkle in his eye. "Wait jist one half hour an' they'll begin to bite," he announced, calmly. "Have you made special arrangements with them," Walter inquired. "Not quite, but fish have their habits the same as people," the captain explained. "They only bite at certain tides. Seems like they had their regular mealtime as one might say, only they go by tides instead of a clock. It's the last of the ebb tide now. In a few minutes it will be flood tide and the fish will all be hunting their breakfasts." "But I have caught fish on both ebb and flood tides, captain," Charley objected. "Yes, an' there are people, too, who are always eating between meals," the old sailor retorted, "but most of them are contented with their regular mealtime." "Golly! dis nigger often wonders how you keeps track ob dem tides," Chris remarked. "I can't tell nothin' 'bout dem, 'cept when I'se on de shore an' can watch the rise and fall." "It's simple, lad," explained the old sailor. "It's the moon that causes the tides. All one has to do is to notice the moon. When the moon is coming up the tide is going down. When the moon is going down the tide is coming up. No matter where you are it is always the same." "I've got a bite," Charley announced, and moon and tides were straightway forgotten by the eager little party. It seemed as though his announcement had been the breakfast bell for the finny creatures below, for before he had got his fish to the surface, his companions were hauling furiously on the lines. Charley gave a shout of exultation as he swung his prize aboard. It was a chunky, reddish fish with mouth and fins of scarlet, and was about fifteen pounds in weight. "That's a red grouper," said the captain, sparing a glance from his own captive. "This one I've got is a black grouper. Those flat, silvery fish Chris and Walter have caught are red-mouth grunts." But the old sailor had no time for further speculations for the sport grew fast and furious. Often they pulled up to find three fish on their line at once, one on each hook. As fast as they unhooked their captives they threw them into the forward cockpit where they soon grew into a beautiful, glistening heap of red, gold and silver hues. For two hours they pulled the fish aboard as fast as they could bait and cast their hooks. Then, as suddenly as they had begun, the fish ceased to bite. "We might as well get up anchor and move to another place," the captain announced. "Has we done catched dem all?" Chris inquired, innocently. "Hardly," said the old sailor, with a laugh, "but a shark or some other sea monster is prowling around down below and has scared them all away." They weighed anchor and drifted back a couple of hundred feet upon the reef where they found the fish biting there the same as before. "I'ze got something queer on my line," announced Chris, as he pulled up hand over hand. "Hit don't jerk none. Hit's jest heavy-like." "A bit of coral, I expect," Charley suggested. All stared at the curious-looking object as Chris slung it in over the side. "Why," said Charley, as he scraped off the clinging moss and barnacles. "It's a doll, just a big, rag doll." "Put it back in the water, lad," said the captain, with a hint of tears in his voice, "put it back. Likely its little mistress sleeps there below the waves. We must not separate her from her dolly." It was only a guess, but the idea took such strong hold of them all that anchor was again weighed and they dropped further along to another place. About four o'clock the captain declared it was time to start for home. "We have done pretty well for one day," he said, "and we have got to get home in time to carry the fish over to Clearwater." His companions were willing to stop. Although they had enjoyed the sport greatly, their arms were aching from the constant pulling and their hands were sore from numerous pricks from hooks and fins. An hour's run brought them back to their island. Here Chris stopped off to get supper, and Walt to lie down and rest a bit, while Charley and the captain carried the fish over. The two were back by the time Chris had supper ready. "We had twelve hundred pounds of grouper and six hundred pounds of grunts, twenty dollars' worth in all," Charley announced, proudly. "Not bad for our first day's work." "Why, that's five dollars apiece," said Walter, delightedly. "If we can keep that up we'll make thirty dollars a week for each one of us." "We can't figure on steady fishing," objected the captain. "That's the worst drawback about this reef fishing. One can only get out in fine weather. Sometimes it blows for a week at a time so that one cannot wet a line." "Then it's up to us to discover something to make money at during stormy weather," Charley declared. It was Chris who hit upon the idea, but the reader will learn about that later. CHAPTER XXI. HAPPY DAYS. FOR a week the weather held fair and each day found our little party, out on the reef, fishing with might and main to make as much money as possible before Hunter returned to his old haunts and tricks. They were thoroughly agreed that they would leave the island when he came back. They were not so much afraid for themselves but they had suffered heavy losses already from his rascality and they did not care to run the risk of being put still deeper in debt. Meanwhile, they were contented and happy in their new pursuit. They were long, happy days that they spent on the reef with the sparkling blue water all around them. The bracing salt breezes giving zest to their appetites, and the ever-new, thrilling expectancy with which they pulled in their prizes, speculating always before it came to the surface its kind, and size. On Saturday night they figured up the credit slips they had been given at the fish house and found that they had made one hundred and twelve dollars during the week. On Saturday night, also, they received a bit of ill news which was good news for them. Bill Roberts heard it from the fishermen at Clearwater, and he hastened over to tell them. It was to the effect that Hunter, discharged from the hospital, was well enough to be about, had proceeded to fill up on bad liquor in celebration of his release, and, as a result, was back in the hospital for a couple of weeks' more treatment. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good," quoted Charley, when he heard the news. "That gives us a couple of weeks more to fish in peace. Now if the weather only holds fair we will be able to pay what we owe and have a little left over to take us to some other place." But the weather did not hold fair. Sunday morning found the wind blowing half a gale from the north-west and the seas rolling high outside. Monday morning it was still blowing with unabated vigor and the sky looked as though there was more to come. "It's going to last for several days," Captain Westfield declared, "then, likely, we will get another spell of fair weather." "Why couldn't it hold off for a couple of weeks longer," Walter grumbled. "Every day lost means a lot to us now." After breakfast, Chris made ready to start out to secure a change for their bill of fare. Having nothing else to do the others went with him. His first move was to secure a supply of the great stone crabs, whose claws, when roasted, they had found so delicious. These were to be found in great numbers on the long mud flats, out in the bay, when low tide left the flats exposed. The boys could see thousands of them as they waded out to the flats. They were feeding or basking in the sun, but at the hunters approach one and all scurried for their hiding places, deep, slanting holes in the soft mud. But Chris was prepared for such tactics. He had fixed for himself a long iron rod with a hook in the end which he would thrust far down into a hole and drag out its squirming, clawing occupant. Then, he would kill it with a stroke of the rod, break off the great claws, and drop them into the sack he carried. In a few minutes the little darkey had secured as many as they could use before they spoiled. The crabs were not the only inhabitants of the flats. Clams were there in plenty and in a short time they dug up all they desired. Then a trip was made to some partly submerged rocks and a goodly supply of big flat oysters secured. "Strange we never see any Clearwater boys over here getting these things when they are so plentiful," Walter commented, as they started back to the cabin. "Golly! I'se been studyin' on dat," Chris said. "'Pears to dis nigger dat we could make right smart ob money getting dese things an' selling dem to de folks ober in de town." "They would hardly buy anything that is so plentiful right close to their homes," Walter objected. "Oh, I don't know about that," said Charley, thoughtfully. "It's too hard work getting them for some people, I suppose. Others are too busy to take the time from their work, maybe. Likely, a lot more have no boats, and probably there are many who don't know how to get them. There may be something worth considering in Chris' proposal." "Let's try it," said Captain Westfield. "We don't stand to lose anything but our work." All went to work with a will and in a couple of hours they had secured ten dozen crab claws, a couple of bushels of clams, and had opened up a couple of gallons of oysters. Chris and Charley took the lot over to Clearwater right after dinner. In an hour the two were back. "They sold like hot cakes," Charley declared. "We didn't get over a quarter of the town before we sold out. We got forty cents a dozen for crab claws, fifty cents a quart for the oysters, and ten cents a dozen for clams." "You robbers!" Walter gasped, in surprise, "they are not worth that." "A thing is worth what you can get for it," Charley grinned. "Besides, we had to throw in an extra charge for the service, like they do in an expensive restaurant when they charge you two dollars for a fifty cent steak." "Well, I reckon we can supply them with all they want at those prices," the captain remarked, dryly. "Let's get to work." And work they did for the next three days, by which time the weather had cleared up, their market supplied for a time, and they, themselves, richer by about fifty dollars. Then they went back to their fishing again until the next spell of bad weather should come. Often, as their little launch lay bobbing at her anchor, on the reef, great stately ships swept by in plain sight, traveling north or south to various ports. The captain watched them with the eager interest of a boy. Almost his whole life had been spent on the sea, and he loved its ships like a mother loves her children. They were watching one of these ships one day wondering idly as to what might be her name, port, and cargo, when Charley's gaze became centered on a smaller craft some two miles astern of the first. Something about the cut and set of her sails caught and held his attention. "That boat is some traveler, Captain," he observed. "See how she is drawing up on the one ahead." The old sailor studied the distant craft with the eye of an expert. "She is going some," he admitted. "Fore and aft topsail schooner, about eighty tons' burden. Funny, there seems something familiar in the cut of those sails and the set of those spars." "That's what I was thinking," Charley agreed. "I'm almost certain I've seen that rig before." "See, she's changed her course and is standing in for shore," suddenly cried the observant old sailor. It soon became evident that he was right. The stranger came sweeping rapidly on carrying a wave of white froth before her bow. Her changed course would bring her within half a mile of where they lay, and, as she drew nearer, our little party ceased fishing and stood gazing in admiration at the beautiful picture she made. She was a low-hulled, black-painted schooner, keeling over under a press of snowy canvas, until her lee rail was buried in a smother of foam. "I believe she is headed right for our island," Charley observed. "If her captain does not know these waters pretty well he'll be liable to pile that beauty up on a rock," Captain Westfield said, anxiously. It soon become evident that her pilot knew his ground for the schooner's course was shifted again and again as her commander jockeyed her around hidden rocks and through winding channels. Soon her crew began to take in sail. One after another the snow-white sheets came in until stripped to mainsail and storm staysail she rounded up a mile from shore and hung motionless in the wind. A tiny blot of color appeared on her deck and crept slowly up her foremast. At the top it opened up, a fluttering red flag. "She's signalling," the captain exclaimed. "I have it," Charley cried. "She's that smuggling craft. Her captain is trying to get in touch with the Hunter gang. No wonder I thought I had seen her before." "I wasn't as lucky as you in getting a glimpse of her that night," remarked the captain, "but I have seen that craft somewhere before. I wonder where it was." "That likeness to some boat I know struck me hard the night I saw her by the light of the flare, but I guess it's only a chance resemblance," Charley said. "Well, if they are waiting to hear from Hunter, they have a long wait ahead of them." "I wonder how Hunter communicated with her before he was hurt," Walter pondered. "There's no mystery about that," his chum replied. "That's the simplest part of the affair. It only takes a couple of days to get a letter to Cuba. I expect she has more aguardiente aboard now. Likely he wrote to her captain for a fresh supply as soon as he discovered that the other was gone. He doubtless planned to have us off the island before it arrived but his trip to the hospital has upset all his plans." "They are bold to try to bring it in in broad daylight," observed the Captain. "Oh, I daresay, they wouldn't attempt to land it until after dark, and there's nothing in her appearance to excite suspicion. If any boat came near her they could quickly slip out a couple of miles further and defy capture. Uncle Sam's jurisdiction does not extend out more than four miles from shore." The beautiful schooner remained hove to all the afternoon and apparently waiting an answer to her signal, but, at last, her skipper, probably deciding that something was wrong, crowded on all sail and glided swiftly out to sea. When our little party started home the schooner was a mere, distant speck on the horizon. "This is the second trip she has made and landed nothing," Walter observed. "After such luck, I should not think they would try again." "Oh, Hunter will likely write them the reason for his not being on hand and arrange for another meeting," Charley said. "They probably make enough money out of the business to be able to stand a few disappointments." CHAPTER XXII. TREASURE TROVE. THE chums saw but little of their good friends, the Roberts, during these busy days. They were up and off to the reefs every morning at break of dawn and only returned in the evening in time to get their catch of fish over to Clearwater before dark. Once, Charley met Bill on the dock and learned that his nets had come and that he and his brothers were fishing every night with but poor success. The big, young fellows looked weary, worn and worried. "I don't know what's become of all the fish," he said, "we have been hunting over hundreds of miles of water and haven't found a decent school in a week. We need to make a few good catches, badly, too. All our money was in the bank which failed in Tampa the other day. We are almost broke, now, and the closed season, when we are not allowed to fish, is only a few weeks off. It looks like we are in for a long streak of hard luck." Charley expressed his sincere sympathy. "Oh, we'll not starve," Bill replied. "But it does hurt to have all the money you've worked hard for go like that without getting any good out of it. Well, I don't know why I am complaining to you, you have had worse troubles than ours." It was a different looking Bill who routed them out of bed before dawn a few mornings later. His eyes were shining with excitement and his simple, frank face was beaming. "Get on your clothes quick as you can and come with me," he cried. "We've got a chance to make a good pot of money." As they hurried into their clothing he explained. "There's a big schooner laden with lumber out about two miles in the gulf. She sprung a bad leak three days ago and her crew have worn themselves out at the pumps but the water is gaining on them all the time. If they can't get her into a dry dock within twenty-four hours, boat and cargo will be a total loss. We were passing her when her captain hailed us and asked for a tow. There is a dry dock at Tarpon Springs and he offers one thousand dollars to be towed up to it." "Whew," Charley whistled, "that's a nice bunch of money. Do you think we can manage it?" "Not alone, but I've been over to Clearwater and got three of the best fishermen there to help us with their launches. That makes five of us to divide the thousand dollars; two hundred dollars apiece. With luck, we ought to make the tow up in eight hours." His story had hastened the little party's movements and by the time he had finished they were all ready and eager for the start. They found the other three launches waiting impatiently for them at the dock and in a few minutes all five were under way standing out for the schooner which was in plain view from the inlet. "One thousand dollars seems an awful price to pay for a tow of eighteen miles," Charley observed, as the "Dixie" tore through the water leading the little fleet. "Do you suppose we will have any difficulty in getting the money, Captain? The owners might not back up their captain's agreement." "They will have to do it if we do our part," declared the old sailor, wise in the laws of the sea. "A captain is king of his ship. He can bind the owners for anything he considers necessary for the best interest of his ship or cargo. The only question is whether the owners are responsible persons. Likely, I can tell who the owners are when we get close enough to see her name. I know most of the ship-owners of these waters." He uttered an exclamation of satisfaction as they drew near enough to decipher the name "North Wind" on the bow of the unlucky ship. "She is owned by Curry Bros. of Key West," he announced. "They are a rich firm, made most of their money out of wrecking. They own dozens of ships. Our money is all right if we keep our side of the agreement." The unfortunate schooner lay low in the water, the waves almost breaking over her lumber-laden decks. She was barely moving in the light breeze. From every scupper hole gushed forth a stream of bright, clear, sea water as her crew labored at the clanking pumps. "Why, they are all negroes, even the captain," Charley exclaimed, as the "Dixie" swept closer. "Most of these Key West boats are manned by negroes," Captain Westfield said. "They are expert sailors and wreckers, and could give a regular lawyer points on ocean law, but they are mighty lazy. They get a share of what the ship earns instead of wages and one would think they would carry as small a crew as possible so as to get big shares, but instead of that, they