Back Aa

Woodcraft Boys at Sunset Island

<h2>CHAPTER TWO WHAT THE TRAWL BROUGHT FORTH</h2> SUPERBLY equipped in various misfits of cast-off fishing clothes abandoned by former visitors to the island, and some of Fred’s outgrown trousers, the four boys, shod in rubber boots, could hardly wait for Mose to finish serving the breakfast the morning after the setting of the trawl. Captain Ed and Mr. Remington were found at the float-stage employed in seeing that the boat was all ready for the trip. The boys soon joined them and all piled into the big rowboat and pulled away from shore. The tide was running down so they began at the north end of the trawl and soon found the floating buoy. Fred began hauling in the line while the three younger boys craned their necks far over the side of the boat to see the first hook appear. “Gee! There’s somethin’ on it!” screamed Dudley, excitedly. In his mad endeavour to crowd Dudley from his vantage point, Paul caught the toe of his boot in the thwart of the boat and stumbled, receiving a flabby33 skate plumb in his face, as the fish was swung inboard at the end of the short line. But no one had time to console the sputtering Paul, nor indeed, did he complain of the mishap, as the next hook was about to appear above the surface of the water. “What’s on that one?” shrilled Paul, not able to see for himself. “Ugh! only a dog-fish,” grunted the Captain. “Stab him and chuck him overboard, Fred.” “No, no—wait a minute, I want to see him first,” cried Paul. His curiosity for a closer acquaintance with dog-fish was gratified ten times over in the next few minutes and Captain Ed remarked with disgust, “Humph! Guess their ain’t nuthin’ else in the bay.” But even as he spoke, a fine cod rewarded the haul. “Now, that’s something like!” commended Mr. Remington. “How much do you s’pose she weighs?” cried Billy. “Oh, about six pounds, but we’ll do better’n that,” said the Captain. Then followed hake, haddock, more dog-fish, another skate, and then three more fine cod—one of them weighing at least ten pounds. By this time both the boat and the boys were wet and slimy so that Paul consented to have the dog-fish killed and sent to feed and fatten the future prey of the trawl. While the younger boys made way with the skates and other useless34 fish, Fred and the Captain continued to overhaul the trawl and rebait the hooks when necessary. Suddenly, a rebellious thrashing and struggling attended the hauling in of one of the hooks and the boys saw a wriggling mass of coils being brought up from the blue-green depths. “Jiminy crickets! It’s a sea-serpent!” yelled Dudley, his eyes as big as saucers. “Is it, Captain?” shivered Paul, deliciously. “We-ll, I shouldn’t wonder if it was,” answered the Captain, preparing to help Fred disengage the hook from an immense conger eel. They tried to perform this operation outside of the boat but the resistance of the strong wrestler was so powerful that half of its length slid over the side into the boat even while the Captain and Fred worked to free it. The new passenger had things his own way for a time after he shipped so that Mr. Remington had to join in the fray to assist in dispossessing the unwelcome stranger. By the time the conger eel was disentangled from Bill’s legs, Paul and Dudley had laughed themselves so weak that they sat down upon the slippery mess of cod and haddock. They had laughed all too soon, however! The eel, cut free from the hook, redoubled upon itself and lovingly entwined the two helpless boys in a close embrace. Well indeed was it that Mrs. Remington had insisted upon their wearing the rag-tag and bobtail attire that day! <div class="figcenter width600"> <ANTIMG src="images/i-034a.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="421" alt="" /> <div class="caption">THE MOLA, OR DEEP SEA SUNFISH.</div> <ANTIMG src="images/i-034b.