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 antennae. 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.