carry double the men they need so as to make the work as light as possible. Don't seem to care whether they make anything or not so long as they have plenty to eat and little to do." The numerous, grinning, ebony faces and kinky, woolly heads on the leaking ship testified to the truth of the old sailor's assertion. The schooner's captain, a tall, lanky, solemn-visaged, old negro, wearing bone-rimmed spectacles, met them as they came alongside. He glanced at the five launches with evident satisfaction. "I reckon you-all white gentlemens can get me into Tarpon afore the ole gal sinks," he observed. "I figure we can keep her afloat ten hours longer if I can keep dem lazy niggers working de pumps." "She hadn't ought to sink even when she fills," Captain Westfield observed. "The lumber ought to keep her up." "Dar's a lot ob hardware in her, too," the negro captain declared. "Hit's stowed deep in de hold wid such a raffle ob lumber on top ob hit dat we can't get to hit widout throwing all de lumber overboard. She'll go down like a rock when she fills." "Then we don't want to waste any time talking," Captain Westfield declared. "Pass us your lines and we will fasten on. First, though, you had better repeat the proposal you made to this gentleman here," indicating Bill Roberts. "If we tow you in, we don't want any misunderstanding about our pay after the job is done." The old negro spoke slowly, evidently considering his words carefully. "If you white gentlemens tow me in to de dry dock at Tarpon you is to get one thousand dollars for de job. You-alls can draw on Curry Bros. through de Tarpon bank jes' as soon as we gets to de dry dock." "All right," Captain Westfield agreed. "Pass us your lines and we'll get busy." In a few moments, the five launches were fast to the schooner and with engines throbbing were slowly dragging the helpless hulk towards her destination. The fishing launches were all good boats of their kind, but they had not been intended for such heavy work and the strain on their light engines was terrific. The two boys watched the "Dixie's" straining engine with the anxious care of a mother for her child as they dragged their big tow slowly ahead. "I guess it will last out the trip," Charley said, "but I wouldn't like to do much of this kind of work with it. It's like overloading a willing horse." At the end of the fifth mile, the launch ahead of them dropped out of the struggle with a broken piston ring. "Go on, don't stop for me!" its owner yelled with more unselfishness than they had expected. "I'll manage to limp her back to Clearwater. So long, and good luck to you. You will have to hit it up for all you are worth now or you won't make it. There's a squall making up in the north-west. If it strikes you before you get in behind Anchote Key, you will have to cut loose from the schooner." Captain Westfield had, for some time, been watching the small black cloud making up in the north-west. "It's going to be a close shave to make Tarpon before that thing hits us," he remarked to Charley. "We pulled slow enough when there were five of us and now with only four we are not making over two miles an hour. It's a wonder the engines stand the additional strain. I keep expecting them to break down." "It's not only that we are one less in number, which counts, but also the fact that the schooner keeps getting harder and harder to pull," Charley observed. "I'll bet she is six inches deeper in the water than when we fastened on. Her captain is doing his best to keep her up--just listen to him," he grinned. The lanky, solemn, old negro was dancing around the schooner's deck heaping abuse, threats, prayers, and supplications on the kinky-headed toilers at the pumps. He also had noted the gathering squall and was driving his exhausted crew to the limit of their endurance. The minutes dragged slowly away while the launches with their heavy burden labored gallantly on. They were slowly nearing the island, Anchote Key, which lay in front of the port of Tarpon Springs. But, although they were close to their destination, the squall was close to them. The tiny black cloud had spread rapidly until it blanketed the entire northern horizon with an inky mass. "Do you think we will make it, Captain?" Charley inquired, anxiously, as they watched the gathering storm. "I doubt if we will reach Tarpon before it hits us," answered the old sailor, "but I guess we will be able to get in behind Anchote Key and escape the worst of the seas." As the squall neared them the wind dropped away and the sea took on an oily smoothness. The air hung heavy, still and oppressive. The sun had long since disappeared behind the wall of black but so motionless was the air that they breathed with difficulty and the perspiration stood out on their hands and faces. "There she comes," cried Captain Westfield, suddenly. Away to the north under the low-hanging cloud appeared a wall of foaming white. Charley steered with one eye on the moving comb of water and the other on the rock-shored island close aboard. He gave a sigh of relief as the launches and schooner slipped slowly in behind the protecting island just as the squall broke in a roar of wind and driving sheets of rain. His relief was short-lived, however. They had escaped the fury of the billows outside but it was rough enough behind the key and high seas tumbled and rolled around the boats. He glanced back to see how it fared with the schooner. What he saw made him leap for the straining tow line, whipping out his sheath-knife as he sprang. One stroke severed the taut rope, and, relieved of the drag, the "Dixie" leaped ahead like a frightened deer. CHAPTER XXIII. SALVAGE HUNTERS. ON board the schooner all was excitement and confusion. Nearly awash as she already was the first big wave had swept her from stem to stern. Her frightened negro crew had quickly sprung into the rigging yelling at the top of their voices. Only the solemn, lanky, old captain remained impassive. He still stood at his post, by the wheel, peering over his big, horn-rimmed spectacles, sizing up the situation with shrewd, calculating eyes. A second wave struck and swept over, and then a third. "She's sinking," Walter shouted. Slowly the doomed craft settled down, down until her bulwarks lay even with the water, then stopped. "She is not going to sink," Charley exclaimed, as he saw her stop in her downward course. Captain Westfield quickly grasped the strange situation. "She's gone as far as she can," he declared. "She is resting on a shoal. Steer down on the leeward side of her, Charley, and we will take off the crew." The other launch captains had been on the watch and had cut loose at the same time as Charley. Following the "Dixie's" example, they flocked around to the lee side of the wreck and assisted to take off the crew. The rescued negroes came aboard, wet to the skin, and fright had given their ebony faces a peculiar, ashen hue. The solemn lanky captain was the last to leave the schooner. Before getting aboard the "Dixie," he made his way up to the vessel's bow and knocking out the shackle pin let the anchor drop to the bottom; a move which Captain Westfield watched with a twinkle in his eyes. "That darkey sure knows his business," he remarked in an undertone to Charley. The other launches crowded around the "Dixie," their captains wanting a consultation. "The schooner's not in bad shape here," Bill Roberts observed. "There isn't sea enough to break her up. The owners can get a sea tug and a steam pump from Tampa, and get her up and keep her afloat long enough to tow her into the dry dock." "We might as well all run on into Tarpon now and draw on Curry Bros. for that thousand dollars," one of the other captains proposed. "You-alls can't collect dat money now," observed the darkey skipper, calmly. "You-alls wasn't to get it 'less you got de schooner into de dry dock." "Didn't we do our best?" demanded Bill Roberts. "Haven't we got you nearly there? Haven't we got your vessel into a place where she will not be lost? Where would your old ship be outside in the gulf in this gale? She wouldn't have lasted out there as long as a snowball in the warm place." "Dat's all true," agreed the darkey captain, "but you ain't carried out youah part ob de contract. If you white gentlemens had got de schooner into de dry dock all right hit would hab been worth dat thousand dollars to mah owners, but now, dey will have to go to de expense ob a tug an' steam pump, an' dat's going to be a heap ob money. I'se got to watch out for my owners' interests." "But we have done our best," Captain Westfield protested. "We have spent our time and strained our engines, and we ought to be paid for what we've done." "Dat's all right," agreed the sable skipper. "I reckon Curry Bros. pay you for dat all right, but not dat thousand dollars. Dat's too much, under de circumstances." For a few minutes it looked as though the wily, ebony skipper would receive rough treatment from the infuriated launch captains, but the cooler arguments of the Roberts and Captain Westfield prevailed. "He has got the law on his side," Captain Westfield said. "We can't force the payment of that thousand dollars, although what we have done for the owners is worth many times the amount. I guess the best thing we can do is to trust to Curry Bros. to do the right thing by us." "Not for me," declared the captain of one launch. "If we can't collect that bill, I'll collect a bigger one. That schooner is abandoned. Her captain and crew have deserted her. I am going to put a man on her and put in a claim for salvage. The rest of you can join me, or not, just as you please." "I am with you," the other fish captains agreed. Bill Roberts wavered and glanced at Captain Westfield for advice. "I don't believe such a course would get us anything," the old sailor said. "These Key West captains are wise to all the salvage laws and Curry Bros. made their money in wrecking. They would fight any claim for salvage and they have got too much money for us to fight against." "Dis white gentleman is telling you-alls the truth," affirmed the darkey skipper. "Dat ship ain't abandoned. I'se jes' going ashore to communicate wid de owners. I'se dun dropped de anchor over. An' she ain't floating helpless at sea." "All right, you fellows can listen to that nigger if you want to," said the salvage hunter. "I'm going to take possession of the schooner. If you are going back, you can take these darkeys I've got in my launch." His fellow fishermen elected to stay with him but the Roberts boys decided to return with our party. The negroes in the other two boats were transferred to the "Dixie," and Bill Roberts' boat, and the two launches remaining made fast to the sunken schooner. As soon as the transfer was made the two returning boats headed back for Clearwater with their cargoes of ebony passengers. It was nearly dark when hungry, weary, and disappointed, our party and the Roberts arrived at the Clearwater dock. The rescued negroes at once scattered to seek food and shelter in the colored quarter of the town. Their captain, lanky and solemn as ever, departed to the telegraph office to communicate with his owners. "You white gentlemen ain't going to lose nothing for de way you-alls have done," he assured Captain Westfield, earnestly, before he left. "I'se only a captain an' I'se done got to do what I thinks is foah mah owners' interests. I allows, though, dat Curry Bros. going to treat you all right. I'se sorry dose other two white gentlemens is going to try to make trouble. I'se dun been wrecking foah Mr. Curry foah foaty years an' I knows all about de salvage laws. Dey ain't a ghost ob a show to get salvage out ob dat schooner." It was not until several days after that, however, that our friends verified the truth of the ebony skipper's statements. The first proof came with the return of the two launches which had fastened to the schooner. Their captains were weary and wrathful. They had hung by the schooner for two days. Then a tug and steam pump arrived from Tampa and on board the tug was a United States marshal who curtly ordered them away from the schooner. The schooner had then been raised and towed into the dry dock. The two captains had at once entered suit for salvage claims but what the outcome would be even their lawyers could, or would not, say. The second proof came in the form of a letter from Curry Bros., thanking them for what they had done and inclosing a check for two hundred dollars. Much to their pleasure they found that the Roberts boys had received a similar letter and check. The night the check came Charley got out his note book and pencil and figured up their accounts and the result brought satisfaction to them all. The reef fishing had proved more profitable than they had dared hope, and for it they had credit slips on the fish house for two hundred and seventy-five dollars. The sale of crabs, claws, and oysters--the work of stormy days--had brought them in another hundred dollars in cash. Adding to this the two-hundred dollar check they had just received brought the total up to five hundred and seventy-five dollars. Deducting the two hundred dollars they owed for groceries and nets, left them the comfortable balance of three hundred and seventy-five dollars. "That's not half bad," Charley observed, "but I think now is the time for us to quit. It will not be long now before Hunter returns and I want to be away from here before he gets back. If he succeeded in working a few more of his sly tricks on us he might put us in the hole again." His companions were loath to leave such profitable work but they could clearly see the wisdom of his plan. So, after some discussion, they decided that the next day should see their last trip to the reef. Then they would take their departure for the East Coast and seek whatever work they could find. This settled, they retired to dream happily of new scenes and new adventures. Their sleep would have been less sound, perhaps, had they known that Hunter had already returned. Their dreams would have been less pleasant, if they had seen the silently propelled row boat creep into their little dock, a slinking figure groping around in the "Dixie," and, after a few minutes, the ghostly row boat departed as silently as it had come. But they were happily unconscious of these things and slept soundly on to waken only at their accustomed hour at break of day. Sunrise found them on the reef fishing busily. But for some reason or other they did not meet with their accustomed success. Bites came only at long and irregular intervals. They shifted frequently to fresh places but with no better result. "I shouldn't wonder if there was a storm brewing," Captain Westfield said. "Creatures in the sea, as well as on the land, seem to have a weather instinct which tells them when a serious change of weather is coming. It looks bright all around, but it seems to me I can feel a kind of heaviness in the air that only comes before a storm." Noon came but the sky remained clear and uncloudy. "I guess you missed the weather, for once, Captain," Charley observed, "but I think we might as well start for home, anyway. It's our last day and we are not catching enough to pay us to stay out any longer." His companions were willing so the anchor was hauled aboard and the engine started up. CHAPTER XXIV. THE ACCIDENT. BOTH Charley and Walter had by this time become quite familiar with their little engine and when trouble with it occurred, as it sometimes did, it generally took them but a short time to locate what was wrong and fix it. They had covered perhaps half the distance back to the inlet when the steady throb, throb of the engine changed suddenly to a whirling roar. Charley hastily threw the switch, shutting off the spark, and the big fly wheel instantly ceased its wild revolutions. "Something has come loose," he announced. "Hand me that wrench, Walt. The shaft must have come loose to make the engine turn up at that speed." His chum handed him the desired tool and the lad raised up the false flooring in the launch's bottom which hid the shaft from view. What he expected to find was that one of the screws which fastened the propeller shaft had come loose and needed tightening, but what he saw filled his face with dismay. Rising, he stepped back to the stern and peered over under the launch's counter. "Our propeller's gone," he announced, straightening up. "That leaves us in a pretty fix--five miles from shore. We'll have to take some of these bottom boards and paddle in, and it's going to be slow, hard work." "I wonder how it happened," said Walter, as he fell to work with a heavy board for a paddle. "It didn't happen. It was just done," his chum said, grimly. "Evidently our friend Hunter got home before we expected him. He must have done it last night when we were all asleep." "Are you sure?" inquired Captain Westfield. "As sure as a person can be who did not actually see it done. The shaft was sawn three-fourths in two. The cut part is bright, showing that it was done recently. It was a clever trick all right. You see, it would not give way immediately but would wear in two, gradually, where it was cut. I guess he was in hopes it would break with us out in a seaway where we couldn't do anything. Luckily, it's happened when it is calm and we are not such a great ways from shore." But although the distance to shore was not so very great, it did not take them long to realize that it was going to take them a long time to cover it. The launch was deep and heavy in the water and with their rude, heavy, ungainly paddles they could only force her forward very slowly. "It's going to be after dark when we reach the inlet," the captain said, anxiously. "I do not believe we are making over half a mile an hour." Indeed, they were not making as good progress as that, for when dark settled down upon the water, they were a full three miles from shore and their arms and backs were beginning aching with the steady strain of wielding the heavy boards. Soon after the sun set, the wind commenced to freshen and the launch began to bob and drift about in a way to discourage further effort. "It's no use trying any longer," Charley declared, at last. "We are not getting ahead any and are just wearing ourselves out for nothing." "We might as well put over the anchor and make up our minds to stay here all night," the captain agreed. Walter dropped over the anchor and let out all the cable. "There isn't any too much rope," he announced, doubtfully. "The water's deep here. I guess, though, it will hold all right if it does not blow any harder." So far there was nothing very alarming in the situation. The launch rode easily and high, shipping no water, and they knew that if it were not at their dock in the morning the Roberts boys would notice their absence and be out looking for them. They had a couple of jugs of fresh water aboard, and there was enough of their dinner remaining to make a substantial lunch. This Chris now brought out and all ate heartily, their appetites whetted by the hard work they had done. As soon as they had finished, Charley brought out a lot of old sacks they had in a