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="388" alt="" /> <div class="caption">THE LOBSTER TRAPS. Woodcraft Boys at Sunset Island. Page 20</div> </div> 35 The Captain finally succeeded in heaving the eel overboard, admitting as he did so, “I hate to ketch one of them critters on my hooks—they are so all-fired ugly!” When order reigned once more and the boys had washed some of the bloody slime from hands and faces, Mr. Remington complimented them upon the stoic manner in which they “took their medicine.” But when the boatload of some fifty fine fish was landed at Sunset Island, the surprise of the girls and Mrs. Remington repaid them for all of their vicissitudes. “How long do you expect to keep up this trawling, and what do you intend to do with all of these eatable fish,” asked Mrs. Remington, overwhelmed when she heard the trawl had been rebaited for another catch. “Well, the boys and I thought of a little plan to dry and salt a lot of fish for winter’s use. Especially as the high cost of meat in the city has turned our thoughts to a fuller appreciation of the bounties of the sea,” said her husband. “Oh, mercy me! Have you stopped to think of the plague of flies—to say nothing of the horrid smell caused by old fish?” remonstrated Mrs. Remington. “And that reminds me,” added she, hurriedly, “that mola must not remain on the island any longer.” 36 “Oh, that’s so, we’ll tow it out this afternoon,” promised Fred. “As for the fish-curing, that won’t annoy you, my dear,” reassured Mr. Remington. “We intend doing all of that on Flat Island.” “We’d have taken these fish right down there, mother, but we wanted the girls to see the haul—we were right near Flat Island, too, when we finished up the trawl,” said Fred. “Well, we’re much obliged, Freddy,” said Elizabeth. “And we’ll take one of the cod up to Mose for supper,” added Mrs. Remington. That afternoon, Mr. Remington and the boys took the fish to Flat Island while the Captain followed in his launch with a load of scantlings and tools for making fish-flats. The mola was towed behind the launch and out in deep water it was left to float away. A tired lot of boys lounged about the bungalow that evening and Billy was heard to say to Paul, “Say, but it takes a heap of scrubbing to get clean of fish-smell, don’t it?” “Yep! I had to scrub with hot water and gold-dust twins before lunch and then I had to scrub with hot water and kitchen soap before supper—’cause Edith sniffed at me; an’ now your mother says I’m still fishy an’ I’d better scrub with more hot water and cashmere bouquet soap before goin’ to bed so’s the sheets won’t turn sick!” giggled Paul. 37 “Ah, I say! It’s too much to expect from a feller in camp,” complained Dudley. “Never mind,” consoled Fred. “It’ll soon be warm enough to strip and take a plunge in the Cove instead of all this penance of hot water and soap.” That night as the tide crept stealthily in it bore upon its bosom a treasure indeed! At last Treasure Cove had won its title. In the silvery rays of the beautiful moonlight a mola lay glorified upon the little white beach. Immediately after breakfast in the morning, the eager boys wanted to investigate their lobster traps. “I’ll tell you what, boys! You can attend to that while I take the Captain and get some salt for our fish. Who wants to go to Saturday Cove with me?” called Mr. Remington. “I do! I do!” came the chorus of girls’ voices. “No sooner said than done—here we go!” laughed their father. As usual, Mose took this opportunity to hand Mr. Remington a list of items for the larder. Odds and ends were obtainable at the General Store and “P. O.” at Saturday Cove although the weekly marketing was done at Belfast, a goodly-sized town nine miles up the bay. The boys were a bit discouraged when they found nothing but crabs in the lobster traps. However, they baited them afresh and brought home the crabs. “There’s awful poor pickin’ in these crabs,” admitted38 Fred. “That’s one thing Maine falls down on.” “But aren’t they some good?” asked Dudley. “Oh, yes, about one mouthful to a crab,” returned Billy. “Not like the ones down at Old Point Comfort and the Chesapeake!—some crabs, those!” said Fred, smacking his lips. The boys came into Treasure Cove but it was noticed that Fred frowningly sniffed the pungent air with nose held high. And great was their disgust when the bow of the boat ran into an odoriferous mola. The hot sun beating down upon it that day had not improved its condition. “Gee! another dirty job!” exclaimed Billy, scowling at the prow of the unconscious boat. “That came back on the flood last night! Now we’ve got to tow it out and see what the ebb will do for it,” said Fred. “Say, d’ye need us to help?” asked Paul. “If not, Dud and me’ll take these crabs to Mose to have him start boiling them.” “All right, go along; and if you’re real nice in asking Anna, she’ll help you pick out the crab meat. She’s a wiz. at that work,” advised Billy. So the two boys engagingly won the governess’ promise to