On some of the schooners, by the middle of the season most of the salt
is “wet.” It is then that the “Polly J.” follows the fleet up to the
“Virgin.”
This is a rocky ledge, many miles out in the desolate Bank seas, which
rises to within a few feet of the surface of the ocean. Here the cod and
camplin abound, and here, when it is time for them to run, most of the
schooners come to anchor, sending out their little fleets until perhaps
two thousand dories and schooners are afloat at the same time, within a
distance of two or three miles of one another. When the schools of camplin
come to the surface and begin to jump, the dories all close in on them,
for the fishermen know that the cod are after them. Almost as quickly
as the lines can be baited and cast overboard the fish strike on, and
the work is steady and hard until the dories, loaded down almost to the
gunwales, have made several trips of it, and the salt in the bins shows
a prospect of being “all wet” before the week is out.
The few days towards the end of the season at the “Old Virgin” are a race
between the ships at catching and dressing down. The rival crews work from
dawn until dark.
At last the big mainsail of the victor--perhaps the “Polly J.”--is hauled
out, the chain is hove in short, and the dories from less fortunate
schooners crowd alongside with good wishes and letters for the folks at
home. Anchor up, the flag is hoisted,--the right of the first boat off the
Banks,--and the proud schooner, low lying in the water with her fifteen
hundred quintal, bows gracefully to each vessel of the fleet at anchor as
she passes them, homeward bound.