locker and spread them out in the little cabin. "Early to bed, early to rise," he quoted cheerfully. "I guess we might as well turn in. There is nothing to sit up for." They were all tired enough to agree to this and they all laid down, side by side. The launch's high sides and little cabin protected them from the wind and they were quite comfortable. Walter and Chris were almost instantly asleep, and Charley was just on the verge of dropping off when a movement of the captain roused him. He raised up and looked around. The old sailor had arisen and was standing out in the cockpit gazing at the sky. The lad crept out softly and joined him. "What's the matter, Captain?" he inquired, anxiously. "I don't just like the feel of this weather," said the old sailor, uneasily. "The wind is freshening all the time although it's doing it so slowly one hardly notices it. I am afraid we are in for more than a cap full of wind." "I don't think so," Charley disagreed. "Why, the sky is as clear as a bell all around. There's not a sign of a cloud." "I hope you are right. It don't always take clouds to make a wind, though, lad. Some of the worst gales I ever saw came out of a clear sky." "If it comes on to blow hard we will not be able to hang at anchor," Charley said, thoughtfully, impressed by the old sailor's uneasiness. "No, the anchor won't hold in this deep water," agreed the sailor. "Even if it did catch on a ledge of rock and keep from dragging, we would have to cut loose if the sea ran high. With one short cable it would help to pull our bows under." "What direction do you think will the gale come from, if it comes at all?" the lad inquired. "From the same quarter the wind's blowing now," the captain replied, promptly. "That's the only good feature about a clear gale, the wind never shifts or varies but blows steady from one point." "Let's see," said Charley, considering. "It's blowing from the north-west now. That would neither drive us ashore nor out to sea, but straight down the coast." "We might hit some of the capes or cays way down the coast if the launch lasted to drift that far," said the old sailor. "Well," said Charley, philosophically, "if it comes, it comes. If it doesn't, it doesn't. We can't do any good by sitting up worrying and watching for it, so I am going to turn in." He crept softly in and laid down by Walter and was soon fast asleep. He was suddenly wakened out of a sound slumber by being thrown against the launch's side with a force which knocked the breath from his body. He tried to rise to his feet but was flung violently to the other side. Then on hands and knees, like an infant, he crawled out of the little cabin. Once in the open, it took him but a second to grasp what had happened. The launch had parted her cable and was now rolling helplessly in the trough of the seas which were now running high. In the darkness, he could just distinguish the captain in the bow. With difficulty, owing to the violent lurching and plunging, he crept forward to his side. The old sailor was working frantically to rig up a sea anchor with which to bring the launch's bow up in the wind. "Get me some of those bottom boards, and tear up some of the lockers, too, if you can break them loose," he commanded. "We will need every stick we can get to hold her bows to the seas." The lad crept aft and soon returned with an armful of boards he had torn loose. Returning again for more, he met Walter and Chris, who, also rudely awakened from their slumber, had made their way out of the cabin. With their assistance, all the loose boards they could get were soon carried up to the captain who, as fast as they were brought, bound them firmly with rope into one solid bundle. "There ought to be more, but perhaps these will do," said the old sailor, as he fastened the last plank to its fellows. He pulled in the trailing end of the severed cable, and, making it fast to the bundle of planks, shoved them over the bow. Then all three crept back aft and anxiously awaited results. For some minutes, they feared that their labors had been in vain, then, slowly, the launch's bow swung around to meet the seas and she rose and fell easily without the sickening lurching from side to side. "All's well, so far," the captain announced, "but this is only the beginning. It has hardly commenced to blow yet. She can ride out these seas all right, but if this wind keeps on increasing, by morning there will be seas that are seas." The boys glanced around at the watery mountains tumbling about them and decided that they cared not to see any bigger. The wild plunging of the launch made sleep impossible and the four huddled together in the little cockpit wondering if day would find them alive or swallowed up by the hungry waters. As the hours crept slowly by, they could not doubt that the wind was steadily rising. The seas grew steadily in size and the launch's pitching became wilder and wilder. Accustomed as they all were to the sea, the violent plunging gave them a feeling of nausea closely akin to seasickness. To add to their discomfort, the madly plunging launch sent up showers of spray which the wind drove in upon them soaking them to the skin and stinging their faces like hail. "She would not float a minute if we were out in the open gulf," the captain observed. "As it is, we are drifting down the coast in between the reef and the shore and the reef breaks some of the force of the seas. A little shift of the wind and we would either be driven out over the reef or upon a rock shore." "Cheery prospect either way we look at it," Charley said, grimly. "Heads we win, tails we lose." No one was in any mood for further conversation. Wet, miserable, wretched and anxious, they huddled close together in the little cockpit and waited longingly for the coming of day. At last, a gray light spread over the rolling waters and grew brighter and brighter till finally the sun peeped slowly into view. It came up grandly in a blue sky unflecked by clouds, revealing a scene wilder than they had imagined in the blackness of the night. CHAPTER XXV. THE STORM. AS they gazed around them, our little party could not help but realize the peril of their situation. To the west, about a mile from the drifting launch, was the reef over which the mountainous waves were breaking in heaps of swirling foam. To the east of them some three miles distant was the shore. All they could see of it was its swaying palms for its beach was hidden by the foaming breakers. All around them rose mighty seas upon which the drifting launch reared and plunged. So far, they were drifting straight down the lane between the reef and shore, but a slight shift of wind, either way, would send them ashore to be beaten to death in the pounding surf or out on the reef to be smothered in the mighty seas. Even without a shift of wind, they were in a perilous position. The launch was doing nobly, but she had never been built for such work. A craft so small could not reasonably be expected to live in such a seaway. She rose gallantly to the sweeping combers, but even a novice could see her sea-riding limit had almost been reached. Should the waves continue to increase much in size, the little craft was doomed. "Oh, well," said Charley, with an attempt at cheerfulness, "we are not as bad off as we might be. While there's life there's hope. The wind may begin to go down any minute, and if it does we will soon be picked up. There are boats traveling this passage all the time. There's a sail, now." He pointed to where a tiny fleck of white showed in the distance as they rose on the summit of a wave. All gazed eagerly at the distant fleck of white. They knew that no boat could rescue them in such a sea, but it gave them a spark of comfort to know that they were not alone on the watery deep. The white speck grew with amazing rapidity. In a few minutes, they were able to see that it was a small schooner scudding before the gale under a close reefed foresail. It swept by them not two hundred yards away, so close that they could see the pipe in the mouth of the man at the wheel. They gazed longingly after it until lost to view. When it had disappeared in the distance they felt an intensified loneliness and helplessness steal over them. The only consolation in their wretched plight was the sun. It shone brightly down with a warmth grateful to their wet, chilled bodies. "How fast do you think we are drifting, Captain?" inquired Charley, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them. "Impossible to tell, exactly," returned the old sailor. "As a guess, I would say about five miles an hour." "And we have been drifting about six hours, that would make thirty miles," the lad calculated. "If I remember the charts right that brings us about off of Tampa. Do you recall how the coast lies below there, Captain?" "Not exactly," admitted the old sailor, "but I think it holds about the same direction. Of course, there are a good many capes running out into the gulf, but I don't think there is any of them long enough for us to pile up on, short of Cape Sable, and that's a couple of hundred miles away." "So far so good, then," Charley commented. "We are in no immediate danger of piling up on shore at any rate. Whew, but the salt spray has made me thirsty as a fish. Here goes to get a drink of water." He crawled cautiously forward to the locker where the jugs were stowed. "Both broken," he announced, after a glance inside. "I might have known it would happen with all the rolling and pitching about. Well, I guess we can manage to do without until the wind goes down." But before noon, they realized that the loss of their water was a serious blow. The salt spray and hot sun gave them a painful thirst. Their throats grew parched and dry, and they could barely swallow the remnants of food left from their supper. All attempt at conversation was given up and they sat huddled and silent in the little cockpit. And so the long, dreary day dragged away. Time and again boats drove past them, scudding before the gale, and once a large steamer passed them almost within hailing distance. But no attempt at rescue could be made in such a sea. Night found them still drifting almost too weak and weary to care what happened next. "I believe the wind is going down a little," Charley said, shortly after the sun had set. "It is," the old sailor agreed, "but I'm afraid it isn't going down fast enough to help us much. I noticed before dark that our sea anchor is going to pieces. If it once goes and we swing into the trough of the seas, we are goners." But the old sailor had done his work well and the sea anchor did not give way as he feared, instead, it held stoutly together while they drifted on into the night. As the hours crept slowly away it became evident, beyond a doubt, that the wind was steadily going down, and with it the sea, although the waves still ran dangerously high. They were beginning to gain fresh hope and courage even in their suffering condition when the unexpected happened. It was Walter that saw it first,--a dark wall rising high up in the darkness directly in their path. They could do nothing to avert the danger, only sit and stare dully at the looming mass. As they drove down upon it they saw that it was a forest of great trees rising, apparently, right out of the water. Swiftly the doomed launch drifted down on the submerged forest. When a hundred feet away the captain roused to action. "Here's a rope," he cried. "Each of you grab hold of it and cling on for life." The words were barely out of his mouth, when the launch, rising on a big wave, came down with a crash and the next wave sweeping over her carried them off into the sea. Like drowning men catching at a straw, the four clung to the rope as the rushing comber swept them on with it. Bruised, battered, and breathless, it hurled them upon something hard. "Quick!" Charley cried, as he realized that they had been safely cast up into shoal water. "Quick! Up for the beach before the next comber!" His companions had not waited for the command, but were already scrambling ahead. A few strides carried them out of danger--but there was no beach. Everywhere great trees rose up out of water nearly to their knees. Even in the darkness, they could see that the towering giants were almost bare of limb, and from high up above the water great crooked roots grasped down for a hold on the bottom. Charley grasped one of the elbow-like roots and pulled himself up out of water. "Come on," he cried, "it's high and dry up here. These roots grow so close together one can almost lie down upon them." His companions climbed weakly up beside him, where they rested, panting to gain their breath. "Come on, we can make ourselves more comfortable than this," Charley said, when he had regained some of the wind that had been battered out of him. They followed him as he crept cautiously from root to root. When they got about fifty feet from shore, he stopped. "We had not better try to go any further," he said. "We're shut off from the wind all right. Now, for a good, long drink." He slipped off into the water and, stooping, lapped greedily. "Come on," he said, as he straightened up for breath, "drink all you want, it's sweet and fresh." Much to their delight, his companions found it true and they drank long and greedily of the sweet, cool fluid. "Now, for beds," Charley announced, cheerfully, when their thirst was at last satisfied. "Just reach up and break off branches and lay them across the roots, that will have to do for to-night." By standing on their tip-toes, they were able to reach some of the small boughs and by pulling down--broke them off without difficulty. In a short time they had gathered and placed enough to make a platform big enough to accommodate them all. Upon this they were glad to lie down and stretch their tired, aching limbs and bodies. "This beats the launch, anyway," Charley observed, cheerfully. "The trees shield us from the wind, our thirst is satisfied, and there is no spray to wet us. The air is so warm we ought to be able to get a little sleep without catching cold. I guess, we could all eat a pretty hearty meal right now but we will have to wait until morning to get that." "What is this strange floating forest," his chum inquired. "I never saw trees like these before." "They are quite common," Charley answered. "They are cypresses, and grow only on low, over-flooded ground." "Have you any idea where we are, lad?" asked the captain. "I fancy we are on the north-western edge of the great Everglade swamp," Charley replied. "It meets the gulf somewhere below Marco, about one hundred and twenty miles from Clearwater. But we can talk over these things in the morning. Now we had better get a little sleep if we can. We will need all the rest we can get, for to-morrow is going to be a hard day." Hard and uncomfortable as was the uneven platform, his companions were so exhausted that they were instantly asleep and their snores soon mingled with the hooting of multitudes of owls and the croaking of thousands of frogs. Charley lay awake a few minutes longer, his mind too full of worry and discouragement for instant sleep. Their plight was enough to daunt the stoutest heart. Their launch was gone, pounded to pieces on the hard sand, and all the money they had worked so hard to earn and save would have to go to make good the loss. They would, after all their labor, be left just as they had landed in Clearwater with nothing but the clothing on their backs. That is, if they lived to reach Clearwater again. His mind filled with these gloomy reflections, the lad at last dropped off to sleep. CHAPTER XXVI. CASTAWAYS. THE sun was high in the sky when Charley awoke and aroused his companions who were still sleeping. "Too much to do to-day to sleep longer," he declared. "We have got to find something to eat, and then try to get out of this place. Let's try the water for food first, and see what we can find. "We don't want to stray away from each other or get out of hearing of the surf," he said, as they picked their way over the knee-like roots. "Out of sound of the sea, a man would lose himself in five minutes in this uncanny forest. It is too dense to tell directions by the sun and one would stand a good chance of wandering around until death overtook him. Only the Seminole Indians can find their way through this horrible jungle and they have known it for ages." This little talk had brought them down to the water and they were surprised at the change a few hours had made. The sea was beautifully calm. Only a few smooth, gentle rollers remained to tell of the past storm. Of the launch nothing remained but a few, broken, splintered planks drifted up against the trees. Our little party were too hungry, however, to waste time in idle regrets. They waded at once out into the water looking for crabs, oysters, clams, or anything to fill their aching stomachs. But their search was fruitless. Except for a few bits of water-logged limbs, the bottom was bare. "I was afraid we would find nothing," Charley said, when they at last gave up the search. "The water is too fresh here from the overflow from the Glades for shell-fish to grow. We will have to depend on the land for our food until we can get out of this place." They were turning to retrace their steps to the platform, when Charley spied a small box wedged in between two cypress knees. He pulled it out and with hands that trembled with excitement lifted up the close-fitting cover and gave an exclamation of delight. It was the little box which had contained the batteries used to run the launch. Its contents were perfectly dry. Constructed purposely to protect the cells from spray, it had floated safely in undamaged. Besides the four dry cells, it contained a few little odds and ends they had placed there at different times to keep safe and dry. There was a package of tobacco belonging to the captain, several fish-hooks, some salt and pepper mixed together in a little paper package, and a few other trifles of no particular value. Hugging the box to him like a precious treasure, the lad followed his companions back to the platform. There, he carefully wedged it in between a couple of roots so that it could not be overturned. He had just done this when a startled cry from Walter sent him hurrying to his side. He found his chum in the act of killing a huge snake upon which he had nearly stepped. It was a repulsive-looking creature, stumpy and bloated in appearance and nearly as big around as a man's leg. "It's a moccasin," Charley said. "We will have to watch out for them. I expect there are lots of them around here. There's enough poison in that fellow's sac to kill a full-grown elephant." "I don't know as it would be much worse to die of snake-bite than to die of hunger," Walter remarked, gloomily, "and there seems to be nothing fit to eat in this awful place." "There are few places in this world where man cannot find food to eat, if he uses his wits," his chum replied. "God has provided food, everywhere, but has left it to man's intelligence to discover and make use of it." "We have a hook and line, perhaps we could catch a fish," Captain