pick crab meat, while Fred and Billy attended to a less attractive duty. Once more the mola was consigned to the tide, which in this latitude rises and falls about fifteen feet39 at the full of the moon. Comparatively few miles to the eastward of this longitude lies the Bay of Fundy known all over the world for its hundred-foot tides. “Say, Fred, wouldn’t it be queer if the tides rose and fell here as they do up in New Brunswick?” asked Billy. “Why, the Captain was tellin’ me the other day,” continued the boy, “that the tide at St. John turns the Falls of the river backward, making them as high the reverse way as they are in the usual direction. “Besides, the Captain said the tide runs off of miles of sand-flats where the pigs go to feed on shell-fish and seaweed. Now listen, Fred! Do you believe this fairy-tale of the Captain’s? He said: ‘When the tide turns to come in it starts with a booming roar and the pigs know it by instinct as the death signal. At the first boom they turn tail and run squealing to high ground and safety.’” “It may be as the Captain says, but I don’t see how the pigs can inherit that instinct of danger—the ones that learn of the penalty for lingering perish in the learning,” remarked the elder brother. “I’d just like to go there some day and see for myself,” said Billy. “Now, old mola, even if this isn’t a Bay of Fundy tide, I hope you’ll be carried high and away for all time.” “Yes, and good riddance to it!” added Fred, as the tow-line was thrown inboard and the boat was turned for home. 40 The next morning Paul and Dudley each had a small lobster in their traps and Fred consolingly remarked, “Well, that’s proof there’s some lobsters about, anyway.” As the boat neared shore Paul jumped up and waved his cap. “Eliz-zabeth! E-ed-ith! Look—I got a lobster!” The girls ran quickly to the float and called back, “Oh, hold it up—let’s see how big it is?” Paul had watched Billy grasp a lobster in a most simple but effective way so he attempted to do likewise. Unfortunately, he didn’t take up the lobster in quite the same place and the air resounded with his shrieks. He shook his imprisoned hand so violently that the claw snapped and the lobster dropped leaving its nipper still fastened in the boy’s middle finger. However, he was soon released and had to listen to Edith’s teasing laugh. “I thought you said you’d caught a lobster! Looks more as if the lobster caught you!” “All the same, I’ll dare you to pick up one all by yourself!” indignantly rejoined Paul. Edith then quickly changed the subject by admiring the star-fish Dudley had brought back. “Oh,” cried she, “some of them have ten fingers and some only have six. I thought they always had five fingers.” “That six-fingered one must have had ten originally,41 as you can see the remaining stumps of the others. Most star-fish do have five points but there are exceptions. This one must have got in a fight with a sea-enemy and had its other fingers bitten off,” explained Fred. “I wish I could send some of them home,” ventured Dudley. “They’ll keep all right, if you dry them,” said Billy. “How?” “Just spread them out smoothly on a board and leave it in the hot sun—then go way off while they dry. When the smell is dried out you can ship them home in a box.” “But be sure you find a sunny spot far, far away from the bungalow,” laughed Fred. “Dudley can dry them in the shade, too, if he likes,” said Elizabeth. “It will take longer but the colours won’t fade out.” “I guess I’ll make a collection of them and some sea-urchins, too. And some coral and some—some rocks with the funny little barnacles growing on them, and—and a whole lot of things,” said Dudley, enthusiastically. “I’ll help you, Dud, and you can keep them in the Agassiz room of your school,” added Edith. “When will we under-run the trawl again, Cap?” called Billy, just then, as Captain Ed moored the launch at the float. “Your father said that the girls wanted to go along42 this afternoon and watch the fun; so, unless it blows too fresh, I reckon that’s the programme.” Then the boys proudly called his attention to the lobsters and the Captain laughed. “Why, I guess I’ll have to get the lobster-car ready to hold your catch. But that feller lost a claw—what happened?” “Here’s the claw,” admitted Paul. “S’pose some one takes these two lobsters up to Mose and ask him to make a nice little salad for mother; she is so fond of it, you know, and then this claw