Westfield suggested, hopefully. "No bait," Charley said, briefly. He sat plunged in thought while his companions looked around for something with which to bait the hook. "Here's plenty of bait," Walter called. "Here's a whole colony of frogs--big ones, too." Charley hurried to his side. His chum was peering under a great root where were sprawled several, big, long-legged frogs. "What idiots we are," Charley grinned, as he dispatched one with a stick. "These are more than bait. They are the finest kind of food. Why, their legs are worth a dollar a pound in the New York market. Here was plenty of food right to our hand and we did not have sense enough to know it. Why, they were advertizing themselves all night long by their croaking." The captain and Chris joined in the slaughter and in a short time forty frogs had fallen victims to the sticks. "We are not likely to starve right away," Charley remarked, as they cut off and removed the skin from the legs. "There are certainly plenty more where these came from." "But how is we goin' to cook 'em widout no fire? Massa Chas?" demanded Chris. Walter and the captain gazed at him in dismay. In their pleasure at the prospect of food they had never thought of the lack of fire. Their matches were spoiled and useless. They had no steel and flint. They did not even have a bit of glass with which to focus the rays of the sun. Charley viewed their dismayed faces with a twinkle in his eyes. "If you will take a couple of those frogs legs and see if you can catch some fish, Chris, I will see to the fire," he said. Selecting a great root that was slightly hollowed on top, he built up a little heap of dry twigs, moss, and bits of bark, of which the trees around them offered an unlimited supply. Then he brought out from its resting place the box of batteries. Holding the ends of the wires down in the little heap of tinder, he rubbed them together. Sparks flew out on the bark and moss as the wires contacted and in a few seconds the heap was aflame. It only remained to put a few dry sticks on the blaze and the fire was ready for the cooking. Small branches sharpened at the end served for spits and in a few minutes a score of frogs legs were roasting over the coals. The odor wafted on the air brought Chris hurrying from his fishing. His hunger had overcome his patience. He did not come quite empty-handed, however, but dragged along with him two slender-bodied, long-snouted fish fully four feet in length, covered with armor-like scales. "Dem things is all I could catch, Massa Chas," he said, ruefully. "I don't reckon dey's any good?" "Those are gars," Charley announced. "There are better-flavored fish, still, they are not to be despised. They will go well with the frogs legs for dinner." His method of cooking them was simple. He removed the entrails, washed them out carefully, and buried them amongst the coals. While the legs and gars were cooking, he dispatched Chris down to the shore again to find some bits of the yacht's planking to serve as plates. By the time the little darkey returned laden with bits of boards, the repast was ready. The gars were raked out on a plank, and their scale-armored skin stripped off, leaving the flesh white as snow, juicy and tender. The four attacked the savory fish and delicious frogs legs with the appetites of wolves for they had eaten nothing for a day and night. When they had finished, the world did not seem so dark and gloomy. Things had taken on a rosier tinge. "It is past noon already, I believe," Charley said, as they rested a bit on the little platform after their hearty meal. "I don't believe it will pay us to start out to-day. I think we had better wait until to-morrow and get back our strength a bit, for we have got a tough journey ahead of us." His companions quickly agreed, for they still felt weak from exposure, thirst, worry, and lack of food. This being settled, all busied themselves in making things more comfortable for the night, and in making what simple preparations they could for to-morrow's journey. More branches were gathered and their little platform enlarged. There was plenty of long, soft, Spanish moss growing on the branches above their heads. It was far out of their reach and they could only look at it longingly until Walter hit upon the expedient of throwing their rope up over a limb and shinning up it like a monkey. He flung down great bunches of the soft, hair-like stuff which the captain spread out on their platform, transposing it into a soft springy couch. While Walter and the captain were thus occupied, the other two busied themselves in securing and preparing a store of food for the journey. Fully fifty more frogs and three more gars were caught and roasted. Each of the little party wore a large bandanna handkerchief around their necks and these Charley collected, washed thoroughly, and spread out on a root to dry. They were the only things he could think of in which to carry the food they had prepared. It was dark when these preparations were completed, and they heaped fresh wood upon the fire and stretched out on their platform for a good night's rest once more. "I expect they think at Clearwater that we are all dead," said Charley, as they lay gazing into the glowing embers of their fire. "And Hunter is doubtless hugging himself with joy over the success of his trick," Walter added, grimly. "He didn't cause our death but he came very near it. I seldom wish any one ill, but he is one man I would like to see punished for the evil he has done." "He will be," the captain said, with certainty. "The Lord will attend to that. If not in this world, then in the world to come." "Well, he has succeeded in putting us back where we started," Charley remarked, "and he is left free to carry on his smuggling and liquor selling as he pleases." "Unless Chris' ghost scares him off," Walter said. "Have you ever formed any theory about it and about the doctor's mysterious visit, Charley?" "Not a theory," his chum replied. "They are just mysteries I cannot account for in any way. Of course the explanation is simple--if we only knew it--it always is in these mysteries." The soft couch and the cozy warmth of the fire soon caused conversation to lag and yawns take the place of speech. Before they composed themselves for slumber, however, the captain offered up a heartfelt prayer, thanking the Lord for their deliverance from danger, and asking for His watchful care to attend them ever. This simple act of devotion over, all sought the slumber their tired bodies craved. CHAPTER XXVII. HOMEWARD BOUND. WALTER awoke just as dawn was lighting up the floating forest, and he immediately awakened his companions. Breakfast was made off the frog legs and gar fish and as soon as it was finished, they took up their journey for Clearwater. Charley took the lead, bearing the box with its precious batteries, and the others followed carrying the handkerchiefs of food. They soon found that it was going to be hard, slow traveling. They could only make slow progress picking their way between the dense-growing trees and over the slippery roots. Every few paces they would have to stop and listen to make sure from the sound of the sea, that they were traveling in the right direction. At noon when they stopped to eat lunch, they estimated that they had covered but three miles. But the slowness was not the worst feature of their march, every step had to be made with watchful care. Never in all their Florida experiences had they seen so many snakes. Many were harmless, brightly-colored, water snakes, which wriggled at their approach, but besides these, there were dozens of moccasins sunning themselves on the roots,--great, sullen, sluggish reptiles they were, many being as big around as a man's leg. They would not move from the places where they lay and our little party had to pick their way carefully around each, for to be bitten by one would mean a horrible, agonizing death. To add to their troubles, they were constantly slipping and falling on the slippery roots, bruising and hurting themselves. "I hope it isn't much further till we come to the end of these cypresses," Charley said, as they nibbled at their lunch. "This kind of going is dangerous. We are liable to break an arm or leg before we get out of here." "Massa Chas," Chris observed, "why don't we-alls take to de water? Hit would sho' be a heap easier an' we wouldn't be runnin' on dem pesky snakes all de time." "Somebody kick me," Charley cried, sheepishly. "Of all the big fools in this state, we are the biggest. Here we have been wearing ourselves out over these pesky roots when we might have been wading comfortably along in the edge of the surf." Until Chris had spoken, they had none of them thought of so simple a solution of their difficulty. Being on shore, it had been the natural thing for them to try to make their way on shore. No time was lost in following the little negro's suggestion. As already stated, there was no beach, the gulf meeting the forest, but the water along the edge of trees was not much over a foot in depth and the bottom was of hard sand. Their progress was now more rapid and free from the danger of snakes, but, much to their surprise, they found it much more tiring than the route over the roots. Only those who have tried walking in water for a distance, can realize the strain on the leg muscles. By the middle of the afternoon, they were thoroughly tired out and Charley called a halt. "We had better make camp," he said. "We don't want to wear ourselves out the first day, and besides, it will take us some time to build a platform and get ready for the night." Accordingly, they made their way back among the cypress and fell to work. A platform was built and well bedded with moss and a good fire started for the night. For their supper, they only swallowed a few mouthfuls of their provisions. Truth to tell, the fish and frogs legs were beginning to pall on their appetites. "I wish there was some game in this uncanny forest," Walter observed. "This stuff does not taste as good as it did. I believe, there is truth in that old statement that a man cannot eat a quail a day for thirty days." "This forest is alive with game," Charley declared. "It's here even if we don't see it. Of course, there are no deer or bear for they avoid these watery places, but there are plenty of coons, wild cats, panthers, possums, and such things. I'll bet, there are at least a dozen animals watching our camp-fire right now and puzzling over it. Oh, there's plenty of game. The difficulty is to get it without guns or traps. I have been studying how to get some of it, and I think I have got an idea that may work." It still lacked some time before dark, and Charley immediately began to carry out his idea. It was absurdly simple. Returning to the gulf's edge, a short search discovered several short, heavy pieces of timber drifted up among the trees. These they lugged back a ways from shore. Each timber was laid upon as flat a surface of roots as they could find. One end was then raised up a couple of feet and supported on a stick. To the stick they tied a couple of frogs legs and some of the bones from the gars. "It's rather a primitive method of trapping but it may work," Charley observed. "The idea is that the animal pulling away at the bait will dislodge the stick and be crushed by the falling timber. Many animals, though, are too cunning to be tempted under such a dangerous-looking log, and others are quick enough to dodge its fall." It was now nearly dark and our little party hurried back to their platform and fire for they had no desire to move about amongst the roots and snakes after night. They were sleeping soundly when a succession of ear-splitting shrieks roused them into frightened wakefulness. It sounded like a woman crying out in mortal agony, but they had heard the sound before in their travels and knew it for a panther's screams. The animal was evidently close to them and they hastened to throw fresh fuel upon the dwindling fire. As the flames shot up the screaming ceased and the crashing of boughs told them of the hurried departure of the midnight prowler. As soon as the sounds died away, they stretched out to sleep once more knowing that they were in no danger so close to the fire. Their first act on awakening in the morning was to look at the traps. They had set five altogether and every one had been sprung. The first two had caught nothing in their fall. Pinioned under the third, they found a large, fat possum, the fourth held a snarling coon by one leg, while the fifth and last, was empty but splattered with blood and hair. "Here's where Mr. Panther got himself a feed," Charley observed. "There was a coon, or possum under this log until he came along and made his supper. I'll bet, he's chuckling to himself right now over the easy meat." The coon and possum were skinned at once and roasted on sticks over the coals. None of them ate much of the coon--its meat tasted somewhat like young pork but was rather too fat and strong, in flavor. The possum, however, they found delicious, the meat being white, tender and sweet. As soon as they had eaten and tied up what remained in their handkerchiefs, they once more took up their journey. They traveled steadily all the morning but with no signs apparent of reaching the edge of the belt of cypress. As far as they could see ahead of them along the shore the forest continued in an unbroken line. Noon brought them to a serious obstacle, a broad, slow-flowing river of black, muddy water. They were all good swimmers and could have easily swam the half mile which separated them from the other shore, but the sight of several large, floating, log-like objects made them hesitate to attempt it. "Those are either alligators or crocodiles," Charley said. "We had better make sure which they are before we venture in. Alligators are cowardly creatures, and will seldom attack a man, but crocodiles are not to be trifled with." It was some time before one of the floating monsters came near enough to reveal its character but when it did they were glad they had waited. It was a vicious, scaly-looking crocodile, fully fifteen feet in length. "Hard luck," commented Charley in disgust. "That means we will have to follow this bank up until we can find a place we can cross and then follow the other bank back to the gulf again. It may be only a few miles or it may be a hundred. It may take us a day or it may take us a week." "I wonder what river this is?" Walter said. "If we only knew, we could tell where we are." "It's impossible to say for certain," his chum replied. "There are a lot of big rivers emptying into the gulf. I am inclined to think, however, that this is the Snake River. It fits the description I've heard of the Snake. Well, let's have dinner and then we'll start to follow it up." A fire was lit and while it was getting under way, Walter succeeded in catching a leather-back turtle of which there were numbers basking on logs. This they cooked by the simple expedient of burying it in the coals and letting it roast in its own shell. Ordinarily they would have relished its delicate flavor, but they were beginning to tire of an all-meat diet. They were beginning to crave vegetables, bread, coffee, and the other varieties of food that make up civilized meals. They were munching the last of their frugal repast when they sprang to their feet in amazed surprise. "Good morning," said a voice right behind them. Standing but a few feet away was a splendid-looking Indian lad, leaning gracefully upon a long-barreled rifle. "Good morning," said the young Seminole again, smiling at their surprise. "Good morning," stammered Charley, in reply. "Who are you? Where did you come from? Where are we?" The Seminole's smile widened at the volley of questions. "My name is Willie John," he said in perfect English. "I come from the Big Cypress Swamp. Some of my people are camped there, hunting. You now are at the Snake River. It is about fifty miles from Tampa. Are you lost?" "Yes," replied Walter, recovering from his surprise. "We are, or rather were, both shipwrecked and lost. We had begun to think that we were the only people in the world. That's why your voice surprised us so." "I see," said the Indian lad, with his pleasant smile. "Perhaps it will be very pleasant to help you a little." CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CHUMS HAVE TWO CALLERS. "PERHAPS you can tell us how far we will have to go up this river before we find a place where we can cross?" Charley said. "I can do better than that. I can take you across. I have a canoe but a little ways from here," replied the Indian lad. "Good," exclaimed Walter, with pleasure. "That will help us out a lot. We were dreading the trip around." "We can cross as soon as you wish," offered the young Seminole. "Let's sit a while and rest," suggested Charley, whose curiosity was aroused by the manner and speech of the splendid young savage. "Are there many of your people camped at the Big Cypress?" "About one hundred. The Seminoles are becoming as the leaves in autumn," said the lad, sadly. "There are only four tribes of us left. One is camped at Fort Lauderdale, one at Indiantown, another tribe is hunting in the Glades, and we are at the Big Cypress. Only four hundred left of a once powerful race." His voice and face took on a deeper tinge of melancholy as he said, "Soon we will all be gone and only be a memory growing dim with the passing years." "Oh, I guess, it's not as bad as that," said Charley, cheerfully. "The Seminoles will gradually adjust themselves to civilization and begin to increase once more." "We are a homeless people," declared the lad. "Your race took all, except this swamp. Here we have lived at peace where no white man would live and now even it is being taken from us. Every week from the East Coast, great canals, like rivers, creep further and further into the swamp. And as fast as they creep in follow the whites with ploughs and teams. Houses spring up over night. The forest and deer vanish, and green fields take their place. Soon the great swamp will be no more." "But surely that is good," Charley argued. "It is the onward march of civilization." "Civilization," echoed the Indian, bitterly. "Will civilization make my people better? They are truthful, they are honest, they are cleanly in mind and body. Will civilization make them better?" Charley was silenced. Apart from education, he knew the Seminoles were the superior of his own race in morals. "No, civilization will not improve us, but it is coming to us. Nothing can stop it. The white man rejoices at its advance, the red man is sad and troubled. The great writer Kipling says,-- 'The toad beneath the harrow knows Exactly where each tooth point goes, The butterfly beside the road, Preaches contentment to the toad.'" Our little party marveled at this strange youth, a savage, yet educated, gentle mannered, and of a wisdom far beyond his years. In reply to their questions, they learned that a noble white man, Dr. Fish, was spending his life in the heart of the Everglades, striving with all his might to do something for its unfortunate and deserving people. Amongst other things, he was educating the younger members of the tribe and trying to fit them for the inevitable struggle under the new order of things. They learned that their new friend was one of his pupils. That the lad was hunting for skins that he might earn the money necessary to go to college and fit himself to help his race in their distress. Our little party were filled with admiration for the noble youth's lofty ambition. They reflected sadly that there were woefully few white boys fired by the same high ideals. They would have liked to have tarried and talked longer with the interesting lad, but the slanting sun warned them that they must be on their way. The young Seminole led the way to his canoe which proved to be a cranky, clumsy craft dug out of a big cypress tree. Used as they were to water crafts, they entered it with considerable doubt and care. As soon as they were safely aboard, the lad shoved off and with a long pole propelled the ungainly craft to the other side of the river. "Follow the gulf," he directed, as they bade him good-by. "You ought to be out of the forest by to-morrow night. You will meet more rivers, but they contain no crocodiles so you will be able to cross them without danger." He shook hands gravely with each at parting, repeating quaintly the words of a hymn the good missionary had doubtless taught him. As our little party once more took up their weary march, the familiar words so quaintly quoted by the solitary lad in the gloomy swamp kept thrumming through their thoughts. "God be with you till we meet again, By His counsel guide uphold you, With His sheep securely fold you, God be with you till we meet again." They tramped steadily the balance of the afternoon and at night made camp on the edge of another large river. Here they were fortunate enough in finding a large bed of big mussels or fresh-water oysters, upon which they made a delicious supper. Sunrise found them again on their way, eager to be out of the somber, gloomy forest. They had already spent three days in its gloomy depths and they were heartily sick of it and its crawling serpents. They paused but a few minutes at noon to rest a bit, and to eat a few of the mussels they had brought with them, then pushed on again. "I believe we are nearly out of this hateful forest," Charley said, as they waded along its edge. "It seems to me that the cypress are not quite so dense, and, I fancy, I can get a glimpse of some trees of a darker green ahead." An hour's more wading proved his guess correct. Palmettoes, satinwoods, bays, and even pines, began to be mingled with the cypress. The color of the water changed gradually from its fresh blackness to the salt tinge of greenish-blue, and, at last, they came to a stretch of sandy beach which they hailed with joy for their feet were getting tender and sore from the constant wading. Long before dark, they were clear of the dismal, floating forest and made camp on a high, sandy bluff by the side of a clear, purling little brook. Their supper was a feast; roasted buds of the cabbage palmettoes, black bass fresh from the creek, oysters, clams, crab claws, and for dessert, huckleberries which grew in profusion around them. When it was finished, they stretched out on the beds they had made of dry, fragrant sea moss before the glowing fire in more hopeful spirits than they had been in many days. They were lying thus chattering contentedly when they received an unexpected visitor. He came as silently as an Indian. They neither saw nor heard him until he stepped into the fire's glow. He was a man of about forty years of age, dressed in buckskin and was of rather engaging appearance. His name, he said, was Watson, and he was a hunter and trapper. From him they learned they were but a day's journey from Tampa, and that a good beach extended the whole distance. The stranger stayed for at least two hours. He seemed to take an almost childish interest in their account of their misadventures and took an interest, that was pathetic, in all they could tell him of the news of the world outside. Events which had occurred two and three years before seemed to be news to him. Yet he appeared an educated, brainy man. He stayed until the little party's yawns could not longer be suppressed, then departed as silently as he had come. "Whew," sighed Charley, when at last he was gone, "I would as soon entertain a rattlesnake as that man." "Why?" Walter said, in surprise. "I thought he seemed bright and pleasant." "Is it possible you have never heard of that man, Watson? I thought everyone in Florida knew of him." "I have never heard of him, either," said Captain Westfield. "Who is he? Tell us about him." "It's a horrible tale, yet pathetic, too, in a way," said the lad, thoughtfully. "From what I have often heard, we are now in what is sometimes called 'Murderer's Belt.' I have heard it referred to many, many times, but I had forgotten all about it until I heard that man's name. In this fringe of country bordering on the Everglades, it seems that there are some forty or fifty men hiding out. They are men wanted for serious crimes, murder in most cases, for nothing but the dread of being hung would induce men to lead the lives they are forced to live. They live solitary lives. The Indians will have nothing to do with them and they fear or mistrust each other too much to associate amongst themselves. Each one is as alone in the world as though he were in solitary confinement. They get their living with their traps and rifles. That's all they get out of life, just a living and freedom. An army could not capture one of them, except by surprise, for at the first alarm they plunge into the swamp where none but an Indian could follow them. I don't suppose that man Watson has even spoken to a human being in years until to-night. Only our apparent harmlessness induced him to seek speech with us, I believe. For Watson is the king murderer of the lot. He came to Florida some years ago from Georgia, with the law officers in close pursuit. It had been discovered up there that he was the author of a string of mysterious murders. Brutal, cold-blooded murders that had been going on for years. Some forty or forty-five years in all, I believe. The officers caught up with him at Tampa, but he killed two, wounded the third, and escaped into 'Murderer's belt.' With him was a young brother, who, so far as could be learned, had taken no part in his crimes, but the two seemed to stick together from mutual affection. "Contrary to the usual custom in 'Murderer's Belt,' the two did not play it alone together as they should have done, but met and made friends with a man by the name of Cox who was about as hardened a character as Watson. The three hung together for a while, but one day there was a little quarrel and Cox shot the boy through the heart. He intended to kill Watson also and thought he had done so but the bullet glanced off on a button and Watson recovered his senses after a while to find his brother dead and Cox gone. They are both now seeking each other in the 'Belt.' Watson will try to kill Cox at sight to avenge his brother, and Cox will try to kill Watson the first chance he gets to keep from being killed. Neither can appeal to the law for they are both outside the law. It's a case of man against man or rather murderer against murderer. Think of what their lives must be. Every hour, day and night, trying to kill or keep from being killed. Not seeing each other, but knowing every minute that the other is seeking him with murder in his heart, expecting death from behind every tree and bush." "Massa Chas," said Chris, with a shudder, "youse gibbin' me de creep. Please not dat kind ob talk an' let's go to sleep." CHAPTER XXIX. AN IDLE DAY. MUCH to their disappointment, our little party were forced to remain where they were the next day. The long, continuous soaking in the brackish water had made their feet so tender that walking on the sand was very painful. They prepared as usual for the start but they had not gone more than a hundred yards when they gave up the attempt and returned to where they had camped. "It is just as well for us to lay by, a day, anyway," Charley observed in an attempt to force cheerfulness from their enforced detention. "Tampa is only a day away and we couldn't go into the city like we are. We would be arrested as tramps as soon as the police caught sight of us. Gee! but we are a tough-looking gang. Captain, you look like a typical 'Weary Willie.' All you need is a stick, a tomato can, and a handkerchief full of hand-outs to be a complete 'knight of the road.'" "You haven't got any room to make fun of my appearance," grinned the old sailor. "You look like a cross between a coal heaver and a chimney sweep and Walter looks just as bad. It don't show up quite as bad on Chris." "Dat's de advantage ob bein' a nigger," agreed Chris, composedly. "A nigger can't show de dirt much. If I was one ob you white chillens I'd be plum ashamed ob myself--I sho' would." And indeed, the little party was a sight to behold. Their clothes were stiff from mud, slime, and brine, and their skins were grimed from the smoke of their camp-fires. They had washed thoroughly, and often, but the mud and slime of the swamp had made useless all efforts to keep clean. "First, we had better take a good wash ourselves and scrub good and clean with this white sand. Then wash out our clothes as good as we can. This warm sun will soon dry them out and keep us from catching cold. While they are drying, we can be getting something to eat for the day and fix up our feet. When that's all done we want to lay quiet the balance of the day and give our feet a chance to get into shape," said Charlie. Without soap, the washing of their clothes was a slow, laborious job. Luckily their clothing was comparatively new and strong or it would never have stood the rubbing and pounding it received. At last, however, the operation was completed and their pants and shirts were spread on the bushes to dry. This done, they turned their attention to the laying in of a supply of food for the day. While Chris, with the fish-line, sought a likely looking pool near the creek's mouth, Walter and Charley hunted for oysters and clams, and the captain busied himself in picking a generous supply of huckleberries. In a short time, the two boys had collected enough shell-fish for a couple of days, and joined the old sailor in picking the black, glossy berries. By the time they had gathered all that were wanted, Chris had succeeded in landing three big sea bass and a small shark about four feet in length. "Hold on, don't do that," Charley exclaimed, as the little darkey was casting the shark back into the water. "That shark is the very thing we want. I would not take a dollar for it." "Hit ain't no good to eat," protested Chris. "Hit tastes so strong you'd have hard work to swallow one bit of hit." "I'll show you what I want it for," Charley said. "Just start up a little fire while the rest of us open up some clams and oysters for dinner." When the fire was going briskly, the lad attacked the shark with his sheath-knife. Splitting it open, he cut out the fat and the liver from inside. These he placed in a big shell obtained from the beach and set the shell on the coals. "Now get some nice, clean, Spanish moss," he directed, "and unravel a yard or so of that rope we brought with us. There's nothing better than shark oil for a liniment. It is going to do our feet a world of good." As soon as the oil was tried out in the shell, they rubbed it on to their swollen feet. The result was immediate and gratifying. The burning ceased at once and the aching visibly decreased. When they had rubbed the oil well in, they wrapped their feet up in Spanish moss which they bound in place with bits of the raveled rope. "Now if we lay quiet and don't use them, they will be all right by to-morrow," declared Charley, with satisfaction. "I guess our clothes are dry by now. We had better put them on or this sun will have our backs blistered as sore as our feet." The boys hobbled over to where they had spread out their clothes and to their satisfaction found them perfectly dry. They were just slipping on their shirts when the captain descended upon them, wrath on his usually good-natured face. "What have you done with my clothes?" he demanded, angrily. "This is no time for joking. Stop it right now." "We haven't touched your clothes," Charley protested, indignantly. "They are just where you left them." "They ain't," gasped the old sailor, paling, for he knew the lad always told the truth. "They're gone. Someone has stolen them." "Whew," whistled Charley. "Some one of those murderers must have taken a fancy to them." "I'd murder him, if I could get my hands on him," cried the captain, wrathfully. "How am I going to go into town in this fix." Charley grinned as he caught the humor of the situation. "You could go into town all right," he said, "there wouldn't be any trouble about that. It's what they would do to you after you got into town. I don't really believe the police would stand for your present costume, Captain." The old sailor glared at him in helpless wrath. "What am I to do?" he mourned. "My back is burning already." "Sit down in the shade of that tree," Walter suggested, "the sun won't hit you there. We'll have to think up something for you. We would hardly care to enter the city with you in your present condition." Charley had quickly seized upon a plan to clothe the old sailor but he could not resist the temptation to tease him a little. "If we only had a barrel we could fix you out all right," he said, reflectively. "We could knock out the head and hang it from your neck by ropes." "But we haven't got the barrel," said Walter, regretfully, catching his chum's wink. The captain eyed them suspiciously but the two lads' faces were serious. Walter appealed to his chum, gravely. "He might pretend he is a work of art," he suggested, "he's got a ship tattooed on his back, a mermaid on his chest, and a flying fish on each leg. Maybe Tampa is an art-loving city and will receive him with open arms." "I am afraid not," Charley replied, gravely. "I expect it's just a big, rough, unartistic city. I think it would be better for him to enter as a nature-lover who had adopted the simple life." "Good," exclaimed his chum, enthusiastically. "Just the thing. What a sensation it will make. I can just see the papers with his picture on the front page and the black head lines. "Noted sea captain adopts the simple life and discards clothing. Says, 'go naked and you'll live to be a hundred.'" "What's the name of that widow lady who was so interested in the captain, Mrs. Wick? I believe I'll send her one of the papers," said Charley, reflectively. This was more than the old sailor could stand. "If you young idiots can't suggest anything sensible, for the Lord Harry's sake shut up," he spluttered. "I don't see much we can suggest," Charley said seriously. "Our clothes are all too small for you or we would each give something to help dress you. There's no hope of getting your clothes back. The only thing I can think of, is to do you up in Spanish moss like they do roses and tender plants they send North." "I guess Spanish moss is the only thing," admitted the captain. "It ain't much, but it's better than nothing." So, with difficulty, restraining their laughter, the two lads proceeded to cover the old sailor with great bunches of the strong, long, Spanish moss, tying it securely to him with pieces of the raveled-out rope. When they had finished, he was a queer and wonderful creature. The sight was too much for Chris. The little darkey lay on the grass and rolled with laughter. "Massa Cap, Massa Cap," he gasped, "you look jes' like a great big Teddy Bear." The old sailor grinned feebly at the three, mirth-convulsed boys. "I reckon I do look some funny," he admitted, "but I don't care. It's comfortable, and a heap sight decenter than nothing." A look of anxiety came to his face and he winced visibly. "What's the matter?" asked Charley. "No pins sticking in you?" The captain scratched vigorously. "Thar's ants in that pesky moss," he declared, at which announcement the three boys let out a roar of laughter that made the woods ring. It was verily a day of rest for the four wanderers. The balance of it was spent lying on their soft moss couches in the warm sunshine talking over past events and planning for the future. With the night came Watson again to sit in the shadows by their camp and listen greedily to what they could tell him of the world outside. In spite of the man's bloody record of crime, they could not help a touch of pity for his loneliness. And the truth was more indelibly stamped on their minds that evil brings its own punishment. They told him about the theft of the captain's clothes, and he listened attentively. "I guess it was Black Sam took them," he commented. "He was in rags the last glimpse I got of him. He certainly needs clothes but I guess you need them worse. I'll get them back for you." "Strangers," he said, as he rose to go, "I want you to do me a big favor. When you get outside send me a copy of the Atlanta Constitution. I ain't heard a thing of Georgia in years. Send it to Marco, care of Indian Charley, and I'll get it all right." Charley promised him they would do so. In the morning when they awoke, the captain's clothes were lying beside the fire. They never knew exactly how Watson made Black Sam relinquish his prize but there was a large blood-stain on the shoulder of the cleanly-washed shirt and they formed their own opinion. CHAPTER XXX. THE DISCOVERY. THE day and night of rest, together with the shark oil, had worked wonders with the sore feet and, much to their delight, the little party found that they could travel once more without pain. After the weary days in the dismal swamp, they rejoiced in the new country they had entered. A broad, white sand beach made walking easy and their eyes were delighted with the ever-changing landscape. Soon they began to come upon signs of human habitation. Now a herd of cows grazing in placid contentment, and later, a little shack perched upon the beach and tenanted by a lone hermit of a fisherman. From him, they learned that they were within fifteen miles of the city of Tampa. The captain purchased a package of tobacco from the hermit and was soon enjoying the first smoke he had had in many days. The boys looked longingly at the fisherman's little sloop bobbing at anchor in the cove. They would have liked to have bargained for a passage to Tampa but they had too little money in their pockets to afford such a luxury. It was nearly noon and the fisherman, with the ready hospitality of his calling, invited them to dinner, an invitation they were not slow to accept. The meal was simple, but the vegetables tasted delicious after their steady meat diet, and they reveled in the strong, hot, fragrant coffee. They did not linger long after eating, for they were anxious to reach their journey's end. When about five miles from the friendly fisherman's, Charley called a halt. "Listen, and see if