can be used, too,” suggested Fred. As they all walked toward the bungalow, Captain Ed said: “We went down into Dark Harbour this morning to bring up another bag of the coal I landed there last week, and what do you imagine Mose and I saw?” By this time every pair of bright eyes was glued on the Captain’s expressive countenance. A dim glimmer of the truth then suddenly dawned upon Fred. “Oh—not that mola!” gasped he. “The same—and yet, not the same! Kinder ripenin’ up, it were,” laughed the Captain. “What did you do with it?” shouted every one. “Well, as long as I wuz goin’ over to Sat’aday Cove, I tells Mose I’ll snake this dainty along and lose him in the middle of the bay. So, I don’t think you’ll ever see him agin.” Directly after lunch, Edith, who had finished first43 and hurried out, ran back to the dining-room in a greatly excited frame of mind. “Oh, mamma! Some real live Indians are down on our beach.” In less than a minute every Islander was out of the bungalow. It was ascertained that the Indians had come to the Island on a venture to sell some of their sweet-grass baskets. They had been on the mainland where quite a colony of city folk lived, but did not dispose of all their wares. While the girls admired the fragrant baskets, Billy took advantage of the unusual visit to ply the Indians with all sorts of questions. Where did they find sweet-grass; how they sewed birch-bark so that it wouldn’t split; where did they hail from, and did they make their own canoe, as other Indians did. One of the Indians being very agreeable answered all of the boy’s questions, and then turned to invite the Islanders to visit his little camp on the east-side of Isleboro, near Sabbath-Day Harbour. “Can’t we go this afternoon?” cried Billy, eagerly. “We can under-run the trawl to-morrow,” added Elizabeth. “How about it, Captain?” asked Mr. Remington. “Just as you say, Mr. Remington. I can set the girls and boys over to Adams’ Beach an’ its only two-mile walk from there to Sabbath-Day Harbour. If these men want a tow we kin tote ’em along an’ save time.” 44 After Mrs. Remington became the possessor of a number of sweet-grass baskets for souvenirs, the Captain loaded his launch with the young folks and, lastly, added the two Indians who wisely preferred to tow an empty canoe. The walk over Isleboro was an interesting experience. On the way, Mitchell Webster, one of the Old-Town Indians, showed the Islanders the sweet-grass pond but warned them that the sweet-grass grew alongside the ordinary grass and was difficult to recognise. “Why,” said he, “ruther ’en waste my time pickin’ out th’ spears of that grass I ups an’ buys a pound from a feller down Old Orchard beach-way. Paid a dollar fer it, too. Kinder dear fer hay, hain’t it?” Reaching Webster’s tent, the children found a squaw busily engaged in dying the thin strips of split ash that they wove into the larger baskets. Alas! how fallen are the mighty! No more the natural vegetable dyes used by the denizens of the forest. Instead, the children found printed labels scattered about with directions for using the analine colours. The host told the children that he and his squaw came down from Oldtown, up the Penobscot River, and camped on Isleboro every summer, making and selling baskets. The birch-bark baskets, however, were made in Oldtown during the winter and early45 spring because that is the time when birch-bark is more pliable and is easier to peel off of the trees. The young people did not remain very long, and having purchased a few baskets from the squaw, they started back for the launch. On the return walk to Adams’ Beach, having no strangers for companions, they gave closer attention to the woodland path and its mossy beauties. On a slight rise of ground, where the trees had been cut away, and the afternoon sun shone bright and hot, Elizabeth found a patch of curious russet plants. She stopped to examine them and then called to her brother. “Look, Fred, what do you suppose these queer little flowers can be?” Fred came back but could not identify the hairy round leaves with their sticky drops shining in the sun like dew. “Let’s dig one up and you can carry it home in the little birch-bark basket. To-night we will look up its name in the wild-flower book,” he proposed, suiting the action to his words. “Look, there’s a little fly caught in the sticky hairs of one leaf,” remarked Elizabeth. Quite a breeze from the south had sprung