you hear anything," he said. "I've been hearing a queer noise for the last ten minutes but maybe it's only my imaginations." His companions stopped and listened. "No, it isn't your imagination," the captain declared. "I can hear it, too--a kind of peculiar noise I can't describe." "It sounds like the soft smacking of a thousand lips," Walter said. "I wonder what it is." "We will soon find out," Charley replied. "It seems to come from somewhere ahead." As they advanced, the peculiar noise became more distinct. It grew steadily in volume until at last they stood at what had once been the mouth of a creek, but which was now closed up, at the entrance, by a small mound of drifted sand, thus changing the former creek into a small lake. "My goodness! Look at it!" gasped Charley, weakly, pointing at the land-locked pond. "Jumping Moses," swore the captain, the nearest approach to an oath he ever permitted himself to use. The peculiar noise came from the lake's surface. It was literally covered with tiny, open, gaping mouths. "Mullet," Charley said, in a hushed voice, "mullet, thousands of them, tens of thousands of them, penned up in there like rats in a trap." "And we without a net or boat," lamented Walter, bitterly. "Just our luck." "Golly!" exclaimed Chris. "If we only had dese fish in Clearwater we wouldn't hab to worry 'bout money no more for awhile." "They must have got caught in here during that gale," Charley pondered. "The heavy sea drifted up the sand and closed up the entrance so they could not get out into the gulf again. They can't live a great while longer in that small body of water. That great number must have about all the oxygen in the water exhausted by now. Their coming to the surface to breathe proves that. They seldom do that surface breathing. Let's have a look at that pond and see what it's like." A hasty examination showed them that the lagoon was shallow, not more than three feet in the deepest places. "Just an ideal place to catch them," Charley declared. "Yes," agreed Walter, excitedly. "If we only had two or three nets we could tie them together and drag them across the pond like a seine." Charley shook his head, decidedly. "That bunch would tear your nets to shreds if you tried that plan. Why, boy, you don't comprehend how many fish there are in that school." "Well, I guess it's no use standing here looking at them any longer," said Walter, morosely. "We can't do anything with them, so we might as well be moving on." "Yes, and moving fast too," Charley agreed, "but I have a hope that we can do something with those fish. They are worth trying for, anyway. It all depends on whether we can get to Clearwater and back again before they die, as they surely will as soon as all the air is gone from the water. Come on, let's hurry." As they hastened along at top speed, he explained his plan. "The first thing is to get to Clearwater," he declared. "Get the Roberts boys and their launch and nets, and all the other boats and nets we can get together, then come back here as quick as we can get back. Of course, we will have to divide up with the Roberts but they have been good friends of ours and deserve it. There's enough fish to pay all of us for the trouble if we find them still alive." "Go your fastest, lad," said the old sailor, briefly, "you'll find us right at your heels." And go fast Charley did. It called forth all the wind and strength of his three companions to keep up with him. Just as night was falling, four tired, draggled-looking persons entered the ticket office of the Atlantic Coast Line in Tampa. "When's the next train for Clearwater?" demanded one of the youths of the party, crisply. "Just gone," answered the agent, briefly. "No more until morning." "But we have got to get to Clearwater to-night," said the lad, desperately. The agent noted the look of dismay on the four faces. "The Northern flier is due here in half an hour," he said, slowly. "She slows down a bit for the curve. If it's a matter of life or death you might be able to board her. I would not advise it, though. She does not slack down much at Clearwater and it would be pretty risky jumping off." "Where's the best place to get on her?" asked the lad, briefly. "Right down by the water tank. It's risky, though." The lad thanked him, and the four hurried off for the water tank. They boarded the train safely and stood on the platform hanging on to the rails as the fast limited tore on in the darkness. They would have liked to have entered one of the coaches and rested on the cushioned seats but they were afraid the conductor would insist upon carrying them on to the next regular stop, a hundred miles beyond their destination. It was but an hour's ride to the little town and the flyer barely slackened speed as she thundered into it. As the lights of the station flashed into view, they stepped down to the lowest step and jumped. It was a fearful chance to take, but luck was with them. They landed in a bank of soft sand, and, although the breath was knocked out of them for a minute, they escaped unhurt except for Walter. He gained his feet, wincing with pain. "I've twisted my ankle," he said. "Don't stop for me. I would only be a hindrance to you with this game foot. Go on. I'll hunt up a doctor and have it tended to." Charley hesitated. "I don't like to leave you this way, old fellow," he said. "I don't like to be left, either," said his chum, grimly, "but you can't do me any good by staying. Go on. Don't waste precious time." Charley reluctantly obeyed. Walter stood gamely watching them with a smile on his face until the three were out of sight, then he hobbled for the main street, his face contorted with pain. His injury was far more serious than he had pretended. He was convinced that some bones in his foot were broken but he had concealed his plight from his chums for he knew they would not leave him if they thought his injury at all serious. Followed by the captain and Chris, Charley headed for the little station not far away. There were a few loungers on the platform and amongst them he was pleased to see one of the fish-boat captains who had helped in the towing of the "North Wind." "Is it you or your ghost?" he exclaimed, when Charley approached him. "Everyone thought you and your friends were lost in that gale." "If we are ghosts, we don't know it," Charley laughed. "Say, can we hire you and your launch for a couple of hours?" "You can," said the fish captain, promptly. "Fishing is so poor now I have quit it for a while. Where do you want to go?" "First over to the island where we used to stay, and then across to the Roberts camp, if they are at home." "Oh, you'll find them there all right. Fishing is so poor, now, it does not pay to go out." Charley pulled out a five-dollar bill, the only money he had in his pocket. "Here's your pay in advance," he said. "We may want to hire you for two or three days, but I'll let you know about that a little later. Just now, we are in a hurry. Can you take us right off?" "Right away," said the fisherman, pocketing the bill with satisfaction. "My launch is tied up to the dock. Come on if you are ready." In five minutes our little party was aboard the launch and headed for the island. "Reckon there ain't much use going there," the fisherman remarked, as they sped along. "Someone has torn the cabin down and broken the dock you built all to pieces." Charley smiled. Evidently Hunter had been doing all he could to discourage anyone else from occupying the island. "We don't intend to live there, any more," he said. "I just want to go ashore there for a minute." As the launch drew in close to the shore, he had him stop the engine and as soon as the keel touched bottom, he jumped overboard and waded ashore, carrying the launch's lantern. "Wait here for me. I'll be back in a minute," he directed. Once up near the cabin, he was not long in finding what he was after. He and his companions had taken in over a hundred dollars in cash from their sales of oysters and clams. It was too large a sum for them to risk carrying around in their pockets and they had not cared to leave it unguarded in the cabin while they were away fishing, so they had wisely put it in a glass jar and buried the jar in a safe place, keeping out only enough for pocket money. The lad found their little treasure undisturbed and stuffing it into his pockets he hurried back to the launch. "Now head over for the Roberts camp," he commanded, as soon as he climbed aboard. CHAPTER XXXI. THE FISH. "I HAVE rather a personal question to ask you, Captain Brown," Charley said, as the launch ploughed her way through the glowing water. "Let's hear it," said the fisherman. The lad hesitated. "It sounds rather impudent, but I want to know just how good a friend you are to Hunter and his gang?" "Can't say that I am a friend of his at all," answered the man, frankly. "There are quite a few of us fishermen who have no particular love for him, but we all try to avoid trouble with him because he can make things pretty costly for a man in a secret, underhand way which leaves one nothing to grasp upon. I suspect you have found that out for yourselves." "We have," admitted Charley, candidly. "It's a wonder to me, you fishermen, who do not like him, haven't got together and run him off before now." "I expect it does look kind of queer to an outsider," replied the man, reflectively. "But it's natural enough when one gets to understand fishermen. You seldom find a fisherman but who has been more or less of a roamer and adventurer. Their lives have made them self-reliant and taught them the rather hard lesson that it don't pay to take up others' quarrels. Unconsciously, perhaps, their motto is 'leave me alone and I'll leave you alone.' They may really be in sympathy with a man, but they seldom will assist him in his disputes. That trait in them explains why Hunter lasts so long. They simply will not combine against him." "I see," said Charley, thoughtfully, "that puts the matter in a new light to me. I had supposed they stood for Hunter and his ways because they approved of him and them." "Not at all," said the other, warmly. "Most of the fishermen are pretty good fellows at heart, but 'hands off' is their policy." "I am glad to learn that," Charley said, frankly. "I want to hire a few fishermen and their launches for a couple of days, but the work is rather important, and I want only men who will work for the interest of the man who pays them and not play into the hands of someone like Hunter." "The fishermen will be true to their employer's interests," declared the other, emphatically. "Good," said the lad. "I am going to trust to your judgment. As soon as you land us at Roberts' dock, I want you to go back to Clearwater and get four more launches with their skiffs and captains. Get the best and most trustworthy men you can pick out. If you can be back with them before midnight, it will mean five dollars extra for each of them and ten dollars extra for yourself. Bring plenty of gasoline for the launches, and provisions for two days for yourselves." "I can get the men and boats all right," Captain Brown said, doubtfully, "but they will want ten dollars apiece per day, and not knowing you, they will want some money down." Charley reached down into his pocket and pulled out the roll of bills at which the man gazed in amazement. "Here's the first day's pay for each in advance," he said, counting out fifty dollars, "and remember there is five dollars extra apiece in the job if they are all at the Roberts dock ready to start at midnight." "We'll all be ready in two hours," Captain Brown declared. "Here we are at the dock. I won't stop. Just jump out and give me a shove off. Time is worth money now," he grinned. The three jumped out on the little pier, shoved the launch off, and it was quickly lost in the darkness. Charley grinned as he stood for a moment listening to the rapid popping of the engine's exhaust. "He's got that engine turning up as fast as it will go," he commented. "He means to get that extra ten dollars, all right. Gee! but I've been using my nerve, spending money that belongs as much to the rest of you as it does to me." "That's all right," approved Captain Westfield. "You are planning out this thing. Spend the last penny if you want to. I believe in letting one at a time run a thing. Others butting in only gum things up--a ship don't work well under more than one captain." The light was still burning in the Roberts boys' cabin and a tap at the door brought forth an invitation to come in. When the three stepped into the lighted room they were greeted with exclamations of amazed pleasure. "It's good to see you all are safe again," cried the husky Bill, as he shook hands with a heartiness that made them wince. "We were mourning you as drowned. We did not believe your launch could have lasted out that gale." "She didn't," Captain Westfield said. "She went to pieces on shore a good many miles down the coast." "Tough luck," said the big fisherman, sympathetically. "You fellows do seem to hit it rough. It's too blamed bad, that's what it is." "I believe our luck is due to change pretty soon," Charley said, with a smile. "How are things coming with you now?" "Couldn't be much worse," Bill stated, briefly. "Goodness only knows what's become of all the fish. We haven't wet a net since the gale. What we lack of being stone-broke isn't much. We have only got about a hundred dollars in cash left but you are welcome to half of that. I guess you are worse off than we are." The three chums' hearts warmed with gratitude at the big fellow's generous offer. "We'll take the whole hundred, if you please," Charley said, calmly, "but not as a loan. We want you three as partners for a couple of days and the hundred will go to pay expenses. Can you give us a cup of coffee? We haven't had a bite to eat since noon." While the big fisherman rustled around fixing a lunch and making the coffee, Charley told of their discovery. "Whew, it sounds like finding money," Bill commented, when he had finished. "But we don't deserve any half share for just going with you and helping you out. Just pay us the same as you do the other fishermen." "No," Charley said, and his two chums nodded vigorous approval of his words. "It isn't what you are going to do but what you have already done that counts with us. You helped us out when we were friendless, and it is only just that you should share in our good fortune if we have any. But we must not count our chickens before they are hatched. The fish may be all dead by the time we get there, or someone else may have found them--they were making noise enough to be heard a mile. "Oh, we are making you no gift," he said, as Bill still protested against an equal division. "We may need your help and we need your money to pay off the launch men in case the trip is fruitless. It will take more cash than we've got. Besides, there may be some fighting." "Too bad we have got to have anyone in this but ourselves," Bill observed. "We have got to have help," Charley declared, "and, really, I do not fear any trouble from those who go with us. They are taking no nets with them, (I figured your three nets would be all we could use to advantage in such a small place). They have no idea as to our destination or what we are after. When they get there they will realize that it is too far away for them to come back, get their nets and return and do anything all tired out as they will be from the trip. Besides, I planned to offer them a bonus in money after we get there, provided they work good and hard." "You've got a long head on you," Bill said, admiringly. "You've evidently got it all planned out." "I tried to plan so far as I could," Charley said, modestly. "Where I fear trouble is when the fish begin to come into Clearwater. There will be a stampede of the other fishermen on us then. Put all your guns and ammunition in the launch. We may need them." While the three were eating, the Roberts packed up groceries and rolled up blankets for the trip. These, and the rifles, they carried down to the launch while the chums were finishing their coffee. They were ready none too soon, for as the chums drained their cups, they caught the mingled popping of the coming launches. It still lacked twenty minutes to midnight when the last launch came churning up to the end of the little dock. Charley counted out five dollars and handed it to each of the launch captains. "This is for being ahead of the time set. You'll each get your ten dollars apiece at the close of each day. Now, if you are all ready, we'll be off." "Where are we going, Boss?" questioned one of the captains. "I do not know the name of the place," the lad replied, thoughtfully. "Just follow our launch. We will lead the way." In a few minutes the things were all stowed aboard and Bill started up the engine. The launch leaped ahead and, with bow headed down the coast, sped away in the darkness closely followed by the other boats containing four contented, but thoroughly mystified, captains. As soon as they were fairly under way, our three chums stretched out on the launch's cushioned seats for a nap. They were completely worn out by the eventful day and night. At sunrise Charley was awakened by Bill. "We've been running without a hitch all night," the big fisherman informed him. "We must be getting near to your creek by now. We passed Tampa over an hour ago." Charley stood up and surveyed the shore-line. "I took a landmark before I left," he said. "There's a great, dead, pine tree standing up amongst a clump of palmettoes just to the south of the creek. I believe I can see it ahead there a couple of miles." At the end of ten minutes, he could make out the big, dead pine plainly. He awakened his chums and the three sat tense and impatient waiting to see if all their hopes and trouble had been in vain. When within a few hundred yards of the creek, Charley could stand the suspense no longer. "Stop the engine," he requested, in a fever of impatience. Bill threw off the battery switch. The four wondering captains trailing behind followed his example and the throbbing of the engines ceased. The lad stood up and listened intently. His quick ear could just distinguish a faint, peculiar noise, like the soft smacking of thousands of lips. He sank back into his seat with a sigh of relief. "It's all right," he exclaimed, delightedly. "I can hear them. Run in close to shore and anchor." CHAPTER XXXII. ABOUT MANY THINGS. AS soon as the anchors were dropped all scrambled into the skiffs, eager to be ashore. They landed close to the sand spit that barred the creek's entrance, and a few steps brought them to where they could look in on the little inland lake. All stood silent for a moment, gazing at the thousands on thousands of little, open, gasping mouths. "I expected to see some fish from what you told us but I didn't expect anything like this," said Bill, drawing a deep breath. "Boy, there's a pot of money waiting for us in that little pond." The other fishermen's faces were expressive of amazement and envy. "You might have let us in on this," one of them grumbled. "Would any of you have done it