up during their sojourn on the land, and now the children had a lively trip home in the launch. A drenched sextette reached Sunset Island, and had to scramble46 into dry clothes in double quick time so as not to be late for supper. The main dish that evening was flounder, rolled in cornmeal and fried a golden brown in boiling fat. Mr. Remington served his wife and daughters first as usual, then the younger boys, and lastly, Fred and himself. “These flounders are as good as sole,” said he, approvingly, as he tasted a bit. “Don’t jab at your food in that fashion, Billy!” reproved Mrs. Remington. “But, mother, I can’t seem to cut the old fish!” “Mine’s as tough as all get-out!” grunted Dudley. “Say, what is this slice, anyway?” asked Fred, frowning. Mose appeared with a plate of hot biscuits and the puzzled boys appealed to him in injured tones; Dudley especially emphatic in his demonstration of the toughness of his portion. “Why, look, Mose, it’s like a brick-bat!” “Don’ you-all knows yu’ own spechul brand o’ fish-steak? Ah b’lieve yuh boys caint rekernise dat mola when you’se see him!” And the chef’s tones sounded plaintive. “Mose!” came a horrified chorus as plates were pushed away. “There now, I knew it had a bad smell!” cried Paul. “But hain’t he nice an’ tendered up now,” continued47 the wicked cook, innocently. “Cap’n an’ me didn’ have no trouble a-tall cuttin’ them slabs dis mawnin’. No suh! dat fish, he hed some sof’nin’ influence a-wohkin on him, come all dis time he’d ben voyagin’ up an’ down dat bay—ebb an’ flood!” But Fred noticed that neither his father or mother seemed disturbed at these truly awful disclosures by Mose, so he began to investigate his slab of so-called mola. “Boys,” cried he exultantly, as he exhibited a flat piece of wood, now scraped clear of fried cornmeal, “the Yanks who make nutmegs of wood aren’t in it with our Mose!” “Well! we wouldn’t have thought it of you, Mose,” grieved Paul, who feared he would have to go without fish. “You are slick, all right, Mose, ’cause you fooled every one of us boys,” laughed Billy. “And what’s more, father and mother must have been in the secret, or how could father have served the phony fish to the right ones,” commented Elizabeth, who enjoyed a harmless, practical joke. Mose now brought in several nice hot flounders for the hungry boys, who ate with unabated appetites. Indeed, they had so appreciated the trick that the chef really rose several points in their estimation. The fake mola had caused such a disturbance that Elizabeth almost forgot the queer little plant in the birchen case. But supper once over, she remembered it. 48 “Look, mother, what do you suppose this is?” asked she. “Get out your flower-book and see what it says about the sun-dew; this is the rotundifolia variety.” “Why, the book says that the sun-dew is carnivorous! So that is what it was doing to the poor little fly?” said the girl, half shocked and half amazed. The boys crowded about at this, to see the little reddish plant which suddenly became endowed with immense interest. “Mother, do you remember that story in some magazine—about the giant carnivorous plants?” asked Fred. “Yes, and if I remember correctly, the story said they were of the sun-dew family.” “But they ate people!” added Elizabeth, who had also read the story. “It said they fairly reached out and grabbed people that came near to them,” laughed Mr. Remington; “but that was fiction.” “Anyway, you dreadful catch-’em-alive little sun-dew, you make one more plant for my flower-list,” said Elizabeth. Mr. Remington then announced: “Boys, we’ll under-run the trawl to-morrow, taking all hands along in the extra boats to see the fun. I wish I had a longer time to stay here with you—there’s nothing I’d enjoy more, but I must get back to the city ready for business on Monday.” 49 “Oh, papa! That’s only two days more!” wailed Elizabeth, echoed by all of the other children. “Papa, why do you have to go—can’t you stay here for one summer?” wondered Edith. “I certainly wish I could, but ‘where duty calls I must obey,’” quoted Mr. Remington, patting his little girl on the hair. “Come, come, children! time for all to be in bed! Now, let me see how quickly every one can tell me they are fast asleep, so I can turn out the candles,” said Mrs. Remington, while the youngsters laughed at her ridiculous speech. <hr class="divider" /> 50 <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.