for us if you had found them?" Charley demanded. "I wouldn't," the man admitted. "But, all the same, ten dollars a day looks mighty small with all this money in sight." "We need every dollar we can make off of this thing," the lad said, "but we want to be as generous as we can afford to be. We are going to do better by you than we bargained to do. If you all do your best to help us put these fish into Clearwater, we will give you ten per cent on what we make in addition to the ten dollars a day we promised you." "That's more than fair," declared Captain Brown. "We will do our best. All hands had better get to work at once. Those fish are about all in. I doubt if they will live thirty-six hours longer." Charley had planned everything on the way down the coast and he had already arranged each man's part so that the work might be done with system and despatch. The Roberts and himself were to do the work with the nets. The fishermen were to do the loading, with the captain to help them. All of them were to work on one launch at a time and as soon as it was loaded it was to start for Clearwater while the next one received its cargo. To Chris was assigned the job of cooking for all hands, so that no time would be lost in the preparation of meals. Charley and the Roberts had taken on themselves the hardest part of the work, but the four went at their nasty, disagreeable task with vigor and cheerfulness. Taking an end of the joined nets, they waded across one end of the shallow lagoon stringing it out behind them. As soon as they had gotten the end to the opposite shore, two got to each end and pulled lustily. They had been careful to cut off only a small portion of the lagoon, but even so, they found that the fish between the net and shore were almost more than they could handle. They had to pull with all their might to drag in the ladened net, and as they pulled, they feared each minute that the fine twine would give way under the tremendous pressure. But at last they got the net ashore, its meshes full of struggling, silvery mullet. Then began the tiring work of getting the fish out of the fine, tangling twine. As fast as they were taken out they tossed them into a large box, and as soon as the box was filled, a fisherman carried it to the waiting skiffs and dumped the load, returning for another. In two hours the first launch was loaded, and started back for Clearwater. Walter, his ankle done up in splints and bandages, and using a cane for a crutch, limped into the fish house, the day following his accident, and sought a seat on a pile of old nets in a corner where he was not likely to be seen by Mr. Daniels. He had not sought the kindly fish boss yet to tell him of the loss of the launch. He was deferring the unpleasant task in hopes that his chums would be successful when the telling would be easier. Besides, he was not feeling equal to the task of explaining. His foot pained him intensely. He was also depressed by the doctor's statement that he had suffered a compound fracture of the ankle and must not try to use his foot for many days to come. He had but little money in his pocket and had not dared spend any of it for board and lodging. Instead he had slept miserably in a skiff pulled up on shore and had breakfasted off of cheese and crackers. Taking it all in all he did not feel equal to the unpleasant task of breaking bad news. He had been drawn to the fish house, however, knowing that there he would be likely to hear the first news of his absent chums. He was hoping Mr. Daniels would, not spy him in his secluded corner. But Mr. Daniels was having troubles of his own. A dull season is hard on the fishermen but harder still on the fish boss. On the desk before him was a heap of letters and telegrams from customers demanding fish. If he could not supply them at once, they would of course buy elsewhere. Building up a trade is slow work, and if you cannot supply its wants, it is soon lost. He was worrying through the mass of mail when the telephone bell rang. He lifted the receiver off the hook. "Hello! who's this?" he demanded, curtly. "It's Captain Brown, Cap," answered a tired voice. "I'm at the dock. Send down for some fish, will you?" "How many have you got, twenty pounds?" demanded Mr. Daniels, sarcastically. "Call it twenty pounds if you like," drawled the tired voice. "I calculate, though, that they will come nearer tipping the scales at ten thousand pounds." "Good boy," exclaimed the fish boss in delight. "They will help me out a lot. Where did you catch them." "I didn't catch them," said the weary tones. "Credit them to the account of those new guys, 'West, Hazard and so forth.' Good-by, I've got to go back for another load." Walter in his secluded corner caught enough of the conversation to tell him that his chums had succeeded. He forgot his pain and discouragement. Things took on a rosy tinge. He suddenly remembered the dime's worth of cheese and crackers, for breakfast, had only put an edge on his appetite. He stole out of the fish house and hobbled down the street to a little restaurant where he was soon seated behind a big, juicy steak and mashed potatoes. As soon as his hunger was appeased, he hobbled back to the fish house. There he remained all the balance of the day and far into the night for the fish house was the scene of great excitement. One after the other the launches arrived with their finny cargoes. When the last one was unloaded the first to arrive was back again with another load. The house's regular force was unable to handle the deluge. Men, boys, and even women were hired at fancy prices to assist. Packing in barrels became impossible. As many as could be were packed that way but the most were hustled, unpacked, into a car and heavily iced down. "For goodness' sake, how many more are coming?" Mr. Daniels demanded of a midnight arrival. "Not many," answered the launch captain. "They were making their last haul when I left. Some of the fishermen followed the first launch back and are trying to butt into the snap." "The rascally scoundrels," exclaimed Mr. Daniels, indignantly. The man grinned wearily. "You needn't worry," he said. "When I left, Bill Roberts was standing off the gang with a rifle, while the other fellows got out the fish." "They must be about tired out by this time," commented the fish boss. "Tired!" exclaimed the launch captain. "I am pretty well worn out myself and we launch men have the easiest part of the job. Those fellows who are handling the nets are earning every dollar they will make. Their fingers are worn through both skins handling that fine, wet twine. Their hands are just bleeding raw, and you know how salt water and fish slimes smart the smallest cut. They have bent over the nets so long that they can't straighten up without bringing the tears to their eyes. I'd like to have the money they will make, but hanged if I would work that hard for it." The launch captain had not overstated the case. The little party on the beach below were very near the limit of human endurance when the last fish was taken out of the nets. The launch captain had to assist them to the skiffs and into the launches. Once aboard the motor boats, they stretched out on the seats and slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. Another day had dawned when the fish captain awoke them at Clearwater. Walter, radiant of countenance, was waiting on the dock to welcome them. It took Charley several minutes to regain his sleep-scattered wits. "How much did they weigh?" he asked eagerly, as he wrung his chum's hand in congratulation. "Just an even hundred and fifty thousand pounds," Walter said. "Good! at two cents a pound, that's three thousand dollars." "Better than that," beamed his chum. "Owing to the scarcity of fish, the market has gone up a cent a pound." "Four thousand five hundred dollars," cried Charley, in delight. "Over two thousand dollars to be divided up amongst us four. It's almost too good to be true." "And that's not all," added Walter, eagerly. "We are not going to lose much on the launch, after all. Mr. Daniels says she was insured for nearly her full value." "All's well that ends well," Charley commented. "We have not come out of our fishing venture so badly after all." "I am afraid we haven't reached the end just yet," said Walter, his countenance sobering. "I've got something pretty serious to tell you as soon as we are all alone." "If it's nothing real pressing, save it a while," said Charley, hastily. "I want to get some money from Mr. Daniels and pay off the launch captains. Then, I want a good long sleep with nothing to worry me. The Roberts have insisted on our staying with them a couple of days until we get straightened out. We will go over to their camp as soon as I get the fishermen paid off." It took but a short time to get the money and pay off the sleepy launch captains. They were all well-pleased with their share of the venture. Besides the ten dollars a day, they received four hundred and fifty dollars to be divided among them. This business attended to, our little party joined the Roberts in their launch and the run to camp was quickly made. As soon as it was reached, the workers turned in for a good, long sleep, and Walter was left alone with his secret. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE SMUGGLERS AGAIN. WHILE his chums were making up the sleep they had lost, Walter took the Roberts launch and ran over to Palm Island. Brief as had been their stay on the little isle, he had grown quite fond of it and his anger rose as he viewed the work of the wreckers. The vandals had done their work well. Not a stick remained standing of the former cozy, little cabin. The wharf, too, was gone, even its posts had been hacked short off at the surface of the water. Leaving the scene of the ruin, Walter hobbled slowly over the little island looking all about with thoughtful interest. At last, he made his way back to the launch and returned to the Roberts camp. His companions were awake and stirring about. Chris was busily engaged in cooking dinner, while the rest were applying salve and bandages to their sore hands. Charley greeted his chum with an affectionate smile. "How's the foot?" he inquired. "Coming on all right," said Walter, cheerfully. "How about you, feeling better?" "Feeling fine and dandy," declared the other, "and I am as hungry as a wolf. I remember you had some bad news to tell me. Let's hear it. I feel able to face all kinds of trouble now." "I don't know as it is exactly bad news for us," said his chum. "In a way it doesn't concern us at all, unless we want to make it our business." "You are getting my curiosity aroused," Charley laughed. "Let's hear this news of yours." "The night you all left me in Clearwater, I did not go to a boarding house to stop. It had cost quite a bit to have my ankle fixed up and I did not have much money left and I was afraid to spend what little I had, for I knew, if you fellows were not successful in your trip, there was going to be mighty hard times ahead. I went out on the dock and looked around but I didn't quite fancy sleeping there so I went back uptown and hung around until the stores closed. I was getting pretty sleepy by this time, so I went down again to the bay and looked around until I found what I wanted, a skiff pulled up high and dry on the sand. There were some old nets in the bottom and I crawled in, stretched out on one of the nets, and pulled the other one over me, getting my head under a seat to keep out the dew. I went to sleep as cozy as a bug in a rug. I don't know how long I had slept when I woke up to the sound of voices. Four men were sitting on the edge of my skiff talking together. It was too dark to see their faces but I knew one of the voices. It was Hunter's and you can bet your life I laid mighty still and listened. "They were talking about us at first and it made my blood boil to hear them chuckling over the harm they had done us, but there was nothing I could do but lay quiet and stand it. They talked about the cache and wondered where we had hidden the liquor. At last they came to what, I guess, was the real object of their meeting where no one could hear them. Having disposed of us, as they thought, they have arranged to bring in another large lot of aguardiente." "When?" Charley demanded, eagerly. "To-night. They expect the schooner at the island at about midnight. They talked it over and arranged all the details of the job before they separated." "To-night at midnight," Charley mused. "We had better go right over and tell the sheriff." "That was the first thing I thought of," Walter said. "I was up at his house by sunrise the next morning but it was no use. His wife told me he was very ill and could not be seen." "Queer, he is never around when that smuggling is going on," observed Charley, suspiciously. "I wonder if it can be that he is standing in with the smugglers for a share of the profits." "Not Sheriff Daley," spoke up Bill Roberts, warmly. "He is as square a man as ever lived. Queer, though," he added, slowly, "I saw him just the day before and he looked the picture of health, but then, it may be appendicitis or some such sudden illness that's struck him." "It's too bad," said Captain Westfield. "It leaves those rascals free to carry out their devilment. Of course, it's none of our business, but it seems wrong to have such things going on." "No, of course it is none of our business," Charley agreed, hesitatingly. "How many of them are there in it, Walt? Did you hear?" "Only the four that met," his chum replied. "They were discussing getting a couple more men to help, but Hunter objected as it would mean more division of the profits. He said the schooner's crew could help land the stuff." "Did he say how many were on the schooner?" Bill Roberts inquired. "Four men and a boy," replied Walter. "Well, as you have all said, I reckon it is none of our business," Bill observed. They sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes. "It would be hard on Hunter's wife, if he was caught," Charley said, finally. "It would be the best thing that could happen for her," Bill declared. "She is a good woman. She works like a slave to support them both. Hunter blows in all the money he makes and lives on her earnings. He beats her like a dog, too." "The brute!" Walter exclaimed, hotly. "Dar's five hundred dollars to be gib to de one what catches de booze sellers, ain't dey?" Chris inquired. "'Pears like hit would be a powerful good thing for some one to cotch him an' send all dat money to dat poor woman." Captain Westfield looked from one to the other with a sheepish grin. "Thar isn't any use of our saying it's none of our business," he said. "Down deep in his heart each one of us knows it is his business. It's always a _man's_ business to stop wrong-doing." "Right you are," agreed Bill Roberts, with gruff heartiness. "I know we are all thinking about the the same things. It isn't so much that this man and his gang are breaking the law that counts, it's the misery and suffering which he causes that calls for action. There have been ten men killed in the fish camps here the past year, and what caused the killing? Rum, rum brought in and sold by Hunter. And that isn't all the misery he's caused. Think of the beaten wives and neglected children. It's time there was a stop put to it." "Yes," Captain Westfield agreed. "We are as much our brother's keeper as in the days of Cain." "I guess we are all pretty well agreed," smiled the practical Charley. "The question is, how are we going to take them. There are nine of them and only seven of us. Of course one of them is only a boy, but then, Walt is pretty well crippled up." "I'll be right there when the fun begins," his chum said, determinedly. "What if they are two more in number. We will be well armed, and surely a surprise counts for something. I went over the island while you were all sleeping and planned it all out. There is only one piece of the beach where a boat can land safely. There is a group of palmettoes close to it. Now what I planned is this. We had better start out in the launch early and run straight out of the pass as though we were going out to the reef. Once we get behind the island, and out of sight of Clearwater, we'll skirt the shore and run around to the north end. There's a little cove there where the launch will be hidden from both the gulf and the bay. When dark comes we can hide in the clump of palmettoes and wait. When they get to work in earnest, we can slip out and take them by surprise. Then five of us can keep them quiet with the rifles, while the other two tie them up. Once we have got them secure, we can load them into the launch, carry them straight to Tampa and turn them over to the sheriff there. How does that strike all of you?" "It sounds simple enough," Charley said, doubtfully, "too simple, in fact." "What fault can you find with it?" Walter demanded. "None," his chum answered, "only I have a hunch that Hunter is too clever and cunning a rascal to be caught so easily." "Have you any better plan to suggest?" Walter asked. But Charley had not, nor did any of the others, so, after some discussion, Walter's plan was adopted. As soon as dinner was over, some lunch was packed into a basket, and storing it and the loading rifles in the launch, they steered boldly out of the inlet. As soon as the island was between them and Clearwater, however, they shifted helm, and hugging its shore, ran down to its northern end. Here they found the little cove Walter had mentioned. Running the launch into it, they anchored and waded ashore. They placed their launch and rifles in the clump of palmettoes, and then there was nothing to do until the coming of night, except to pass the time away as best they could. By keeping on the gulf side of the island, there was no danger of their being seen from Clearwater, and this they were careful to do. A swim in the clear, warm water and the picking up of curious shells on the beach served to while away the balance of the afternoon. As soon as dark came, they retired within the clump of palms. With the going down of the sun came the rising of the moon. It was nearly full and its rays lit up the little island almost as brightly as day. Our little party welcomed its tropical radiance for it would allow them to see without being seen. The hours slipped slowly away. At first some attempt was made at story-telling and conversation, but soon all lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Each realized that they were about to engage in a desperate undertaking. In fact, it was almost a foolhardy act they contemplated. The smugglers had all the advantage in point of force. They were eight, able-bodied men beside the boy, and it was more than likely that all of them would be armed. Of their own party, the three Roberts boys were really the only active men. Charley, though unusually strong for his age, was only a boy, while the captain, vigorous though he still was, was getting well along in years. Walter was practically helpless with his broken ankle, while Chris was too small to be of much help where strength was required. But for the advantage that would lie in taking the smugglers by surprise, they were more likely to be the captured than the captors. These reflections and the long, expectant waiting were beginning to tell on their nerves, when they heard the welcome put-put of a distant launch. "They are coming, at last," said Charley, with a sigh of relief. "I can recognize that exhaust. The Hunters launch is the only one that sounds just like that." "The schooner must be somewhere near but I don't see her lights," Walter observed. "Why, thar she is," exclaimed the captain, "sneaking inshore like a thief in the night." CHAPTER XXXIV. THE SURPRISE. SO silently that they had been unaware of her approach, the strange craft had stolen in like a phantom ship to within two hundred yards of where they lay concealed. She now lay directly in the moon's path and its rays so bright set out every rope and sail in dark relief. Not a light shone aboard. Her captain had evidently been made wary by his former alarm and was taking all possible chances against drawing the attention of others. As silent as a ghost ship the graceful craft crept in to within a cable's length of the beach. Then, with a faint creak of traveling blocks she rounded gracefully up into the wind and a muffled splash told that her anchor had been dropped. She made a beautiful sight laying, swan-like, full in the glowing pathway of the moon, her great white sails quivering in the gentle breeze. "The bird is ready to flit away at the first alarm," whispered the captain. "See, he has got his anchor hove short and has taken in none of his sails but the jib. He could get under way again in half a minute. He's wary all right." "We had better not talk any more," cautioned Charley in a whisper. "Sound carries a long ways over the water and the launch is nearly here." With nerves at highest tension the little party waited. The loud throbbing of the launch's engine suddenly ceased. There came a splash from a dropped anchor, and more splashing as its crew waded ashore. Then came a murmuring of voices and the sound of footsteps, and the watchers drew further back into their hiding place as four figures came into view. They passed so close to the bunch of palms that their features were plain to the hiders. One was Hunter, himself, the other three they recognized as members of his gang. The four hurried down to the water's edge. "Ahoy," Hunter hailed the schooner. "It's all right. Come ashore." "Are you sure no one else is around?" cautiously inquired a voice from the schooner. The response had been in perfect English but something in the tones and the faint foreign accent made the chums stare at each other as though they had heard a voice from the grave. "No, there's no one here but ourselves," Hunter replied, impatiently. "Do you think I would be here if everything wasn't all right? Come, get a move on you, and hustle that stuff ashore. There's a lot to do, and it ain't many hours till daylight." Those on the schooner fell to work with feverish haste. A small dingy carried on deck was launched over the side. Two figures leaped into it and received the cases, two others brought up from the hold. As soon as the dingy was loaded, the two on deck scrambled aboard and one sculled her into shore. The moment she grounded, the captain leaped ashore. "Here is part of our goods," he said smoothly. "We can bring it all in in three more trips." "Good," Hunter growled. "Come, unload it. What are you waiting for?" "Only for our money, kind sir," said the schooner's captain, in smooth, suave tones which stirred in the chums old, cruel memories. "I think it would be best for each boat-load to be paid for as it is brought in." "Don't be a fool, man," said Hunter, roughly. "We can settle up when the job is done. We have got no time to waste, now." "Pay before unloading," insisted the captain of the schooner, politely. "Gentlemen in our business cannot be too careful. Of course I know you are the soul of honesty, but you are forgetful, my good friend. You have never remembered to pay me for that last lot I brought you." "How many cases?" Hunter demanded, with an oath, as he pulled out a greasy roll of bills. "Twenty cases, one hundred dollars," said the stranger. Hunter counted out the bills, and the schooner captain recounted them carefully and thrust them into his pocket. "You are still forgetting that little bank account of a hundred dollars," he remarked, pleasantly. "Surely, now is a splendid time to settle it." Hunter's face grew livid with anger, but he controlled his temper with an effort. He was quick to realize that he could only lose by a display of anger. The man already had a hundred dollars of his money, and still remained in possession of the liquor. The chums in their concealment chuckled inwardly at his plight. At last the rascally fisherman had met his equal in cunning. Grudgingly, he counted out another hundred dollars which the smuggler pocketed with a mocking bow of thanks. "It's a pleasure to do business with a spot-cash gentleman like you," he declared. "Now, you may have your liquor, and there's three more boat-loads, just as good, at a hundred dollars a load." "You'll have to help us carry it up to the cache," Hunter growled. "There's too much of it for us four to get out of the way before daylight." "Always glad to oblige such a pleasant gentleman," said the smuggler, swinging a case up on his shoulder. "Many hands make light work." His companions silently followed his example, each shouldering a case and the fishermen similarly loaded fell in behind them. Hunter and one of his gang brought up the rear. As they came alongside the clump of palmettoes, Hunter nudged the man ahead. "Drop behind a bit," he said, softly. The man slowed his walk. "That fellow's got too much of our money to get away with it," he declared in tones too low to reach those ahead. The man nodded. "We've got to take it from him," he agreed. "We'd better wait until all the stuff is landed," planned Hunter. "We'll jump him just as he gets ready to leave and make him shell out. He can't make any trouble about it. He dasn't make any kick to the authorities. Tell the rest of the boys when you get a chance." The whispered conference had taken less than a minute but the alert smuggler glanced suspiciously back at the two plotters and they quickened their steps. "Our work is half done for us if they are going to fight amongst themselves," exulted Charley, as the procession passed out of hearing. "We had better wait till the trouble starts and then come down on them." "Did you notice that smuggler captain's voice?" asked Captain Westfield, eagerly. Walter's eyes were gleaming. "It's Manuel George, the Greek interpreter," he exclaimed, softly. "The rascal that caused us so much misery and stole our schooner from us." "And that's our dear old 'Beauty' lying out there," declared Charley, a thrill in his voice. "We have got to take her, if we risk our lives doing it. But here they come back again." The smugglers were losing no time but working with all possible rapidity. The first dingy load was quickly transferred to its hiding place and a second load brought ashore, the smuggler captain insisting on his pay before a case was unloaded, a third load quickly followed the second, and just as the morning star began to show in the east, the fourth and last load was brought ashore. To the hidden watchers it seemed a century of waiting. With the coming of the last load, the tension became almost unbearable. A few minutes now would decide whether or not they were to recover their dearly loved ship which they had long since given up as lost, to them, forever. The fisherman and smuggler captain seemed to be in excellent spirits as the work progressed. They laughed and joked with each other, but it seemed to Charley, keenly observant, that their gaiety was forced. He imagined a sinister note under their high spirits and the watchful, alert smuggler captain, for all his affected friendliness, seemed to be watching every movement of the fishermen. All were working at top speed now to complete the unloading before day, and the pile of cases in the dingy rapidly diminished. As the carriers passed back and forth to and from the new cache they were making, there would be a few minutes each trip when they were far enough away from the concealed ones for the little party to hold low, whispered conversation. "We want to act all together," Charley said, during one of these intervals. "When I say, 'Now', we will cover them with our rifles and step out upon them. I am going to wait till the last minute to give the word. If they have a mix-up and get to fighting among themselves, it will make our job doubly easy." As the procession passed by on its last trip, the lad chuckled softly. "That Hunter is certainly one clever rascal," he whispered. "Did you notice he and his men head the procession this trip for the first time?" "I don't see the advantage in that," Walter remarked. "Don't you? Why, they will be the first to unload and consequently the first to turn back. That will put them between the Greeks and the dingy. Something is going to happen pretty quick. Be ready. Here they come back." Empty-handed, the eight were returning to the beach chatting gaily together. As Charley had prophesied, Hunter and his three companions were well in the lead. At the dingy bow, the four turned and gathered close together. The Greek captain was quick to notice the move. A few words in Greek brought his men crowding around him. If he felt any fear, however, it did not show in his face or manner. "Our agreeable business is pleasantly ended, gentlemen," he said, smoothly. "When will you want more of the liquor, Mr. Hunter?" "Won't want any more," Hunter growled, surlily. "The game's too risky. There's too many getting on to it. It's time to quit." "Very well," said the smuggler, coolly. "Now, we must bid you good-by, gentlemen, and be on our way." "You Greek fool," Hunter snarled. "Do you think you are going to leave here with all that money? Hand it over, quick!" "Out of the way!" cried the Greek captain, as he leaped forward, followed by his men. In a second smugglers and fishermen were mingled together in a fierce struggle. "Now," called Charley, clearly, and his companions stepped forth with leveled rifles. "Hands up--all of you," he shouted. The fighting instantly ceased and the surprised combatants turned to face the new enemy. Then came an interruption that struck both parties with fear and dismay. From the gulf rose a huge, bat-like thing which swept down upon them with a whirling, sucking mumble. "De haunts," shrieked Chris, and fled as fast as his shaking legs would carry him. CHAPTER XXXV. AND THE LAST. THE others were hardly less frightened than the little darkey. The Greeks fell to their knees and mumbled prayers, while the fishermen stood white-faced and panic-stricken. Even the party with the rifles in their hands felt a thrill of fear as the gruesome object swept down on them. Suddenly the whirling sound ceased and the creature of the night glided down to the ground before them. "A hydroplane," cried Walter, with a sigh of relief, fervently echoed by his companions. From the air-ship stepped out three men, two of whom they recognized with a thrill of joy. They were Sheriff Daley and his deputy. The third man was a stranger to them. The three approached the panic-stricken group of smugglers with drawn revolvers. "I arrest you all in the name of the United States of America," announced the stranger, throwing back his coat and showing a marshal's star. "Put the handcuffs on them, Sheriff Daley." The sheriff stepped back to the hydroplane and brought out a bunch of jangling handcuffs which he proceeded to lock on the cowering captives who offered no resistance. "Take them down to their launch and run them over to Clearwater, Sheriff," the stranger directed, as soon as the job was done. "Keep them guarded close till evening, then we will take them on to the Federal prison in Atlanta. I will follow you in the hydroplane in a little while. I have a few words to say to our friends here before I leave." As soon as the sheriff was gone with his prisoners, the stranger turned to our friends with a smile. "There is considerable explaining to be done, gentlemen," he said, pleasantly. "Let's go out aboard the schooner where we will be more comfortable." Chris was called down from the top of a tall palmetto where he had taken refuge and the bewildered party followed the stranger aboard the dingy and were soon standing on the deck of their well-beloved "Beauty." The boys felt a lump in their throats as they looked upon the familiar, beautiful ship. The captain was here and there and everywhere over her deck. Examining everything like a parent with a long lost child. "They haven't harmed her at all," he declared, with joy. "Only painted her over a different color and altered the rigging to disguise her. No wonder we thought she looked familiar to us." It was with reluctance that the delighted old sailor obeyed the marshal's summons down into the cabin. "My friends, you have unknowingly made me a lot of trouble and pretty nearly caused me a failure," the stranger said, when they were all seated around the cabin table. "We will have to ask you to explain," Charley said. "We are all thoroughly bewildered." "I suppose things do seem rather mixed up to you," smiled the stranger. "Well, I will try to make everything plain. For some time the government has been receiving complaints of liquor being smuggled into various places along the West coast, and at last, I was assigned to trace up the smugglers and this seemed to me to be as likely a place as any to start my investigations. Well, it didn't take long to determine who disposed of the liquor here, but it was quite another thing to discover the identity of the smugglers. I had a pretty full description of the schooner from several parties who had seen her hanging around at different places along the coast. One man had even seen the crew and he described them to me pretty accurately. But when I tried to find out who were the schooner's owners and what port she hailed from I ran against a snag. No ship answering her description was registered in either America or Cuba. Quite by chance, when in Tarpon Springs, I heard of your lost ship, and the description of her and the Greeks on her, tallied so exactly with the schooner and the smugglers that I was convinced that they were one and the same. Having got a clue to the smugglers and the receivers, the next thing was to catch them in the act. I took up my residence in Tarpon Springs with a friend who happened to be an enthusiastic air man, and went to work. I spent most of my nights on the island going there after dark in my friend's hydroplane. I was getting along very nicely when you took up residence on the island and upset my plans. I was quite out of patience that first night when you were the means of frightening the schooner away. And then when you found the cache of liquor, I almost gave up hope. I was afraid you would ring in the local authorities and that they would mess up things without the evidence necessary to convict the offenders. To discourage them at the start, if they should take any action, I removed the liquor from the cache. In fact, I was almost as anxious as Hunter to have your party leave the island. However, all's well that ends well, and I have got the rascals at last, where they cannot escape long jail sentences. I was posted on to-night's doing through having easy access to Hunter's mail when it passed through the post-office. An accident to the hydroplane's engine came near making me too late to take the rascals in charge. As it is, I will have to have the testimony of your party taken down in writing to-morrow, for I did not see the actual handling of the smuggled goods myself. And now, I guess that is the whole story. It will doubtless explain many things which have puzzled you." "Then it must have been you whom Chris took for a ghost?" Walter said. "And you are the one who brought us the liquor and the doctor when Walter was so ill," Charley exclaimed. "I plead guilty to both charges," said the marshal, with a smile. "One other thing I would mention that is important to you," he added. "In smuggling cases, the government usually seizes the vessel, but in this case, you, the real owners, are so entirely innocent of wrong-doing, that I am going to assume the responsibility of leaving you in uninterrupted possession of your vessel. And now, I am thoroughly tired out and so I'll wish you good night, or rather good morning. Meet me in Clearwater this afternoon and we will finish up our business together." When the marshal was gone and the Roberts boys had departed for their camp, the four chums sat in happy content in the "Beauty's" cozy cabin. "Pinch me that I may make sure I am not dreaming," Walter sighed, blissfully. "All this seems too good to be true." "If you are dreaming, I am, too, and do not want to be wakened," Charley said. "Gee! a few weeks ago we had nothing but the clothes on our backs. Now we have over two thousand dollars in cash and a ship that we can easily sell for three thousand dollars more, and best, of all, we have been able to assist the Roberts, who were so friendly to us when we sorely needed friends, to a share in a part of our good fortune." "It's the good Lord's kindness," said Captain Westfield, reverently. "Let's thank him for the blessings he has showered upon us." All were silent for a time after the heartfelt prayer was ended. At last Walter said, practically: "What shall we do now? No use to start fishing again, it's only a few days till closed season." "I can tell you what we had better do, next," Charley said, rising. "What?" his chum demanded. "Turn in and get a good sleep," Charley responded, yawning. And safe in their bunks, dreaming blissfully of the future, we must for the present leave our four friends. What the future held in store for them our readers can discover in the next volume of their adventures: "The Boy Chums Conquering The Wilderness; or, Charley and Walter Amongst the Seminole Indians." THE END. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Original text did not have a Table of Contents. One was created by the transcriber to aid the reader. Obvious punctuation repaired. Page 1, "Chnms" changed to "Chums" (The Boy Chums' Perilous Cruise) Page 22, "comforable" changed to "comfortable" ( a comfortable, home-like) Page 90, "know" changed to "knew" (chum knew what he) Page 131, "somethink" changed to "something" (children or something) Page 144, "Monays" changed to "Morays" (Morays, a kind of salt) Page 149, "Permangate" changed to "Permanganate" (Permanganate of potash) Page 221, "dopped" changed to "dropped" (dropped off to sleep) Page 226, "contracted" changed to "contacted" (wires contacted and) Page 227, "appetities" changed to "appetites" (appetites of wolves) Page 232, "riggled" changed to "wriggled" (which wriggled at their) Page 243, "fesh-water" changed to "fresh-water" (fresh-water oysters, upon) Page 253, "tattoed" changed to "tattooed" (tattooed on his back)